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supertuna-sideblog · 2 months

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🍓Pairing: Dance Teacher!Jung Hoseok x F. Reader

🍓 Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

🍓 Word Count: 9.2k

🍓Warnings: negative self thought/talk, swearing, dirty talk, smut, kissing, heavy marking, fingering, unprotected sex, some degradation, requited pining (please let me know if I missed something)

🍓Summary: It's been a year since you started dancing at Hoseok's studio, in that time an easy friendship has bloomed between you both, and maybe a bit more on your part. But Hoseok's just a friend, and there couldn't possibly be more there, right?

🍓 Comments: From the first time I heard Hozier's Eat your young I knew I had to write something with J hope for it. So here we are! Please enjoy!

“5, 6, 7, 8–” his voice carries over the pounding bass that hums through your muscles and bones.

But you can’t think about his voice, you can’t think about anything. Right now you’re focused on the music on the next steps Hoseok planned in the routine. Not the way the sweat-soaked shirt clings to the muscles on his back as he moves from one energetic step to the next.

Your tongue, definitely, doesn’t slip out of your lips to trace along the bottom as your eyes watch a bead of sweat slide down the column of his throat to disappear beneath the collar of his shirt.

You’re focusing on the dance, on the way your body moves in time with the tempo, and how the riffs of the guitar send shivers down your spine when they harmonize just right with the bass. Making sure your hands stay on beat.

Shoes squeak against the polished hardwood. You risk a glance at the girl beside you. Her movements are effortless, fluid, and graceful. A bolt of jealousy heats through you, but your eyes close and you focus again on just you and the music. Hips swivel in time to the chorus. Hoseok’s voice calls out over the music, “final stretch, make it count!”

His favorite thing, to shout in the last measures of the song, the final encouraging push that gets everyone through the last grueling set of an hour long practice, because Hoseok loves to challenge his students and this one, an intermediate class, is no exception.

Your hips chant to the side as your eyes slide open to catch Hoseok’s last moves. Drawn to the way his hands go from fluttering in the air to caress his inner thigh.

Your breath hitches as for a second your mind stalls. Gaze memorizing the way, his lithe fingers trace along the muscle there up to the seam of his hip, where his hand cups a subtle bulge.

Before tracing up the line of his lean body, even in baggy sweats, he looks perfect. His shirt shows just enough skin to get your heart racing, the collar loose enough it’s slipped off his shoulder, the tender flesh stretched over his collarbone tempts you.

As your hungry ogling finishes its course and meets those intense brown eyes, you pale. Fuck, you’ve been caught.

You stumble on the last turn, but catch yourself just in time to face the right direction. Kae-in snickers behind you as heat blooms across your cheeks, and to the tips of your ears.

Thankfully, though no one else has caught your blunder. But pray that Hoseok hadn’t seen it... he didn’t make a comment.

Then again, the last time he’d caught you gawking at him during practice. He’d give you a cheeky wink before cackling at your dumb-struck expression.

The dance finishes with a quick pose. Your legs quiver for a moment, unsure if they can hold your weight. You pushed yourself today, and your body is feeling it everywhere.

Not the smartest move, considering you have your private studio session after this. Other dancers around you pant and huff, catching their own breath. The music cuts and Hoseok claps, along with everyone else.

You manage a weak clap with the others.

“Great work everyone!”

Hoseok's voice is energetically gleeful as he wanders over to the cabinet where the audio setup sits. Like he hasn't been dancing for 8 plus hours.

His fingers move effortlessly as he turns off the music. Shoulders rise and fall as he catches his breath. The sweat clinging to his golden skin making it to glow under the fluorescent studio lights.

“Amazing as always class, remember to practice for next week. We’ll have auditions for the spring recital and all that jazz. I hope to see all of you there!”

Everyone takes their time packing up. A gaggle of students having rushed Hoseok to ask about audition ideas. Most of them vying for the last few minutes of class, for his undivided attention.

He’s happy to converse with all of them, girls fawning over him, a few guys in there too. Eagerly asking for advice on their movements and audition ideas.

Which he happily responds with a critique that’s just the right amount of brutal and constructive.

You make it to your bag, a slight wobble in your step, manage a painful kneel, find your water bottle, and take some healthy swigs from the plastic container. Your throat is grateful for the cooling fluid.

Kae-in is beside you in a second, her hoodie already on. She’s put on the hood but left her ears out. She has that look on her face that tells you she saw the entire last measure debacle. Her eyes crinkled in a shit-eating grin as she grabbed her things to leave.

“So wanna go over your little stumble in the last steps?”

You level a glare at her, half tempted to throw your sweat-rag at her, but you resist. Rather, rubbing it along your neck and face, sighing softly as you dry yourself. While you loved dancing, you hated the sweat that came with it.

“I tripped, I do that all the time–” she snickers, leaning close enough that the others packing up don’t hear her.

“I saw the way you were eating him up, not that I don’t blame you–” now the sweat-rag comes out, as you shove the offending thing at her, Kae-in lets out a squeak falling on her butt.

You glare down at her. She has the audacity to pout, like she’s the victim of this!

“I was not, I tripped, and that is all you need to know,” you respond with a mocking pout of your own.

She gets back up and hits your shoulder. You turn to continue the fight sweat-rag at the ready, but she holds up her hands in mock defeat.

“It’s not like you're the first girl to do it, certainly not the last. I mean, look, he’s still being swarmed and I know he’s answered their questions 20 times.”

She smirks as she glances over to the far corner where Hoseok still stands with his gaggle, smiling and laughing.

“I didn’t–” she hushes you and winks.

“You didn’t look, I know, you’ll have plenty of time to do that in the next hour–” you clap a hand over her mouth.

“Kae-in, I love you, but you are a pain in the ass, you know that?”

She smiles that squinted eye smile that makes you laugh. You give her one back before standing, removing your hand from her mouth, taking another few drinks of your water before glancing at your phone.

A couple of messages, both from…Hoseok.

How the hell did he send the texts while dealing with all the questions? But you’re checking them before you think to stop yourself.

I’m undecided on food, stuck between bulgogi or jajangmyeon 😛…do you have a preference?

Also if you’ve already eaten no worries. :3

You can’t help the small smile that lifts the corner of your mouth.

“Ohhhh dinner and a show–”

“Kae-in, I swear if you don’t leave I’m shoving my sweat rag in your mouth and Jin Ho can help you fish it out,” she laughs as she skips just out of your reach.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep!”

She’s gone with the last few stragglers from class. The flock has left with Hobi, probably to get food. You type a quick reply.

I will love you forever if you get me some jajangmyeon <3

As you glance around the studio and check the windows to make sure everyone is gone your phone buzzes in response.

If I knew getting your love was that easy I’d have offered sooner ;)

His texts always make you laugh, and while some small, tiny, insignificant part of you hopes he’s actually flirting you know he isn’t.

He’s your teacher, and yes, you’d consider him a friend at this point. After all, you'd been coming to the studio for a little over a year.

You’d run into him hanging a flier at the local rec center and after a short conversation, he’d handed you a neon pink flier and given you a wide heart-shaped smile before going on his way.

You’d signed up the next week for a beginners class, needing another outlet besides working out on a treadmill.

It’d been a year, discovering a love for dancing you’d never known you had. Also…getting the last hour of the studio all to yourself for a private session didn't hurt.

Especially when Hoseok had offered it to you when you’d mentioned wanting more time to dance besides just doing group work.

“I think you have a talent, and I think if you went out for some competitions you’d surprise yourself,” you’d almost choked on your coffee when he’d mentioned competing. He’d laughed as you coughed.

Hoseok was kind, it was one of the many reasons you’d stayed on with dance, even after being so self conscious about everything. The way you moved for a start, in the beginning the beat just seemed out of reach.

It seemed like your brain would command your limbs to move and it would be just a step off from everyone else. You liked to joke, you had two left feet, but through Hoseok’s diligent, and patient work you’d bloomed…At least you’d like to think you have.

The buzz of your phone pulls you from your thoughts.

At the restaurant, jajangmyeon is gonna be a bit D:

You smile again at his use of emoticons. He texts like a teenager. But you’re quick to reply, so that you can work on your set.

No worries, you know how long I’m here till, also I’m not leaving till I get my promised food ;)

You stand taking your water to the front of the class, the mirrored wall reflects your tired self back at you. You don’t look too long, putting your water down to go to the stereo cabinet.

Phone in hand you find the aux cord, hooking up the device the speakers connect with a loud pop.

Getting into your music app you ponder on what to dance to first, it doesn’t take long before you’re settling on some low and slow music. The songs are just mixes, without vocals.

Just music and beats to focus on, rather than lyrics to muddle your mind, thinking about what steps would go best with them. A deep bass pounds through the amps, vibrating the room with their depths before the subtle electronic chords join the hum.

A cooldown from Hoseok’s fast-paced, hyped music is a welcome change your muscles need. Your movements are slow and languid, letting your body stretch into each move rather than a quick jab and jolt to the next.

You loved Hoseok’s dances.

They lit up something inside you, got your heart pumping. His dances were a mixture of a work out and sex as Kae-in loved to joke. Hoseok put everything into his routines and asked his students to do the same.

You tried hard not to think about all your recent classes with him, in the last few sessions when he’d done an observation he’d come so close to you, watching your every movement.

No matter how many times you’d danced in front of him you felt like a beginner all over again.

Could feel the way his eyes assessed every maneuver. How his hand was quick to correct a move. Quick to straighten your posture, his fingers lingering against the swell of your hip as he demonstrated how to move your hips in the choreo.

Your skin tingled from the touch, your cheeks warm at the thought, the wish that his fingers had stayed on your skin, that they’d moved lower.

You attempt to shake off the thoughts, trying to focus on your dance, matching your made-up choreo to the music. Your hands start at your hips, legs spread wide as you lower into a squat.

Palms cupping your thighs as you spread them for the imaginary audience, or just a singular audience member. A quick bounce and your back up hands trail up your body again, fingers card through your sweat-soaked hair.

Pulling the strands out of the messy bun, slipping the hairband onto your wrist.

You risk a glance to your form in the mirror, again a wave of insecurity takes over. Even as you try to avoid making eye contact. Rather just watching your body move in time with the bass, a roll of your hips that follows the line of your leg to the tips of your toes.

Your body is like water, let the music flow from it.

Another memory, when you first started dancing, and Hobi had started letting you use the last open hour of the studio.

The one-on-one time helped immensely, but also made everything so much worse. From Hobi’s unwavering attention, to his many assisting touches.

How easily he’d stop you during a session to maneuver you, how he’d demonstrate a move you just couldn’t get the hang of.

The heat from his hands all but burning through the loose clothing you wore normally to practice. How you refused to look him in the eye when he had you practice a move in the mirror.

Just watch yourself, that will help.

Sure you try watching yourself in the mirror–

I do it all the time.

You’d made the mistake of looking him in the eye at that moment, in the low green light of the background LEDs they were shadowed and intense.

The way you felt pinned and devoured in that moment, the tension rose and for a moment something stirred inside of you. Your knees shook, stomach swooping, mouth going dry.

The moment broke when Hobi’s lips pulled into his signature smile that didn’t reach his eyes. But that instance had you refusing to look him in the eye for a month.

The remembered conversation heats your cheeks as you try focusing on the last steps of your sultry choreo. Twisting your arms in a spin that ripples down through your body.

Muscles tense and release, the ache from the previous rehearsal is gone. Replaced by the heat of wanting to get started on another.

The song comes to a soft close and your cool down has done nothing to lessen the heat you feel beneath the oversized t-shirt you liked to wear to practice.

As you stretch you consider the time on the wall clock, the cool down took a couple of minutes. Hobi would still be out getting food. And you really hadn’t accomplished much in your session, besides frustrating yourself further.

You huff as your body throbs, in both exhaustion and restlessness.

Like it can’t settle on one feeling over the other, and that adds to your mounting frustration. Walking over to the soundbooth you stop the next track.

Phone in hand you pause over the playlist, not really sure what to dance to next. The usual playlist for you is slow and steady. It helps loosen you up after a hard class and sets you up to relax when you get home.

But tonight none of the songs on the playlist are calling to you, so you leave the usual and venture out into the ever changing mood of your music library. You don’t know what starts it, but there is a song you’ve had in mind for a while now. A few flicks of your thumb brings you to the album.

Another tap and flick, and there it sits. Eat Your Young by Hozier had taken vicious root in your mind ever since you’d heard the beginning scat. The sinful chord riffs and the melodic mournful husk of Hozier’s voice had awakened something, primal, in you.

The lyrics certainly hadn’t helped, the grit and grime to them. Hozier’s music hit all the places in your brain that you needed while dancing. And you just wanted to dance. Not focus on how you are dancing and certainly not focusing on someone else watching you dance.

“Let’s see if you can get me out of my head,” mumbled to yourself, setting the song on loop. You pause though considering the brightness of the dance studio, intent on getting the mood for this song.

Remember Hobi mentioning that sometimes all it takes is a change in lighting for inspiration to strike. This song called for something dark, something carnal.

Taking the remote you turn off the main lights, the fluorescent bulbs flicker off, and with another push of a button the LEDs glow to life.

Hobi was quite proud of his LEDs; he'd spent an entire weekend sticking them to every inch of the ceiling, making sure they were perfectly aligned so that the room would be filled with the glow of the multicolor lights. He’d left them on a cool blue, probably when he was setting up for class earlier. A few clicks and blue bleeds into a deep red.

Basking in the lights for a moment, your fingers toy with the hem of your oversized shirt wanting to just throw the thing off. Overheated from class, and relief seems like it’ll only come from losing the garment.

You consider for a moment, Hobi won’t be back for a bit. You get the dancing out of your system, and the heat off of your skin. Before you can talk yourself out of it you're shucking the sweat coated fabric off.

Your skin cries in relief as it’s exposed to the chill of the studio, in only your sports bra and loose sweats you let the music overtake you.

You let the first bangs of the drum move you, your shoulders jolting with the bass. Rolling into a leisure sway as Hozier's voice echoes in the small studio. The bass ripples through your body, you feel your heart matching its hypnotizing beat.

I’m starving, darling, let me put my lips to something

Let me wrap my teeth around the world

Your fingers trace the edge of your lips. You take a soft bite of your fingertip, before tracing it down your chin, throat, between your sport bra covered breasts to wrap around your abdomen where your hips sway in a lazy pattern.

Start carving, darling, I wanna smell the dinner cooking

Wanna feel the edge start burn

You keep more to the middle of the room, exploring the small space around you. Your legs widen their stance as you dip down from your waist dragging your clawed hands over your legs back up your body to your throat.

Honey, I wanna race you to the table

If you hesitate the gettin’ is gone

You close your eyes, just enjoying the movement of your body and the intensity of the song. As the violins pitch higher and their notes grow frantic your breath pants as you meet their dissonant call.

Get some

Pull up the ladder when the flood comes

Throw enough rope until their legs have swung

Seven new ways that you can eat your young

Moves become more turbulent but there is still that underlying calm and control to your dance. Hobi is about precision in his seemingly erratic movements, yours have a much less practiced feel to them, even as you lull from one move to the next.

You’re so close to losing focus, letting Hoizer’s honeyed voice wash over your mind, the tickle of his falsetto sending a shiver down your spine. So close to losing inhibition, be free of the cage that is your mind, just dancing, instead of judging and stalling.

But you stumble a move not hitting at the time you’d hoped it would, and then like a line of dominos one move then another starts to crumble your resolve.

You huff, eyes scrunching in frustration as you attempt the movement again, a simple move, you’ve done it a thousand times in class, but your muscles won’t obey and your hips feel off, like they’ve slipped out of joint for a moment. And again while your brain signals to your body to move, nothing listens.

You growl in annoyance, sweat dripping from your scalp, drops slithering their way down your neck, pooling uncomfortably in your bra. As you miss one beat then the next and now you’re behind in the music.

Left foot forward, sway your hip, let the movement flow from your hip to your knee to your ankle. But fail again as your joints lock and refuse to flow as they once did, your fingernails dig into the palm of your hands, wanting so badly for this stupid move to hit.

For muscles to relax and just get this dance done.

Hands settle easily on your hips, and everything halts, a soft gasp leaves you. Music fading to the background as all you can hear is a high pitched chime in your ears. Your hands come up out of reaction, nails dig into the soft flesh of his hands in a panic.

Hobi grunts softly at the sudden pain of your blunted nails in his skin. But the panic ebbs as you recognize those long fingers beneath your own. He wasn’t supposed to be back yet, you had time, your mind races.

“Come on,” his voice is soft in the shell of your ear, “you know this move.”

Hobi’s hands are solid as they keep your hips trapped between his palms. His thumbs settle just above the band of your sweats, the heat of him sparks across sensitive flesh. He maneuvers you with ease, rolling your left hip forward and letting the right follow.

The grip of his fingers as they press into the fat sends a shock of pleasure coiling up your spine.

“Yeah, just like that,” he mumbles again, his breath is warm as it fans over your ear, cheek and neck. Skin prickling as goosebumps rise in its wake. The smell of him overwhelms, the sweet spice of a cologne you can’t name.

You finally muster the courage to open your eyes. Glancing down at Hobi’s hands still there on your hips. The pounding of your heart fills your ears, as you look down then up. Meeting his eyes in the red glow, your breath hitches, and your gaze drops again.

“Oh no,” like lightning, he strikes, hand leaving your hip to grasp your chin between thumb and forefinger. His grip forces your face up, body tensing as he presses himself against you.

Your hand chases his grasping at his wrist. Your fingers find purchase on the multitude of bracelets there. Fingernail catching on the beads of a bracelet you know one of his younger students made for him.

“Hobi–”

The fabric of his t-shirt does little to defend against the heat of his body, the hard line of his chest contouring to the curves of your back. Your mind can’t ignore the way he so effortlessly molds into you. Two puzzle pieces connecting together so easily, but while your bodies contour so easily, you feel trapped beneath his steely gaze.

You refuse to look at him; you feel exposed, judged and assessed by those eyes.

“Look at me.”

The order is spoken low in his chest, feel the vibration of his voice against your shoulder blades. The tone makes you shiver, another bolt of warm pleasure strikes you. Warming your cheeks, and sending your mind reeling.

You follow his command slow, and unwilling, your heart beats against your ribcage, a wild indeterminable pattern. His fingers clench, digging into the soft skin of your cheeks. You wince a bit at the pain, but finally you meet his eyes again.

In the red light they look black, taking you in, those dark eyes burning a trail from your toes up your left leg, pausing at your hip, the hand there clenching for a moment. Thumb brushing along your skin above your hip bone sending a new wave of goosebumps along your skin.

Tracing the curve of your waist, pausing at the swell of your breasts, covered by your sports bra. Up to the dip of your collarbone, you watch as he leans forward his lips so close to your skin. His breath warm before he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.

A weak gasp leaves you as the touch of his lips sends a throb through you. A heat grows in your innards, muscles clench, breath hitching as he meets your gaze.

“Hobi, what–”

“No hiding from me tonight.”

Mouth agape as you struggle to find your voice, Hobi smiles. It’s a slow pull of lips over teeth, the glint in his eyes as he holds your gaze. His thumb rubs along the edge of your jaw.

The touch sparking a new sensation with every stroke against your skin, his breath warm over your cheek. You’re aware of every touch, every atom of him that’s against you beside you. You’re greedy for more.

“’m not hiding,” you finally mumble and he chuckles, another warm huff of breath over your skin, his lips brush against your neck.

“You’ve been hiding every class,” he mumbles as he presses closer, the hand on your hip sliding along the edge of your sweats, slipping from under your hand, though you don’t stop it, coming to a stop over your abdomen.

You swear your heart stops as you feel the heat of his palm just beneath your belly button. Fingertips toying at the hem of your sweats, so close to slipping beneath the fabric.

“Thinking I don’t know you’re watching my every move, where your eyes linger a bit too long.”

He chuckles into your neck the tip of his nose traces along the length of skin. His lips find your pulse and he laughs softly as you whine, distantly you catch that the song has looped. The deep bass starting again. “Not that I mind.”

“Who wouldn’t watch you,” a breathless retort as Hobi smiles, considering you in the mirror for a moment.

His eyes shine and then his smile turns sinister, his nuzzle pauses and then he’s biting your neck. A shriek of pain leaves you and you leap from his grip. He lets you get away, though by the clench of his fingers you sense he didn’t want to let you go that easily.

The distance helps, your mind clearing as you turn backing up into the studio mirror wall. Pressing yourself against the cool surface, fingers finding the bite mark on your neck. Pulse hammering against your fingertips.

The jolt of pain ebbs into a lingering throb. One that doesn’t help the pulse between your legs. It makes you want to tense your thighs to relieve the ache there.

Leveling a look at Hoseok trying to get your bearings. He’s quiet, those eyes shadowed by his long bangs, you see his jaw shift as he considers you. You're teetering on the edge of something. Backed up to the cliff's edge and you're not sure if you’re ready to plunge off.

“Hoseok–”

“If you don’t want this, I’ll stop.”

His voice is soft, beneath the croon of Hozier’s voice, for a moment he looks like the Hobi you’re used to. The one you can handle. The friend who is always eager to laugh, the one you fall into easy conversation with, the one you figured would never consider you like he is now.

“I–” your voice hitches, confusion clouding your mind as your fingers trace the mark of his teeth in your flesh.

You lean your head back, your head meets the mirror with a soft thud, the music swells again, eyes closed as you consider for a moment what continuing this means.

I won’t lie, if there’s something still to take

There is ground to break, whatever’s still to come

You don’t hear him move over the thrumming bass. He cages you in, his hands rest above your shoulders as he encompasses you. His breath is warm as it glides over your face.

Your eyes flutter open and take in the man before you. The chiseled perfection that is his face, the sharp jut of his chin, the soft rounded apples of his cheeks.

His lips, usually pulled in that sweet heart-shaped smile are drawn together in a firm line as those dark eyes watch you from under the curled mess that is his bangs. He’s still in his practice outfit, the same baggy t-shirt, and even baggier sweats. They overwhelm the lithe frame that you’ve so badly wanted a chance to see.

It makes you want to squirm away to avoid his gaze as you’ve always done, he leans down nose brushing against yours.

“Don’t hide away from me, I’m tired of trying to make you look.”

His voice is soft and your heart stutters. As you look at him, truly look at him. The longing in those dark eyes, the downturn of his lips. The little freckle on his cupid’s bow. You want him, hell you’ve wanted him since the day you took the neon pink flier from his painted fingers.

“Hoseok, I–I want you–”

It’s like you’ve opened the floodgates, he’s dropping down lips finding yours in the dim red glow of the lights. At first the kiss is soft, like he’s worried you’ll change your mind, pull away that you spoke before you could voice what you really wanted to say.

But no, you press into the kiss. Slot your lips against his with a fervor you haven’t felt for someone in years. Your fingers thread through the curled locks of his hair, pulling him closer.

He groans into your lips, tongue slipping out to trace the bottom, asking entrance which you easily grant. The way his tongue swirls into your mouth has you whining, knees locking as your mind thinks for a moment how that tongue would feel against your clit. Which gives a painful throb in response.

His tongue dances with your own, easily slipping along the appendage with ease, he chuckles as your tongue chases him as he pulls back. He presses closer, body molding to yours as you press back against the mirror.

He huffs softly into the curve of your neck, where he bit you only moments before. He chuckles and presses a kiss into the mark.

“Sorry, heard the lyrics and, well, I couldn’t help myself–”

Your fingers pull on his locks still trapped in their grip, the groan that leaves his chest makes you shiver. His eyes roll in their sockets as they look up at you, with his jaw dropping you whine seeing the tip of his tongue trace the path along his bottom lip.

“Hobi, please–”

“Please what?” He teases, his hands sliding down the mirror back to your hips where he presses you against the wall.

His thumbs sweep against the joint where hip and thigh meet. His mouth goes back to press kisses against your neck. Finding where you pulse beats and sucking another mark there.

You feel him smile against your skin as you whine, hands leaving his hair to grasp his shoulders. To move him to do something, because your cunt is empty and aching, and only getting words as his mouth makes new marks along your collarbone and neck. You need something more than just the teasing he’s giving you.

“Hobi–”

“Use your words baby, I need to hear what you want.”

His voice is a muttered groan against your throat as he kisses his way up to your ear. Taking the lobe between his teeth, he huffs a laugh as your nails dig impatiently into his shoulders.

“Want to feel you, need to feel you–fuck,” you don’t know what you want to say, though your hips pressing into the palms of his hands are an indication that you need friction.

He sucks on the shell of your ear, nipping the cartilage and smirking when you moan softly.

“Then be a good girl, and listen,” his voice is soft, and your eyes meet his as he pulls back. Hobi is gone, back is the Hoseok who makes every muscle in your body tremble after a hard dance practice. The one that makes you shiver. “Turn around, face the mirror.”

He pulls back, his warmth leaving your skin makes you tremble, but you’re quick to comply. Turning and pressing yourself to the mirror, hands level with your shoulders. Your legs spread shoulder width apart. You risk a glance up in the mirror.

Hoseok stands back observing you, eyes traveling down the exposed flesh of your back, eyes lingering on the curve of your hip, that disappears into the baggy expanse of your sweats. Before they drag back up and meet your gaze in the mirror. You’re quick to look away.

“Uh uh, no looking away tonight baby, eyes on me.”

You know he means it, the threat is clear in his voice, and all you want is for Hobi to touch you, to do something. So with reluctance your eyes come back up, meeting his gaze even as it makes you squirm.

“Good girl, listening so well.”

You preen at his praise, half tempted to spread your legs wider, but you resist as he returns to press against you. His lithe body molds, again so perfectly, into the curves of your own.

His hands find purchase on your hips, slipping forward to a stop over the ties of your sweats. His index finger curls the tie around toying with the simple knot.

Your gaze is still locked with Hoseok's in the mirror, watching his lips pull into another smirk as he leans forward pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Eyes never leaving yours as your hips press back into his, feeling the weight of a bulge between the globes of your ass. He lets out a grunt, grinding himself into you.

A breathy laugh leaves him.

“So eager, aren’t you?”

He whispers into your ear the hand not toying with your sweats, drifts higher. Fingers trace patterns along the curve of your waist stopping to tease the edge of your sports bra. The material is thin, you can’t stop the moan that leaves you as his finger traces up the swell of your breast.

The tip of his finger finding your nipple and swirling around the bud. He groans into your neck as he feels the flesh pebble beneath his touch. His lips and teeth attack your neck and shoulder. Marking the skin with nips, and then soothing the sting with his tongue and lips.

His hand gropes at your breast enjoying the softness of your flesh as it molds to his hand.

“Hoseok,” your voice is soft, a needy whine as your fingers flex against the mirror surface and your eyes watch his hands. Wanting so badly for him to loosen the tie, to slip beneath the waistband and delve lower.

“What baby?” He mumbles into your ear giving the lobe another nip which you gasp at the pain of, your hips press back and you smile as he moans into your hair the bulge growing as he toys with you. “What do you want?”

“Please, fuck, your fingers–” your plea is silenced by another bite, this one sinking into the meat of your shoulder. A wispy whine leaves you, and Hoseok soothes the mark with another kiss.

“What do you want, baby? Use your words.”

Another command and you obey.

“Need to feel your fingers on my cunt, or just fuck - in my cunt, please,” the noise he makes has your knees locking, fingers curling, nails scraping against glass.

It’s like lighting a match, his fingers yank the tie, the hem of your sweats sag, loose enough he’s able to slip under the fabric.

He cups your mound, the moan that leaves you is guttural, your body humming with need. Gasping as he cups you through your panties. The thin fabric soaked, his finger easily toying with your clit through the cotton barrier.

“Fuck, if I’d known you were this wet, wouldn’t have taken my time.”

He breaths into your ear, the tip of his finger swirling in indiscernible patterns around your clit. The friction is nice, but his touches are soft, delicate.

Not what you need even as you whine and attempt to grind into his hand. The hand at your breast teases and pinches your nipple. The pleasure and pain mingle in your mind. Your eyelids flutter closed as your fingers curl against the mirror.

“Eyes,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. Ever obedient you obey, eyes peeling open, finding his dark hazel gaze. Your innards stir, cunt clenching as you take in Hoseok’s appearance.

His hair is disheveled, the brown locks curling around his face, the bangs sweeping over his brow, giving him a shadowed look.

Darkening his eyes, sending another throb of need through you, as his intense gaze burns every inch of you.

His tongue flicks out every now and again wetting his bottom lip as he presses more kisses along the expanse of your shoulders. He leaves marks in his wake, the spots sting, but Hoseok is always quick to soothe them with a soft kiss or a kitten lick of his tongue.

You know you’ll be covered in his marks by the time he’s done. It makes your cunt flutter at the thought and you moan, pressing your forehead to the mirror.

You find Hoseok again, his gaze still locked onto yours. In the red glow of the lights he looks otherworldly, the shadows of his face almost black against the blood red of the highlights.

A demon you’d happily sell your soul to for nothing if only to gaze at his face a bit longer.

You're pulled out of your musings when Hoseok’s fingers with a quick flick push aside the barrier of your panties to finally touch your clit. The soft stroke of his finger along the neglected bud has you keening. The sudden spike of pleasure makes you jolt away from the sudden onslaught.

But Hoseok’s prepared for your retreat pressing you up against the mirror, he traps your hips with his own. The hand at your breast moves to grasp at your hip, pinning you to him. Huffing a laugh into the column of your throat giving the skin there another bite.

“No running away either,” he growls, his finger traces along the hood of your clit, before delving lower and pressing against the bud. The pleasure zaps through you, your cunt gushes, your knees quiver as you buck into his hand with another yelp of pleasure.

“Fuck, Hoseok–”

“Feel good?” He asks, watching his lips pull into a wicked smile as you mewl and pant against the mirror. Breath fogging over the smooth surface. The chill of it helps to alleviate some of the heat coming from both of you.

His pattern changes again, pressing again on your clit as your cunt throbs and your breath comes out in a quivering pant.

“Yes–fuck yes, feels so good–”

Hoseok presses more against you, rutting his hips into your ass, the hard length of his shaft nestled perfectly between the globes of your ass. He pants softly into your ear nuzzling another kiss into the corner of your jaw. Groaning as you press back into him meeting his every movement.

“Fuck baby, feel so good and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You whine in reply as his fingers venture lower, the feeling of his finger slipping into your folds teasing your wet opening. He chuckles into your neck.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers and you feel his lips sucking another mark onto your neck. Another gush of slick and Hoseok groans.

“What do you want?”

“Please–”

“Words, baby, I need to hear you say it.”

“Need your fingers in me, please, please stop teasing–”

He doesn’t wait for your plea to finish thrusting one long finger into you, your plea dies with a soft whine. He starts a slow steady pace, your cunt fluttering around his finger.

Just when you think you’re used to the first finger he adds another, your hips grind into his hand and his hips. All of his focus on fucking you open with his fingers.

“F–fuck, so tight,” the whisper of his voice makes your cunt clench, the twitch of his cock against your ass makes you moan. Your eyes struggle to stay open, as Hoseok’s own bore into you, watching the way your jaw drops open your eyes roll back as the tip of his finger rubs just right against that spongy spot deep in your cunt again and again and again.

The heel of his palm grinds against your clit with every thrust.

“Fuck Hoseok, fuck your fingers feel so good–” You babble, every thrust of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The one you’ve been hanging on to for the last hour.

Hoseok presses closer, feeling the way your body tenses, the way your walls tighten around his fingers, and feels the warm slick dripping down his fingers, and your thighs, soaking your sweats.

“You gonna come, huh?”

He rasps against your ear pressing a kiss to the shell, the sounds of his voice makes your cunt flutter again. As his fingers thrust in again, he scissors the digits, there's a hint of pain cutting through the pleasure, but it only serves to push you closer.

As you gasp, fingers scramble against the mirrored wall. You whine, pressing desperately against him, he responds in kind, rutting his clothed cock against you harder.

“I’m so close, please,” your voice is a soft mewl as your hips grind desperately into his hand. Hoseok’s voice is breathless as he speeds up his hand. The wet noise of his fingers fucking you open mingle with the song still looping, again and again.

“Come for me,” he growls, fingers flexing into your hip, and his teeth find the meat of your shoulder again.

The sound of his command, the tension breaks, your body stills mouth dropping open in a silent cry as your body twitches. Cunt quivering around his fingers as he fucks you through your release. He groans, fingers slowing, the heel of his palm coming to rest against your oversensitive clit.

You let out a soft whine, as his palm grinds against you, fingers curling and rubbing against your walls. You pant, coming down from your high, finding Hoseok watching you in the mirror.

“Fuck, so pretty when you come.”

His praise makes you embarrassed, you go to hide from him again. The hand on your hip is quick grasping your chin and keeping you pinned beneath his gaze.

“No hiding,” his fingers flex against your neck. You shiver finding his dark gaze, those deep pits devouring you whole. As you greedily do the same.

“Hoseok,” you whisper his name, and he groans softly pressing into you. His fingers still buried in your cunt, the movement makes you gasp. Still sensitive from your first climax. “Hoseok, fuck me, need to feel you–”

He doesn’t let you finish, his fingers turn your head enough that he’s able to press a messy kiss to the corner of your lips. You follow his lead, pressing messy, needy kisses to his lips, wanting badly to reach more of him. But he only allows so much movement from your prone position against the mirror.

You jolt as his fingers slip from you, how empty your cunt feels without them. His hand leaves your neck, slipping down your back to grasp at the hem of your sweats, the other hand still wet with your slick goes to your other hip.

With a quick jerk your sweats and panties are pulled down, you gasp into Hoseok’s kiss as your cunt is exposed to the cool of the room. His foot slips between yours and with a soft nudge he coaxes your legs further apart.

You try to ignore that you can feel the slick clinging to your folds, and trails of it dripping down your thighs, you're still soaked and quivering for more.

Hoseok’s hands leave you for a moment, the soft rush of fabric, and then the heat of his cock settles between your ass cheeks again. He’s big and your eyes flutter at the thought of him filling you, Hoseok chuckles against your lips.

“What’s going on in that mind baby?”

You whine, pressing another messy kiss into his lips, as his hands find their way back to your hips, one slipping forward and finding your clit again to trace soft patterns into the bud.

“Need your cock, fuck, need it so bad Hoseok,” you gasp into his mouth, tongue slipping out to trace along his bottom lip, his own slips out to tangle with yours. He doesn’t reply, instead he maneuvers you both.

Backing up he pulls at your hips. Your front still pressed to the mirror, this new position forces your back to bow, and your legs spread, cunt all but on display for him.

Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, a groan of appreciation as his hands wander over the curve of your ass, and his fingers toy again with your weeping folds. You whine and buck into his hands. Wanting so badly to be filled again.

Hoseok chuckles before sliding behind you again.

Your eyes flutter closed as you feel the head of his cock press between your folds. A sharp smack to your ass has you jolting, a pained grunt leaving you as your eyes snap open to glare at Hoseok, who gives you a wide smirk back.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Eyes. On. Me.”

He gives a smack to your ass, punctuating every word, your ass cheeks sting from his strikes, soft needy whimpers leave you. Hoseok groans as he feels more slick drip onto his cock.

“Gonna fuckin wreck you, baby,” he huffs and you nod, he presses in, the head of his cock stretches you like his fingers couldn’t.

A moan catches in your throat has he takes his time, fucking into you inch by slow inch. Feeling every quiver, throb and flutter of your cunt around him. Hoseok is panting above you as he finally bottoms out. He’s thick, his cock filling you deliciously full.

Your eyelids flutter, but you refuse to look away, watching as Hoseok’s jaw drops, the groan that leaves him as he fucks fully into you. The delicious sensations overwhelming him for a moment as your cunt clenches around him.

“Fuck, baby, fuck you feel so good,” he pauses, whether to let you adjust to him or to just feel you.

You don’t know, his fingers flex, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he presses himself into you.

“Fuck–wanted this for so long.”

His mumble has you jolting, but before you can ask him what he means, his hands grasp your hips, fingertips digging into soft fat, finding purchase as he pulls out. Slow again, you both groan as the wet sounds of your coupling fill the room.

Your cunt clenches around him, needing him to fill you again. He pulls out till only the head remains inside, before fucking back in. Faster now that you're used to him. The slap of his hips against your ass echoes in the practice room.

“Fuck, Hoseok, please, faster–need you to fuck me,” you beg him, tired of the foreplay. You need him to destroy your cunt. Need to feel that unhinged energy you’d witnessed so many times in class, been so close to tasting in the year you’d been dancing with him.

“Don’t have to tell me twice baby,” he growls, and it’s all he needs.

His grip tightens on your hips and his lips bare his teeth in a feral snarl as his hips set a fast, rough pace.

He fucks into you with the abandon you’ve seen him dance with.

Taking his lower lip between his teeth as he thrusts hard and fast. Jolting you against the mirror, Hoseok pants and grunts with every thrust.

“Fuck look at you,” he mutters, voice a panted growl as he fucks harder into you. The length of his cock fills you again and again. The head of his cock grinding just right against your soaked walls.

“Look so good up against the mirror creaming all over my cock, fuck knew you’d look so pretty getting fucked on my cock.”

His words has your cunt gushing, and you answer his praise with little mewls and moans as he fucks you stupid against the mirror. His cock strokes against every part of your cunt, as he fucks you full.

The slap of his hips against your ass punctuate between lulls in the music. Your skin glows with sweat, your back arches as you press your hips back to meet his thrusts.

Moaning, and crying as he fucks you. Hoseok answers your noises with grunts and growls of his own. Gasping when your cunt flutters around him, signaling you're close again. Hoseok wants to bring you there again, to watch your body give everything to him.

“You close baby?” He growls between thrusts as his fingernails bite halfmoon marks into your skin. The pain only serves to pull you deeper into pleasure.

“Yes, fuck, yes–I’m soclose–”

He leans over your form one arm wrapping around your waist, the other placing a hand above you on the mirror, and with another quick kiss to your shoulder he ups his pace. Fucking into you with a speed none of your previous partners had ever reached.

Your climax hits you suddenly, as his hips piston in and out of you, you come around his cock with a sudden broken cry. Your cunt convulsing around his cock as he fucks you through your second orgasm of the night, his hand slithers down between your legs finding your clit.

Rubbing the little bundle of nerves you keen.

“Fuck! Hoseok!” Your body writhes attempting to get away from the sudden onslaught of pleasure as he keeps pistoning into your abused cunt. The pleasure rises again suddenly as your knees lock, and Hoseok’s cock throbs in your still pulsing cunt.

He gasps, as your cum again, sudden and blinding, white flashing before your eyes as you writhe in the prison that is his body. Warmth drips down your legs, and onto his.

“Fuck–” Hoseok groans as his cock twitches in your cunt, the warmth of his release painting your walls. He buries himself inside of you, both of you softly moaning as you feel his come fill you.

Your body shudders as you both remain there, your legs quivering, the only thing keeping you up at the moment is Hoseok’s solid arm around your waist. Muscles screaming for rest. Your mind rebooting as you process what the fuck just happened.

Hoseok’s breath is warm as he remains hunched over you. His cock softening, as it weeps the last few drops of his release into you. When he pulls out you both gasp, you shiver as you feel the mixture of your releases leak from your abused cunt.

Hoseok pulls back from you.

There’s the rustle of fabric, Hoseok tucking himself back into his own sweats. You linger for a moment, your body unwilling to move just yet. Also, unwilling to look at Hoseok head on.

The sounds of his footsteps going to the cabinet. The bass of the song interrupted as he pauses your phone. He’s brought the original lights back on as the darkness behind your eyelids brightened.

You know you need to address whatever the hell just happened, but another part of you just wants to bury your head in the sand. Not think about this, maybe move to an entirely new town.

You jolt as you feel Hoseok’s hands on your sweats, pulling them up and covering you from the chill of the room. You don’t mind that your panties will be ruined…hell your sweats probably are too.

“Come on, you gotta open your eyes at some point.”

He speaks softly as he finishes getting your sweats back to their original position, you almost want to play dumb. You can keep your eyes closed as long as you want. But you also just want to get this over with.

Opening them you finally look at Hoseok in the mirror.

He’s watching you, though this time not like before. Those soft hazel eyes looking at you like he’s waiting for the worst to happen.

You blink before turning around to actually look at him, he’s standing a bit back from you. Hands twisting behind him, so different from the Hoseok you’d very much just enjoyed fucking moments before.

“Listen–”

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Hoseok shuts you up before you could even formulate a sentence. You blink at him, speaking before thinking.

“What do you mean you’ve–”

“Since I handed you the flier and you started coming to class.”

He looks guilty, like he just pressured you into something, for a second your mind stalls, because you are a grown adult and you wholeheartedly consented to what just happened.

You don’t think as you step forward to press a kiss to his mouth, one he is quick in reciprocating. His hands find their way back to your hips as his tongue swirls with yours. You pull back your mind going fuzzy again. Your cunt is already wet at the thought of another round.

“I wanted to do that too, but fuck Hobi, you could have been a bit more obvious–”

“Obvious!? I was all over you in class, my dances got a lot more risque when I knew you were watching.”

You jolt, blinking up at him with something akin to the surprise Pikachu face. Hobi can’t stop the sudden laugh at your expression. But you’re melting into his hands as his thumbs rub circles into your hip bones. Your fingers clutch onto his arms as you blink owl-like in your confusion.

“You…were?”

“Oh my gosh girl,” he laughs leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. “I was trying so hard for you to see me.”

“Hobi I see you, you’re all I see, your dancing, your laugh…everything.”

Both of you standing in the middle of the dancefloor. Just ruminating on what’s been spoken. His hands are warm, as he pulls you closer nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head. Your arms wrap around his waist.

“So…where do we go from here?” You mumble into the warmth of his chest.

He smells wonderful, the musk of his sweat mixed with the heady spice of his cologne. You would stay here forever if you could. You sense he’s about to answer, but the loud gurgle of your stomach interrupts.

The laugh that leaves both of you echoes in the dance studio. You look up and meet those hazel eyes again, as he shoots you a wide heart-shaped smile and gives you a soft peck on the forehead.

“Let’s eat first and then we can figure out the heavy stuff, though I recall you stating your undying love to me if I got you jajangmyeon.”

His smile somehow widens as you laugh, fully intent on showing him how appreciative you are for the jajangmyeon, and for everything else.

#hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #j hope x reader #j hope x you #jung hoseok smut #j hope smut #j hope #bts fanfic #j hope imagine #jung hoseok #bts x reader #jhope #j hope bts #bangtan jhope #jhope fanfic

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xjoonchildx · 1 year

Text

kanalia | jhs x reader | chapter five: the king is a fool

banner by the amazing, incredible @kth1

⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes.

⚜️word count: 10K

⚜️notes: the queen is hot and bothered, literally & figuratively. the king puts several Ls in the disappointed but not surprised category, everyone gets drunk at some point. lord min is a terrible archer, yeona remains round and winning. the queen could melt steel with her sexual frustration, lord jung is not faring much better but at least he knows what he's doing, slightly awkward marital smut. the queen fights with everyone.

i could never have finished this chapter without these amazing authors & minds @miscelunaaa and @vyduan and one person who would probably level us all with her first fic if she decided to write one, @hobi-gif. please let me re-iterate how much it means to me that any one of you reads my stories, and it would make me endlessly happy to talk to you about it. you can talk to me here 💕

previous chapter final chapter

Hyeri is curious.

She examines the stains at the hem of your walking dress with narrowed eyes, pausing her thorough study of the red-brown splotches only to steal the occasional furtive glance your way.

Her lips purse as she shakes dirt loose from the grooves of your walking boots. She watches the sediment fall to the floor with a raised brow, uncharacteristically quiet as she reaches for the broom to sweep the mess away.

But her bewilderment only grows as she draws closer.

The older woman’s posture stiffens as she regards you, lips pulling into a thin line as she takes in the state of your wind-swept hair and grimy fingernails. You must reek of the ill temper you’ve brought back from your ride, the smell of it as pungent as the sweat and horse on your clothes. She tests your temperament in much the same way as she tests your bathwater, query as feather-light as the fingertip she skims along the surface.

“Are you… well, this evening, Your Grace?”

“As well as I ever am,” you answer succinctly, accepting her hand and stepping carefully into the tub. Woven into the spaces between each of your clipped words is rebuke; a silent warning to proceed no further. Your handmaid, who is by no means a meek woman, has the good sense to heed it.

So Hyeri says nothing as she takes a comb to the tangles in your hair, working them apart with peach oil. She says nothing as she scrubs away the dirt embedded beneath your normally pristine fingernails. And she says nothing still when you wince at the ache in your thighs as she helps you from the bath.

When the heavy chamber door finally pulls behind her, shutting the stares and the questions safely out, you make your way to bed. You extinguish the lamp on your nightstand and welcome the shadows.

And then you succumb to the darkness that envelops you, inside and out.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Steamy heat has put an end to weeks of pleasant fall weather.

You’ve sought refuge this afternoon beneath a tree at the edge of the castle’s sprawling open field. The oak, though grand, offers scant protection from the midday sun. A bead of sweat trickles down your neck and disappears into the linen at your décolletage.

“Between you and me, I’ve always found hunting to be an appalling sport.”

Boram shakes her head at the scene in the distance. The King and his men claim to be training for an upcoming hunt, but by all appearances, there is little training taking place. Instead they look to be bandying about like mischievous little boys, scrambling for position in front of the straw targets with bows in hand.

“I find it to be an exercise in vanity more than ability. Little more than male preening disguised as sport.” Boram dabs at her brow with a handkerchief and sighs. “What do you think?”

You don’t answer Boram’s question on account of your distraction. Try as you might to keep your eyes on the dashing elder Lord Kim or the charming young Lord Jeon or – heaven forbid, your husband – they wander to Lord Jung instead, over and over and over again. Your gaze pulled to his strong face as though drawn by a magnet.

He turns his head and his dark eyes find yours across the distance.

The butterflies you’ve felt in his presence before are not to blame for the unsettled feeling that comes over you now. The very sight of the man makes your stomach turn over, as though you can taste the vivid recollection of the last time you saw him.

The memory of that wonderful ride – and of the horrible way it ended – are still bitter on your tongue. Like picking the most beautiful fruit in the orchard only to find it sour and decaying inside.

“Your Grace?”

You blink.

“I say this to you as my friend and not my Queen,” Boram says, pausing to clear her throat. “You don’t seem yourself today. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“Nothing at all,” you lie quickly, smoothing down the damp curls springing up around your ears. “I’m fine, truly. Though I suppose it is possible the heat is making me cross. I can barely think in such conditions.”

“Awful, isn’t it?” Boram laments, reaching over to give Yeona’s belly a tickle. The baby curls into herself like a starfish, giggling as she rolls around on the blanket. “Yoongi says it will take a rain to break it. But until then, we must all suffer.”

“And suffer we shall,” you echo under your breath, watching Lord Jung load his bow in the distance. He sets his lithe body in a precise stance then draws his arm back and releases his arrow. It flies in a tight arc and lands just below the bullseye on the target. The men erupt into raucous cheers. You resist the urge to scowl.

“As for the hunting,” you add, “I think men are just as guilty of the frivolity they so often accuse women of. Not that any one of them is likely to admit it.”

“No, I suppose not,” Boram laughs. “Men are not known to be skilled in the art of introspection.”

“They certainly are not.”

And why should they be? Men never have to stop and consider the consequences of their actions. They alone decide the rules of engagement. They are free to be as vain and as frivolous and as thoughtless as their hearts desire. Horrid, infuriating creatures.

Lord Min steps up to the target. His stance is uneven and his arrow is wild the very second he lets it loose. It flies yards from the target and lands off in the grass. The men jeer loudly.

“Poor Yoongi,” Boram winces as she watches the men tease him. “He’s never been much of an archer, I’m afraid.” But the good-natured Lord Min appears to take it all in stride, shrugging off their taunts as he trades his bow for a fresh tankard of ale.

The King takes his turn next – the lines of his body thicker and stronger than Lord Jung’s, but no less elegant. The men circle around your husband as he draws the bow back with one strong arm. He takes careful aim with his arrow and deftly plants it just above the target’s bullseye. The sound of the men’s whooping echoes across the field.

And so it goes for a while, with the men taking turns loosing their arrows to varying degrees of success.

Lords Park and Jeon both prove to be adequate archers, hitting the targets more often than not. The elder and younger Lord Kims are less skilled and spend the lion’s share of their time plucking arrows from the grass behind the targets. Lord Min quickly gives up on the endeavor entirely, opting instead to sit with his ale and heckle the others.

But the two best archers on the field refuse to be distracted by drink.

The King and Lord Jung set an arduous pace, loading and firing their arrows in quick succession. Even at a distance, even with your meager knowledge of archery, you can discern that both men are quite evenly matched in terms of skill. They load, fire, and strike their respective targets with precision.

On and on they persist – despite the brutal heat, despite the fact that the other men have begun to tire. One by one the other Guardsmen surrender, abandoning their bows and collapsing onto the grass to watch.

“These two seem quite serious, don’t they?” Boram notes.

They certainly do. The air of silly fun that’s sat over the group for much of the afternoon is all but gone now and what began as a diversion for all of the men has clearly become a challenge between just two. The other Guardsmen seem to sense the shift in atmosphere as well, their faces earnest as they watch the King and Lord Jung compete.

Physically, the two men are quite different. The King’s muscular arms and chest serve him well as he steadies his bow and fires. In contrast, Lord Jung’s body is lithe, sleek. He moves with an agility the King cannot. But both wear matching expressions of determination. And though this competition might have been amiable at the start, it’s now evident that neither man is willing to leave the field without a clear victor.

Lord Min calls out to them both – voice too distant for you to make out his words – and the men appear to nod in agreement. They both step back from the targets, increasing the difficulty of each shot. But it takes only a few more arrows to prove that the added distance is no hindrance to either man. Both set their stances again, both aim and fire, and both land their arrows with ease.

The Guardsmen sitting nearby fall silent, and in the absence of their racket the King’s answering growl of frustration echoes over the entire field.

“Oh my,” Boram whispers. “I’d heard there was some tension between them, and it would certainly appear to be so.”

It certainly would. Right now, the King and Lord Jung look more like rivals seeking to settle a score than lifelong friends.

The King’s agitation is apparent in every move he makes, in the way he jerks the arrows out of the straw targets and stalks back into position. Lord Jung’s agitation is equally apparent. He accepts a skin of water from Lord Min without so much as a thanks and hands it back once he’s drained it.

It’s a strange thing to see the handsome Guardsman challenge his King with the very same passion in which he’d defended him just days prior.

“Has the King spoken to you about it?”

“No,” you admit stiffly, “He has not. Are you determined to keep me in the dark, as well?”

“Heavens, no,” Boram protests, pulling Yeona into her lap. She hands the baby a rice cake and Yeona sets to gumming at it right away. “I would never want you to think that I’m speaking ill of the King, is all.”

“I could never think that of you.”

There is hesitation in Boram’s face when she flicks her dark eyes back to meet yours.

“Well, the details I have are few,” she starts slowly. “But what I know is that the King expressed a wish to see Lord Jung married again and Lord Jung, from my understanding was – ” she pauses, carefully considering her next words,“ – less than amenable to the idea.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Yoongi says they fought over the matter. Quite thoroughly, from what I’ve been told.”

“I see,” you say, taking great care to keep your expression impassive. “And did Lord Min explain why Lord Jung is so opposed to marriage? He’s still a young man. I can certainly see why the King would think it a logical proposition.”

Boram’s lips purse as she thinks.

“I do not know that I can say. Though I consider Lord Jung to be a dear friend, he can be terribly private about some matters.”

You cut your eyes towards the field to search for the man in question.

Does she really know Lord Jung? Do you? Today there is no sign of the man who’d leveled you with a smile in the Great Hall, no trace of the man who’d teased you about riding clothes before helping you onto your mount. The man you see now wears a strained expression as he watches the King take aim, his energy volatile like a pot ready to boil over.

Perhaps you’d been foolish to think him so different from the King. Perhaps they are as evenly matched in the art of duplicity as they are the skill of archery.

“So what will come of it?” you ask after a while. “Will the King – make him marry?”

“I don’t know,” Boram admits. “And therein, I suppose, is where much of the tension lies. Lord Jung has already taken a bride once in service to the Kingdom. I can’t imagine he’d be inclined to do it again.”

There’s a sudden commotion on the field then, an outburst that has Lords Park and Jeon on their feet. The younger men rush to meet the King and Lord Jung mid-field, nodding as the King speaks. Both take off running at once.

“I’ve no clue what that is all about, but I do wish they’d end this already,” Boram grumbles, watching the young men disappear behind the tree line as they go off in search of whatever it is the King’s asked for. “I don’t know how much longer I can last in this heat.”

“Nor I,” you agree, watching the King and Lord Jung speak to one another. Both men look sober, the lines of their faces hard. “But it seems we’ll all have to endure it for just a bit longer in order to humor this contest of male prides.”

Some arduous minutes later, Lords Park and Jeon make their return to the field.

The dust kicked up by the horses they ride precedes them, the ground parched from weeks without rain. Both men arrive in a cloud of grime – Lord Jeon on the King’s mount and Lord Park on Lord Jung’s– and dismount without delay, handing the reins over to their elders.

So this is how they will decide the victor.

“Well, let’s hope they keep their wits about them,” Boram sighs. “Lest they both break their legs in the heat of competition.”

“Yes, let’s,” you mutter.

The King is first to take his turn, of course.

He mounts Jeonsa with ease despite the horse’s grand height and takes his time warming the warhorse up. The King runs his mount in circles around the target until he’s satisfied with his plan and the timing of his shot. He steadies himself against the jostling with his strong thighs, pulling his bow back to fire. The arrow hits the target just below the bullseye.

The men, who’ve spent hours now drinking in the hot sun, erupt into a chorus of ruffian cheers.

Lord Jung wastes no time taking to his own mount. His horse is leaner and quicker than Jeonsa, and it’s clear that he commands complete control of the animal’s every step. Both horse and rider move as one as he urges his mount faster, straightening his back to fire. The arrow hits the target just above the bullseye.

The men are getting rowdy now, egging on both competitors as they circle on their horses. Their shouting is louder, more animated, and you would not at all be surprised if there were a few healthy wagers underway. You wonder which of the men they’ve bet on.

You wonder which of the men you would bet on before pushing the thought away and reminding yourself that you’re not particularly fond of either at this moment.

The King circles Jeonsa around the target once again, taking his time about it. He seems to consider every circumstance surrounding his next shot – the angle, the speed, the light wind that blows east. After a great deal of circling and thought, he rears back to release his arrow.

It lands on the target, just above the arrow planted by Lord Jung.

The shouting from the men becomes a low roar.

Lord Jung pointedly ignores the commotion, rolling his shoulders as he stares down the target, brow knit in concentration. Soon he’s urging his mount to move, the pair fluid as they circle the target.

Just like the King, Lord Jung circles longer for this shot than he had for the first. Twice he draws back as though ready to fire and thinks better of it. But after painstaking deliberation, he finds his stride. He pulls his arm back and sets his stance. Then he releases his arrow.

And it misses the target entirely.

It flies off the end of Lord Jung’s bow with astonishing speed, gliding just to the right of the straw and landing off in the distance. The men are on their feet now, jumping and yelling and slapping one another on their backs. Lord Jung shakes his head in disgust.

“Well,” Boram reaches for her basket, loading her things into it with haste. “That’s settled now. I certainly hope at least one of them feels better. Let’s move into more liveable conditions, shall we?”

You open your mouth to agree just as you spot the King barreling towards you atop Jeonsa, leaving the men celebrating his victory on the field behind.

You nearly stumble over the hem of your dress in your rush to rise to your feet. Your husband is grinning widely when he reaches you, stopping his mount long enough to extend one large hand. You place your hand in his and he dips his head to plant a kiss on your fingers.

“Well done, You Grace,” you demur, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “A hard-fought victory.”

“Thank you. I’m quite pleased with the outcome.”

The King acknowledges Boram with a smile before turning his mount to ride back to his men. You put a hand to your brow to shade your eyes and watch as they cheer for him – reward him with the adulation he’s clearly worked so hard for.

But a thought occurs to you as you examine the scene in the distance.

There is no sign of Lord Jung.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The King comes to you that night – hair damp and smelling of fine soap, breath tinged faintly with ale.

He coaxes you to your knees just as he’s done so many times before. His fingers slide against your most secret place, slippery just as they’ve been so many times before. And then he’s pushing inside you, hard and hot just as he’s been so many times before.

But there is something different about him tonight.

Your husband’s touch is rougher than you remember. His grip on your waist is harder than you remember, large hands moving from your waist to your backside to dig his blunt fingertips into the soft flesh. His thrusts are more forceful than you remember, more erratic, powerful enough to push you up the length of the bed.

You fist your hands into the bedding and push back, refusing to allow your knees to buckle under the pressure. That earns you a low groan from the King – a sound that strikes a strange chord inside you; sends a shiver racing up your spine. You press your hot face into the sheets.

Perhaps Namjoon is still feeling the effects of an arduous afternoon in the hot sun. Perhaps he’s still in his cups after a night of drinking with his men.

Or perhaps it is all just a trick of your mind.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Morning brings no improvement in your mood. Quite the opposite, in fact.

You wake snappish, jarred from a fitful sleep by the sudden appearance of light in your chamber. Shafts of it – hot and harsh – stream through your windows, spill across your duvet, assault your eyes. You bury your face in the pillow in a futile attempt to avoid it, sweat beading at the nape of your neck until the uncomfortable warmth forces you to quit the bed.

But the rude manner of your awakening is only one reason for your irritation.

The other is the lingering tenderness between your legs, a dull ache you can feel with each careful step. The sensation is more an annoyance than a true discomfort, but it vexes you nonetheless. Each muted throb serves as an unwelcome reminder of your visit from the King, of the peculiar way he’d bedded you last night.

Your face flames as you think of it.

What is he about, your husband? And what of the juvenile, chest-thumping nonsense you’d witnessed yesterday afternoon? The combative way he’d gone up against Lord Jung and the grand show he’d made of coming to you to fête his victory. Boorish, absurd behavior – all of it.

You go about your morning ablutions in silence, unwilling to meet Hyeri’s eyes for even one moment. You are in no mood to withstand her meddling today – well-intentioned or otherwise – and so it is for the best that she helps you wash and dress in relative silence.

If there is something the older woman means to say, she has the good sense to swallow it, murmuring only a quiet warning about the heat as you slip out the chamber door.

And heavens, how you are wholly unprepared for the heat.

It, too, has worsened overnight – the air around you nearly thick enough to drink. You hurry towards the aviary, spurred on by the promise of the shade beneath its trees, but by the time you are finally seated at your desk you are soggy and sticky all over. Slick with sweat between your thighs and beneath your arms and breasts.

Perhaps you should have heeded Hyeri’s warning.

The thought rankles you as you open your book and attempt to pick up your story where you’d left it. You start and stop the same sentence over and over again, the heat so tyrannical that you can barely breathe, much less think. Even the King’s prized birds refuse to fly under such conditions – opting instead to perch on the highest branches, wings lifted to cool themselves with the occasional passing breeze.

The stillness unnerves you; makes your aggravation mount with each unbearable minute that ticks by and before long, you throw your novel down in frustration. This will not do.

Loathe as you are to spend another day confined to the castle’s thick stone walls, there is no avoiding it. You’ll not survive another half hour in this heat, which means you’ll certainly not be able to pass an entire afternoon in it. You huff as you throw your things back into your basket and stalk off towards the aviary’s entrance.

But perhaps you should have been more mindful.

Immersed as you are in this black mood, you don’t notice the brambles growing at the edge of the heavy gate. You brush past them in a hurry, only to be wrenched back by the thorns that take hold of your skirt. You tug at the material with your free hand, successful only at tearing a hole in the fine linen but unsuccessful at pulling yourself free. You drop your basket in the struggle and the contents spill out, an apple rolling to a stop at your feet.

It is then that you do something very unladylike, something that would have earned you an exaggerated gasp from your sister or a sharp rebuke from your mother.

You swear. Loudly.

You summon all of your frustration and scream what is perhaps the most undignified word you know at the very top of your lungs, the vulgarity echoing in the aviary’s eerie quiet. And though it’s done nothing to solve your current predicament, there’s something truly satisfying about speaking the nasty word out loud, about shouting it into existence.

That is, until someone coughs.

“I take it you need some help, Your Grace?”

You clap a hand over your mouth as you whirl in the direction of the voice.

Lord Min approaches slowly, eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in your sorry state. You’ve no idea where he came from, but at this very moment you’ve never been so horrified and grateful to see him, all at the very same time.

“Yes, I – ” you start and stop, flustered by both your behavior. “ – I’m stuck. The brambles are caught in my skirt and – ”

“Oh yes, I see,” he says, leaning down to examine the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. He tugs at the bottom of your skirt and you wince at the sound of the fabric tearing. “You’ve got yourself quite tangled up here, haven’t you?”

“I believe I have,” you admit with embarrassment. Lord Min gets down on his knees and begins plucking thorns and burs out of the fabric, brow knit with concentration as he attempts to extricate what remains of your fine linen dress.

You clear your throat.

“My Lord, I hope I didn’t – Well, rather, I hope you were not offended by that word you heard me say. It’s not a word that I usually use, not really. Well, not ever. What I mean to say is that I know of coarse language, of course, but I’m certainly not in the habit of using it.”

“What word?” Lord Min interrupts your rambling from his perch at your feet, eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Did you say something, Your Grace? I must not have heard it.”

The corners of his mouth curve into a cautious smile, which you return with a timid one of your own. His teasing is welcome. It brings badly-needed levity to your embarrassing situation and lightens the heaviness of this atrocious day.

“What’s this, Min?”

At once, the gesture dies on your lips.

Lord Jung comes into view by way of the same path taken by Lord Min, though his sudden appearance does not bring you the same kind of relief. Quite the opposite, in fact.

The very moment he’s standing before you, critical gaze moving from you to Lord Min and back, you feel absolutely lightheaded with anxiety. You wonder what he must make of the scene he’s stumbled upon: Lord Min on his knees, at your feet, hands fisted in your skirts.

“You Grace.” The lines of Lord Jung’s beautiful face are hard as he acknowledges you, his voice stiff and formal in a way that makes it foreign to your ears. He bows to you much in the same way, body rigid as he performs the required motion.

“My Lord,” you return with similar formality.

“Her Grace is stuck,” Lord Min explains, unaware or perhaps unbothered by the provocative position the two of you have been discovered in. “I’m trying to free her without ripping this linen to shreds. Could use your help, seeing as you’re standing there. Push that branch back for me?”

“Yes, of course.”

Oh, but now you feel a migraine coming on. Lord Jung squeezes into the space beside you, leaning over Lord Min to push the brambles back so that the older man may have both hands free to work. At this point, both men are too close, but he is far too close. Heat blazes a path up your neck and into your cheeks.

Inhale, you twit. Exhale.

“Last few, Your Grace,” Lord Min announces, voice muffled by your skirts. “I think the linen will need a bit of mending, but not much more.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

Lord Jung’s gaze connects with yours. His dark eyes, normally so warm and expressive, are flat as he regards you. In fact, everything about the handsome guardsman’s countenance is uncharacteristically severe today, from the deep knit of his brows to the way his bow-shaped mouth presses into a firm line. He looks away from you without so much as a smile.

Is he – is he angry with you?

Your mouth nearly falls open at the realization. What right would Lord Jung have to be angry with you? It was he who’d laid the trap with the promise of a perfect afternoon spent riding and he who’d sprung the trap by defending your husband’s dishonesty.

If either one of you had a just claim to animosity, it would most certainly be you.

The awful word you’d uttered at the very start of this ridiculous dilemma springs right to the tip of your tongue. If only you had the courage to spit it at him. Horrid, infuriating man.

“There now,” Lord Min announces. “I think we’ve got it. Hang on to that bramble for a bit longer while Her Grace steps away from the gate.”

You start forward slowly, steps mercifully unencumbered by gnarled plants. Though Lord Min has done his best to salvage the fine linen, your skirt is now covered in a fine dusting of grime, torn in places from your knees to your ankles. Hyeri will have a fit when she sees you, but you couldn’t care less about the state of your ruined dress. The only thing that matters now is quitting this place at once.

“Thank you so much, Lord Min,” you breathe, dropping to your knees to gather your scattered things. The elder guardsman helps you retrieve the wayward charcoals and papers, which you hurriedly stuff back into your basket. “I’ll be off now and won’t take up any more of your afternoon.”

With that, you rush to your feet and turn on your heels to leave. You try not to think about the scene you’re leaving behind – Lord Min puzzled by your sudden exit, Lord Jung affronted by the fact that you’d pointedly ignored him in your thanks.

You make haste with those first few steps towards freedom, only to be pulled back once again. Only this time, not by jagged brambles.

“Your Grace.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand at the sound of the gruff voice behind you. You turn around slowly, acutely aware of both men watching your every move. When Lord Jung steps forward, your eyes fall to the gently worn leather binding in his hands.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

You take great care to school your features, though the panic rising inside of you threatens to spill out. Your most private thoughts are inside that book. Fragments of poems and unsent letters and one horribly incriminating sketch of a man who is most certainly not your husband.

“Thank you, My Lord,” you mumble, resisting the urge to run to him and snatch the book right out of his grip. You can feel him watching your every move as you approach to accept it with unsteady hands.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

A storm is coming. You can feel it.

Never mind that the sun is shining – or that the sky outside is a perfect, crystalline blue. The clouds dotted across the horizon hang in the air, unmoving. There is no wind to rustle the leaves in the trees. The calm is ominous. Foreboding.

“... think none of the people in this kingdom have ever seen this kind of display before. I imagine they’ll be quite awed by it. I’ve only ever seen it once myself, in a village far North. A strange lot, those people are. After all these years, they still dabble in the dark arts.”

At the other end of the long dining table before you sits the King. He’s been prattling on like this for the better part of ten minutes now; far too absorbed in his grand talk of the festival to note that his audience of one has yet to engage with a word that’s come out of his mouth.

“It’s strange though, to think of celebrating a Fall Festival in this heat. Though I generally prefer the heat to the cold, these conditions are quite beyond the pale. We’ll have to have just as much water on hand as we do ale.”

You make a sound under your breath that you hope will pass for discourse.

“Of course, there’s still much to be done. But the stewards assure me that everything will be ready in time. And there will be much to celebrate this year as I’m told the crops in all our holdings are faring well. The wheat has – ”

The King’s jabbering comes to an abrupt stop.

“You’ve barely eaten,” he notes, in a sudden fit of awareness. He regards you over the rim of his wine glass, curious. “Is the jajangmyeon not to your liking?”

“It is to my liking,” you insist, pushing the wheat noodles around your bowl in a half-hearted attempt to appease him. “As always. I suppose I’m just not very hungry tonight, is all.”

“I find that surprising,” the King says, as though you’d asked his opinion on the matter. “I understand you were brave enough to venture out into that awful heat this afternoon. I would have thought you’d be famished tonight.”

Every muscle in your body tenses at once.

“Oh?”

“I spoke with Hyeri this afternoon,” the King elaborates, oblivious to his misstep. “She said she’d warned you against leaving the castle under those conditions, but you’d off and done it anyway.” He chuckles under his breath as he recounts the conversation. “I think you surprise her at times with how strong-willed you can be.”

Beneath the table, your hands ball into fists.

The thought of Hyeri disclosing the details of your day to the King, no matter how trivial, incenses you. You imagine them together over tea, sharing a laugh as they trade observations about your shortcomings. Or worse – meeting with one another somber-faced as they commiserate over your inability to produce a child.

That thought is the most insidious. Your nails dig savagely into your palms.

“Do you and Hyeri discuss my comings and goings often, then, Your Grace?”

Your husband shrugs, helping himself to another generous serving of noodles.

“Often enough, I suppose.”

“So am I then to assume that when you ask me about my day, you are merely standing on ceremony? Surely you must be, given that you’ve already had a full report from my handmaid.”

The King sets down his chopsticks to look at you, perplexed by the contentious turn in this conversation. But he’s careful to school his features as he considers what to say next.

“Of course not,” he starts slowly. “I ask after you because I genuinely want to know about your day. It’s a consideration that I would think customary between husbands and wives.”

Is he – is he toying with you?

What on earth would His Grace know about what’s customary between husbands and wives? He is the one who’s made this marriage into a farce with his deceit and adultery. He is the one who’s held you at arm’s length from the very start in order to protect the woman he truly loves. Your husband’s hubris is as astonishing as it is aggravating. Horrid, infuriating man.

“Well I, for one, would genuinely like to know about your day, Your Grace,” you say, unable to keep venom from seeping into your every word. “So tell me then – as is customary between husband and wives – how did you pass the afternoon?”

The color drains from the King’s face.

You should shut your mouth now and say no more, you know it – but by now you are far too consumed with anger to give much thought to the consequences of sharp words. You push the bowl of jajangmyeon away and get to your feet.

“Nothing of interest to share, then?” You raise a brow as you stare down at your husband, unwilling to look away for even one moment. “What a pity. Perhaps tomorrow.”

The King’s eyes narrow but his mouth stays shut. He says nothing in his own defense, says nothing to attempt to placate you.

And he says nothing as you turn your back on him and walk out the door.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first crack of thunder sounds just as you’re readying for bed. You stand at your window and watch the storm roll in.

Black clouds build off in the distance, discernible only by the occasional flare of lightning. Each bright flash is followed by an earth-shaking rumble that satisfies you somehow, as though you’ve manifested this squall with your thoughts. The violent wind and rain it carries with it a mirror of the tempest inside you.

“Do you require anything else, Your Grace?”

Hyeri’s voice comes from behind, timid and small. She’s been tiptoeing around your chamber all evening, clearly disquieted by the cold reception you’d given her upon your return. The well-bred, well-behaved woman inside you whispers that you should turn to her, do something to reassure her, but you refuse.

Fortified by your anger, you keep your back to Hyeri and go on staring at the storm clouds.

“No,” you say firmly. “You can retire for the night.”

“But I – ” Hyeri starts, stops, and then sighs. “Very well. As you wish, Your Grace.”

And you do wish. You wish for Hyeri to leave you – not just tonight, but every night. And you wish not just for Hyeri to leave you – but all of them. You’ve grown quite tired of humiliating yourself in this kingdom; of placing your trust in people who’ve made you into a fool time and time again.

There is rustling as the older woman hurriedly gathers her things, then a brief pause before she slips out the door. The heavy thud that finally announces her departure brings you some small measure of peace, but it does not last.

Your bath-damp body is warm when you slip beneath the heavy duvet. Too warm. Though the storm raging nearby brings with it the promise of cool rain, it is still too far off to displace the humid air in your chamber. You toss and turn beneath the heavy covers for a while, your thin nightgown soaked through with sweat by the time you finally kick your bedding away.

So you lie there in the dark, close to feverish with heat and unable to settle down. Every time you close your eyes, you’re taunted by images – of Hyeri, of the King, of the child that never comes. What you would give to be able to quiet your mind, to have some respite from the reality of your circumstances.

But there will be no respite, not any time soon. The thunder outside is close enough now to shake the castle’s heavy walls with each new blast that rips through the sky. You feel the tremors right down to your bones, the sensation causing goosebumps to scatter across your skin.

In spite of the heat, you shiver.

There’s a prickling that starts at your scalp and goes right down to your toes. It makes you itch with the desire to drag your nails down your arms and legs. It makes you want to squeeze your thighs together, tight and tighter still until your agitation is gone. Perhaps that is the solution.

You cup your breasts through the damp, thin material of your nightgown. They feel sensitive, tender — and the very moment you brush your fingertips over your nipples they come to life, pebbling against the gauzy fabric.

You close your eyes and try to imagine that your hands are not your own. That the fingers that close around the aching buds, teasing and testing, are not your fingers. That the dormant pleasure the pressure rouses inside you has instead been roused by someone else.

In your mind, the hand that steals between your thighs is not your own. It’s larger than yours, the fingers longer and rougher than yours. You imagine that hand parting your legs, coarse fingertips slippery against the wetness gathered at your entrance. And you imagine it caressing you there, expertly stroking the spot that makes the air leave your lungs.

What would it be like to be touched like this? To have a lover’s lips at your neck and his hand between your thighs? To have the weight of him pressing down on you, the scent of him enveloping you – to feel his warm breath fan over your skin?

These thoughts only serve to make the ache between your legs more pronounced. But the more you attend to it, the sharper it becomes. Pleasure blooms with each inexpert pass of your fingers over that place, but in its wake your desperation grows, too.

You whine under your breath as you touch yourself harder, faster – a heaviness building at your core that makes you feel full, overripe. There is relief on the other side of whatever this is, and you know it.

But can you reach it?

Your imaginary lover would know how to help you reach it. He would take you in his arms and in his mouth and leave no inch of your body untouched. He would fuse himself to you, skin-to-skin, and show you how to beckon your pleasure at will, help you realize its full potential.

In your mind’s eye you can see him – legs and arms strong and lean, golden skin illuminated by firelight. The mouth he sets to your aching nipples would be soft, lips pretty and bow-shaped. And his hair would be dark and his eyes would be a rich chocolate and his face would be –

A clap of thunder explodes in the sky.

Your eyes fly open – unseeing – as you gasp from the shock of it. It leaves you trembling, body slick with sweat and limbs tingling from the sudden fear. You lie there in the dark, panting as you wait for your heart to stop racing.

And just like that, the pleasure you’ve been chasing is gone. Quick as a rabbit.

Outside your window the heavens weep, the rain beating against the ground like a hail of arrows.

The dry earth enjoying a relief that always seems to elude you.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“Magnificent, Your Grace.”

Hyeri passes a hand over the embellishments in your bodice, chest puffed with pride as she examines the dressmaker’s handiwork. Though her brown eyes have long gone dull and gray with age, they shine as she steps back to take you in from head to toe. “Just magnificent.”

It is magnificent – far and away the finest garment you have ever worn.

Rich, plum-colored velvet embellished with gilt thread, the plunging neckline and bliaut sleeves lined with pressed bezants. You hardly recognize the woman looking back at you in the mirror, the one with her hair swept off her neck in an intricate braided bun, eyes darkened with kohl, ears and neck adorned with sparkling gold. Whoever that woman is, she is far bolder and far more sophisticated than you.

“There’s nothing like his work,” Hyeri muses, running a thumb over pattern pressed into the hem of one sleeve. “Frail as he is, it takes him ages to complete a dress. But he’s worth it. Worth the wait and worth every single won.”

You study the intertwining gold patterns stitched into the bustline. No doubt the King has paid dearly for this dress and all its fine accoutrements. The thought of your husband spending an obscene amount of money on it nearly puts a smile on your face.

“You look remarkable in this dress,” Hyeri remarks quietly, wrinkled mouth lifting at the corners with a cautious smile. “Well, of course, you look remarkable everyday, but especially tonight.”

Her expression is bittersweet as she reaches for you, gently tucking a strand of hair that’s fallen loose of your braid behind your ear. This newfound emotional distance has been hard on her, you know. It’s been hard on you, too. And though holding her at arm’s length has proven difficult at times, it feels somehow vital to your self-preservation.

“Don’t forget your shawl,” Hyeri says softly. “It’s gotten quite cold out there.”

It certainly has. The storm that ripped through the kingdom just days ago took the insufferable heat with it, leaving behind a pure, crystalline cold. The night sky is clear enough to see for miles.

So you accept the shawl from Hyeri with a quiet thanks, avoiding her eyes as you slip out the chamber door.

By the time you make your way to the great hall, the revelry is already well underway. You can hear it pulsing through the slats of the heavy wooden doors, the music and commotion contained within powerful enough to stir the ground beneath your feet. The footmen posted at either side of the entrance bow deeply as you approach, then move to pull the doors open.

You raise a hand to still them, wanting a moment to steel yourself before entering the fray.

“I’m not – If you’ll just give me – ”

One of the guards steps forward to speak when your words falter.

“No need to explain, Your Grace,” he says earnestly. “Just let us know when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” You take as deep a breath as your elaborate gown will allow. “Truly.”

You already know what awaits on the other side of those doors. Artificial smiles that hide whispers about your empty womb, honeyed and hollow words of praise from your exasperating husband. Pity too, perhaps, from those connected enough to be privy to the true state of your marriage.

But you’ll bear it. You must. Because it’s what’s expected of you and because your political survival in this kingdom depends on it.

“Well then,” you say, smoothing down your velvet skirt with trembling hands. "I believe I've had time to collect myself."

The very same footman that had spoken to you just moments earlier gives you a sympathetic smile as he places one hand on the door’s ornate wrought iron handle. He pauses to look at you before signaling to the other footman, one brow raised as if to say are you sure?

You swallow thickly and nod your affirmation.

Slowly, the heavy doors are pulled open, creaking as they part. You step forward to enter, feeling a rush of cool air at your heels. The brief hush that falls over the great hall makes your heartbeat quicken.

But then the King stands.

He rises to his feet and bows to you, and every person inside the great hall follows suit. You return his bow and then straighten, holding your head up high as you set off to fulfill your duty.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The King makes no mention of the tense meal you’d shared just a few nights prior. Not that you’d expected him to. If anything, your husband’s predilection for avoidance has been one of his most consistent traits. And if he’s harbored any ill feelings about the curt words you’d spoken that night, surely they’ve been washed away in a torrent of ale.

He’s already a bit drunk when you take your seat beside him – pleasantly so, if his ruddy cheeks and leisurely smile are any indication. His dark eyes are glassy as they sweep over your form, taking in the grandeur of your dress. But they linger at your bust for just a heartbeat too long and it takes all the self-control you can muster to not kick him beneath the table.

“You look fetching in that dress,” the King notes, reaching for his tankard. “The color suits you.”

“Oh? Then you’ll be pleased to know I’ve dozens more just like it on the way.”

You startle a laugh from the King just as he’s taken a drink and he splutters on it, coughing until tears gather at the corners of his eyes. “Very good of you to warn me before the bill comes due,” he wheezes.

“But of course, Your Grace.” You infuse your words with cloying, contrived sweetness, putting a hand over your heart for emphasis. “It is the very least I could do.”

The King chuckles as you turn to look out over the room.

The tables below the raised platform on which you both dine are teeming with people, their long wooden benches bowing beneath the substantial weight. They are littered with food and drink, tankards and platters and goblets scattered for as far as the eye can see.

You sip your wine and watch partygoers reach over one another for noodles and steal dumplings from their neighbors’ plates.

It takes a minute for you to spot Boram. She and Lord Min are tucked into a corner, cozy and close. Your dear friend is the very picture of contentment; resplendent in a royal blue gown, glowing in the torchlight when her husband presses a kiss to her temple. Your heart aches as you watch them. What you would give to have what they have – to know the fulfillment they’ve found in one another.

In fact, the Mins make for such a compelling tableau that you nearly overlook the one behind it. Lord Jung is dressed in an arresting black and gold tunic, dark hair styled away from his face and a tankard of ale in his hand. And he is not alone.

Seated close to him – so very close – is a woman. A beautiful woman, as best you can tell from a distance. Her dark red dress in perfect contrast to her shiny fall of dark hair, the garment cut to accentuate what can only be described as a generous bust. She leans in to Lord Jung as she says something, décolletage on full display when she throws her head back to laugh.

Your grip on the wine goblet in your hand tightens.

The woman is brazen, that much you can tell. Her proximity to the Guardsman is far too close to be proper, her scandalous – if stunning – manner of dress far too self-indulgent to be benign. And though you cannot make out clearly how she’s been received by Lord Jung, the very fact that he has not sent her away is telling. Is this the woman he intends to marry, then? Or just a diversion for the night?

You drain the wine that remains in your goblet and signal for the serving girl to bring you more.

Moments later Lord Jung, too, flags down a passing servant to fill his tankard. For a man who once took great pride in extolling his discipline with spirits, he seems to be exercising very little of it tonight. In fact, he looks to be indulging as much or perhaps even more than his fellow Guardsmen. Perhaps that is why he does not he does not move to distance himself when the alluring woman at his side places a hand on his arm.

You swallow another large sip of wine.

“It’s nearly time for the evening’s entertainment,” the King says. “I think you’ll be impressed by what’s in store.”

You cannot tear your gaze from the scene before you. You cannot stop staring at the comely woman at Lord Jung’s side – stiffening in your seat when she leans over to whisper in his ear.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say absentmindedly, lifting your wine glass to your lips once again.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

When you were a girl, barely ten years old, your father had come home from a long journey with a fantastic tale.

He’d spoken of fire – in shades of red and green and gold – launched into the sky, embers raining down on the earth in a magnificent display. You’d been spellbound by the picture he’d painted for you, wishing desperately to see this phenomenon for yourself.

And now you have.

The King’s promise of a surprise well exceeds your expectations. Each new flare sent up over the open field is met with a hush from the crowd, followed by loud cheers and applause as it explodes into color.

“I brought them back from a village up North,” the King explains, preening at the crowd’s reception. “And though I wanted to show them right away, I made myself wait until the most advantageous time. What do you make of them?”

“They’re splendid,” you answer earnestly. “I’ve never seen anything so grand.”

The King hides a satisfied smile behind the rim of his tankard. By this point in the evening, he’s crossed the line from agreeably drunk to good and well soused – as have many of the others in attendance. You, too, are feeling the effects of your wine, experiencing that strange weightlessness that can only be brought on by drink.

And you are glad for the distraction of the fire display.

It’s helped pull your focus away from Lord Jung and that woman. Though each time there is a brief break in the presentation, you cannot help but search the throng for any sign of them. You wonder where they are right now. What they might be doing. But then you drown the bitter thoughts with the wine in your goblet.

The night wears on and the crowd around you becomes rowdier, louder – the ale barrels slowly disappearing one by one. Even the King is looking a bit worse for the wear. He’s sagged into the chair beside you, heavy-lidded as he watches the bright detonations that light up the sky.

You are not faring much better. A dull throb taps at your temples, no doubt the consequence of drinking too much wine, and you suspect that it will be far more pronounced come morning. You ought to retire for the evening now, while you still have some of your wits about you.

You open your mouth to say as much to the King at the very same time you catch sight of a slim man ambling away from the crowd. Though he’s hundreds of yards away and though there’s little light beyond the torches and the occasional embers in the sky, you recognize him right away.

You would recognize him anywhere.

Impulsively, you get to your feet and utter a rushed goodbye to the King. He bids you farewell with a sluggish smile and not a moment later he’s gone back to gazing skyward, mesmerized by the lights. Just ahead, Lord Jung slinks off into the shadows, moving with an unsteady gait.

And you follow him. To what end you cannot be sure.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Clearly, you’d given no real thought to this course of action.

If you had, you’d not be scurrying across damp grass right now, struggling to keep your balance in your beautiful velvet dress. The heavy fabric weighs you down with each step, making each footfall precarious. In fact, if you’d stopped for even a moment to consider the implications of stealing away to pursue a man who is not your husband, you’d have ended this lunacy long before it even began.

But here you are in the dark, chasing after Lord Jung. With only the moon to light your way.

The slender man moves quickly, unburdened by the trappings of women’s formalwear and assisted by his long legs. You lift the hem of your dress off the ground and do your best to keep up on the shadowy path. Just a short distance ahead you can make out the lines of a thatched roof and wooden fence.

It’s the stables, you realize, and the pieces start to fall into place.

He’s come here to meet that woman. The two of them must have agreed to leave the festival and come here for a secret tryst. Were you a woman in your right mind, that realization would stop you cold and send you running straight back to the castle. But you are absolutely not in your right mind. You are dangerous tonight; fearless from the wine flowing freely in your veins.

As such, the very thought of Lord Jung arranging for a passionate liaison with this woman has the opposite effect. It infuriates you. And you’ll not be satisfied until you can see the proof for yourself and then end this fixation once and for all.

Overhead, a flare of light illuminates the darkness just as you’re nearing the horse stalls. It’s followed by the sound of sizzling gunpowder, and it draws your attention skyward. You look up just in time to see wisps of fire tumble back to the earth. But when you fix your gaze forward again, Lord Jung is gone.

What on earth?

You’ve barely begun to consider your next move before your body is moving of its own volition, jerked right off the walking path by a hand that wraps around your arm like a band of steel. Lord Jung drags you behind the horse stall with one hand and claps the other over your mouth to smother the sound of hysteria that threatens to escape.

“What. Are. You. Doing?”

He hisses the words, one by one, his low vibrato thrumming with barely-contained anger. You’ve yet to recover from the shock of being accosted in the dark and so you stare at him, bewildered and mute.

He releases you, dropping the hand covering your mouth to walk to the edge of the stables. You watch as he ducks his head around the corner to check the walking path. Once he’s satisfied you’ve not been followed, he rounds on you.

“Anyone could have seen you.”

“No one saw me,” you scowl, finding your voice. You rub your forearm where his fingers dug painfully into your flesh. “They’re all far too drunk to see anything, I assure you.”

The Guardsman shoves a hand through his dark hair and exhales deeply.

“What are you about tonight, Your Grace?”

A fair question, and one you ought to have considered before dashing off into the night. But you’d been so hellbent on hunting the man down that you’d given no real thought to what you’d do if you actually caught him. You hesitate for so long that he grows impatient, closing in on you.

“What,” he repeats slowly, “Are you about?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“Well, you ought to know,” he growls. “You ought to know damned well exactly what you’re about before you go off following men into the dark.”

But it’s not as though you’ve followed just any man into the dark, is it? You’d followed him. The admonishment riles you, bringing your temper back to a full boil. You straighten your spine and sear him with a withering look.

“That woman tonight. At the feast. She wants you to bed her.”

Lord Jung’s dark eyes go wide just before they narrow. He stalks towards you slowly, forcing you to retreat until your back is flush to the stable’s rough wooden slats. Slivers of moonlight play off his angular face, making the shadows in the hollows of his cheeks more pronounced.

He’s beautiful – even like this – even when he’s so irate that he can barely stand still.

“I know what she wants,” he murmurs, voice sinking to an octave that raises goosebumps on your arms. “What I do not know is what you want. What I do not know is why you are here.”

“So you intend to bed her,” you challenge.

Something dangerous flickers in the man's expression as he regards you, gaze potent enough to almost make you regret your sudden bout of daring. Almost.

“No.”

And so there is no tryst. No agreement between secret lovers. Adrenaline floods your veins, bringing with it a clarity that you’ve not had since you began drinking tonight. You’ve been reckless – so, so reckless – and now there is no undoing what you’ve done.

“I’ve answered your question and now you will answer mine,” Lord Jung warns, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “What. Do. You. Want?”

All the fire has left you now. Whatever force possessed you to confront this man in this way has disappeared, leaving behind only a sickly taste in your mouth. You’ll feel more than just the wine in the morning, you know it.

“Brave enough to follow me into the dark, brave enough to demand I explain my plans for bedsport,” he continues, brows knit as he stares you down. “But somehow, not brave enough to tell me what you’re doing here in the first place.”

“I – ”

“Tell me then,” he goads, growing more agitated by the minute. “Open your mouth and speak. Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

You ought to have slapped him across the face. At the very least, you would have earned the look he’s giving you right now – this frozen mask of incredulity that’s come over him. He backs away from you slowly, as though poised to run. But he doesn’t.

“You’re mad.”

“I am not mad,” you say evenly, with a poise you’d not thought yourself capable of. “You asked me what I want and I’ve told you. I want you to kiss me.”

Another burst of color explodes in the sky. A loud cheer goes up over the field nearby, a disquieting reminder of the hundreds of people milling about just a short walk away. The commotion seems to sober him.

“Go home, Your Grace.” His words are strangled, forced. “You are playing with fire. You have no idea what you’re doing here.”

You stiffen, lifting your nose in the air.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you lie.

Your insistence only serves to make him even more agitated. He begins to pace back and forth, glowering at you as he moves.

“Go back to your castle, Your Grace. Go back to your fine life and your fine things and no one will ever be the wiser.”

“I will not,” you refuse, petulant.

Lord Jung delivers his last blow, the fatal one, in a voice so graveled it sounds as though the words are spoken by a stranger. And perhaps he is a stranger, this man you’ve been so infatuated with. Perhaps he’s nothing like what you’ve made him in your own mind.

“Go back to your husband,” he growls. “Your King.”

Your humiliation is instant and acute. You burn with it, the embarrassment so all-consuming that it nearly makes you see stars. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears, feel your heart pounding in your throat when you finally manage to speak.

“The King doesn’t want me,” you say stiffly. “Though I am certain you already know that.”

“The King is a fool!” he explodes, surging forward and slamming his hands down on either side of you. The outburst is violent enough to shake the horse stall and the venom in his countenance nearly makes you come out of your skin. His mouth hovers terrifyingly close to yours, so close that you can nearly taste the ale on his breath. You stop breathing altogether.

Then he wrenches himself away from you, staggering backwards as though he’s been burned.

“And so am I.”

i’d love to hear from you about this chapter! you can talk to me here. otherwise, i hope you enjoyed it and only the final chapter is left 💕

#hoseok smut #j-hope smut #bts smut #hoseok x reader #j-hope x reader #bts x reader #hoseok #bts hoseok #bts x you #hoseok x you #bts scenarios #bts au #hoseok imagine #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #bangtan

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taeandpuppies · 5 months

Text

What your cameraroll looks like if you're dating Jung Hoseok

#bts imagines #jhope #hoseok #jhope imagine #jhope fluff #bts #jhope scenarios #bts scenario #jung hoseok #j hope #jhope boyfriend #bts fluff

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delugguk · 2 years

Text

all for you

PAIR: idol!hoseok x reader

GENRE: smut, stablished relationship, fluff if you squint.

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: doggy, reverse cowgirl lowkey? making out, flustered hoseok because he's just soooo cuteㅠ

summary: you were so proud of your boyfriend leading his first mini solo concert so that's what you wanted to show him.

note: this is my first hoseok fic let's goooo~~ I also wanted to dedicate this fic to @sxtaep bc I know how much she likes hoseok *giggles*

"you were so good baby, I'm so proud of you."

your body is on top of his while you softly kiss on his slightly red skin.

hoseok has a very drunk-on-love smile plastered on his face. "thank you baby.." murmuring with his lidded eyes while his hands rest on your hips, touching you delicately.

as you continue kissing his hot skin, you move towards his neck. hoseok sighs at the nice feeling of your warm lips wrapping around it when he tilt his head back, immersing himself into this moment and while he's very much enjoying the way you're treating him right nowㅡthe reason why his skin is subtly painted by a red tone is because...

ever since you came here with jimin to keep him company, easing his very troublesome and nervous mind, your mouth hasn't stopped complimenting him or encouraging him to do what he loves the most. bringing so much confidence in him that he can't help but feel his body get all heated, shy and excited at the same time. causing this very light red tone on his honey skinㅡfeeling embarrased whenever you do.. it's not that he doesn't believe it, but hearing you talk so beautiful about him makes him feel so many things.

things he doesn't seem to control.

things that go beyond him.

making his heart beat like crazy. - feelings overflow with thoughts and he feels lucky. lucky because he's able to let himself have someone like you in his life, by his side. his teammates are also special, but the emotional and physical support is very different when it comes to it. having someone to feel like this, crave like this and miss like this? he could only miss and treat his friends by one certain extent. you on the other hand, were always available for him, he could fuck you the way he wanted, love you the way he wanted, touch you the way he wanted.. It was all so different.

he's sure his friends could even understand this unmatched sentiment.

being his pretty cheerleader had him thought he could get used to it, but boy.. was he wrong.

today has been the day were he thinks you've praised him the most.

giving him energy before his stage, you began complimenting him so much after the concert was done too. starting when he was getting readyㅡto backstage, even in the way back to the hotel and it's just...

galaxies formed into your eyes. you seemed to be so proud of him and while he has felt the big energy of the stage, he doesn't think he has ever seen you this happy for him. you always were, but something about this night told him that you were definitely his to take.

something so genuine in you..

he began to think about how much he adored the way you showed love to him. admiring the way you could tell and express your feelings without much trouble, that was something very much hard when it comes to himself. he genuily can't do it without automatically feeling embarrassed, so shy. so seeing the way you make it look so easy.. It actually gave him courage to open up a little more with himself. to not care at all and admit that he's good enough, that he's doing just fine. he recognizes all of these things about himself though, but it's just that it's a little difficult and different when it comes to hearing that outside of his mind.

dating you has made a big impact on him because he now could say it out loud. he has gotten better but still, his skin was always faster than him before he could even speak.

as your lips seemed addicted to his skin, there was just something about seeing your boyfriend like this that made you want to love him all over. he seemed so calm, maybe so.. yours. you can't quite tell what are the right words to what you mean but after seeing how extraordinary he could be on stage..

people singing to his solo songs after many years.. seeing how much he's loved and the way he reacted so well.. he did such an amazing job at carrying what is one of the biggest challenges he could have as a solo artist and you couldn't help but feel so happy and proud of him for marking this grand step. It truly was an experience and so you wanted to show him allㅡgenuily feeling like giving him back all of his efforts.

even though you could only give this little..

having him looking like this in front you now: vulnerable to your touch, moaning for you, needing you.. this. this is what you liked. of all his sides, this was just one of your favorites. the one were at the end of the day he's always back to you, loving you. fucking you. this.

so as your lips keep giving sensual pecks into his cheeks, neck, ears, jawline, chin, forehead.. and just every part of his face, you wanted to make him feel good. - hoseok actually loved when you did that too. It made him feel very much wanted and loved. just what he needs and likes.

with his post-concert adrenaline, you wanted him to release it all.. with you. you wanted to drain all of his energy into you, you're willing to absorb it all. - you know just how much that relaxed him and how much he enjoyed fucking you each time.

raw, slow.. it doesn't matter how it is. he always give it to you good and there's just something about the way he touched you that you adored so much.. - his hands being one of your favourite parts of his body, you place them around your ass.

hoseok's reactions were always good, very pleasing to see. the way he sighed everytime you did something he liked and how he closed his eyes.. when you kiss him, his heart shaped lips along with the little mole on his top lip seemed to always shine everytime you both took short breaks to breath and when he talked to you.. irresistible. that's all you can say.

when the kiss gets more intense, his touch starts matching his pace.

rougher.

needier.

and he's suddenly lifting your shirt gripping your skin into pulling you closer to him.

his hair makes you giggle when his face buries against your neck, only causing him to smile while he kiss on it.

you loved the way he looked with this hair though.. so nice, so hot..

"fucking love you.." hoseok whispers into your skin as you grind your hips into each other. "thank you so much for being here baby.." he moans before his lips are back into yours.

you don't say a word. enjoying your boyfriend's warmth and need to release his post-concert euphoria. he knows he could use you, he knows that you'll let him, but still.. hoseok always liked to hear you say it.

"you're letting me-"

"yes." you quickly affirm. he doesn't need to ask. you know he'll be fine by just thisㅡhad spoke about his many times before, just a simple answer can make its work.

he doesn't say anything else, only a fainted grin showing on his face when he's laying his back down the hotel room's bed. dick very hard below you as your lips draw a trail of wet sensual kisses along his naked chest and stomach. causing a moan from him the moment he lays his lidded eyes down on you.. you seem so hungry for him, so passionate into wanting to make him feel good..

then a brainstorm of questions quickly pass through his mind.

does he deserves you?

but then he remembers the many times you have told him the way he does just as much as you deserve him. because you were made for each other, because you both have a great connection, because nobody could ever match your energy.. and it was all true. he remembers and he believes that so much. the amount of sense of stability and safety you provide him is beyond what he can ever imagine when it comes to a relationship like yours. he don't think he could ever escape this feeling. not if it's with you.

taking his bare dick with your hand, you give him a gentle squeeze followed by your lips wrapping against his tip.

"ah.." hoseok sighs. "ffuck I wanted this.." eyes slowly closing as his head hits his pillow after you start bopping your mouth into his length. "yeah.. I wanted this." whispering to himself as your walls clench around nothing.

something about him cursing in a lower and breathy tone that causes that much effect in you..

his hand goes down your hair, gently and when he glances at you coating his dick so well with your saliva he can't help but ask,

"ffucking hot." exhaling, eyes gone. "don't you want to bounce on my dick?" with the sexiest grin you could ever witness.

your mouth pops out of his length as you squeeze your legs and bite your lips. "I'll like to."

"then what the fuck are you waiting for?"

you inmediately froze at his words, before you remember how needy and rude he could getㅡbut that's just.. so hot of him, in your opinion.. so you give him doe eyes as you crawl on him and his dick is so fucking hard.. very much erect and twitching.. suddenly the thought of you giving yourself for him to use crossed your mind.

It'll be a good alternative way into giving him what he wants, no?

so, moving quickly you make yourself position into your hands and knees. arching your back exposing your ass to him. "fuck me like this."

hoseok gasps. you know how much he loves this.

"use me." you murmur as your walls clench. gosh, you were needing him very badly.

hoseok grunts. he notices. "ha.." sighing. "what will I do with you.." lifting himself off the bed to get close to you, palming your ass as one hand pumps his very hot length. "making me nuts.."

spank!

and you jump at the sudden touch. walls clenching even more.. hoseok bites his lips into a smile and his face looks almost too devilish when you glance at him. you don't think you've seen him be this sexy..

"If I fuck you now.. I will go hard, baby.." he states while his dick brushes against your wet folds, coating him just well. "hm?" he takes his face next to your neck, leaving hot sensual pecks.

your nipples were so hard.. good thing he toys with them.

"are you okay with that?" he whispers into your ear while one of his hands start caressing your clit.

"eunng" you moan, rolling your hips back and forth into his dick.

"hm?" he smirks against your hair.

"y-yes."

"mhm." it's all he says, his warmth no longer against your face.

when goes back to his old position, the moment he enters you has you looking for air. he didn't only feel good but the way he could easily introduce himself into you was what surprised and turned you on at the same time. so you were that wet huh?

It shouldn't be something to be so shocked about because you were always like this with him but.. you still get surprised at just how much. you know? It's like you can feel it but to actually see it.. yeah, it's a whole other feeling.

"fucking hell," he moans the moment you slowly start fucking yourself back into him. "..as expected." he grabs your hips with both hands. "fucking needy." when he starts thrusting into you, hard.

his thrusts start getting more messy by the minute, you both are moaning so much even thought the vocalizations aren't as much noisy. it's more of you panting, hissing and exhaling rather than big crying noises, somehow trying to keep it low but it's because you're both too immerse into this type of pleasure, it feels different and it's so hot.

hoseok's dick is glistening so much, he actually loved the wet noises both your genitals were making. - when he seats down, you start bouncing your ass into his dick without facing him. all he had was this incredible view of your ass covering his length from time to time that once you cummed, he's inmediately thrusting up at you so fast that when he fills you up with his cum, he takes his time to see the way your little pussy hole squeezes out all of your cum and his, mixed back onto his length. the sight being too much that he even collects it with his tip and pushes back into you, pushing some little more back and forth as you also move with him. enjoying that little of overstimulation.

when you're all showered and about to sleep, you say to him. "I'm so proud of you." cuddling into his arms.

hoseok chuckles. "you've already say that, baby." caressing your hair.

"I know, but I truly mean it, babe."

eyes looking at his and his lips are so close to yours, you take the opportunity to leave a peck on it.

and hoseok's heart flutter.

"I love you so much. do you know?" he's serious as his arms squeeze your body hard but soft enough into his.

"I do." you respond, and despite you both serious faces, there's nothing more that speaks louder than both of your eyes.. filled with so much adoration and love, hoseok feels the need to remind you all over again how grateful he is for you to be here.

"the best in the whole world. I'm so glad to have you here, with me." he faintly smiles as his eyes slowly close given to him being sleepy, but that doesn't stop him from giving you one last forehead kiss for the night.

you smile back at him even though he clearly can't see.

burying your face into his chest, you feel like the luckiest person in the world. having him in your arms, even though you're (technically) the one being on his right now, you couldn't help but feel so happy.

happy that he saw all the support.

happy to know that this was all for him and him only.. yeah, this was a big step for him and for the way you and jimin hyped all this thing up.. you see it to be very hard to get over with and so then, you hoped for much more days like these to come..

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atinystraynstay · 4 months

Text

Steal The Show - Jung Hoseok

Synopsis: He was amazed by her. He knew how hard she'd worked for this moment, so being able to see her do her thing made him feel complete. She outshined the sun.

There was just one thing left he had to do.

Pairing: idol! Jung Hoseok x idol! fem reader

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.8k

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"J-hope! J-hope! J-hope!" The sound of cheers made Hoseok's heart shake with excitement. If there's any place he loved the most, it was being on stage.

Hoseok was wearing a pair of baggy jeans, an olive green tee-shirt, a black hoodie, and a black and white bomber jacket. Tonight, he was performing on the street (with J. Cole) for the first time. He was excited to showcase this stage for not just for Army, but for everyone. Especially for you.

You initially met Hoseok when you both were at an all-intensive dance class in New York City. He was shooting a music video, and you were attending university for dance. He was impressed with your dancing abilities, stepping back to watch just you when it wasn't his turn to dance. You moved as if you were made out of water, very fluid yet so in control of your body. He was amazed.

At the end of the lesson, Hoseok asked if you wanted to grab lunch. To be honest, you didn't really hear of BTS before meeting Hoseok. You figured he was your average guy from Queens who loved to dance. However, watching the dance practice videos he showed you at the cafe next door, you were amazed.

You didn't think the K-pop industry was for you though. You originally were trying to make it on Broadway, that's why you decided to attend school in the city. You wanted to network and make connections, wanted to go to auditions when you had free time. The politics involved in the Western music industry turned you off completely.

When JYP announced they were doing auditions across America, you decided to take the jump. It also helped that Hoseok pushed you to just try out.

"I'm not saying I want you to become an idol. I'm not saying I want you to move here to Korea. Even though I'd love living in the same part of the world as you," he said over FaceTime, laughing. "But it doesn't hurt to audition! Worse case, the audition is good experience for the next one you do."

He was right there. You just needed to put yourself out there. You've only done a few casting calls for ensembles, but you wanted a challenge. You wanted to attempt to go for a lead. And to an extent, auditioning for a music company was a challenge. It was out of your wheelhouse, but Hoseok reassured you that the k-pop industry drew people from all over the world from all sorts of backgrounds.

And somehow, you made it past the first audition. You sang "Fast Car" to showcase your singing abilities, even though you come from a dancing background. You were then asked to freestyle a dance, which honestly was the easiest part of the audition. It probably was easy considering you and Hoseok often freestyled with each other over FaceTime when you were in your own respective dance studios.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hoseok?"

He looked over his shoulder, a smile immediately on his face. He knew that voice anywhere.

"Y/n." You were wearing a light blue dress. There was a cutout in the shape of a heart surrounded by silver rhinestones. hugged around your thighs, showing off the white fishnet stocks. You wore a matching pair of white block-heeled boots that stopped short of reaching your knee. Your hair was down in curls, framing your face. You looked divine.

Before he knew it, you walked right up to him and hugged him tightly. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. He got a smell of your perfume, something that he's grown very fondly over. It smelled like cherries and vanilla. A scent he favored resonated with you.

"I've been looking for you all over," you giggled. His heart swelled at the thought of you searching for him.

"Well know you've found me," he winked. "You ready to go kill it out there?" "And know that you're watching me? Of course."

Hoseok wasn't sure what the line-up was. He only knew that he was geared towards the end of the showcase. He always loved watching what other artists and groups came up with, sometimes making their usual performances extra special. Hoseok also liked being the one to watch smaller acts, giving them a source of encouragement as they were just at the start of their careers.

He also strategically placed himself here, right at the side of the stage, so he could watch you. Not only did he want to watch you perform, but he wanted to be the first and last person you saw before and after being on stage. He wanted to cement himself as your biggest supporter, in more ways than one. "Y/n, five minutes. Let's get you into position," one of the backstage crew announced.

That's how it always goes when it comes to performances like this. It was hectic all over. People were running around, making sure the appropriate stages were in place and artists were ready to go. It was one after the other, no real break until the last performance.

You looked up at him, a slight frown tugging onto your lips. You were hoping to have more time to catch up with Hoseok before taking to the stage.

"Promise to be here when I get back?" "Angel, I'm not going anywhere."

This time, he kissed you on your cheek before moving his lips to your ear. He could feel the eyes on him, not wanting to tell him to hurry up but also getting a bit antsy. Hoseok was a gentleman, so he could be quick.

"I'm always going to be here. Go rock that stage so you can return back to me."

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I feel so much lighter like a feather with you out my life With you out my life

The crowd screamed as you were twirled around the stage. If anyone was born to be on stage, it was you. You were smiling wide during the instrumental part of your song, your backup singers the harmonies.

You were done by the stage extender, interacting with your fans. Truth be told, you were surprised people were that responsive to you. You felt like you were at the start of your career, still trying to build a name for yourself. Of course, you took nothing for granted.

Hoseok wasn't surprised. He has seen your rise to fame happen both in person and online. People were captivated by you, but he wanted to make sure you knew he was front of the line.

Right now, you were performing a song you had written to your ex-boyfriend. Hoseok remembered that night so vividly. He had never seen anyone write a song that quickly besides Yoongi. You used all your anger to channel into this particular song. Your ex doubted that you could make it, he didn't see your potential.

But Hoseok did. He knew you were a shining star. You just needed the right support system to boost your confidence and help you pursue you dreams.

And you were blessed to have someone like Hoseok in your life. Not even someone, a man like Hoseok. He made it easy for you to forget your ex boyfriend. He was the one who reassured you, uplifted you, and showed you love. You weren't sure if there was a chance of you two getting together, but you were a wishful thinker.

it feels so good not carin' where you are tonight And it feels so good not pretending to like the wine you like

Your hips were swaying as you strutted back up to the main part of the stage. The crowd went wild for you as you ran your hands through your hair, letting it fall back down to your back.

Once you were center stage, you glanced over your shoulder. You grinned to see Hoseok still to the side of the stage, watching you. You winked at him before looking towards the crowd again.

I slam the door

You kicked up your foot as you were closing the door. You wore a smirk. Here goes nothing. I hit ignore

With your back towards Hoseok, you bent over slightly. The amount of times you ignored texts and calls from your ex were too high too count. You knew one thing for sure though. You would always pickup for Hoseok.

Hoseok's eyes widened as he watched you. That's new. Was that intended for him? Were you responding to what he said to you before you were whisked away to get on stage? He bit his lip gently, a smirk on his lips. He was proud of how far you've come, both in your personal life and professional career. But he couldn't help but feel his ego swore as he thought you were showing off for him.

Well played, y/n.

I'm saying, no, no, no, no more I got you blocked Excited to never talk

You were standing up straight again. You popped your hip slightly. The hand not holding your bedazzled microphone also resting on your hip. You wore a smirk.

I'm so sorry for your loss.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The stage lights went dark as you bowed to the crowd. There was a loud roar of cheers, fans begging you to stay. You blew a kiss though before you were escorted off stage. Your mind was in the clouds, overjoyed by the outcome of your performance. That couldn't have gone any better!

There was just one thing left to do to truly make this a night to remember. Someone handed you a water bottle as your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart racing from the performance and adrenaline rush you were experiencing. You grabbed the water, but kept your eyes locked forward.

From the moment you left the stage, your eyes were locked on Hoseok. You didn't have to go searching for him. He stayed as he promised. He wore a wide smirk as he waited for you, members backstage of the production and your manager checking in with you. "Y/n, we can either stay to watch the rest of the show or head back to the hotel." "I'm staying."

Once you finally were away from the staircase leading to the stage, the crowd around you began to disperse slightly. You passed the water bottle in your hand to your manage before you took off running towards Hoseok.

You weren't thinking straight. All you knew was that you needed to get to him. It was as if something had possessed you because before you knew it, you were jumping into his arms. He caught you easily, the two of you in a fit of laughter. "That was amazing, y/n! You are amazing," he said, grinning. You grinned back at him. Your hands rested on his shoulder as he twirled you around a bit. Everyone around you figured you had a close friendship. A very close one, indeed. But after the exchanges between the two of you, that was going to take a step up. You were sure of it, but just not in the eyes of public.

"Come on, I think we got some talking to do, sweetheart. I got a little bit before going on stage."

Hoseok gently set you back down to your two feet, but had a hand securely on your lower back. People eyed the two of you as you passed by. Artists that you admired, friends, and others congratulated you on a successful stage. All you could do was smile and bow politely, both out of breath but also trying not to stop too long for a conversation. You weren't trying to be rude. You just had other priorities.

His thumb caressed your lower back. You didn't have to question where you were going. You always put all your trust into Hoseok. He has prove time and time again his loyalty and his sincerity towards you. He was a rare find in a world that tended to be more cruel than kind.

After a few moments, mainly with you focusing on the feeling of his touch, you found yourself out of his dressing room. He pushed it open, motioning for you walk through the threshold first.

"Always the gentleman, aren't you, Hobi?"

He chuckled and shrugged, watching as you walked in first. Once he made sure you were safely in the room, he closed the door behind him. He locked in, not wanting to get interrupted again like before.

This time, he let his heart take over rather than his mind. He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You giggled in surprised, letting out a soft gasp as he lifted you up with ease. Wow, he's gotten stronger since the last time you saw him.

Carefully, he had you sit on the counter of the makeup vanity set up. His makeup team from the company already had done the makeup they needed to do earlier. They opt for a more natural look, seeing as this song was personal for Hoseok. And much to your happiness, you got his bare face all to yourself.

Your legs were slightly parted, allowing Hoseok to slip in between them. Biting your lip gently, you gazed up into his eyes. You were trying to cipher what could be going on in his mind. You were getting all the right signals from him to confirm your assumptions, but you wanted to make sure you weren't jumping to conclusions. One of your hands gripped the edge of the counter, the other hand resting on his forearm.

"Y/n, I think I'm done playing games," he murmured. One of his hands rested by yours. Not exactly touching, but your want to feel his skin on yours burned within you. His other hand lifted up to brush the hair out of your face. He tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear. His hand then gently rested on your cheek.

The confidence you had on stage melted away. You could feel your body warm up, seeing how close you were and how alone you truly now. The chaos outside was white noise. All your attention was on Hoseok without any interruptions. He smirked seeing the shy side of yourself starting to appear once again.

He loved witnessing all the sides of you. While yes, you two were prominent in each other's lives, he wanted to learn more about you.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," you said softly.

He scoffed. "Really? You don't remember that little stunt you pulled on stage? Come on, darling, you trying to tell me something?" "But what about you, Hoseok? What was that you told me earlier?"

He hummed, nodding his head. "That's the games I'm talking about. Why don't we cut to the chase, huh? Stop torturing ourselves?"

This time, you nodded in agreement. You were onboard to full send, to take this friendship into uncharted territory for the two of you. Yes, it was scary to take this friendship into a level that most friends don't go. However, if Hoseok was willing, so were you.

Wanting to take back a bit of control of the situation, you slightly tilted your head. Your lips hovered right underneath his. His breathing seemed to hitch, which caused you to smirk.

Look who is now turning soft.

Truthfully, you made him weak and he thrived off being your weakness. It was as if subconsciously you two always knew you had feelings for each other. Yet, for the sake of the friendship, you oppressed any feelings you had. You were at the point now that you were boiling over and it was all seeping out. Everyone else saw how you two stared at each other with hearts in your eyes. You both were just catching up to speed.

"How do you propose we stop torturing ourselves, huh? Tell me, Hobi. What's been on your mind?" "You're the only thing ever on my mind, y/n," he murmured.

The way his voice dropped an octave made you want to whimper. You felt small with him towering over you. He knew the little things to do to make you weak in the knees.

"I'd just like it if you no longer live in my fantasies and were actually mine. That way I can make every thought I have into a legitimate plan with you." "Then make it happen."

Hoseok's eyebrow raised yet he was intrigued. His hands moved to your hips, pulling you slightly closer to him until you sat right at the edge of the counter. Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close to your as well.

He began lean in, his lips grazing yours. You both sighed in contact. So close yet not quite there.

Before his lips could fully press against yours, there was a knock at the door. "J-hope, 5 minutes!" Dammit! He smirked as he pulled away while your frowned, disappointed to not get to kiss him quite yet. You raised an eyebrow, surprised to see him not more disappointed. "All good things come with time. Just had to get one more game in before winning you over. I'll see you after my set."

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Note: I originally got inspired from listening to Steal the Show by Lauv. since seeing Elemental a few months ago. I also have been obsessed with Sophia Carpenter's performances of Feather while she's been the opening act for Taylor Swift's Eras Tour in South America so my mind got a little creative haha

Hope you enjoyed it!!

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giddyfatherchris · 4 months

Text

Bunny threat

Pairing: bts x gn!reader (platonic)

Genre: crack? comedy? all good stuff haha

Warnings: None

Word count: 820

Requests: Open for stray kids and bts!

A/n: okay so funny thing. I wrote this a billion years ago, and forgot it existed (tbh i also forgot i had this account lol). Since i want to bring this page back to life i thought i could update the original version (and correct some grammar mistakes lol) and bring it back as my first official post. So here we go! I hope you like it :))

*gif is not mine

“Stop practicing and come eat!” shouted Jin for the fifth time.

You were all at the studio rehearsing a few new choreos for an upcoming performance. It was now 8:00 pm, and the delivery guy just came in with his precious cargo. As soon as the good smell of the local Korean meals filtered into the room, your seven friends instantly stopped what they were doing to rush on the food like starved men.

“Y/N! Come before Taehyung eats everything!” urged Yoongi. You faintly heard him scold his younger brother, as he was probably trying to steal said food.

“Won’t be long. Just let me get this last move right!”

Still in the dance studio part of the room, you just couldn’t be satisfied with the execution of a certain move. It wasn’t precise enough, and you couldn’t eat without having this part right. It would be a defining moment in this new choreo you created for the boys, so you had to get it right.

Minutes passed, bowls emptied themselves, and you still hadn’t eaten anything.

“Y/N, stop it now. Too much is like not enough!” advised Joon with his father-like tone. His concern and the smell of the delicious food almost made you stop, but you took a deep breath to focus and went back to dancing without a word.

“Tae has gotten to the bowl of samgyeopsal!” tried J-Hope to make you rush in to get your hands on your favorite dish.

“Mmmmmm, SO GOOD!” added the boy while making huge slurping sounds, though you weren’t sure if those disgusted you more than they made you envy him.

They sat still, waiting to see if you would stop your tireless rehearsing, but you were so intent on doing it perfectly that it felt like they didn’t even exist.

“They really won’t come to eat.” pouted Jimin while he looked at Namjoon with the saddest puppy eyes.

“Makes me think of someone,” mumbled Yoongi, not without earning an annoyed sigh from the talented dancer.

“Alright, Jungkook, I think we need to take drastic measures.” sighed Joonie, already wincing at the idea of your reaction.

The youngest boy simply nodded, finished his bite, and headed out of the little room without saying a word. The other boys stared at the door, waiting for what was coming. It started with the music stopping abruptly, then you whining, “Oh please, one last time! I was starting to get it. AH JUNGKOOK LET ME DOWN! JEON JEONGGUK!” Some laughed, but they all winced when you started screaming like a lunatic. Jungkook entered the room with you thrown over his shoulder, screaming and whacking his back. He dropped you on a chair and went to his plate with the most unbothered expression. You opened your mouth to start whining again, but Jimin and Tae were faster and stopped you by dropping a steaming portion on your plate.

“Eat. You don’t want to overwork yourself, don’t you?” encouraged Jimin with a caring look. You reluctantly looked at the bowl he nudged in front of you.

“And if you faint, you will forget all the progress you have made, and you will be back to step one,” mocked Yoongi with his nose still in his plate. You rolled your eyes at his remark but still felt a pang of stress from the thought.

“Funny, but seriously," You started getting up. "One more time, and I’ll-”

You were cut short by a pretty mad Jungkook as he reached for your wrist across the table.

“If you get up one more time before you’ve eaten all of this goddamn plate. I will tie you down to this chair and feed you each bite until you’re done, and I won’t be gentle this time.”

He uttered his threat in a growl, and just at the thought you gave up, suddenly plopping down on your chair. Once he felt your body relaxing he let go of your hand, still looking at you, then at the bowl until you ate four big spoonfuls of the dish. Only then did he focus again on his own, going back to being the cute little bunny he was. All the other members stared silently at you guys, too shocked to say a word. Until they exploded in laughter, you and Jungkook quickly joining in. The bantering followed right after, the atmosphere finally lightening up.

“Don’t be upset Y/N. We just want you to be okay and healthy, but don’t worry we'll help you with the choreo,” assured Jimin as he stood up, finished with his plate, and encouraged you to follow through.

“Thank you, but… I still have some food left, and I don’t want Jungkook to put his threat into execution.”

They all laughed at your comment as the brown-eyed boy on the other side of the table shot you a huge bunny-like smile.

#bts x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #j hope x reader #jin x reader #jimin x reader #taehying x reader #jungkook x reader #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts comfort #bts fic #bts scenarios #ilya writes

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raplinesmoon · 7 months

Text

Après Moi, Le Deluge (JHS x F!Reader)

pairing: Hoseok x afab!reader genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, mafia au, sort of arranged marriage au, exes au, 18+ summary: It was one night. One night where Hoseok sought refuge from the storm outside, from the life he led, from the past that haunted him. And where else does fate lead him but back into your arms?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: the mafia, mentions minor character death, cursing, smoking, alcohol use, use of weapons, strained relationships with parents, mental health issues, mentions threats against people Hoseok cares about, brief, non-graphic depiction of blood and injuries, breakups, makeups, a cameo by one Xu Minghao, Hoseok and OC are both very closed off and bad at communicating, Hoseok is lowkey an asshole for most of this, happy-ish ending, smut warnings: making out, fingering (fem receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, marking, teeny bit of cockwarming

a/n: Hello it is me, profusely apologising because there is no reason this should have taken this long to write, other than I had the worst case of writer's block ever, but I missed Hoseok and I needed to see this through. This fic is set in the same universe as Doom Boy, my Namjoon mafia fic! You don't necessarily have to read Doom Boy to read this, but it may help some of the moments mentioned here make sense! The title is a reference to a famous saying by King Louis XV of France, or if you're me, season 1 episode 11 of The Originals. I hope you all enjoy <3

listen to the playlist here!

The rain slams down on the pavement, rendering the soles of Hoseok’s shoes even more sodden than they’d previously been. A cold, sticky feeling settles across his spine, and he heaves for breath, wishing he could just stop and take a break. But he can’t. He has to keep moving. Resisting the urge to shiver and warm himself up, he rounds the corner.

The day had started off normal enough. Hoseok had been assigned patrol duty for the day by Namjoon, a task he was more than familiar with. After the collapse of the Kim empire and his father’s death, Namjoon had returned to clean up the family business. And he was doing a damn good job at it, training the younger ones like Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook in how to run a business.

But there was more to this than a business, and Namjoon knew that well enough. Someone had to be around to air out the dirty laundry, to clean up the streets. And who better for the job than Hoseok?

He was used to it anyway, more comfortable around knives and guns than he’d ever been around people who weren’t Namjoon, Yoongi, or Seokjin. It was partly the reason he’d been sent out tonight, to monitor the slimy activities that took place under the cover of night.

Yet sometimes, the downpour got the best of Hoseok. He hadn’t been expecting the Choi cronies to spot him, much less for them to be armed. Luckily they were as thick-skulled as Hoseok expected them to be, and he’d been able to craft a quick escape. For the time being.

But it wouldn’t last for long. Hoseok knew the men would be on his tail all night, and as much as he wanted to call for backup, he didn’t feel like bothering Namjoon, Yoongi, or their families, at this time of night. He wouldn’t have had a problem bothering Seokjin, but that fucker had run the moment he’d shot up Namjoon’s father.

Looking around, he falters. The buildings around him loom ominously, stretching much taller than he’s used to, the lights from the highest floors creating artificial stars against the cloudy backdrop of the sky. Hoseok gathers that he must be in the swanky part of town. He scoffs, knowing from personal experience the rich were no better than the mobs and gangs they pretended to look down upon, licking at their bootstraps whenever the necessity arose.

Still, he decides it’s better to take cover. He spots the sleeping security guard from outside one of the buildings, and slips in, shaking the raindrops from his hair. Making his way to the elevators at the end of the lobby, his mind ran with plans of how he’d clean up the mess with the Choi men in a way that Namjoon would approve of.

Which is why he misses the other person entering the elevator at the same time as him, instead collapsing against the railing and letting out a loud sigh, rubbing at his eyes.

“H-Hoseok?” the voice that calls out to him is quiet, barely above a whisper. But its familiarity sends a chill down Hoseok’s spine. It’s a voice he thought he’d never hear again.

His eyes open slowly, and he sees his shocked reflection mirrored in the ones directly across from him, eyes that he’d never been able to forget. The way they look at him now is the same way they’d been the last time he saw you, on a similarly cloudy day.

The eyes of his former fiancée.

The doors of the elevator screech shut, the sound doing nothing to drown out the pounding of your heart. The soft tiny plops of raindrops echo on the grey floor, falling from Hoseok’s hair as he freezes at the sound of your voice.

You suck in a breath, lungs desperately searching for air, unable to squeak out anything beyond his name. Brows furrowing, you check him for any signs of injury, relieved when you find nothing but his blank eyes blinking back at you. You didn’t have to ask him where he’d been tonight. Both of you already knew.

It infuriates you that even after everything, after all this time, he still manages to have this effect on you. You hate how you can’t take your eyes off the lean curve of his neck, or the tiny mole above his heart-shaped smile.

A chill runs down your spine, despite having never stepped foot out in the rain.

“Why are you…” your throat feels heavy, struggling to get the words out, to ask him why he ended up here of all places. Especially when you made it clear you never wanted to see him again after the last time.

“Choi’s men were tailing me, I had to get them off my back,” he barks, immediately regretting his harsh tone when he looks into your weary eyes, on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” he adds on, more gently this time. “If I’d have known, I would never…”

Never what? Never managed to infiltrate the one place you thought you could be free of him, from the past the two of you shared?

Your shoulders slump against the panel, and you realize you’d never pressed the button to go up, too consumed by his presence. Finally managing to muster up the focus, you turn away, hearing the elevator creak to life.

“You’re always sorry. How can I be sure that this time, you mean it?”

Hoseok is annoyed. First of all, this damn elevator is taking nearly too long to go anywhere, and he longs for escape from this metallic box that’s imprisoning you both. Second of all, your words cut at him, sharper than any knife and hotter than any bullet any of Choi’s men could have sent his way tonight.

As far as he remembers, you’d been the one to end it. You’d been the one to walk away from your arrangement.

He doesn’t know why he grits his teeth, biting down to combat the throbbing pain in his temples. You were supposed to be gone, your goodbye delivered in the same way the designer bags and packages piled up at your doorstep - neat, polished, shallow, the ties that had brought you together unraveling before they’d even had a chance to be joined properly.

Unfinished business. That’s what you were. And Hoseok hated unfinished business. But somehow, he’d never managed to hate you. You’d never given him a fair chance.

. . .

Hoseok shrugged the wife beater over his head with a grunt, immediately turning around to see if he’d woken up his sleeping companion, but she remained unfazed, her soft snores echoing into the pillow.

He lets his eyes linger over her body appreciatively one last time before he slips on his leather jacket and is out the door. For a brief moment, his hand twitches, yearning to reach into his pocket and call Namjoon for old times’ sake, detailing every last detail of his lascivious romp. The thought is abandoned immediately, Hoseok’s mood souring at the thought of his former best friend. Namjoon had no trouble leaving all of them behind, so why should he even bother? Instead, he reaches into his other pocket, his frenzied emotions finally calming down when he pulls out the lighter. Ducking under an awning, he checks his surroundings for anything suspicious before affirming that the coast is clear, lighting up and taking a drag. The smoke drifts away on the nighttime breeze, and Hoseok follows, roaming the city streets.

It’s lonely at this hour, not another soul in sight, but Hoseok prefers it that way. Gone are the days when he and his friends would run through the city, stealing cars and honking horns at everyone for fun. Now, shit had hit the fan big time, and there was no room for fun anymore. With Namjoon gone, Hoseok, along with Seokjin and Yoongi, had been sucked into the tangled web of duties he’d left behind, each stepping up in their own way.

Holding a gun in his hands for the first time had been a sobering experience for Hoseok. It rattled him that if he pressed down on the trigger, so many things could change in a split second. He’d heard the higher-ups in the organization rave with glee about how much fun it was putting the city’s other families in line, Namjoon’s father at the head of them. And for a brief moment, Hoseok understood what it was that Namjoon had run away from. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed off about it though.

His lips turn up in a smile when he takes in the graffiti on the building in front of him, thinking back to his younger, more rebellious self, before faltering. Someone else was there.

He wonders if you’re cold, the thin satin gown doing nothing to protect you from the chill, and he wants to laugh at the contrast between his well-worn leather jacket and the jewels dripping from your ears. They must cost a few thousands of dollars, money he’d never had in his pocket. His eyes scan around for someone, anyone – a boyfriend, or a husband maybe. But you’re alone.

Nobility has never been Hoseok’s forte - Namjoon and Seokjin had always been the womanizers, and poor Yoongi had been in love with the same woman for over ten years, but he clears his throat, prompting you to turn around, eyes widening at your company.

If he catches a glimpse of unshed tears in your eyes, he doesn’t say anything.

“Kids these days, huh? They’ll do anything to cause a little chaos,” he quips, a sinking feeling building up in his chest when you don’t respond.

“Ma’am,” he grapples with whether he should ask for your name, “do you need me to walk you home?”

“Did you read it?” your voice is quieter than he expects, yet he draws closer, wanting to hear more of it. Coming to stand beside you, he takes in the captivating features of your face, made all the more alluring by the shadows cast across them.

Following your gaze, he looks at the mural on the wall. A giant wave, Hosukai-style, crashing into a set of words. “After me, the flood,” your voice whispers, and Hoseok feels a rush of emotion at the way you say it, his mind circling back to everything that had happened in the past few years - the dark cloud that had settled over all their lives with Namjoon leaving, the city’s underbelly coming to life, crawling out of the woodwork.

“I have to go,” you interrupt him, heels clacking against the pavement, before Hoseok’s gaze turns sharply on you, the desperation in his eyes begging you not to go. Come sunrise, he’d be forced back into the same grim routine, but right now, it felt nice, standing here with you.

“Will you be okay getting home alone?” he asks, grappling for any chance to prolong the moment.

“My driver is around the corner,” you tell him. “Thank you for keeping me company, –”

“Hoseok,” he fills you in, his chest aching with the desire to ask for your own name, but you’re already gone.

. . .

Hoseok wakes up the next morning to the rattling of the blinds, the sunlight causing him to immediately shut his eyes and bite back a groan. There was only one person who’d have access to his apartment at this hour – and exploit it.

“Eomma?” he rasps, burrowing his head further into the sheets. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you forget Hoseok-ah? Hurry up and get dressed, everyone’s waiting! You have five minutes.”

Forget what? His mother’s fussing continues in the background as she leafs through his closet, no doubt trying to find him a suitable outfit amongst the many pairs of ripped denim and oversized shirts he prefers on a day-to-day basis. Hoseok wracks his brain, trying to remember what could have called for such an occasion, but comes up empty, his mother’s stern warning echoing in his ears.

As per usual, if it had anything to do with the organization, he’d do best not to ignore it.

Slipping on the stark white shirt and tie she’d chosen, the fabric itches against his skin, and he rakes his fingers through his hair, attempting to comb the mess into something somewhat presentable. He’s sure there was little to be done about the bags under his eyes, and the faint smell of tobacco emanating from him, and hoped that whoever these important guests were, they wouldn’t catch onto his late-night activities from the previous day.

Stumbling into the hallway, Hoseok hears the faint chatter of voices, his father’s bellowing laugh a stark contrast to his mother’s delicate titter, and is immediately confused. Conversations with the bosses of the organization weren’t usually so… enthusiastic.

When he rounds the corner to his living room, he stops in his tracks. Sitting next to his mother and father is another older couple he doesn’t recognize. They reek of wealth that his family could never even imagine, he notes, the polished Italian leather of the man’s shoes and the older woman’s massive diamond ring speaking for themselves. But he could honestly care less. Because to their left side, sitting on his favorite armchair, is you. The woman from in front of the mural. You’re clad in a simple sundress today, but you still manage to be nothing short of breathtaking against the backdrop of the sun’s rays.

“There you are, Hoseok!” his father beckons him over jovially, but Hoseok remains frozen. “This is Mr. and Mrs. ____, and their daughter ____.”

Hoseok’s turns his gaze to his father, watching him recoil at the sharpness present in his son’s expression, a thousand unspoken questions lingering on his lips as to why these people were here, what purpose they had in his home, his space.

“We’d like for the two of you to get to know each other,” your mother speaks up with a smile so wide, he’d assume it’d been plastered onto her face.

“Why?” he finally manages to whistle out in between grit teeth, looking only at you. But you don’t meet his eyes. Instead, your gaze is looking out his window, at the city beyond, the same loneliness from last night ever present in your eyes.

“Because,” his father continues uncertainly, fidgeting the glass of wine in his hands, “___ is going to be your wife.”

You can feel Hoseok’s eyes glaring into the back of your head as he follows you wordlessly down the hallway. Moments pass before you come to a stop outside your apartment, and you hear the faint stumble of Hoseok’s boots as he stops unexpectedly in his tracks. His warm breath fans against the back of your neck for a brief moment before he straightens with a grunt, and you resist the urge to shiver, despite having never stepped foot into the rain.

The lock clicks, and he follows you inside. You can hear him rustle behind you as he struggles to remove his coat and boots, but you look straight ahead, hoping the darkness can hide how your fingernails are digging into your palm.

“I won’t stay long,” his low voice breaks the silence. “Just until the storm passes.”

“Please,” you manage to muster up your most polite sounding voice. “Have a seat. I can get you something, maybe some water, o-or a cup of tea…”

You want to curse your voice for wobbling in his presence, hating the way he still affected you even after all this time apart. Your brain bades you to walk away instinctively, and so you pad into the kitchen, wanting to put distance in between you and Hoseok so he can’t hear the rapid fluttering of your heart. The noise pounds in your ears as you rattle around in the cupboards, cursing when you realized you’d forgotten to turn on the light. It seemed embarrassing to do it now, and so you reach aimlessly, looking for some coffee.

The pot bubbles, and in mere moments, you’re clutching two steaming mugs, finding your way back onto the living room. Hoseok has settled himself onto your couch, taking extra care not to rest his soaked shirt against the back of it, instead hunched over and dangling an unlit cigarette from his fingertips.

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you’d be okay with me…” he gestures to it, twirling it around in his fingers. “I know you don’t like the smell.”

You’re unsure whether to be touched that he remembers, or uneasy at the way he says it so monotonously, as if you’d still judge him for something so mundane when so much else had happened in between you.

“Here,” you set down the coffee in front of him, taking the seat directly opposite. “It’ll help take the edge off.”

The warm liquid burns your throat as you rush to take a sip, and you nearly sputter trying to keep it down. Over the rim of your cup, Hoseok remains frozen, his own mug steaming and untouched. His dark eyes bore into you, studying your face, and you feel your cheeks begin to burn.

If he notices the bags under your eyes, he says nothing. The same way he says nothing when he probably remarks at your simplistic clothes and lack of jewelry, a far cry from the expensive dresses and diamonds he’d been used to seeing you in.

“Were you about to go out?” Hoseok asks, and the question catches you off guard. “I’m sorry if I stopped you from going somewhere.”

“Or meeting someone.” The last part is a hushed whisper, mumbled underneath his breath, in the hopes that you wouldn’t catch him. But you had. You wish he’d stop apologizing. It makes you feel guilty when you shouldn’t be, like he’s trying and you’re shutting him out, when in reality it’d been the exact opposite.

All of a sudden, your phone buzzes to life, a text message lighting up the screen. You freeze when you see who it’s from, quickly snatching your phone and cursing in your head. Minghao was a friend of a friend, the two of you running into each other a number of times over the past couple of weeks, before he’d finally plucked up the courage to ask you for a coffee date.

You’d told him you’d think about it, and now here he was, lighting up your phone to ask you about your decision. Of course, how was he supposed to know that the reason you’d been holding off was the very man sitting in your living room, whom you’d almost married, and still couldn’t seem to let go?

Clutching your phone to your chest, you turn it to silent, setting it down beside you. Hoseok’s eyes are alight with curiosity, his lips turned up in a faint smirk, as though he’s remembering his statement from earlier.

You take another sip, willing the caffeine to give you some strength, to rein in the bare threads of this conversation back to your control.

“How are your parents?”

Hoseok is taken aback by the question. He hadn’t expected it from you. There had once been a time where you’d been bright eyed and eager, wanting to know everything about him, bombarding him with question after question every time you were together. And yet somehow, he’d never managed to give you the time of day, always giving brusque answers and half-hearted excuses that there were other things that needed his attention.

He knew it was just a poor attempt to fill the silence, but his heart lurches at the thought that there’s so much you don’t know anymore. Namjoon coming back, Seokjin running away, the life that Hoseok knew being turned inside out. What’s more unsettling is the fact that he yearns to tell you, despite knowing he’d lost the privilege to do so.

“They’re okay. Doing well,” he lies through his teeth. “We all are. How about yours?”

He thinks it’s an innocent question, but he watches your fingers blanch as you grip the mug so tight, he thinks it’ll break.

“I wouldn’t know,” you whisper out softly, and his heart stops. “I haven’t spoken to them since– you know.”

Hoseok feels dizzy at your confession. What do you mean you hadn’t spoken to them? Suddenly, it all begins to make sense in his head. The fact that he hadn’t expected to run into you tonight, because he hadn’t expected you to live alone, with your austere clothes and hair tossed up into a messy bun. It was so different from the woman he’d known, the dazzling one he’d written off as hollow in his mind, the one he was incapable of forming a real relationship with.

And here you were, living the exact opposite of the cozy life he’d painted for you in his head. He thought you’d be fine, that you’d move on, your family offering you up to the next prospect that came along. And you’d accept them, like you’d accepted Hoseok with all his flaws, not caring that he could barely give you what you deserved.

His thoughts flash back to the last conversation you had, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed.

I can’t live like this anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he watches annoyance flash across your face. He knows he’s done nothing but apologize this entire time, but it probably isn’t even worth a damn. No consolation would ever make up for losing someone that meant everything to you. He’d known that when Namjoon had run away.

“Hey,” you set the mug down, leaning over the table. For a brief second, he sees your hand reach out blindly in the darkness, almost as if it’s searching for his, but you withdraw just as quickly. “I’m okay. I really am.”

“I wish you’d stop pretending,” Hoseok blurts out, and he watches you jolt in surprise. “Why do you always have to pretend like everything’s okay, like nothing affects you? Is it the society training? Or do you really just not care about what happened at all?”

You chew the inside of your cheek, mulling over Hoseok’s words in your head.

“The same way you can pull the trigger on someone and be able to lie in your bed and fall asleep,” you seethe, a venom that Hoseok has never heard in your voice.

“I knew who you were Hoseok. I knew what kind of man I was marrying. You think it didn’t affect me? You think I wasn’t scared out of my wits because of what you did, what other people could do to you?”

You rise up, palms quivering as you open and close them, strolling over to the window. Hoseok watches your shoulders shake before they slump completely, and he knows that you’re crying.

He’s up before he can stop himself, feet ready to walk out the door. He’d fucked up the moment he’d stayed in the elevator with you, all the ugly feelings between you coming to a head, ones he’d struggled so hard to keep buried.

But his body betrays him, instead leading him right behind. He pauses until he’s just close enough that if he reaches out, he’d be able to grab your arm and turn you around to face him. But he waits instead.

“I did what I did because I realized I was chasing a ghost,” you huff out, resignation in your tone. “I wanted you to be someone you weren’t. I wanted you to care so badly. But you didn’t. I don’t want any part in whatever you’re caught up in, Hoseok. Whatever has a hold on you so badly that you couldn’t even look beyond your cynicism to give me a chance.”

“I just want to survive.”

Hoseok grips the bathroom sink, knuckles turning white. His cell phone clatters on the counter beside him and he has to keep from heaving. This whole thing was a mess – no one had counted on Namjoon coming back. Even less so on him refusing to take up his father’s mantle. And so the threats continued – the words from the anonymous phone call still ringing in his ear, your name echoing across the line.

While he didn’t know what he felt for you, or whether he could even marry you, Hoseok knew you were an innocent person. You didn’t deserve to be the victim of your parents’ greed, them using you to bury their secrets in the hands of even more powerful people. You deserved gardens full of flowers and meals together every night, not coming home to an empty bed. Or a fiancé who couldn’t spare a moment during the entire night to even dance with you.

He’s so lost in his brooding that he doesn’t hear the door the click behind him, the soft tapping of heels on the floor coming up behind him.

“Is something wrong?” you ask him gently, and he feels the bristle of your hand on his jacket.

So much was wrong. You couldn’t even begin to understand.

“It’s fine,” he clears his throat, straightening up to adjust his jacket. “I’ll need to leave soon. I can have the car stay behind for you.”

The farther away he got from you, the better. That way no one could hurt you – or him.

“I can go with you,” your voice echoes from beside him, “I was getting tired anyway.”

Hoseok turns to face you, watching you recoil at the red rimming his eyes, the bags underneath them becoming even more prominent in the dim lighting of the bathroom.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to reach for the single strand of hair that has managed to escape your polished bun, but he watches you suck in a breath, lips parting in surprise.

Before he knows it, your face is drawing in closer, and he can smell the rosé on your breath. Your lips barely ghost against his, and he has to fight every nerve ending not to grab your hand and run away from here, somewhere where he wasn’t Hoseok, and you weren’t ____, and you didn’t need protecting from everything around you – most of all him.

His paralysis slowly melts away and he’s pushing you away without realizing, the door to the bathroom suddenly materialising in front of him.

“Like I said,” he doesn’t bother turning around, knowing his heart would twist at whatever expression he found on your face. “I’ll have the car stay behind for you.”

Before you can wrestle with the weight of your confession to Hoseok, a hand is clamping over your mouth. Caught in a silent scream, you turn your eyes to see Hoseok lifting a finger to his lips, willing you to stay quiet. And that’s when you hear them. The voices.

Raucous laughter echoes through the hallway, tinged with malevolent glee. The air around you feels cold, a breeze at the base of your spine, and you instinctively curl into Hoseok.

“Come out, come out,” the disembodied voice cackles from the hallway. “Are you hiding from us, Jung? Found some poor rich girl to use as a body shield?”

Your hand seizes Hoseok’s wrist clamped against your mouth, nails digging into his arm, the fear taking over. Slowly, his wrist lowers, slipping to take your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?”

He’s so quiet you almost can’t tell he’s said it at all. You nod reluctantly, eyes continuing to dart to the door.

“Go hide underneath the bed. Lock the door. I may or may not come back but please stay inside. Don’t come looking for me.”

His voice is clipped, the faint hint of nerves colouring his tone, but his eyes are filled with a resoluteness you know all too well. You’d spent the better part of over a year staring into them, hoping they’d look back. And now they finally were.

“Be safe.” Your voice comes out louder than you’d intended, but there’s no anger in Hoseok’s expression. All he does is nod, and then you turn, stumbling down the hallway to your room, never bothering to look back until you hear the door click behind you.

. . .

Hoseok’s heart pounds in his chest, a strange pain settling in his ribs – he never expected to be in this position again. His sense of duty had always been his biggest downfall – and while you were no longer his, he owed it to you to make sure he gave you exactly what you’d asked him for – the chance to survive, to come out on the other side of this. That’s why he had to settle this once and for all.

Choi’s cronies linger at the other end of the hallway, too dumb to notice Hoseok slipping out of your door, reaching for the revolver he’d kept hidden in his coat pocket. A chill settles in his bones as he runs his fingers over the metal.

The brief events of the night play over in his head – the rain pounding against the pavement, the ding of the elevator, the now-cold mug of coffee that sat on your coffee table. And then there was you – your eyes, the softness of your skin, the faint smell of gardenias that lingered on your skin.

And it hits Hoseok that while he was very much alive – he’d been in mourning. Mourning for the friendships he’d never be able to recover, for the youth that had been taken away from him. But most of all, Hoseok’s heart mourns for the relationship he’d never gotten to have with you. The glass walls he’d so carefully put up around himself shatter, making way for a torrential deluge.

After me, the flood.

He remembers the first night you’d met, how he’d been drawn to you without even trying, the portrait of the wave. He remembers the months that passed afterwards, where you drew closer to him and he drew back. He remembers the regret he’d buried deep in his heart for not kissing you back the night of the gala, not knowing he’d never get another chance.

But most of all, he remembers the somber expression on your face the day you’d ended things, pressing the engagement ring back into his hands, the very same ring that was still sitting in the first drawer of his nightstand.

Choi’s men finally perk up, noticing Hoseok’s solitary figure lingering at the end of the hallway, smirks twisting on their grotesque faces. A shot rings out, and Hoseok thinks of you now, hiding under your bed. And then he charges.

The alleyway was grim at this time of day, the sunlight barely able to reach beyond the towering skyscrapers, the clouds casting everything in grey. Rain fell softly from the sky. You clutch your coat tighter around you, unable to stop looking at the mural of the wave.

So much had changed since you’d first seen it. And yet it was still the same.

You know Hoseok from the thud of his boots against the pavement, coming up beside you. His head turns, an eyebrow raised in your direction, wondering why you’d asked to meet him here of all places.

You avoid his eyes, fingers clasping around the blue velvet in your pocket. His eyes widen with surprise when he sees the box, confusion marring his handsome face.

A knot forms in your chest when you watch the confusion turn into alarm as you press the box into his hand, the dazzling diamond no longer on your left finger.

“I don’t understand,” he grunts, breath visible in the cold air.

“We can’t do this anymore, Hoseok. I can’t do this. I can’t live like this.”

“Was it something that I did?” he questions you, desperation creeping into his voice.

You scoff, watching him flinch, pain on his face.

“No, it’s the opposite. It’s what you haven’t ever been able to do. It’s been an entire year, Hoseok. I’ve watched you answer every phone call that comes your way, disappear into the night to do god knows what, run whenever your friends call. And in that entire time, have you ever thought about us? About the future?”

You take a deep breath.

“I know that neither of us chose this, but Hoseok, we were engaged. Did that mean anything to you?”

He squares his shoulders, fists clenching at his sides, a tick in his jaw.

“You don’t understand. I-I’m not good for you, ___. I dont think I’ll ever be. There’s too much that’s happened, too much I’ve lost. But please don’t walk away like this.

“I thought it’d be enough,” you whisper, and Hoseok freezes. You didn’t know he’d heard you.

“I thought me loving you would be enough for the both of us. But it’s not. I need more. I need someone who I know will come home to me every night. But what I need even more than that, is for you to let me walk away so I can breathe again. So I can be myself.”

Your eyes are just as sad as the first time Hoseok saw them, and all of a sudden, you remark at how stagnant the two of you had been together.

“Hoseok please, I know I can’t ask you to do it if you love me, but if you’ve ever cared about me, even the tiniest bit, let me go.”

You watch him open the box, gazing at the ring. Moments pass by before he slips it into his own pocket, his eyes flitting to the wave as he gives you a small smile, the most genuine one you’d ever seen.

“Goodbye, ____.

Hoseok’s fist rattles against the door, before he slumps over, heaving for breath. The pain in his side licks at him like the flames of a fire. He hisses when he presses a hand to it, eyes widening when it comes away covered in blood. Those fuckers had managed to get him. Shit.

His eyes are about to close when the door springs open, the wide eyes of Kim Namjoon taking in his battered figure.

“Hobi, what the fuck?” Namjoon seethes, offering him an arm and pulling him inside. Slinging an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder, the two of them hobble to Namjoon’s kitchen, the burning in Hoseok chest causing him to let out a loud groan.

“Hyun is sleeping,” Namjoon chastises him, and Hoseok bites his tongue, remembering that this Namjoon was dealing with a pregnant wife and a toddler. “You gonna tell me what the hell happened, or do I have to force it out of you?”

“I made a mistake, Namjoon. I went somewhere I shouldn’t have tonight. I fucked up, but I-I didn’t mean to I swear…”

Hoseok feels himself shake as the words pour out, the ruined mission the furthest thing from his mind. He tells Namjoon everything – from being tailed to running into to you, to how he’d left, not knowing whether you were okay or not.

“That was a dick move,” Namjoon huffs.

“Excuse me?” Hoseok looks up at his best friend, who looks more pissed off than he’s ever seen him.

“I said what I said. That was a dick move, just leaving her like that.”

“I don’t need a lecture on running away from you, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon wipes away the blood on his side, and Hoseok bites his tongue at the sting of the alcohol, before slumping into the chair next to him.

“You’re an idiot, Jung Hoseok. You’ve been so afraid of letting yourself feel things for so long, and I know it’s because you think that everyone around you is going to leave, or that you’ll lose them. But I’m telling you right now, that’s the stupidest thing you could ever do.”

“You have to let yourself just be, Hobi. Just let go. Enjoy things - life, your friends, your family. Be open to the possibility of love. It’s the only thing that can keep the darkness away.”

Namjoon’s voice shrinks when he says the last line, and Hoseok knows his friend is far off in his own mind, battling the demons that plague him.

“I think I’m too far gone for that, Namjoon,” Hoseok tells him. “Maybe some of us weren’t meant for happiness. Maybe some of us needed to make sacrifices so others could live the lives they wanted to.”

“That’s a damn lie if I’ve ever heard one, Hoseok.” Namjoon striaghtens, rising up from the chair. “I know you’ve been angry at me for leaving, for keeping you all in the dark. I know how much it hurts to not be able to share your happiest moments with people you love. And I’m sorry for that. But you have a chance to change things.”

“Listen Hobi,” Namjoon crouches down to his level. “I want to be the best man at your wedding – I want to be there for you in all the ways you didn’t get to do for me. This is my way of making amends, but you need to fix whatever this is between you two.”

“What makes you think she’ll even take me back? I was awful to her… god, she didn’t deserve that Joon. She deserves so much better.”

“Do you love her?” Namjoon asks him, and Hoseok is shocked when he doesn’t even have to pause to think about it. He wants to start over, to be by your side, to have a chance to love you properly this time around.

“Second chances come when you least expect them, Hobi. Think about what would have happened if you hadn’t stepped out into the rain last night. And don’t let it happen again.”

The knock at the door startles you, your phone clattering to the floor. Swearing under your breath, you pick it up, perusing the message from Minghao once again. He was nothing if not persistent. And Hoseok was never coming back. You’d convinced yourself of that.

It’d been over a week since he’d left you that night - the promise to keep you safe burrowing its way into your heart. And then radio silence. You’d heard the gunshots in the hallway, but when you’d opened the door, no one was there, the only evidence of the showdown being the faint splatters of blood on the wall. When the police had questioned you, you’d left Hoseok’s name out of it – those words echoing in your mind, instilling a false sense of loyalty in you.

Why did you think things would be different this time around? It’d been foolish to assume that Hoseok thought anything more of you. But you couldn’t forget the look in his eyes, the gentle touches, the way he’d promise he would never let anything happen to you, and you fell for him all over again.

Throwing your phone aside, you grumble as you make your way to the door, making a mental note to respond to Minghao later, agreeing to the date.

Swinging it open, you freeze when you see who’s on the other end. Hoseok, looking worse for wear with bruises on his jaw and a nasty cut on his forehead, nervously twirling a tiny bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You’re dumbfounded - unable to speak as you take him in, his dark, inquisitive eyes gazing into your shocked ones.

“You better let me in, ____,” he says with a grin. “Or the neighbours are gonna think I did something really bad this time.”

Wordlessly, you open the door to allow him to enter, watching as he slips off his coat and shoes, an exact repeat of a week ago. You watch him, trying to open your mouth and say something, ask him anything, but nothing will come out.

“These are for you,” Hoseok nearly shoves the bouquet in your hands and you watch him rub at the back of his neck, his ears reddening.

“Are you okay Hoseok?” you finally manage to ask him, setting the flowers on your coffee table. Your concern wins out over your confusion once again, but the whole scene is odd – him, smiling in your apartment, the late afternoon sunlight casting half his angular face in a mysterious shadow.

“Just a little nick to my side,” he lifts his shirt up, your eyes widening at the bandages on his abdomen. “But actually, I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay since the day I let you walk away, and I can’t live with it anymore.”

You take a step back, unable to breathe. The space in between you seems to have lessened considerably, and you can make out every delicate detail of his face. Dizzy, you put some distance in between the two of you.

“Everything hurts, ___. It hurts because I look at you and I feel like I can’t breathe anymore, knowing how much pain I put you through. It hurts knowing that you’re so kind, so understanding of someone like me, when I don’t deserve it at all. And what hurts the most is knowing that I love you, and I’ve been lying to myself this entire time because I’m afraid you’ll leave just like everyone else, but I lost you anyway.”

Hoseok’s voice cracks on the last words, and you watch him sway, gripping onto your counter for support.

“I thought it was just me this entire time,” you finally manage to look him in the eyes, tears spilling out of your own. “I thought I was crazy, because ever since you walked out that door a week ago, all I’ve been doing is waiting for you to come back.”

“I’m here,” Hoseok closes the gap between you, arms wrapping around you. You breathe in the faint scent of tobacco on his leather jacket, mixed with the spice of his cologne. “And I’m not leaving. Not this time.”

You grip his lapels, before your arms come up to wrap around his neck, running your fingers through the soft hair at his nape.

“What if it’s not different this time around?” you whisper into his neck. “What if nothing changes?”

“What if it is?” his low voice rumbles into your hair. “Can you trust me, ___? One more time?”

You take his hand in yours, bringing it to your chest, his lips parting in awe at the fluttering of your heartbeat.

“Only you can do that to me,” you say softly, a smile gracing your lips.

Before you know it, Hoseok’s lips are crashing against yours, and you can feel him release a euphoric sigh, groaning into your mouth. It’s slow, tentative in the way he waits for your body to respond, never pushing more than you’re comfortable with. Eventually, even the small bit of distance in between you becomes too much to bear. You card your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, warmth blossoming in your chest.

It feels too short when he pulls away all too soon, lips tinged with red and eyes dark with something that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since the night of the gala,” he rasps, warmth blooming in your chest at his confession. “You were—, I mean you still are, breathtaking.”

You can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse point right there below your fingertips, and you reach for his hand, watching his entire body soften at your touch.

“Come with me,” you ask him, eyes turning down the hallway to your bedroom. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.

Hoseok tries to ignore the rapid rushing of blood in his ears, his focus narrowing to your head resting on his shoulder, the two of you looking out at the city together for the last little while from your bed. It’s somewhere he never imagined he’d be, but he’d felt the ice around his heart melt the moment he’d finally kissed you for real, warmth filling his veins.

And despite relishing in your presence, it was spiking to a fever pitch. He’d tasted you, and now he couldn’t get enough. All it takes is a brief moment for you to look in his eyes, and he’s pulling you into him once again, mouth hard on yours, unable to resist the desire for more, more, more.

You whine into his mouth, hands fisting at the edge of his shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He uses one hand to pin both arms behind you, reaching over with the other to hike your dress up to your stomach, finally peeling it off, and you lie back, eyes alight with desire as you take him in.

He kisses you again, his lean body hovering over yours, hands roaming everywhere – your arms, up your neck, and on your thighs. He inches higher and higher, fingers ghosting over your core.

“Hoseok please,” you whimper, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. “I can’t wait anymore.”

You part your thighs for him, and he wastes no time, pulling your soaked underwear to the side and dipping his fingers into your arousal. He presses another hard kiss to your lips, catching your moans in his mouth while he works you open, leaving you trembling underneath him.

You whine when his fingers leave you, clenching around nothing, coming up to cup your exposed breasts in both hands while he licks and sucks at your nipples.

“Fuck,” he groans against your chest. “How are you so perfect? How are you even mine?”

His voice breaks, and you mouth at his jaw, mirroring his actions until purple bruises begin to bloom in the spots where your lips previously were.

“I’m yours,” you nip at his bottom lip. “Whether you like it or not.”

“Believe me,” he smirks. “I like it. I like it a lot actually. Let me show you how much.”

With adept skill, he manages to remove your panties in seconds, throwing them to the wall. The clinking sound of his belt drives you mad, and your hands join his, the two of you awkwardly fumbling to remove it.

You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes.

“Some other time, love,” he whispers, voice lowering a few octaves. “Right now, I need to feel you.”

You gasp when he pushes in, and he pauses, wondering if it’s too much, but you nod, letting him know it’s okay. He thrusts shallowly, before pushing in all the way, watching you squirm underneath him while rutting your hips.

“Move, please,” you beg him, and he obliges, hiking one leg up over his shoulder to open you up for him, the wet sounds of your pussy accompanying the fluid snap of his hips. His knuckles grip the headboard, turning white while he pins you underneath him, unable to take his eyes off the way your tits bounce with every thrust. His hands grip at your ass, every jerk of his hips an excuse to hold you tighter, until he can see your skin redden underneath his fingers.

“Oh my god, Hoseok, I can’t–, it’s too much,” you groan, rocking against him in an attempt to quell the sparks underneath your skin, lighting you up like a livewire.

“Come for me,” he grunts, trapping your clit in between his fingers, rubbing tight circles until you snap, seeking his lips once again, your orgasm flooding your entire body like a wave. Hoseok speeds up his thrusts to join you, roaring when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths.

Moments pass like this, him remaining inside you while he burrows into the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning your damp skin. Eventually he pulls out of you with a soft whine, brushing away the sweat-soaked strands of hair at your temple, before rising.

You trap his wrist in your hand, panic settling in. He watches your expression change and immediately stiffens, cradling you against his chest.

“That expression you always talk about, the flood. I-, I looked it up. And I know the life I have isn’t ideal, and maybe things will only get harder, but I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I don’t want to live out the rest of my life not caring anymore.”

“Do you know what I was thinking of that night, looking at the wave?” you mumble in his ear, and he gazes at you inquisitively, watching the way your skin glows under the moonlight as you take a breath.

“My whole life, people have forced me into this box, this image, of someone they want me to be – the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. It’s been suffocating. All I wanted that night was a taste of freedom - that feeling of happiness you have on a beach, feeling the waves crash at your feet. And then I saw you.”

Hoseok leaves a kiss in your hair, his fingers intertwining with yours. Briefly, his heart drops at the absence of the ring he’d given you on your finger, but he knows when you’re ready, it’ll be waiting for you. He’ll be waiting for you. And the two of you will step into the flood, together.

a/n pt. 2: Okay long ending note here. First, please visualize this Hoseok with the undercut ;) Second, I don't normally say this but the writer's block really got me good with this one, so I apologize if it's not up to my usual standards (pls be kind tho). And third and last, this fic definitely would never exist if it weren't for the wonderful Guarded series by Ana (@xjoonchildx). I think about it more than is necessary and this is definitely my tribute to the impeccable Captain Jung.

As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

taglist (pls let me know if you want to be removed): @jalexad @secfir @hobi-love @back2bluesidex @temptingempress

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solarwonux · 15 hours

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Business Proposal || knj (9/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting, semi-edited, smut, fingering, eating out, unprotected sex.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 8.0

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

A/n: lol, hello, I'm sorry for being so MIA lately. I kinda have had half of this written since November but my mom came to visit me in Korea and I forgot about it haha. If you are still here thank you for sticking around! Enjoy! Let me know your thoughts!

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10 Years Ago

Things were finally looking up.

“If you just remember everything we have gone over you'll be fine.” He simply says like it's no big deal, waving you off.

You on the other hand are filled with the gnawing pain of your nerves. As you look down at your notebook filled with an equal mixture of correct and incorrect answers.

Maybe things weren't really looking up.

“I think we should do a few more.” You rush out, flipping to a new page. In that exact moment, the buzzer in Namjoon's hand goes off, and he stands up.

He pushes in his chair and walks to stand beside you, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Over studying is not the answer.” He says gently, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before walking away to pick up your drinks.

Your protest dying as you burn daggers into his back. You aren't sure if it's a good thing that he has so much faith in you. When you don't have an ounce in yourself. Especially when in two days you'll hopefully end your misery with the dreaded math final.

It's been two whole months since you've started your weekly tutoring sessions with Namjoon. You aren't completely lost in class anymore. If you are, you just come to the broad man and drown him in all kinds of questions. With this tactic you've even managed to get an eighty-five present in your last math test.

The only thing left for you to pass is the stupid final.

You have been seeing Namjoon a lot more this week. Scheduling, and practically begging him to squeeze you into his tight schedule since Monday. A request to brush up on equations and gain some clarity on things you might have forgotten. To say the least, your test anxiety has reached a whole new level. You visibly look exhausted, your skin is oilier than usual, sporting a few painful pimples on your chin, and your hair looks so greasy despite just washing it in the morning. You should feel slightly ashamed for even leaving your house looking like a hot mess, but your thoughts are suffocating. Staying in would make the panic in the pit of your stomach worse.

Especially when you and your tutor have recently discovered your inability to do word problems. The main reason why you keep calling Namjoon at three in the morning. Even though he thinks you're just being paranoid, especially with the silent sigh of defeat you hear through your phone speaker. He tries his best to reassure you that you're going to be fine at the end of the day.

“There will probably be three, five at most. He had said last night when you called.

Thankfully he had stayed up revising his final paper, instead of being three dimensions deep in dream land like on Sunday when you called. Still, even though he had muttered out a tiny complaint, he stayed on the line with you. Until you were calm enough to fall asleep again.

In just three months your acquaintance has blossomed into a full on friendship. Along with your sneaking suspicion that both Taehyung and Jimin like him better. It was obvious last Friday night when Jimin had a small end of the semester get together at his apartment. Namjoon got so drunk he performed the entirety of Grease Lightning on karaoke. Including the dance break with special guest and step brother Jeon Jungkook.

Later on in the night the older of the four cried about the final scene in the Titanic. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but heartwarming to be able to see a different side of the Philosophy student.

“Look who decided to join us.” You jump, placing your pen down in your notebook, closing it to hold your page. You turn around, feeling a wide smile come onto your face when you lock eyes with the other source of your happiness these last few months.

“Hobi,” you exclaim, holding your arms out to him. He chuckles, and leans down giving you one of those awkward hugs one gives when the other person is sitting down. It only lasts a few seconds and then he is leaning his head back to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, making you cringe.

“Ew,” you pout, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. He chuckles, pecking your lips lightly and then taking the seat next to you.

“Joon says you need a break from being a math wizard.” He chuckles, dragging your notebook to him. He places his arms over it keeping it hostage.

You whine crossing your arms in front of you, pouting like a child. “But what if I don't pass. I don't want to have to take the class a third time.”

Namjoon shakes his head, sets your chamomile tea in front of you, and sits down. “I already told you, you won't. I did the math last night. Even if you get a sixty five percent, you'll still be able to pass the class with a B.” He states firmly and takes a sip from his coffee.

You huff, sinking further into the chair. “I don't want a B, I want an A.”

Hoseok snakes an arm over your shoulders and brings you close to his side.” “Then you will pass the class with an A honey cakes.” He kisses your temple before resting his cheek on top of your head. You take a deep breath, nodding and snuggling closer to him.

“So are you two dating now?” Namjoon leans back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of him.

Hoseok waves an arm, brushing off the question that has been surrounding the two of you these past three weeks. “You know it's not like that.” He answers before you can. He pulls his arm away and sets them both on top of your notebook. He sends you a knowing wink.

“Yeah you out of all people should know it's not like that.” You back up Hoseok, sticking your tongue out at the other. “How's Rina by the way?” You challenge making the man next to you burst out in a fit of giggles.

You see, most of the things Jungkook told you about Namjoon prior to your first meeting have all been lies. Or just not the whole truth.

Namjoon was a broody person. He did put his studies as one of his priorities in life. And he didn't want a relationship.

Yet in the last few months you have gotten to know the career driven man. You've also managed to peel back some of his layers.

He did have his moments of indignation, but he could also be very playful and funny. This side mostly comes out when Hoseok is around or when he wants you to get your mind off the things that have been stressing you out. He does have a strong work ethic, but he also knows when to take a break.

There have even moments in your tutoring slash now study sessions when he forces you to take walks. He says it helps clear your head, but you also know it's his way to get his ideas to flow again whenever he feels stuck.

During these walks you've managed to find out more things about him. He loves museums because he's shit at art, and knowing that there are people out there who aren't makes him appreciate the art a lot more. At least once every two months he visits the tree he and his father planted his mother’s ashes at to update her on his life. He cares so much for Jungkook and his mother even if he doesn't show it all the time. And despite not wanting a relationship he has been head over heels for the girl he's been casually hooking up with for the last two years.

Though he won't come out and say it himself. You have witnessed the way his face settles down into something calmer. And his eyes light up whenever his phone rings and her name pops up on the screen.

He once spent thirty minutes talking about a joke she had told him one night. Spoiler alert, it wasn't a good one, but it was adorable watching him try to get it out in-between chuckles.

You also know he shares the same negative sentiment Jungkook has about your current relationship with his best friend. But just like he claims that his relationship with Rina is complicated. So, is yours with the ray of sunshine you get to now call friend.

“She's fine.” He shrugs, clearing his throat and looking out the window. You share a look with Hoseok before letting out a fit of shared giggles.

If someone had once told you that your strict math tutor slash friend would turn into a shy mess with just the simple mention of a name. You would've thought they were fucking with you. Even if it still surprises you a little bit.

“You should just ask her to be your girlfriend.” Hoseok chimes in.

Namjoon throws his head back groaning. “It wouldn't work out if I do, plus that would require for me to act like a boyfriend and I'm not ready for that kind of commitment.” He speaks with his eyes trained on the high ceiling of the cafe.

You lean forward placing your elbows on top of the table and wrapping your arms around the hot mug. “You already do Namjoon. A switch of labels is not going to change anything. And don't you think she deserves some kind of confirmation and respect when it comes to your relationship?” You finish tilting your head to the side.

“I do respect her though, which is why I don't want to ask her, like you just said a label won't change anything.”

You let out a sigh, “I didn't say that you didn't respect her. I just think that from a girl's perspective she might be feeling a little bit confused with your words and actions. You say the two of you aren't anything serious but then you act like you can't live without her. If I was in her shoes I would feel very frustrated. So, maybe you don't have to make this big grand gesture or ask her to officially be your girlfriend but just clarify things between the two of you. If you aren't serious about her then so be it but if you are then tell her that.” You finish and take your first sip from your tea.

“I agree with honey cakes, just be a little more straight forward that's all.” Hoseok shrugs before standing up.

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and looks between the two of you. “And what about you?” He counteracts childishly. You knew it was coming. In his eyes the two of you giving him advice when you're in a similar situation is a bit hypocritical. Plus you and Hoseok are on the same page so it's di–

“That's different.” Hoseok speaks before you. “And this is about your love life not ours.” He states stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Whatever.” Namjoon brushes off. You sigh, aware that if you choose to continue the conversation it will end in the three of you having a petty argument. You look at Hoseok as he leans down, placing a delicate kiss on your cheek, making the man witnessing the affectionate gesture scoff in annoyance.

If he wants to say something he doesn't voice it instead he opens his leather bound notebook to a new page.

Hoseok ignores him and stands up straight. “Are we still on tonight?”

You nod. “I can't stay for long though I want to catch up on sleep.”

“Fine then just one movie it is.” He winks before turning on his heels. Leaving you behind with the grumpy man. He looks up from his journal, opening his mouth, but you raise a hand to stop him. “It's different Namjoon.”

Namjon clicks his tongue in annoyance and shrugs. “Whatever, let's just do one more world problem before calling it a day.”

“Fine,” you huff, sliding your notebook in front of you and opening it to a clean page.

Just one more day and you'll be free from this torture.

Hoseok's apartment is everything you expect from the maximest man. Just upon walking in you are hit with waves of bright colors. By the doorway there are different KAWS figurines that you can only imagine cost a fortune. Yet they greet you with their x'd out eyes as you remove your shoes.

Then you have to pass by the Supreme beaded curtain to finally enter the living room. A bright red leather couch is settled in the middle. With wine colored pillows and a black throw blanket that you've adopted since the first night you spent in Hoseok's arms.

Abstract art lines the walls behind the television. There are more figurines lining the shelves in between books, records, and framed pictures of his friends and families. Along with a few miscellaneous items that he's told you he's obtained over the years.

His TV is huge. Takes up almost the whole wall, but your favorite to watch movies since he installed a surround system upon moving in years ago.

You still remember the first night he invited you over. It was after spending two whole weeks texting non stop. He simply asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him and you thought why not.

One night led to another and now another. It always starts the same. The two of you spend days teasing one another through text. Lewd texts along with pictures. You come over for a movie and then you end up underneath him.

When it's over, he lets you use his shower while he orders takeout from the vegan restaurant a block down the road. And the two of you resume watching the movie as if neither of you were panting each other's names in pleasure.

A simple arrangement with absolutely no strings attached.

It was what you were expecting when you came over tonight. Not that you don't mind the nights in which you do come over and nothing happens other than the deep hearted talks over a slow record playing in the background. But that wasn't happening either, because ever since you arrived at his doorstep, the overzealous man has been quiet. Biting the inside of his cheek and moving around you far enough to raise suspicion.

It has your mind traveling back to the conversation that occurred in the afternoon. Was Hoseok having second thoughts? Or was there more to his actions than what you were picking up?

“Hobi,” you whisper the minute he enters his living room with a bowl of popcorn stepping over your legs that were resting on his coffee table. He silently settles down next to you, on the other side of the couch with a gap wide enough to fit a person in between.

Now you're more than positive that something is wrong.

You groan, “I think I'll just go home then.” You mumble, pushing the throw blanket of your shoulders.

This is enough to catch his attention. His eyes are wide behind his dark rimmed glasses and he sits up. “What why?” He tilts his head in confusion.

A dry chuckle escapes your lips. “You obviously don't want me around, so I'll just go. I need to go to sleep early anyway.” You shrug, slipping your feet in his fuzzy slippers and swiftly start making your way to grab your stuff in his room.

“No I–wait.” Finally, he speaks up, earning an eye roll from you that he can't see as your back is still turned.

With haltered steps you spin on your heel to face him again, “What? You've been acting strange since I got here. So, if you don't want me around I will just go home.”

At lightning speed he sets the bowl of popcorn on his coffee table, and stands up. He makes hasty steps towards you and when he is finally standing in front of you, he sets both of his hands on top of your shoulders.

“Don't leave…I'm sorry.” Hoseok's eyes cast down past your face. They settle upon the graphic on your old washed out t-shirt. He takes a deep breath and looks up again. His face twists into something you can't decipher. It's a look you've never seen him wear, and it settles hard into your chest.

He looks troubled, chewing on the inside of his cheek. His eyes dart to five different focal points. You know he's arguing with himself. When he finally looks at you in your eyes again. You can't help but shrink a little bit.

His features have hardened, and you want to reach out to smooth over the little worry lines in the middle of his forehead. Guilt washes over you.

For what?

You don't know but you hope more than anything that you'll soon find out.

“Can we talk?” He speaks up, letting his arms fall down, his knuckles brushing against your skin.

For a second you think he's going to pull away. Retrieve into his body, but when he grabs your hands and laces his fingers with yours. The guilt in the pit of your stomach dissipates and you're left with confusion.

When you don't answer his question, he repeats himself. This time differently, “I just think we need to talk, I've been thinking since this afternoon. I want to check up on you, and I guess us.” He clarifies, and now you're filled with a different kind of emotion. As much as you're relieved that you didn't do anything wrong per se. You are slightly annoyed that he couldn't just tell you that when you first arrived. Instead of ignoring you until you reached your breaking point.

Frustrated, you say slowly, “Then just say that, instead of ignoring me.”

Hoseok closes his eyes and sighs, nodding his head before speaking, “you're right I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind and I am not sure how to bring any of what I'm thinking about up.”

“Hobi, just say it. We agreed on clear communication when we realized that this was going to be more than just a one night stand.” You sigh, beginning to walk in the direction of his couch, stringing him along. “Whatever is on your mind, just say it.” You push him onto his couch and take the seat next to him, your body fully facing his, and you fold your legs beneath you.

He nods, running a hand down his face. “I don't think this is working anymore.” He whispers, eyes trained on his ceiling.

Okay you were definitely not expecting that, but instead of voicing your surprise, you squeeze his hand. Encouraging him to continue.

He does, “I think I'm slowly falling for you, well I don't know I'm confused about my feelings.” He whispers the end and falls quiet.

As much as you want to run away and hide at his confession. He looks troubled and you wouldn't be a good friend if you just left him to wallow in his thoughts. No matter the pressure that has settled in your chest. Or the fact that your heart thinks you're running a marathon, making your ears feel like they're about to fall off too.

With every passing moment you're finding that it's getting harder to breathe. You aren't dumb, the atmosphere has also changed, but it isn't because of his confession. It's because you are also a bit confused about your feelings.

You clear your throat, “W-What are you confused about?”

He stops his staring game with the ceiling, shifting his whole body to finally face you. “Do you know why both Kook and Joon are so against us?”

The question throws you off guard but you suppose it has to do with what he's going through. You do have an idea as to why your friends are raising a brow at your relationship. Jungkook’s warning the first day you met the barista is enough for you to get a rough idea of what they mean. But you want to hear it from him.

Still you don't know if you can trust your voice so you shake your head.

He continues, “I've never been in a relationship because I don't trust people to love me the way I know I can love them. So, I just sleep around, and when I get bored I break it off.”

“I know. They warned me about you when you immediately showed interest. And trust me I knew what I signed up for when we agreed to keep seeing each other. I don't expect anything more than what we are doing.” You tilt your head to the side.

“I know that's why I'm confused. At first that's all I expected and wanted. But then I don't know I feel so full and empty when I'm with you. I don't want you to leave when the night is over. You're the last thing I think about and the first thing I want to see. I've never felt this sure and comfortable with anyone ever, and I don't know what to do because we both know this isn't forever, your forever is with someone else, and so is mine. But for now I just want to be with you and know what it's like to fall in love and with you.” He takes a deep breath. “Even if it's just for a little bit. You know that next year I'll be leaving for that design school, and I'm sorry but nothing and no one is going to stop me. I've waited too long for this opportunity. I know I'm being selfish to ask you this, but can you please find it in your heart to let me be yours until then?”

Hoseok finishes. And you're left to your own devices. To deal with your emotions as they spill out of you in hot tears. You've never had someone confess to you so passionately before. Actually nobody has ever bothered. And even though it's semi depressing you can't help but feel on cloud nine with all his words wrapping around you in the warmth that he radiates.

Without thinking you kneel, and wrap your arms around his neck. “Okay let's do it.” You beam and he matches your smile. He leans in to kiss you but you place your hand over his mouth to stop him.

Confusion plagues him like a bitter sting. You laugh, “But only if you agree that when everything is over there's no drama between us, and if I ever get married you have to design my wedding dress.” You remove your hand, and cradle his cheek, rub your thumb over his eyebrow.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “You will get married.”

“Nah, but it's okay. I've accepted my faith.” You shrug, resting your forehead against his. His hands come up your cheek, squishing them slightly.

“You will honey cakes, that's why I'm already planning your dress design in my head.” He wipes your forgotten tears, and tilts your head to the side.

You feel your breathing get faster, as his heart shaped lips rest centimeters apart. “How are you so sure?” You whisper, swallowing thickly at the end.

He smirks, with a glint in his eye. Like he knows something you don't, “because I know someone who is also falling for you but they’re to dumb to notice “

“Who?”

“Secret,” he says before finally crashing his lips onto yours.

Hoseok’s room is equally as loud as his living room. It’s a little more diluted with simple decorations and a huge abstract painting on the wall in front of his bed. His bed takes up most of his space, adoring a black duvet with black sheets. He has three pillows and two of those you’ve taken ownership of. His brown dresser holds little trinkets of things he buys or finds in the pockets of his pants. It’s also home to a series of designer colognes. Your favorite one was definitely Terre d'Hermes. Somehow the smell always fills with comfort.

Your favorite part of his room–other than his bed–was his desk. They say you can tell a lot about a person by just looking at their work space.

He’s a messy artist. His sketches are always thrown around, or pinned on the corkboard hanging over his desk. He has two bookshelves filled with sketchbooks and magazines. Sometimes if you’re lucky he will leave his sketchbooks open, awarding you with a small glance of his work. He has different notebooks for different magazine cutouts. Each one labeled something like, ‘street’ or ‘formal’ or ‘one-day.’ The latter always peaks your interest but you’ve never thought to ask. He has a thousand different sketching materials, and so many colorful markers. You just know that he was that kid in class with the sixty-four crayola back.

He's passionate about his craft. A passion that shines through everything that he does. Especially when he’s sharing that passion with you. Now, as he lays you down onto his soft mattress. He kisses his way down your neck, slowly pushing your shirt up to reveal your stomach and the few stretch marks that appeared one day in your early adolescent years.

For years it was hard to be intimate with someone in fear that they would disgust your partner. But the one thing you learned while growing up was that most men didn’t give a shit unless they were getting it.

Yet Hoseok, your boyfriend, now.

He cares.

In a good way. The first time he saw you naked he almost came in his jeans. Your curves were all in the right places. You have enough skin to grip onto, and he loves all the marks and imperfections your body has.

He couldn’t understand why you were so beautiful in the soft glow of his bedroom lights? Why he didn’t have the words to describe how his heart was literally beating against his ribcage? Why for the first time in his casual dating experience he feared he wouldn't be able to give you the pleasure you deserved?

So, that first night together, he took his time. Trying to get his thoughts under control. He painted your body with featherlight kisses. Determined to leave his trace imprinted in your body for however long you two would engage with each other.

Everytime you came over. He did just that. He took his time, choreographing a dance with your body. It was a no-brainer that he had fallen for you. Something he knew shouldn’t have happened. He had plans for himself. He had a future mapped out since he was teenage. Though, he had the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t stop him from achieving his goals. That you would support him through everything. He should’ve stopped his feelings for you from growing.

He kept them quiet until his portfolio got accepted. Until he saw the brief glances Namjoon gave you when he thought you weren’t looking. Perhaps it was the jealousy that made him confess. Or that his time with you was now limited. Whatever the reason was that led him to his confession, he only hoped that you felt the same.

You giggle, the beautiful melodic sound grounds him as he wraps a calloused hand around your right breast, circling his thumb around the pebble.

You're his girlfriend now.

He, your boyfriend and he will bring down the moon for you tonight if you asked him too.

“What’s so funny?” His curious stare meets your amused one.

You had failed to keep your giggles at bay while he made out with you on his couch. He let a few of his own out when he had had enough of kissing and grinding in his living room, and guided you into his room.

He loved the sound, and he loved that it was only because after months of dancing this tango you were still shy underneath him.

“Nothing, it’s just that Mickey is staring at us.” You whisper gasping when he grinds his lower half against yours. Hoseok playfully rolls his eyes, reaching and turning around the newly added picture of his family dog on his bedside table. No more prying dog or human eyes around to interrupt the two of you.

His attention returns to you. Gaze burning with lust as he leans down, pecking your lips lightly. “Can you stay over?” He says, kneading your breast again. The teasing touches were driving you insane. But this is how you preferred it. Slow and intense, tangling your body with his, until the two of you became one.

“I’ll make an exception if you promise to drive me to my class tomorrow with a free coffee.” You smile, pushing your chest into his hand.

He shook his head, reaching down to your lips. “Hustler.” He mumbles, capturing your mouth in a slow sensual kiss. “You got yourself a deal baby girl.”

Your body shudders at the nickname. He only used it when it was just the two of you. He knew the effect it had on you. “Can I take your shirt off now?” He smirks.

You let out a pleasurable sigh, nodding your head, before verbalizing a soft, “yes.”

He pulls away, sitting back on his heels, peeling his shirt off before helping you with yours. He discards the two of them somewhere behind him. He pulls you towards him again, resting his forehead against yours. A bright smile adorning his perfect face.

It makes your stomach crumble, knowing that from this moment on.

Hoseok would always be the one who got away.

Your big “what if.”

Your biggest treasure. Your safe place. Your blueprint for a future with someone else. The love story that was made to end. But one that burned so bright that would have you telling your future daughter to never be afraid of love.

“Can we go slow today?” You run your hands down his torso, playing with the belt buckle of his expensive belt.

“I’ll go at whatever pace you want me to go, baby girl.” He reassures, his fingers play with the bra strap that had fallen down your shoulder.

You tilt your head, looking at him with soft eyes. And he swears he feels himself melt.

The next few minutes were a mess of soft kisses and clothes being discarded. Each article of clothing, landing with a soft ‘thud’ against his bedroom floor. You’re on cloud nine, his lips kiss down your neck, your collarbone. His hands part your thighs, baring your cunt to him. He sits back, mouth watering at how wet you are. He couldn’t wait for a taste.

He could never wait. And he never did.

He kisses your mound before wrapping his lips around your clit. He savors the sigh that escapes your mouth. He smirks when he immediately feels you grip his hair, pushing him further. Just like he couldn’t resist, you also couldn’t.

He sucked, distracting you from his finger circling around your entrance making you gasp in surprise when you feel him insert one. Slowly thrusting it as he licked you like a man who has been starved for weeks.

“Hobi,” You sigh, pushing his head further. He fingers you faster until he feels you clench around him, and he stops, making you whine.

“Please,” you plead. He chuckles against you, inserting another finger. This time he doesn’t give you time to adjust. You feel him thrust into you with no hesitation. His mouth sucking on your clit, swirling his tongue around it playing with the nub.

You were withering, moaning his name, and anything your mind could conjure up in this moment.

Overwhelmed with blissful pleasure, you grip his bed sheets, bucking your hips into his face. He groans, knowing you were on edge from how tight your grip on his head was now. And he did the one thing he knew would drive you insane. He slowed down, until he came to a complete stop.

“Hoseok,” you groan, slamming your hand onto his comforter. He chuckles, lifting his head. Your body was flushed, your lips swollen, your hair splayed out around you. He loves bringing you to this moment.

“You said you wanted slow.” He grins, taking his fingers out of your pussy. Loving the way it clenched over nothing now. Almost as if it was begging to be played with again.

You roll your eyes, pouting. “Not this slow. I want to come.” You say, sitting up on your elbows.

“Oh baby you will.” He winks, licking his fingers clean. He leans over, pecking your lips quickly. “You will come as many times as you want. But I want the first one to be around my cock tonight.”

You gasp at his words. You knew his mouth was lethal but sometimes it still surprises you. The lust lacing with his soft timbre made you weak in the knees.

“Fuck,” you whisper, grabbing his face and kissing him hard.

The word ‘slow’ is forgotten from either of your vocabularies, while the two of you kiss hungrily. Sucking on tongues, teeth clashing, hands touching and clutching onto anything and everything.

Hoseok lays you down on your side, climbing in behind you. His teeth nips at your bottom lip and he wrapped your leg around his hips. He kisses down your neck, while you help guide his cock to your entrance. He locks his eyes with yours as he slowly pushes himself in. His arms wrap around your torso, and he pushes you closer to his chest.

Both of your heartbeats are in sync. Racing against the clock, basking in pleasure that you never want it to end.

“Move please.” You say, lifting your face to kiss him.

He begins to move his hips, making you gasp into each other's mouths. It’s a sloppy pace from the start but you don't care. You want more, so you met his thrusts halfway. One of his hands palms at your breast. He alternates between swallowing your moans and leaving his mark on anything he can get his lips on.

“B-Baby.” He moans, resting his forehead on yours. “I’m close, are you?” He thrusts, letting out a low moan when he feels you clench around him.

He didn’t give you a minute to answer, before he was lifting your leg higher around his waist, allowing himself to reach the deepest part of you. “Touch yourself baby.”

You moan his name, letting go of his hand, your finger meeting your clit, rubbing it in circles. Trying to keep up with his unrelenting pace. And soon you feel him still behind you, eyes shutting in pleasure as he spills himself inside of you. His orgasm triggers the coil in the pit of your stomach as you feel your release wash over you in a tidal wave, making you push his cock and cum out of you. His fingers frantically come down to meet yours as he helps you ride out your wave. He whispers praises against your skin while you come down.

Hoseok kisses your lips slowly, chuckling before whispering words that you will forever hold near and dear to your heart.

“I love you.” He pushes your hair away from your face. “I love you so much to know that one day I’ll have to let you go.”

You giggle, turning in his arms, nuzzling your head into his neck. “I love you.”

You feel him laugh, twinkling his fingers down your spine, “Let’s get matching tattoos.”

You look up at him, raising a brow before shaking your head. “You just made me squirt, told me you loved me, and now you want to get matching tattoos?”

“What better way to commemorate the best ego boost.” He shrugs.

“You’re insane.” You untangle yourself from his embrace. You stand up, putting on his shirt.

“I didn’t hear a no.” He says smugly, putting his arms underneath his head.

“Because you’re an insane idiot who makes me agree to things like these.” You smile, before walking out of his room.

“Great, I’ll make an appointment.” He shouts after you, “I love you.” He adds after a moment.

You enter his kitchen, and turn on the lights. You can feel your smile take up your entire face. For a moment you realize that for the first time in a long time you felt happy.

So yeah, maybe, things were finally looking up.

“You’re late.”

Namjoon says after taking a slow sip from his coffee. He looks at you from over the rim of his glasses.

You roll your eyes, setting your bag down on the empty chair. “It's raining, and I forgot my umbrella. I had to wait for the rain to stop.”

“You could’ve texted to let me know.” He shrugs, setting his cup down on the coaster and flipping the page of his book.

You sigh, before (gently) throwing your phone onto the table. “It’s dead. And before you ask, no I didn’t bring a charger. No, Jungkook wasn’t in class today so he couldn’t give me a charger, an umbrella, or a ride. Jimin is sick. And Taehyung doesn’t even go to our school. He's probably getting high with his new fling, so I wouldn’t have been able to ask him either.” You say, listing all the solutions he would’ve thought about in seconds.

“Mhm,” he nods, closing his book. “And your boyfriend?”

Annoyed, you let out a whine, crossing your arms in front of you. “I don’t know, let me go downstairs and ask him. I’m sure he can stop managing a business to give me an umbrella.”

Namjoon leans his elbows against the table. “Trouble in paradise?” He tilts his head, clasping his hands on top of his book.

You shake your head, pulling out your chair and slumping down in it. “Hobi and I are fine. It’s not like he’s leaving in two months or anything.” You throw your hands up in exasperation.

It’s month seven into your shining relationship with Hoseok, and you should’ve known that things would start to hit the fan sooner rather than Later. Your boyfriend was in the middle of the most tumultuous change of his life. Things were moving quickly and his time dedicated to you was bumped down his monstrous daily to-do list.

Yet you couldn’t do or say anything because isn’t this what you signed up for?

“Ah, so there is trouble.” Namjoon chuckles before opening his book again, setting his fancy leather bookmark aside. “This is exactly why I don’t do relationships, they just attract problems.” He adds, giving you a pointed look.

You roll your eyes, “Shut up asshole, not all of us can be like you and Rina.”

“Sure you can, it's simple just don't attach any strings to it.” He shrugs, underlining a sentence in his book.

“Two people who have been only exclusively seeing each other for years literally the definition of strings attached. You can keep denying it all you want but she’s your girlfriend. You guys do all the couple-y stuff.” You grumble, leaning back in your chair, looking out of the window. The gloomy weather adds to your shitty mood.

“She’s not, we are not dating, and I don’t need to talk about this with you again. Rina and I are on the same page.” He finishes, taking a long sip from his coffee.

“Well, how would you feel if Rina was spending time with another guy, completely ignoring your presence when you walk into her coffee shop all wet and angry because your professor basically told you your topic for your essay was shit.”

Namjoon smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like you’re jealous of Yuri.”

“So what if I am?” You bite, “I understand that he’s training her to take over his position, but all he talks about is her and what he needs to teach her when we’re together. And whenever I come in they’re always laughing at something behind the coffee machine. And I know she’s nice and all but I would like his attention too.” You scoff.

Namjoon hums, tapping his index finger against the table. “Do you trust him?”

The question doesn’t catch you off guard, the obvious answer is on the tip of your tongue. But with how things have been going lately. You can’t help but hesitate.

“I don’t know anymore.” You whisper looking down at your hands, turning the ring on your middle finger. “I know I should, and I do…I think I do. It’s just things have been so shit lately and I feel like a burden to him because of everything he has to do.”

Namjoon lightly kicks your foot under the table, making you raise your head to meet his gaze. “I don’t know if I am being of much help, but he loves you. I know that whatever is happening he’s not doing it intentionally. Just talk to him about it.”

If only it were that easy.

“I’d love to but he never has time.”

“Why not talk to him now then.” He says reaching into his bag to take out his cigarettes and lighter.

“He’s busy downstairs with Yu–”

“No, I’m not busy now.”

You jump at the sound of your boyfriend's voice. You turn your head to look at him. A small tray with a mug of probably chamomile tea on top of it. His hair is shorter than the last time you saw him two days ago. He got a haircut and didn’t even tell you about it. That’s how low you have made it on his list. He can’t even send you a stupid picture of his new haircut. He can’t even send you a ‘goodmorning’ or ‘goodnight’ text. He also probably forgot that you were nervous for the meeting with your professor about your essay topic.

All these realizations make you want to roll into a ball and cry. You knew your time with Hoseok was limited. You just didn’t expect for the end to be so torturous.

“That’s what I told her.” Namjoon speaks, narrowing his eyes at you for a second before turning his attention to his best friend. “She’s jealous of Yuri, because you’ve been spending too much time with her.” He shrugs, walking quickly to the stairs before you can bury him ten feet underground.

You hear Hoseok let out a heavy sigh, and take the seat next to you. “Honeycakes,” he starts.

“Nice haircut.” You interrupt, slumping into your chair more. It earns another heavy sigh from the man sitting next to you.

“Is Yuri the reason why you’ve been so upset lately?” He says placing a hand on top of your knee underneath the table.

You let out a dry laugh before shaking your head. “No, it’s not her. It’s how you’ve been acting lately, it’s the time you’ve been spending with her. It's never having time for me anymore. It’s forgetting our date last week. It’s not even telling me that you got a haircut.” You finish, closing your fists to keep yourself from crying.

Hoseok gives your thigh a squeeze before leaning back in his chair. “You know how things have been lately. I’m trying so hard to do everything I need to do. I don’t mean to be so dismissive but I can’t juggle everything at the same time.”

You flick off a piece of lint from your jeans. “It’s nice to know that I’m just something you juggle around.”

“That’s not what I meant. You knew what would happen when I started my application process. You said you understood.”

“I did, or I thought I did Hoseok. I didn’t think I would become so secondary to you.” You sniffle. “I love that you’re chasing your dreams, but this is me trying to support you. I’m trying to understand how you’re feeling. But you stop me. You have shut me out and now I’m just something you remember sometimes.” You close your eyes, feeling the tears fall down your cheeks.

The last thing you wanted was to be crying like this in public.

“I-I want you to tell me when you’re having a hard time like you used to. I want you to feel like you can relax around me when we’re together. But every time we are together, we either argue, you don’t talk, or you talk about work, deadlines, or how you can’t wait to move. How do you think that makes me feel Hoseok?”

Hoseok sighs, and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He kisses your temple. “I wish you would’ve told me earlier before it got to this point.” He whispers, rubbing your back, while you lean your head onto his shoulder.

“But Hobi like you said, this is what I signed up for. This is what I agreed to.” You add bitterly.

“Yes Honeycakes, but you’re still my girlfriend. And I know that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, but I do care about you and I do love you.” He lifts your head from his shoulder. He gently grabs hold of your face, making you look at him. “Just like how you want me to talk to you when something is bothering me, I also want you to talk to me.”

You close your head sighing, “You’re right, I’m sorry that I keep making things difficult.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t. I’m the one that can’t seem to keep my girlfriend from doubting me. I’m the one who hasn’t told her how much I yearn to be in her presence at every waking moment.” He says, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “I love you, and I think that’s why I’ve been so avoidant lately. I know that our days are numbered and I would rather ignore the fact that I’m moving away soon than cherish the moments I get to spend with my family, my friends and you.”

You nod, holding out your pinky out to him. “I promise to keep trying my best.”

He hooks his pinky with yours bringing your laced fingers up to his lips. “I promise to keep trying my best too.”

“I love you,” You whisper, letting go of his finger and wrapping your arms around his waist.

His low laugh makes his chest vibrate against your head, “I love you.” He adds, rubbing soothing circles over your back. “Now, can you please drink your tea before you get a cold. I texted you earlier asking if you needed an umbrella but you didn’t answer. And now look at you coming in here all pouty and wet.”

You raise your head to look at him, opening your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the forgotten voice of your friend. “Her phone’s dead.” Namjoon throws his lighter onto the wooden table.

Hoseok tsks shaking his head, reaching over to push the tray of your lukewarm tea closer to you. “I should’ve known. I knew you didn’t charge it last night, just like I knew that you left your umbrella at my place.” He pinches your cheek. “How did your meeting go?”

“He basically said that I need to restart my essay topic over again.”

Hoseok laughs, bopping your nose with his own. “Well did he say those exact words?”

“No but it was basically implied.” You emphasize.

“Fine, I’ll talk to your study partner if my baby isn’t being told that she’s a genius all the time, then what am I paying him for.” He jokes, which earns a glare from said study partner.

“You’re not paying me, idiot.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, grabbing his brown leather messenger back and stuffing his cigarettes into the front pocket.

He’s grateful that he came back to smiles and not tears. The stoicness of his actions makes the two of you laugh hard. Your laugh resonates longer in his mind. It always does. No matter how much he tries to deny it. You always resonate longer in his mind. But he pushes that fleeting thought aside.

Namjoon is happy.

His friends are happy.

Things in his life were finally looking up.

“I have to go, but don’t be late next time and charge your phone.” He says hoisting his bag onto his shoulders.

You nod, saluting in his direction, before bursting out into a fit of giggles as Hoseok tickles your side.

Namjoon doesn’t stay for longer than he needs to. He’s already running late to meet Rina, but he can’t hide the smile taking up his space.

He can’t help but feel proud that things were finally looking up for you too.

a/n: I hope you have enjoyed it. I will try not to be so MIA and upload a little more frequently rather than every 6 months haha. But my life has been pretty busy lately. In the past few months. I have moved to a different part of Seoul and I got a new job. I basically just hang out with my friends when I have free time haha. I also do dance class 3 times a week, and I started personal training last week. But I will try to manage my time better because I do miss writing and this story!

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jimilter · 1 year

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booby traps | jhs. (m)

Jung Hoseok was told the building would be laced with booby traps. All he encounters are your boobies – but they have always had him trapped.

pairing: hoseok x reader

rating: m (18+)

word count: 5 k

— warnings: mentioned violence, blood, wounds + mention and usage of guns and explosives + mention of crime, human trafficking, organized crime + swearing + jealousy + possessiveness (the sexy kind, not the toxic one) + explicit sexual situations (anGRy sex, dom!hoseok, sub!reader, breast play, biting, spitting, clit slapping, some spanking, pain kink, choking, hints of exhibitionism, penetrative sex, rough sex, overstimulation, oral(f.&m.), fingering, dirty talk, some (or a lot?) degradation) + open ambiguous ending bec hehe <3

— note: happy birthday, jung hoseok, i hope you always receive all the happiness, love, and dirty kinky sex that the world has to offer ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

so i began writing this in april of 2022. wow, right? 🤡 anYways, this is for all my hoseok hoes out there <3 but dedicated especially to @here2bbtstrash bec their enthusiasm made me churn this out in two sittings ajsjdkd ily, m! 😩💗

— masterlist | taglist | feedback?

↝ set in the same universe as captivity ⁘

Jung Hoseok has never been fond of explosives. They are unpredictable as hell, can betray you at any given time, and are a one time show.

Now guns, on the other hand, are a delight. Sleek and pretty, fit right in your hand, can be looped or twirled around your fingers, would always be by your side and last a lot longer. Explosives could never. He just loves guns, man.

Clocking his trusty Glock, he slithers through the balcony of the warehouse with a flashbang in his other hand. The idea is to create a distraction in this part of the building and hide, so that the two Shadows of the gang can free the three girls being kept near the main entrance and get away in time. But taking the safety pin out of the damn smoke grenade is wrecking all of Hoseok's nerves.

It’s kinda embarrassing, disliking explosives when he’s the literal action taker of the gang, when it’s his fucking job to blow things up. Is this some phobia? It sure is inconvenient as fuck.

"Pull at the fucking thing and toss, Jung," crackles through his comms in an impatient grumble from their computer operator, Namjoon. "We don’t have all night.”

“I know that, jackass. Let me focus, and—”

“It’s just pull and toss,” Jimin butts in for no fucking reason. “What's taking so fucking long?"

Hoseok takes a deep breath through his nose, nostrils flaring in irritation. "If this shit explodes in my hand, I will shove both my feet up both of your asses, at the same time."

"Jeez, colorful," comes from Seokjin who has decided to sit with Namjoon and Jimin in the getaway van for this operation. “Are you throwing it, Jung?

Hoseok sighs. They’re ganging up on him. "Sorry, hyung. I'm throwing it… Now."

He will never admit to it but he actually shuts his eyes when he tosses the weapon, teeth gritted and nose scrunched up in distaste. Man, he hates explosives.

In a loud burst of smoke and gas, screams erupt from downstairs. Hoseok sprints towards the pre-decided location and slides through the doors to lock himself in the abandoned control room of the building. Three monitors running a live CCTV footage of three different locations at the warehouse are set up in a corner of the room. Hoseok quickly scans them to locate the girls that are to be rescued, the men that will try to prevent it, and the two cloaked figures standing on the ready to rescue them. He draws up the blueprint of the place in his head, and presses a finger to his comms.

“Okay, Shadows, you’ve got approximately thirty seconds to get to the girls before the hallway is blocked, and then you’ll have…” He eyes the second monitor. “Less than a minute to get them out. Run, run, now!”

Both the cloaked figures take off at the same time, shooting off like a bullet, disappearing from the screen in the blink of an eye. Hoseok allows himself an exhale. The biggest chunk of his work here is done.

“Alright, Jung, dismantle the systems and leave,” Seokjin informs him, seamlessly guiding the mission like he always does. “I have Min on standby to fry our comms connection in the next five seconds. Do I have a green light?”

Hoseok mentally goes over the plans they have made through long, agonizing brain-storming sessions over the last seven days. After switching these systems off, he is to make his way out of the warehouse, but there is only one passage that he can use – and according to Namjoon’s surveillance, it is sure to be laced with booby traps.

Traps are his fucking jam. He can’t wait.

“Green light, hyung.”

"Okay, in five…four…three…Be careful, Jung!" Seokjin just manages to call out before the connection sizzles and dies.

He’s on his own now.

Making quick work of unplugging the monitors and then cutting through the wires in the processors with his pocket knife for good measure, Hoseok looks around the room. He’s in one corner of a relatively large hall, and given how dark it just got after the monitors were switched off, he has reason to be wary and vigilant. Not that he isn’t always wary and vigilant.

Sharpening his gaze to accustom it to see in the very faint moonlight that is filtering through the cracks in the dilapidated roof, Hoseok slowly scans the place with his Glock aimed and the base of the palm resting on the wrist of his other hand that holds the pocket blade at the ready.

Booby traps are a fun, but tricky business. One can never be too careful. Being ambidextrous comes in handy, though, because he feels a lot confident moving on silent steps like this as he nears the door that will lead to a smaller hall. According to the blueprints, this one has large, French style windows lining the walls – which means more visibility because the moon is full tonight.

But more visibility means he has to be more conspicuous, too, because he can very well be in plain sight. Though he’s dressed in all black, he decides to zip his leather jacket up for more agility in case he has to duck and roll.

Sweat immediately beads on the back of his neck because the heat is sweltering. His heart is pounding, every single one of his senses are so fine-tuned, he can taste the stale air in the room. But this is what he lives for – this adrenaline rush is what he loves, what keeps him going everyday.

Determination setting his jaw, Hoseok doesn’t even wanna think about how he has to go back to the damn beatdown apartment Jimin forces him and Seokjin to live in, in the name of staying “low profile.” He honestly doesn’t get it, because any threats? He can take them out; it’s the reason why he chose this line of living a shady lifestyle. He’s capable. He can and he wants to.

But anyways, that’s neither here nor there.

Focusing on the task at hand, he carefully steps through the broken door in the doorway, carefully analyzing the next room. It’s brighter, for sure, but Hoseok didn’t consider the tall line of trees lining the warehouse that cut out a lot of moonlight that could have entered the room. Which results in it being almost artistically lit with faint splotches that brighten some portions and leave some others in complete darkness.

But Hoseok’s eyes are very trained at this. So it’s absolutely not a bother for him to look for trip wires and spring guns, the booby traps he expects.

His eyes survey the walls and floors like a scanner, brows somewhat furrowing when he comes up empty. Maybe these traps are more conspicuous than the ones he’s used to? An expert’s work, perhaps?

Squinting his eyes, he readies them to do another scan.

At least, that’s what he is supposed to do.

And that’s what he would have done—

Only, the sound of a decidedly female voice gasping not too far away from him has him immediately stiffening.

It cannot possibly be one of the girls because there is only one way into this room, and he came through it. Did these men have someone female on their team?

He’s probably being crazy, but he can’t shake the feeling that the less than a second’s gasp sounded oddly…familiar to him.

Swallowing, he refrains from calling out and instead decides to focus hard to locate the source of the sound.

And gradually, the silhouette of a trenchcoat catches his eye. It – she – is standing against the darkened wall between two windows, which is smart, but not smarter than him. Grinding his teeth, he aims his gun at the back of her head, and takes silent steps towards her.

“Move and I put a bullet through your head.”

The silhouette freezes. As it should. But something about the way the girl's head cocks to a side seems both out of place…and again, vaguely familiar to Hoseok.

What is going on with him tonight? Is he not in his element? This is an important mission that—

“Fuck, Hoseok? Tell me it’s not fucking you!”

Hoseok’s heart nearly falls through his ass.

It's you. It's… you!

He mumbles your name in equal parts disbelief and suspicion, and you immediately spin on your heels to glare at him.

This is why you looked familiar to him. Because you are familiar to him. It's been a little over a year since you broke up with him, but the familiarity will probably never leave.

"So it's you that ruined my fucking mission! Figures," you spit, a scowl on your face, and Hoseok snaps out of his dreamy daze to scowl right back.

"I'm sorry, yourmission? What the fuck kind of…" He slowly trails off when his eyes travel down your body.

It's a wonder his gaze hadn't strayed from your face for so long and maybe it says something about his character and the kind of feelings he still harbors for you, but Hoseok can't collect enough brainpower to wax poetics about that, right now, because you—

He sucks in a sharp breath, hating himself for the way his mouth waters but unable to help it, because you're—

You're naked.

Completely, absolutely, thoroughly bare beneath the trench coat that hangs on your shoulders, and Hoseok… honestly doesn't fucking know what is happening right now.

Your boobs shake with the heavy gasps of air you inhale, making everything in him tremble, so that's something he's aware of happening. But he cannot even look at the triangle of soft, shaven skin between your legs that is literally beckoning to him, because what the fuck is this situation?

He met you through Seokjin some four years ago when the older man decided to recruit you to help him with finances. You were smart, sharp tongued and completely open about your feelings, so it didn't take long for the two of you to fall into bed together. Falling in love took time. Trust is hard to develop when working in a less than legal ragtag group of crime fighting vigilantes, so Hoseok took his sweet time putting you through tests before he confessed how he felt to you. He was lucky to find out you felt the same.

Until a mission that got him shot in the leg and scared you so bad that you broke his heart, broke all ties with the group, and left. Yoongi, the guy that forges IDs for the group, traced you for a bit and found that you'd shifted to a far off town and taken up work at a ranch.

It should, thus, be understandable why Hoseok cannot comprehend why you're standing in a warehouse that a group of goons were using as a human trafficking base, naked, and yelling at him about ruining your "mission."

"Why…the fuck are you naked?"

You shut the flaps of your coat so nonchalantly, Hoseok's left eye twitches.

"You – you're not working in some brothe—"

"I'm not a whore, Hoseok," you cut him off sharply. "As I said, I was on a mission. It's none of your business."

Okay, he's had enough. He needs answers and he's gonna pull them out of you – before he shoves his tongue down your throat and his fingers up your pussy, because he's definitely not walking away from this without getting a taste. He stuffs his pocket knife in one boot and gun in the other. He needs his hands for this one.

"What mission? What the fuck are doing here?"

You give him an irritable look. "Didn't you just hear me say it's none of y—ah!"

His fingers are wrapped around your delicate, enticing throat, the other hand having grabbed both your wrists behind your back, and his lips are at your ear. "It is very much my business, sweetheart," he icily reminds you, reveling in the shiver that wracks through your body. "Before I put that mouth to other uses, tell me why the fuck you are here."

Opening the said mouth to release a shuddering breath, you audibly gulp before you start speaking. "I… I was here to do what you were here to do. Help those girls."

He accepts it, deciding he'll question you about how you switched from a ranch to organized crime, later. Because first: "Help them how? By flashing your boobs at them?"

You toss a sharp glare at him, gorgeous eyes narrowed and perfect lips pursed. Fuck, it shouldn't make his heart beat harder the way it does.

"One of the men that were keeping these girls hostage is…" You pause to swallow, looking away from him. "We dated for a while."

Hoseok's grip tightens on your throat and he sees the way your pupils expand with desire. He feels it, too. But he feels something else as well – murderous. He wants to kill the man you just mentioned.

"And?" he grits out, even though he can guess what the rest of the plan could have been.

You thickly swallow, throat moving against his palm, and he shoves you against the wall when his pants start to tighten. "I…was planning to – to distract him… By… Well, all this," you finish with your eyes pointing down at yourself.

Hoseok's nostrils flare in anger, teeth grinding so fucking hard, he's scared he'll break them. "You…were going to flash yourself to a fucking criminal?"

And because you're still the brat he could never fully tame, you turn your nose up at him. "I was going to more than just flash him, but your fucking boyband bombarded—mmph!"

Hoseok swallows the rest of your sentence with his parted, harsh lips that take yours in a bruising kiss. His tongue uses your shocked state to its advantage to lick into your mouth, and when your whiny moan echoes around the two of you, he lets go of your hands to tug your trench coat open again.

Roughly squeezing your boobs and pinching at your nipples, he doesn't allow you to breathe at all, between his harsh kisses and the hand on your throat. When one of your legs attempts to hook around his, he pins you back to the wall with his hips, stiff length digging into your stomach through his jeans.

He only relents when he runs out of air, leaving your mouth to drag his tongue down your chin and up your cheek.

"H–Hoseok, I…"

"Hm?" He meets your gaze and wraps his mouth against the tip of one breast, letting go of your throat to hook both his hands beneath your knees and lift you up.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, nails scratching at his scalp and naked pussy grinding against his clothed erection. "Want you to… ah! Fuck me, Hoseok!"

"No," he hums against your sternum, biting into a mouthful of your flesh. "You wanted someone else to do that, sweetheart, don't lie to me."

"No, I… I won't have fucked him, Hoseok…"

He glares at you with hatred, revulsion, disappointment, and…heartbreak. "But you have fucked him."

Your eyes widen at the pain that spills from his words, but he doesn't let you react to it before he's returning to your bare torso presented like a feast to him. He takes his fill of your juicy breasts, playing with them with both his palms rolling your nipples, and then with his mouth as he bites into the buds. It is only when you're sobbing with actual tears streaming down your face that he relents, leaving your chest thoroughly marked up.

"Look at that… what a gorgeous painting, huh?"

Your bottom lip pulled into your mouth, you arch your back to press your chest to his. "Touch me, Hoseok…please…"

Fuck, you're begging? Already? What happened to his brat?

He stiffens at his own thoughts – you aren't his anymore.

Anger runs through his veins again. "Why? You ran at the first sign of danger, pretending you couldn't take this world, and now you're here – playing fucking hero by risking yourself?"

Your eyes widen at his unexpected calling out. "I… Hoseok…"

But he just scoffs and frees a hand to run it across your nether lips. You're so wet, you have ruined your thighs too. Hissing at the sticky arousal that coats his entire hand with just a single touch, Hoseok spreads the lips apart then takes two fingers to swirl them around your turgid clit.

You shriek in pleasure, eyes screwing shut and jaw dropping open. He brings his lips down to bite into the flesh of your throat.

"Look at how fucking wet this shit is," he harshly rasps against your skin, mouth dragging down, down, down, until it has enveloped your nipple again – he's always been obsessed with your tits, he can't help it. "Fuck, you lied to me, baby… You are a whore…"

As if to prove his point, you scream louder when he sucks on your boob, and his wrist works faster against your clit in response. But soon, it isn't enough.

He needs more.

He needs you on his tongue, dripping down his chin, rolling down his throat.

Without giving you a single second to prepare, he drops your legs from his waist and gets to his knees between them, throwing a thigh above his shoulder to spread them wide. And fuck, the intoxicating scent of you mixed with the gasp and then the sob that leaves your mouth makes his head spin for a moment. Then his gaze focuses on the wet, swollen mess that has become of your pussy and he dives right in.

“Hoseok! Fuck!”

He licks a strip up your slit, pushing his tongue through the opening his fingers have left gaping, which seems to suck him right in, and then curls it around your clit. You taste the same – and he loves it just as much. Suctioning his mouth to your clit, he shuts his eyes and hums at the taste, belatedly perceiving the way you grip at his hair and cry out his name.

You were always so vocal during sex. It was one of the things he loved about you. He still does.

His fingers reroute to your cunt and he fucks you open at a harsh pace, while his teeth dig into your delicate, little clit.

"Ah! You—fuck! Hoseok, I—please!"

He wonders if you even know what you're begging for, but he stays focused on your clit while the tips of his fingers curl up to wreak havoc upon your pussy. He can feel the rough patch that houses your most sensitive nerves, and you can feel him feeling it too if the way your hips arch into his mouth is anything to go by. You grind against his lips in an attempt to get off faster, panting and screaming for more.

But he is not having any of it.

Hoseok rips his mouth off of you and pulls his fingers out, immediately rearing the same hand back to deliver a strong, resounding slap to your pussy.

You roar his name in a barely comprehensible scream. "What the—fuck you!"

"Hm, I will," he promises with a cocked brow, using his other hand to spread your lips so that the next slap is delivered straight to your clit. "If you stop behaving like a whore…"

Your back arches off the wall at his words, a whine echoing around the room. The way your breasts jump at the action makes him swallow roughly, but he can't have you acting out and forgetting who is in control.

"None of that, sweetheart. Be a good girl and get rewarded, remember?"

Your eyes meet his at those words, and before you've even opened your mouth, Hoseok can tell something has shifted from the darkness your gaze carries. "I haven't been good in a long time, Hoseok…"

The words do something to him. And he hates it. With venom in his eyes, he aims his mouth at your wide open pussy and spits at it. Your eyes immediately glaze over when the wetness lands on your heated flesh, and Hoseok wastes no time in working it into your channel with his fingers.

"You will be my good fucking girl, baby.” His voice comes out whispery and broken. "Always."

Delivering another slap to your exposed clit just to relish the way your toes curl and eyes roll back, Hoseok fuses his mouth to your pussy once again and resumes the motion of his fingers in you. When the thrusts become too smooth he adds another finger to the mix, now sucking on your clit with his teeth while he fucks you with the first three fingers of his hands.

"I'm gonna fucking c–cum!" you sob above him, both hands fisted in his hair and threatening to pull them from the roots.

He hums into your soft flesh, knowing full well how sensitive that makes you and is barely able to hold in his chuckle of delight when you squeal his name and climax on his tongue. The way your walls constrict on his fingers nearly distracts him, until your hips begin to undulate against his face to ride your orgasm out, and Hoseok is reminded he needs to pull his hand away and clean you up. So he opens his mouth wide, flattening his tongue over your opening and drinks up your release.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you came so much…"

"I… Your tongue's fucking evil,” you accuse with a whimper, and Hoseok can feel his dick aching for relief.

"Alright, now turn around and gimme your ass."

It's almost funny how quickly you stumble your way around changing your position. Bracing both hands on the wall, you spread your legs and stick your ass out by the time Hoseok rises to his feet again. God, you're still so fucking obedient.

“My obedient little whore, hm?”

He hears your head move in a desperate nod. “Yes, Hoseok. Please. I’m your good little whore, please… Please fuck me!”

“Insatiable, too,” he taunts, if only to work against the warmth your begging instills in his chest.

While you cry your way through another agreement, he lifts the hem of your trench up and folds it over the middle of your back, baring the glorious globes of your ass to him. As if on autopilot, one of his hands rears back and lands again in a loud, echoing thwack. The skin glows with the rush of blood, and it just prompts him to free his length from his jeans that much faster.

Once he has himself in his hands, painfully hard and curving towards his abdomen, he puts some more distance between his feet and angles his hips to line himself up against your dripping entrance.

“Ready, sweetheart?” he murmurs as his free hand massages the ass cheek he just left a handprint on, talking softly, softer than he has been with you so far.

“Y–yeah… Yes, Hoseok, please…”

Your whines do him in, making him bite down on his bottom lip with a drawn out groan, and he works himself in through your wet, slippery entrance with more ease than he'd expected. You're too fucking wet, and it feels heavenly. Your velvety walls part for him like that’s the only thing they know to do, but you’re still too fucking tight for him to bottom out in a single thrust.

“Fuck, sweetheart, did you get tighter?” he groans, fisting a hand in your hair while he pulses his hips against yours to stuff you full with his cock. “Gripping me like a dream, baby…”

He pulls you up by his grip on your hair, sighing at the sob of pleasure you give, and leans his mouth to bite into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

"Getting fucked out here is turning you on, isn't it?" he goads you, and receives his response when your walls clench with his words. “Fuck, my little slut…is so fucking dirty…”

Groaning, he lets go of your hair to grab onto your hips and loses himself to the feeling of your hot, wet channel that squeezes him harder with every thrust. Your ass jiggles and sharp moans escape you every time he bottoms out, and Hoseok's eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Hoseok… You’re so – so fucking huge…”

“Yeah? Too huge for this tiny cunt?” He pants between thrusts. “I thought you were a whore?”

You shake your head. “On–only yours. Only yours!”

The way your admission drags him closer to the edge is almost stupid. And then the sensations grow overwhelming way faster than he'd thought they would.

Quickly, just as he feels the coil beginning to tighten in his abdomen, he reaches around you to dig the heel of his palm into your clit.

“Come for me, baby—fuck—you need to fucking cum,” he demands with a deep chested moan of his own. “Milk my cock, come on…”

You cry out a string of curses, jumping against him and leaning up on your tiptoes as his palm grinds down against your oversensitive clit harder and faster and rougher. And then your pussy constricts around his length in a death grip as you fall apart for a second time, nearly pulling his own release from him.

But he doesn't wanna finish like this.

He wants to paint your fucking face.

No sooner have you come down from your orgasm, than Hoseok is pulling out of you and turning you around. His lips press into yours in a messy kiss, which you accept with a moan of his name and your nails digging into the back of his neck to pull him closer.

But Hoseok manages to untangle himself from your embrace to push you down to your knees. "Your mouth. Take me into your fucking mouth…"

You oblige immediately, rolling your tongue out to receive his tip as Hoseok works a hand over his cock. The sight of your huge eyes looking up at him with lust and wonder in them is too much to handle for him, and he ends up slipping his throbbing dick into your mouth.

Just a couple of brushes of your tongue over his sensitive head and a powerful suckle of your hollowed cheeks later, Hoseok grunts your name and braces both hands on the wall behind you, allowing the band of restraint to snap in him as his climax tears through his entire being. For a while, there is no sensation he feels and no thought he conjures other than endless pleasure and lightheadedness as he empties himself down your throat, jerking his hips against your face until you've swallowed every last drop.

Slowly, his soul returns to his body.

Heavy breathing, both of yours combined, is echoing around the room.

“Fuck,” Hoseok inhales, raking a hand through his sweaty hair, shutting his eyes.

Shit, maybe part of his soul is still hovering around in the purgatory.

Meanwhile, you collect yourself and get up, hands visibly trembling in an attempt to pull the lapels of your trench coat close. Hoseok stares at you in silence, tucking himself back in and correcting his clothes when his brain finally allows him to move. It is only after you have secured the belt over your waist that your own gaze rises up to meet his.

Your expressions are guarded, but not exactly full of hate. He doesn’t know why he expected the latter, but a weight lifts off his chest at its absence.

“You okay?” he asks and he means it, the concern that moves through his chest at the sight of your quivering lips.

But you fold your arms against yourself and nod, one hand correcting your hair, while you bite down on your bottom lip. “I’m fine. You?”

His eyebrows rise up in amusement. “Terribly late, but massively better.”

You roll your eyes in evident embarrassment, and he stifles a chuckle. "You definitely are late. Your – your boys are gonna wonder where you went," you mumble, cheeks bright and gaze refusing to meet his.

Hoseok scoffs at the way you say 'boys'; as if they're his fucking sons. Clearing his throat, he steps closer to you and looks at you down his nose. "They'll understand when I show up with you."

Your eyes are wide when they snap to his own. "Wha…with me?" Your shoulders roll back and gaze hardens. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Hoseok."

He laughs with his whole chest, craning his neck back and looking up at the ceiling. "Wow, you're so fucking funny, sweetheart."

"Hoseok. I'm not going—"

"Oh, but you are," he suddenly hisses at you, eyes narrowed and jaw set, and given the way your throat moves in a swallow, he knows you know he means business now. "You're clearly working for a rival gang. If you think I'm gonna let you off without…thoroughly checking you for wires and bugs, you're stupider than I thought."

The look you give him is a delicious mix of shocked and thrilled. He wonders if you even realize how much you want him. “You… you just checked me, Hoseok! A little too thoroughly! What the fuck?”

His lips curl into a grin and he presses you against the wall again, one hand cupping your jaw while the other cups your ass. “I checked two holes, baby.” He squeezes your ass, chuckling when you gasp. “There’s one more I’d like to investigate.”

It’s… mostly bullshit. Although he doesn’t fully trust you, he can kind of tell that you aren’t wearing a wire. Which, as stupid as it was on your part, gives him no reason to drag you with him.

He has a more personal investment at play here. He has missed you. He doesn’t think he ever truly stopped loving you. And now that he has had a taste and realized how much, if not you then at least your body missed him too, he isn’t ready to let you go so soon.

You look at him with a glaze of unadulterated lust over your eyes. In a voice too hoarse to not be full of desire, you weakly protest, “C–can’t you take my word for it?”

Hoseok shakes his head with a pretend pout on his lips. “Sadly, no.”

Taking your hand in his, he finally begins his trek out of the damn place that he was supposed to have evacuated an hour ago. You’re right, everyone will worry. And Seokjin isn’t gonna be too happy about your presence at the flat either. But hey, he accepted Jimin falling in love with a victim, didn't he? Hoseok will convince him.

He looks over his shoulder at you, and before you can shutter your expressions into reluctance, he gets a peek at the longing he feels in his chest. With a smile that he hides from you, he picks up pace and guides the two of you to the motorbike he has hidden away for his escape.

This is gonna be good.

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blue-jisungs · 1 year

Text

a/n. if anyone is having a hard time right now, remember it will be alright. you’ve got it. some things are hard to go through and stressful but once they’re over, you’ll be at peace. take time to breathe, calm down. i believe in you <3

[ 10:38pm ] harsh sobs that left your mouth literally crushed his heart into pieces. he knew he couldn’t do anything about the situation you were in but at least he could be there for you.

when you squeezed his neck, another sniff ripping out of your chest and tears spilling out of your eyes, hobi let out a shaky breath. he felt your pain too.

“i’ve got you” a quiet whisper from him makes you cry even more. he holds you tighter, the reassurance you needed almost overwhelming you – but you can’t say you’re not grateful “we’ll get through this”

hoseok places a tender kiss on your hair, tracing soothing shapes on your clothes. you cry your eyes out in hobi’s arms, feeling so small. but with him by your side, you know you can conquer the world even if lately you feel like just existing.

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinhobi ,, @jung0ne ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @moonacholy ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddenoudepression ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan

#bts imagines #bts jhope #bts fluff #bts timestamps #bts soft hours #bts x you #bts reactions #bts stuff #bts scenarios #bts x y/n #bts x reader #jhope #jhope fluff #jhope x reader #bangtan jhope #j hope bts #hoseok fluff #bts hoseok #bts drabble

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gimmethatagustd · 2 years

Note

I cannot stress this enough:

Soft sleepy sex with Hoseok, intimate and slow and maybe a bit of overstimulation... that's it- my mind can't think any further 🥥

TAKE CARE OF ME | JHS

You'd never trade quiet, sleepless nights with your boyfriend for anything in the world, even when sometimes it feels like the world is falling apart around you.

» pairing: hoseok x reader

» genre: BTS | 18+ | established relationship | fluffy smut

» word count/date: 3k | August 2022

» notes: pls this request had me going full on raging DELULU

» masterlist

» what was jai listening to? belong to you (ft. 6lack) - sabrina claudio

Gentle. Always gentle. A long time ago, you used to hate being treated gently. The vulnerability that came with someone taking care of you, being soft with you, knowing every little detail about you enough to shape their world around you… it was hard. Scary. Gross, even. You wanted to be tougher than that because one day that gentleness would end and how would that leave you?

Empty.

That is, until you met him.

You felt Hoseok wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest so he could tuck his face into the crook of your neck. His warm breath tickled goosebumps across your shoulders and arms, but his grip kept you grounded. His hands pressed into your sides to hold you in place. Like a weighted blanket, you felt secure with him on his side behind you, the rise of his chest comforting as he breathed against your back.

His warmth and the pattern of his breathing was almost enough to lull you back to sleep. You couldn’t tell what time it was. The storm raging outside knocked the power out just before the two of you climbed into bed, but you assumed only an hour or so had passed.

“Hey,” Hoseok whispered in your ear. You let out a small ‘mmm’ in response and nestled backwards into his arms even more deeply. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

You nodded, eyes still closed. A crack of lightning briefly lit up your dark bedroom with white light bright enough to penetrate your eyelids.

“Want me to make you some tea?”

Forcing your eyes open, you twisted around to face him. Hoseok’s hair was messy, wavy strands flopped in every direction. You reached up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. He’d been growing out his hair and you quite liked being able to ruffle the strands around, watching them fluff up and flop to the side. Especially the hair at the back of his neck that was now longer than you’d ever seen it. You liked the way it made him look rugged and slightly unkempt; the exact opposite of your responsible, well-organized Hobi.

At this point, you were just barely able to make out the details of his features in the dark. But you felt the way he leaned into you and you knew to meet him halfway so he could give you a light peck on the forehead. Gentle. Always gentle.

“No, it’s okay,” you insisted. You gave him a tap on the nose. “You’re too considerate sometimes.”

“Never.”

“Yes you are.”

“Only a little bit.”

“A lotta bit.”

A pout was his next rebuttal. You reached out to press your fingers against his lips as though you were trying to smooth them out. When you moved to pull away, Hoseok caught your hand and pressed it against his mouth again. He kissed your palm, then each fingertip. The softness of his touch sent shivers down your arm.

“It’s because I love you so much,” he murmured, his voice tired and thick.

Before you could respond, he cupped your face and pulled you towards him. His lips moved against yours softly, guiding you into a slow dance you’d only dance with him. A smooth hand ran down your side to stop at your hip, squeezing it lightly. Your fingers found Hoseok’s hair, tangling in the loose waves at the back of his head and tugging just enough to make him sigh against your mouth. You captured his bottom lip between your teeth when he slightly parted his lips, taking advantage of the opportunity to nibble and suck on it.

“You’re gonna start something,” Hoseok spoke gruffly when he pulled away. You tugged at his hair again and got the quietest of moans out of him. “I’m serious.”

Even if he hadn’t said anything, his growing erection pressed against your body said enough.

“Maybe I want to start something.”

The room stood still, shadows from the swaying tree branches outside the only movements. Eventually, Hoseok shifted, pressing his chest against yours with enough force to roll you onto your back. Wordlessly, he shifted beneath the blankets to hover above you. His forearms rested on either side of your head while you felt him spread your legs apart with his knee. Slotting himself between your thighs, he lazily rolled his hips into yours. You whimpered from the pressure and the heat radiating off of him. Soon you felt that heat on your neck as Hoseok sucked hickeys onto you, swirling his tongue against your skin. In the past, you thought making love was boring, that you needed to be treated roughly in order for sex to be fun. You were accustomed to being used. Sex with Hoseok, though? It was heated and weightless.

He left wet kisses along your throat while his hands gripped the hem of your t-shirt. Well, his t-shirt, an old baggy one he never wore anymore. He cradled the back of your head as he pulled it off, careful to rest you back onto your pillow.

“It’s so cold,” you whispered.

“Mhm.”

Hoseok pulled the blanket up, making himself disappear beneath it in the process. With him out of sight, you lifted up the blanket slightly to peek at him, only to drop it in favor of squeezing the bed sheets beneath you as you felt him drag your underwear down your legs. He grabbed the back of your thighs and pushed forward so your legs were lifted up, feet against his shoulders and pussy on display. The inability to see what he was doing under the blanket only heightened your desire and you felt your arousal drip down.

One hand pressed hot into your hip where your thigh creased from the angle Hoseok had your legs pushed up. The other slipped between your thighs.

“Hobiii,” you moaned, head slightly lifting off the bed when you felt his fingers swipe at your wetness gathering around your entrance.

He coated his fingertips before sliding his fingers upwards, parting your lips until he got to your clit and began circling it. You clenched, though the way he had you folded into yourself made it difficult for you to get any friction to provide relief. Instead he kept you raised and spread open, fingers slippery and sticky. It was easy for him to slip two fingers inside of you, even easier to hit that sweet spot on your front wall to have you lifting off the bed again. The way he pumped into you was sleepy and slow, but you hadn’t expected anything faster. Hoseok shouldn’t have even been doing this; you knew how exhausted he was. He should have been sleeping.

Instead, you felt him shift, his shoulders dropping down slightly. And then you felt the tip of his tongue flick against your clit.

“Fuck, babyy, oh fuck.” You immediately let go of the bed sheets and slipped your arms beneath the blanket, fingers digging into Hoseok’s hair.

“Mmhmm, uhh huhh,” Hoseok moaned into your pussy, his lips closing around your clit. He suckled it softly, applying such light pressure while his tongue licked at you that you felt like you were going to explode.

“More, baby,” you whined. “Faster.”

He shook his head, smearing his lips with your arousal, and you weren’t sure if that was an answer to your requests or just him enjoying his late night snack. Likely the former since he returned to gently sucking your clit and taking his sweet time pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“Please, Hobi.”

Begging usually got you what you wanted, especially when you used the breathy, high-pitched, pornographic whine that you knew drove him crazy. To add to your plea, you tugged a bit harder on his hair, dragging your fingers through his bangs to pull the strands out of his face.

Suddenly, his mouth left your pussy and your next whine was that of disappointment. When his tongue returned it was to lick along your lips, and he occasionally pressed kisses everywhere but your clit.

“It’s bedtime,” you heard him speak from the darkness. “I’m going slow to lull my baby to sleep, okay?” Then his lips were burning into you once again.

Your build up was gradual, a growing throb as your clit became even hotter and more swollen with every lap of Hoseok’s tongue and curl of his fingers. You squirmed and arched your back beneath him, cursing him for taking his time with you even when you both knew you loved it. The fact that your sheets were already soaked through was a testament to that. Who the fuck cared if you were tired and supposed to be sleeping? Every drag of Hoseok’s hot tongue across your clit, every drip of his saliva coating your pussy had him practically exorcizing your soul from your body.

But when Hoseok unexpectedly slipped a third finger inside of you and sucked your clit with a tiny bit more force, he finally got you unraveling in a flash of white light that you weren’t sure was you cumming or the lightning outside.

Your legs twitched uncontrollably where they’d flopped over Hoseok’s shoulders and down his back. Exhaustion made them heavy, and you struggled to move them while Hoseok wouldn’t let go of you. He’d removed his fingers from you and had both his hands on the backs of your thighs, keeping you spread open as he continued sucking your clit.

“Hobi, oh my god, please, I came already,” you whimpered, pulling his hair to get his attention. He moaned a response into your skin and began lapping against you, flicking your clit from side to side. Your body jerked forward, but Hoseok’s grip on your thighs kept you pushed down.

“Jung Hoseok.”

Rather than sound threatening, your voice cracked and Hoseok had the audacity to laugh.

Tears welled up in your eyes and your body jerked again when you felt his teeth gently graze the top of your clit. A guttural moan was torn from your throat as you came a second time, squeezing Hoseok’s hair so tightly you were sure you’d ripped a few strands out accidentally.

Finally, finally, Hoseok emerged from beneath the blanket. He crawled up to hover over you once again, chest heaving and arms caging you in.

“It was hard to breathe under there,” he laughed again.

You opened your mouth to speak but all you could do was whimper once again.

“What was that, baby?” Hoseok drawled. He dipped his head down to nip at your earlobe and your eyes fluttered.

“Felt good,” you finally found your voice.

“Better than tea?”

“Much better.”

Hoseok chuckled, sleepy eyes meeting yours through his bangs that fell forward, slightly obscuring his face. The storm outside wasn’t raging as loudly against the windows, but the occasional lightning bolt still lit up your bedroom, allowing you to see more flickers of his face. You brought your fingers to his throat, running them along his Adam’s apple until you reached the dip where his collarbones met, before venturing down his bare chest. When your fingers dragged down his abdomen, you felt Hoseok suck in his stomach and heard him hiss lightly.

“What about you?” you whispered. You reached the waistband of his briefs, but you didn’t move any lower. Still, you could feel Hoseok’s cock twitch against you.

“I’m okay, baby. Don’t worry about me. I want you to sleep.”

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck for a moment before he began to pull away from you. There he was, being too considerate again. How many times had he insisted he didn’t need anything from you? You’d never met someone more selfless. It wasn’t fair.

You quickly slipped your hand into his underwear and squeezed his cock, rolling your palm around the tip where precum already started to drip out.

“Shit, babe…” Hoseok stayed nuzzled in the crook of your neck and bucked into your hand with languid thrusts. There wasn’t a desire to chase a high, but more so a desire to relish in the warmth of your hand, the firmness of your grip, the comforting smell of your body wash.

“Is it embarrassing,” he took a deep breath and pulled away from your neck to look you in the eyes as he thrusted again, “that I could cum right now, just from this?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

Your honesty and the giggle that followed brought a frown to Hoseok’s face. You had no intention of letting him cum in your hands. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smoothed out his frown when you pulled him into a kiss. Your hands traveled the lean muscles of his back, reaching down to squeeze his ass.

“Feisty.” You felt him smirk against your lips. Hooking your fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear, you pulled the clothing down his thighs and waited for him to sit back to completely remove them.

“Come up here,” you ordered him, but Hoseok shook his head.

“I’m too tired to fuck your mouth. Let me put my energy into fucking you the right way.”

You felt a shiver down your spine and nodded silently as you spread your legs wider to accommodate him.

Hoseok ran his hands down your legs until he could reach around to the back of your thighs. Pushing them up, he folded you nearly in half as he had when he ate you out, keeping you slightly elevated and wide open for him. Since his hands were occupied, you reached between your bodies to guide him. Hoseok’s breath hitched when you lined his cock up with your entrance.

He sunk into you slowly, taking his time slipping inch by inch to allow you to adjust and to savor the high that came with that initial thrust. Your mind was still foggy from two orgasms and a lack of sleep, so you appreciated his thoughtfulness as he eased into you.

“Mmmm,” he sighed once he bottomed out and your bodies were flush against each other. Leaning forward slightly, Hoseok rested both of your legs on his shoulders.

“Yeah baby?” Your voice trembled as you watched him brush his lips along your calf, planting a soft kiss at your ankle. His hands fell to your waist to hold your hips down as he drew back. He pulled out of you as far as he could just to slowly ease into you once again. Each thrust was thoughtful, intentional. His strokes were slow, but long and deep.

“You know you leave me speechless,” Hoseok groaned, pushing a bit deeper in his next thrust. Your whimpers got louder when you felt him brush your cervix, his fingers pushing you hard into the bed.

Hoseok was definitely the biggest you’d ever been with, but even more importantly, he was the most fluid in his movements. He knew how to move his body with flexibility and grace, which for you was the most satisfying aspect of sleeping with him. You never had to put in work to get yourself off; every roll of Hoseok’s hips made his cock glide against your g-spot and his pelvis stimulate your clit. You weren’t an object for Hoseok to use to get off. No, Hoseok put your pleasure in the center of everything he did.

Although sometimes that wasn’t necessary. He brought his fingers to your clit, but you swatted him away.

“I’m tapped out,” you sighed. You really didn’t need him to try to make you cum three times. What was this, porn?? Two orgasms was plenty.

“Are you really?” he smiled, a hand creeping back towards your clit. You swatted at him again. “Alright, alright. I’ll cum without you like an asshole.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” You clenched your muscles around his cock and Hoseok let out a low moan. If he was ready to bust from a simple handjob, you were sure he was having to work hard to keep it together now that he was inside you.

“Do that again for me, baby,” he said in a shaky breath that confirmed your suspicions. Another moan rumbled from him when you did as you were told, tightening around him and pressing your thighs against his abdomen. “Fuck, fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

You loved to watch Hoseok fall apart. The tip of his tongue poked out of his mouth when he bit down on the muscle as he was concentrating on each gentle snap of his hips against yours. His strong hands squeezed your waist to ground himself once his thrusts became a bit erratic. His messy hair fell into his eyes when he leaned his head slightly forward to watch your bodies collide.

“Hobi,” you moaned, reaching up to pull him into a kiss. “Cum for me, baby. You’ve been so good for me.”

“You,” he took a deep breath, “You are so fucking sexy.”

Your legs fell down to wrap around Hoseok’s waist as he leaned into your kiss. One hand stayed at your waist while another slid down to grip your thigh against his hip as Hoseok picked up his pace. His breathing came out ragged against your cheek, his lips sucking little kisses along your jaw until he was back to marking up your neck.

He squeezed you hard when he came, whimpering and moaning your name into your neck like the sweetest lullaby. When he slowly eased his body on top of yours you welcomed the pressure of his weight, even though it was difficult to breathe.

“Better than tea?”

Hoseok snorted, but you saw his eyes sparkle in the moonlight as he gently pulled out of you and found his spot beside you once again. “Much better.”

His long arms dragged you backwards so you were pressed against each other with chests still heaving.

“Thank you,” you said after a moment. You were beginning to crash from your orgasmic high. Darkness eased your eyelids lower and lower until you couldn’t bear to open them again.

“You know I’ll always take care of you.” Hoseok nuzzled your neck and squeezed you against his chest. “I hope you sleep well, baby.”

You murmured a “you, too” and fell asleep to the steady pattern of Hoseok’s breathing and the knowledge that there was no one else who could care for you the way he did.

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

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mistypsych · 11 months

Text

ANATOMY OF A CRIMINAL - CHAPTER 2

/ yoongi / suga / agust d /

summary: as a doctor you never expected to be dragged into “the criminal life”, nothing and no one seems to be true anymore, your whole world turns upside down after you save him.

pairings: yoongi mob boss x f.reader x non idol bts members.

warnings: smut, guns, knives, stabbings, blood, gore, murders, drugs, criminals, gang life, medical emergency, illness, abuse, swearing, angst, dubcon, gang violence, corruption, manipulation, lies, cheating - 18+ minors dni.

Note: Hi! This is an attempt of writing a fanfic long after writing anything at all. Please also keep in mind English is no longer my first language and it might be a bit rusty and odd at times but I try my best. The story is a non idol BTS fanfic with Suga being the main character. The first chapters might not have a lot of Yoongi but I want the backstory to be clear. I want the story to be complex. The next chapters there will have way more of him I promise! If you want to be on the tag list let me know!

“Namjoon stop it! She needs a clear head. You can’t be freaking her out with a gun!” your friend tried to reason but was just laughed at and all you heard was “Do your thing doc… or else…”. As you turned to the one you were supposed to save, you heard footsteps as more men entered the room.

You looked to the ceiling closing your eyes, realizing you are surrounded by some sort of gang members and the one bleeding out to death must be the head of the whole harpy. At this point there was no backing out, you clearly had no choice but to try and save him. You pushed away the hair from his forehead to try and feel out his temperature. He was clearly burning up. Next stage was getting cold from all the blood loss. Laying there he really didn’t look like someone who would run a gang. His features and frame seemed outright delicate.

You shook your head and pushed away the intrusive thoughts. Focus. You had to gain focus or else you would fail miserably, what also meant not walking out of there alive. Grabbing your bag you gave the men a side eye and huffed to yourself “Well you probably just decided on a death sentence for him…”.

As much as you knew how good you were, you also knew the conditions were far from ideal or even good. If it were a surgical room you would feel way more at ease and confident in pulling this off. Standing in a dark room with a patient on some rusty table made you think you landed in a war zone and it was this option or nothing at all. Hell at war you would consider this type of conditions amazing.

You started prepping yourself taking out the octenisept and iodine to disinfect as much space as possible.You put on a mask on and cloaked your hair with a cap. Throwing your sterile gloves on you took one last look at the black haired man. You could at least try and be professional about the whole situation. You had to succeed. Your life literally depended on it.

Minutes of helpless trials to grab and shut off all the bleeding vessel passed faster than a blink of an eye. You were starting to sweat and unlike yourself panic a little bit. The room was starting to feel hot and claustrophobic. This whole thing was utterly fucked up. You had to bring yourself back. Messing up was not an option.

Blood was pumping threw your body with speed that seemed to be at hundreds miles per hour. The dizziness that came from all the adrenalin was slowly creeping up your brain. Your heart tried to climb out threw your now completely dry throat. You still couldn’t fathom how in the world you turned out to be naive and blind enough to find yourself in this damn situation.

The fact that the person who dragged you into all of this was standing petrified and held at gunpoint, was not making it any easier. The tall and well built male whom others referred to as Namjoon was staring you down while holding his silver piece close to Jungkooks head. “You better not try some bullshit bitch!” he snarled angrily. His gaze was locked onto your back. You could swear you felt the heat of his eyes burning threw your skin.

You were sweaty, your hair was messy and stuck to your forehead. While elbows deep in blood you tried to stop the hemorrhaging. The long haired male laying in front of you with horrific wounds was getting paler by the minute.

“He needs a fucking hospital!” you wanted to reason with them again, a hoarse scream flew out of your lips while you were desperately trying to stop the blood. At this point you felt it was almost overflowing the whole abdominal cavity.

The brunette moved up and took his gun away from your colleges head just to put it to your temple. The coldness of the metal sent a shiver down your spine. You swallowed the dry ball forming in your mouth. You were slowly out of ideas. In your mind you knew the young man should be on an operating table with blood bags hanging already. “I said no fucking hospitals!” the roared words snapped you back to reality and pierced threw you like an arrow.

As much as you wanted to rip Kooks stupid head right off his shoulders for dragging you here, you knew you had to focus on the task. You closed your eyes trying to forget about the cold sting coming from the weapon that was painfully pushed against your scull.

Exhaling threw your nose loudly you suddenly thought of something. It was brutal but you had to try. “Get me salt!” you finally spat out. “Are you fucking crazy?!” one of the men standing at the door growled. He was shorter and of a lighter built but still had something about him that made your skin crawl. All of them made you feel extremely uneasy and wonder if you were gonna die even if you end up saving their main man. You saw them. You knew their faces and location. Were they really gonna let you walk out of this breathing?

Looking into the still not moving gangsters misty eyes you gritted your teeth. “I SAID GET ME SOME DAMN SALT YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!” the words shot out of your mouth faster then you could think them threw. Luckily the insult only got them to move and fetch what you wanted. In a different situation you could imagine such talkback would only earn you a proper wack to the head.

Jungkook looked at you with worried eyes. He was trembling a bit knowing what you were planning on doing. He heard some stories about this so called “last hope” method. It was mainly used at the military when doctors were out of supplies and tools. He knew you were always fascinated by medical work in the army. Still he prayed that you had at least the slightest idea about what you were doing and were aware of all the possible outcomes.

Of course you weighed your options. This approach was not something you would do while at the hospital but given your situation you had little to no choice. You could let this shady dude die and have your life taken with him or you could try and use a risky method.

Taking the pack of salt in your surprisingly steady hands you looked at the full of lesions and oozing abdomen. Taking a deep breath you tossed the powder.

Everyone in the room except for your coworker looked in utter shock and went silent for a while. Then a “The fuck you think you are doing?!” was let out in a high pitched note by someone.

You barely made out the next obscenities that were being thrown around by the now very anxious group of criminals. You steered yourself into your work zone. Staring at the cavity you already knew you dealt your cards well. The blood finally stopped flooding in and you could now start looking for all the torn vessels and start stitching them up.

Once more you closed your eyes, moved your head to both sides. The motion let out a loud crack and gave a little relief to your aching neck. Grabbing the suturing kit from the medical bag you began to work your magic.

Being a highly well trained trauma surgeon made you capable of working fast and efficiently under hefty amounts of stress. But no training at the hospital could prepare you for being trapped in a hellhole stitching up some shady persona while being held at gunpoint.

After what seemed like ages you were finally done and your patient was by some miracle still alive. You looked at the floor around the table. It was covered in blood that was now becoming sticky. “This fucker is unkillable…” you thought to yourself. The amount of vital fluids he lost made you wonder how in the hell he still had a pulse.

You took your gloves off and threw them to the ground not giving one shit about good ethics. You did what they wanted. Cleanup was their problem and you sure as hell did not care that your actions added to the mess. Your cap and mask landed on the floor as well. You felt filthy an nauseous and had no idea what time it was but you were sure it had to already be close to morning.

The seriousness of the situation hit you brutally like a wave in the ocean. You didn’t even want to look at the gangsters or Kook. You felt completely blindsided by him. You were praying that you got to live and walk out of there. After that you would plan your perfect revenge on Jungkook, in all honesty you were even considering murder.

“Well… well… you actually managed to pull this off.” Namjoon said leaning over his boss and looking at you. “You saved the life of August D you know?” he continued as if it was supposed mean something. Being so done with everything at this point, you simply could not hold back anymore “Do I look like I give a fuck? All I want is to get out of this pit!” In response he just looked at you with an amused smile.

“Joon… we had a deal.” Kook said in a quiet voice looking a bit anxious. The tall man laughed “You of all people should not be telling me of our deals… this was the least you could do but of course you get to leave” he bowed his head.

That was your queue to run the hell out of there. They sure as fuck did not need to repeat themselves. Quickly grabbing your bag you made way to the exit. You did not care if you had to run back home on foot or try to call and wake up Hoseok, crying to pick up your naive ass.

You almost left the room when you heard “See you on the checkup doc!” this Namjoon character was sure having a blast with taunting you. Not bothering to answer you ran outside. Of course you did not plan on coming back. You were gonna get them busted and taken care of by the authorities.

Suddenly you felt a hand grab your shoulder. Your instincts taking over made you try to hit whoever dared touch you. Jungkook grabbed your fist before it made contact with his face. “Easy Y/N! It’s just me!”. You stared at him with big eyes, your mouth open from the utter shock and then just like that, you lost it.

You completely lost it. “JUST YOU?! Just you?! You fucking asshole! You could have had me killed! Do you understand?! Does your peanut brain comprehend what a fucking dick move you pulled on me?! Fuck you! Really fuck you!” your voice was deep and hoarse from all the stress of the evening. If not for the fact that you usually knew how to keep your composure, the man standing in front of you would surely be dead.

He sighed running his hand threw his hair. His eyes were darting all over the place, just to not meet yours. “I will explain to you everything on the way home Y/N…” a hysterical and sinister laugh left your lips. You even threw your head back because of how crazy this all was. “You motherfucker think I am gonna get in a car with you? After your little stunt? Wow you really are dumb aren’t you?” usually you did not like to use insults but given the situation you decided he had it coming the moment he put you in that hellhole.

He looked at you dumbfounded and surprised. Never did he get to see this side of you. “I am calling Hobi and telling him everything and this little shit show is gonna close up soon!” you said walking forward and taking out your phone.

Kookie ran after you grabbing your hand and taking your cell. His stare was serious. “Y/N! You can’t… August D… he… he owns the police department. He has them in his pocket. You think if it wasn’t the case I would not call on them long ago?”. You look at him. You try to analyze how much bullshit he is trying to sell you. But something in his eyes made you understand that was not the case and that things are way beyond complicated.

You shake your head and say “Whatever… I’ll tell Hobi.” you shrug and then see your friends face. A face telling you that it would not be a good idea to do so. “It wouldn’t change anything Y/N… He OWNES them… all of them. He basically runs the city. Trust me he is no little gangster and this shit goes deeper than the ocean…” You could not believe what was happening. You wanted to laugh and tell Jungkook he is full of it and a lying scum but his whole demeanor showed that he was being dead serious. You felt heat rush up your body. Your legs shook and threatened to give in. Looking at your colleague you whispered “Tell me what the fuck is going on…”.

* * * * * * * * *

Jungkook drove slowly and took you away from the dangerous city outskirts. He stopped at a gas station and drove into its parking lot. Turning off the engine he looked worried. You were staring straight ahead, trying to work threw the huge anxiety that was threatening to completely take over. He rubbed his face and let out a quiet groan. His eyes were glassy and you could see the guilt that consumed him.

“Explain…” you said. Your voice was washed out of any emotion. You were at the breaking point and needed to understand what was going on or you would lose your shit completely.

Kook turned to face you, trying to figure out where he should start at. He knew you may seem calm from the outside but he was sure on the inside you had to feel as the world was on fire. “I owe Yoongi money…” he blurted out word by word. “Yoongi?” you asked still not looking his way. “That is Agusts D’s real name… Min Yoongi. I owe him.” he continued. You shook your head in disbelief, of course it was about cash. “For what? Drugs? Were you an addict or something?” you finally turned to him, your gaze gloomy.

He grimaced at your words. It seemed as tho they have hurt him. “No Y/N I don’t owe him for that. I was from a very poor family. I wanted to educate myself. Be someone. Make a living, help myself and my family out… pay all their loans…” you could hear the sadness and abashment in his voice. You actually felt a bit unfair for jumping into conclusions so quickly. But what were you to think after seeing all that shady business?

“I heard about his father and the gang around the streets… when I was about to go to collage. Let’s just say I did not live in the nicest of areas…” he looked threw the window, pressing himself into the seat a bit deeper. “My parents could not afford to put me threw all the tutoring and shit needed to make it to med school… and then I earned a scholarship during my fist year of studies, that allowed me go to USA. In that time Yoongis dad was murdered together with most of the old group. Needles to say the son took over the father and that of course ment my debts didn’t go away…”

You blew the air out of your lungs loudly and asked “How much do you owe them? Maybe I can pitch in… get you out of this…” he just laughed strangely at your proposition. “That’s sweet Y/N. I don’t deserve you as a friend. The thing is with August D it isn’t about money. He found out what I was doing with the loan so he made sure I end up his gangs doctor, that is why I am a gp… if not for this shit I always wanted to specialize in ortho…” he shook his head while letting his shoulders slouch being well aware what situation he was in. “I paid off all my parents bank loans… got them an apartment but the price is that he owns me in a way…” he looked at you with sorry eyes.

“Shit Kook… why didn’t you say anything? Maybe we could have had planned something to get you out? You know who my fiancé is… maybe he can…” you stopped mid sentence remembering what your friend said before - he owns them all, ha has them in his pocket. His face turned pale. Nervousness spilled all over him. He didn’t want to have this discussion. Unraveling all of this was never his intention. You did not deserve this.

“Is Hoseok involved with them…? Did you ever see him there?” you questioned and snapped him back to reality. “I never saw him Y/N but I heard them talk about him and his partner. They were setting up meetings. You remember that murder case in Guro that was all over the news?” you nodded your head “Yea… Hobi was leading it. He said there was some sort of gang dealing.”

Your friend looked at you with a serious face. He tried to check if you followed what he was trying to say “Yea… it was Agust D’s people that took out the guys who tried to go around his back and push drugs on not their turf. The police is well aware who killed those people Y/N and they together with your fiancé took hush money…”

You stared at him. You wanted to smack his face for making such accusations about Hobi. He did not see it happen. Who knows what he even heard. How dare him say such things.

As if reading your mind he said “Yes I did not see him but before you tell him anything about this night make sure to test the waters Y/N. Trust me you are gonna find out they are murky as fuck. Hoseok is dirty like all of the police. It all goes far back…”

“Well if that is the case then why the hell are you telling me this just now?! What kind of friend are you supposed to be? Why would you sit on this information?!” you yelled at him and hit the dashboard with all your strength causing Kookie to flinch and jump up a bit.

“I didn’t say anything because yea he is a dirty cop but it doesn’t mean he don’t love you or is otherwise a bad person. Life is not always black and white Y/N. Plus I never thought we would be in this mess. I never thought I’d drag you into this but here we fucking are and I just don’t want you to get into more trouble then I already put you in. So I beg you, please try and feel out the situation before you tell Hoseok about any of this. Please…” the worry and desperation in his voice had you realize he really believed the man you lived with was entangled with those criminals.

Sighing you agreed not to make quick decisions without finding out the details. “Does this mean I have to see those thugs again?” your voice got shaky from all the anxiety that was trying to get to the surface and take over your body. Kookie shook his head quickly “Nah. Namjoon was just tormenting you. I can handle it from here. What I could not manage was those wounds. They don’t teach you how to handle that level as a gp. Simple wounds and general post op care? Yea… So don’t worry. They will forget you exist very soon” you looked to the floor slowly feeling a bit relieved but also very tired.

“I am sorry for putting you on the spot like that Y/N. I did not know who else to turn to and if I wouldn’t have handled the situation or at least try, then they would go after my family. That doesn’t mean what I did was right and that I don’t I regret it. I’ve let fear take over and made a bad decision. I am truly sorry. You have always been nothing but a good friend to me and I fucked it up…” he did not dare look at you. He in all honesty feared of losing one of the best people in his life.

“Yea that was a dick move Koo and it will take me some time to recover from, but at least now I understand. I can’t say I would make better choices in your situation so I would be a hypocrite to cut you off from my life completely. Just know this… if I ever deal with some gang bangers you are the first I will throw into the pit with them” a small smile crept over your lips. As much as you were angry and disappointed you did not hate him and you didn’t want to give up your friendship.

A sigh of relief flew out of his mouth. He needed to hear that from you. He needed to know not all was a lost cause. Now was time to focus on fixing the trust he has broken. “Oh and also don’t expect me to help out with charity work tomorrow. You are on that boat alone. I am too tired and my mind is utter chaos. I would not be of any use.” He blinked fast and said “Of course understandable! Also i think you meant today, it is already 3:00 a.m. So let’s get you home.”

You nodded, you had no idea it was already next morning. Home. Home was just what you needed right now. A long hot bath to wash away all the stench and filth of that dreadful place. A glass of wine to blur out the memories. The only problem was that home also meant Hoseok and you were starting get that pinging feeling in the back of your head that you were in for a fucking ride.

Tag list: @wobblewobble822 @nansasa @danielle143 @kooslilhoe @yoongisducky @xjiminsthighsx @kootieful @nochook

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indndwnshead · 2 months

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Amalgamation: Bonus - You + Maknae line

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Chapter tags: developing relationship, meeting the little bros, surprisingly wise but still baby-est jungkook

Series summary:

Now that you are a permanent fixture in Min Yoongi's life, it's inevitable that you meet the rest of BTS.

Each encounter with the rest of the group becomes a unique thread in the tapestry of life, gradually integrating disparate elements into a harmonious whole and seamlessly weaving into the fabric of your joined world.

A/N: A bonus chapter to celebrate Yoongi's birthday, ft the maknae line. HAPPY BIRTHDAY OUR DEAREST DARLING, OUR YOONIVERSE <3

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