When He Calls You Mine ~ BTS Reaction
His eyes widened as Jungkook wrapped his arms around you, keeping you right by his side. “Y/N’s mine,” Jungkook laughed, moving you around the room with him away from Jin.
“Y/N is mine,” Jin frowned, trying to reach out to grab a hold of you, but Jungkook swerved you away once again.
You couldn’t help but chuckle as the boys fought over you, “why are you guys doing this to me?” You smirked, not knowing what was going on between them.
“I’m stealing Y/N because you stole my snacks last night in the cupboard,” Jungkook explained to Jin, pushing you behind him to shield you from Jin.
“You said they were to share,” Jin protested with a huff.
Jungkook’s head shook, folding his arms across his chest, “I said that you could share with all of us, not finish the packet for yourself.”
“Y/N is worth a lot more than a bag of snacks anyway,” Jin told him, “I’ll buy you some more if you just give me what’s mind back again.”
“You promise?” Jungkook quizzed, “you should buy me two bags I think.”
“I promise, just leave Y/N alone.”
Your smile was wide as you shook the hands of the new members of staff that Yoongi introduced you to. “We’ve heard a lot about you,” several of them told you, smiling at Yoongi.
“How can I not tell you guys about Y/N when I’m lucky to have someone so incredible as mine?” Yoongi asked them.
His question took you by surprise, a rare moment for you to see some softness in him. “I hope you don’t bore these guys by talking about me too much.”
“He has plenty of stories to share,” one of the managers told you before Yoongi could speak up, “he doesn’t shut up some days, you should see him Y/N.”
“Is that true?” You teased back across to Yoongi.
His head slowly nodded back to you, “I might talk about you every now and then, but that’s only because I love to tell people how great you are.”
“I never realised you felt that way,” you smiled, feeling your heart race, “how many more people do you talk to me about when I don’t know?”
“Everyone,” Yoongi laughed, “but I really can’t help that I do.”
“Don’t worry, I find it adorable of you.”
His eyes followed the point of the fans to where you were stood, instinctively smiling as soon as he looked at you, scrolling through your phone. “Who’s she?” The couple of fans asked him.
“She’s mine,” Hobi proudly smiled in reply to them, turning his eyes back across to look at their expressions of surprise.
Their eyes were still on you, watching you closely. “Is that your girlfriend? The one that’s a secret?” The fan on the left side of the group asked Hobi excitedly.
“She’s still a secret,” Hobi laughed in reply to them, “please don’t let on to anyone that you’ve seen Y/N, I don’t want for her to get too much attention just yet.”
“She looks really nice,” one of them complimented.
Hobi nodded in agreement with them, “she’s very nice, which is why I want to keep her safe for a little while, until she’s comfortable.”
“We won’t tell anyone that we’ve seen the two of you,” they promised him, “but when people do find out, we’ll tell them how nice Y/N Is.”
“Thank you,” Hobi grinned, “I would love for you guys to do that for us.”
“Of course, we’ll support you like fans do.”
The smile on Namjoon’s face grew as soon as the interviewer showed a picture of the two of you. “How would you describe your relationship with Y/N?” She asked Namjoon’s smile.
“She’s mine,” Namjoon began, feeling the smiles on the faces of those around him grow too, “I feel very lucky to call her that.”
The interviewer’s head nodded as she looked around at the rest of the boys too. “How would you guys all describe Y/N and Namjoon’s relationship as well?”
“She’s his,” Jungkook chuckled in reply to her, “that’s the one thing that makes sure to remind us every day so that we stay away.”
“Is that true?” She asked Namjoon with a chuckle.
His head nodded proudly, “I like them to know that there are boundaries with Y/N, plenty of them like to tease me from time to time.”
“We definitely know where we stand,” Jin assured everyone, “Y/N is his, but we’re definitely close friends, so it’s a good balance.”
“They adore Y/N,” Namjoon added, “but just to be sure, not as much as I do.”
“No one could adore her more than you.”
Your smile was wide as Jimin grabbed your hands and pinned you down on the bed. “I’ve got to go,” you laughed, but Jimin’s head shook back across at you, “my friends are waiting for me.”
“You’re mine, I don’t want you to go out with your friends,” Jimin sighed, wanting to keep you to himself all night long.
Your head shook as his continued to shake too. “You know what Y/F/N is like, if she knows that you’re holding me up, she’ll make sure that you pay.”
“Y/F/N doesn’t scare me,” Jimin chuckled, “you’re not hers anyway, you’re mine,” he repeated, trying to convince you to cancel on your friends.
“I have to go, we’ve had this planned for weeks,” you sighed.
Jimin pouted down as he hovered over you still, “if you go, how long will you be gone for? You won’t be gone for too long, right?”
“Maybe a couple of hours,” you told him, only for Jimin to groan. “Surely you can occupy yourself for a couple of hours, you won’t even miss me.”
“I will,” Jimin clarified, “I miss you whenever I’m not with you Y/N.”
“I won’t be long, I promise you.”
Your head glanced across as a figure appeared beside you, noticing the look of frustration in Taehyung’s eyes. “Hello?” Your colleague smiled, meeting Taehyung for the first time.
“Yeah…hi,” Taehyung trailed off, suspiciously looking across at him, “do I know you? Are you a friend of Y/N’s or something?”
Your heart sunk as you heard the bitterness in Taehyung’s voice. “This is H/F/N,” you told Taehyung, “he’s one of the newbies in the office that’s started.”
“I see,” Taehyung murmured, still unconvinced, “I hope you’re treating Y/N well in the office, she’s mine, so I like to make sure that she’s taken care of.”
“Y/N talks about you all the time,” H/F/N replied.
Taehyung nodded, tightening his grip around your waist, “so you know that she’s mine then? And that she’s taken too, right?”
“Taehyung,” you whispered, pressing your foot on top of his, “do you have to do this now?” You whispered, feeling the tension begin to grow.
“It’s fine,” H/F/N told you, “there’s nothing wrong with a protective partner.”
“I’m her partner, don’t you forget it.”
You were a nervous wreck as you walked slightly behind Jungkook, meeting several new faces at his family party. “Who’s this?” His aunt asked as soon as the two of you approached her.
“She’s mine,” Jungkook laughed, moving a protective arm around your frame, “I’m just kidding, this is Y/N.”
Her eyes lit up as soon as Jungkook introduced you. “The Y/N? Oh, it is so good to finally meet you, I have heard so many stories about you Y/N from everyone.”
“I hope they were all good ones,” you joked, trying to ease your nerves as she laughed back at you and nodded her head, poking Jungkook’s side.”
“Most of the stories come from this one,” she teased.
Jungkook smiled sheepishly back across to you, “I don’t lie to any of my family members, I just tell them how amazing they are.”
���He does,” his aunt agreed, “I think he’s very lucky to be able to call you his judging by all of the things that I’ve heard about you,” she noted.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” you told her, “even though you’ve heard a lot.”
“It’s lovelier to meet you, trust me.”
Touchless | A Keynote Oneshot (m)
“Touch has a memory.” - John Keats
➺ Banner: Are you even surprised at @kithtaehyung‘s talent? <3
➺ Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader
➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Non-Idol!AU
➺ Genre: Smut, Fluff
➺ Rating: +18
➺ Word Count: 8.6k
➺ Summary: Characteristic to your dynamic, temptations take control of this night at the party - but not without a divide.
➺ Warnings: Sexting... but... make it 1800s, phone sex/mutual masturbation, its this Hoseok and I’m scared 😔, name calling, degradation (not much!), masturbation on an object(?), cum eating (kinda) lmao, alcohol, we make out a lot honestly 😐
➺ Cross Posted: AO3
➺ Author’s Note: Yayy! Finally finished this. Shows how big of a chokehold this Hoseok has on me. This is a continuation of Keynote, but it can be read as a standalone! Big thanks to my beautiful betas, @taegularities as always listened to me complain without ripping my head off, and did such a good job betaing and cleaning this up, and @playmetheclassics who took out time from her already hectic schedule to give me many useful suggestins and opinions that made this much much better. I love you too, thank you so much!! Please let me know what you thin! 💛
ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ
The first drops of the cocktail in your hand slide down your throat, leaving a grimace on your face in its wake. With the funky ambience of the venue, along with the beats that diffuse through the place, this funky, deep-red cocktail matches the mood around you.
It’s unlike any other party you’ve been to since your college days ended. And for the most part, you’re liking it. Your body unintentionally grooves to the music, your tongue getting used to the numbing effect of the drink, eyes dilating to lose focus on your surroundings. But amidst this raucous crowd, you’re hiding. And you don’t know why.
Well, that’s not the whole truth, you know who the reason is. But the reason why that one person is evoking this fight or flight in you is up for debate.
Tonight is the first time you’ve shared a space with Hoseok in a casual manner ever since that night. Most of those shared days flew like a falcon, the clock hands racing against each other as all of you raced against time. And those times, everything was pretty normal, barring maybe a few cheeky glances.
May have been more than a few.
Apart from those, conversations passed normally, work flowed seamlessly, and your visits to his impressive building were met with an industrious and diligent version of the man. Which was perfect to keep your dwindling resistance at least within the lines of your professional capacity.
But now, while letting your hair loose, that hidden tension is tangible, so taut, risking snapping your sanity.
Maybe it’s because last time you two were at a casual function, the night ended wildly differently. The anticipation of drinking yourself to sleep was overthrown, and then all that happened . A single thread of thought working its way across your synapses is that this night could be close to it – you have to keep biting the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from deliberately making eye contact with him to turn that into reality. The shy smile you’re trying to put up hopefully belies the true feelings you hold within.
Also doesn’t help that he looks fucking hot today.
Hoseok, when inviting everyone for this team hangout to celebrate a milestone, did tell you to freak out with the outfits. “We can have theme parties without it being Halloween, so go hard!” you heard his cheery voice announce to the emptying conference room. And as requested, everyone went hard.
But time and again, you’re reminded that no one goes as hard as Jung Hoseok.
The deep red moto jacket is perfectly paired with pants of the same material. With zippers on every corner of the crumpled duo, you have to subdue the itch in your hand to undo every single one of them. He’s done his hair up, and added a white-rimmed pair of futuristic glasses, and when you think that was all you need to handle, his fluid dance movements carelessly lets the sleeve of his jacket slip, the loose, skimpy vest he wore underneath exposing the side of his body. The stem of your margherita glass is in a chokehold right now, because you are fucking turned on. There’s no better way to say it.
Your undoing depends on the undoing of the zippers, and you’re dedicated to undoing every single one of them if given the chance.
You, on the other hand, have obnoxious suspenders digging into your breasts, their clip attached to the waist of your red high-rise pants. The leather sticks to your skin, but thankfully, the air conditioning keeps it from fully vacuum sealing your thighs. They are one half of a bad bitch red suit you bought many years ago, thinking every office space is like The Devil Wears Prada .
Unfortunately, they’re more Fifty Shades Of Grey, and not the fun kind.
The silk shirt you pair it with is snugly tucked in, the cream white offsetting the blaring red downstairs, letting the people you face breathe without a colour suffocation. With your cuffs folded up to your elbows, your toned down professional look brings many appreciative glances. One of them being from Park Yoonsu, your counterpart working under Kim Taehyung.
“I don’t think anyone but you has pants like these,” Yoonsu chuckles appreciatively, “there’s a sea of red shirts but hardly any pants.”
“Yeah, well, they had a small thing called common sense,” you sip on your drink, “who in their right mind buys these? And you won’t believe me if I say it—”
“Girls!” Hyejoon, a senior staff engineer, interrupts your conversation with a boom. “Are y’all having fun? I don’t see a change of your drinks yet,” they give you a warning look, the alcoholism-encouraging gaze telling you to speed it up. Yoonsu shrugs at them.
“We will get refills soon, Y/N was just telling me about her fashion terrorism days.”
“Fuck that,” you sidetrack, and as Soomin, your extremely lazy coworker, walks up to your side, you nudge him for an answer as well. “You too, what is up with Byeongho? Has the old man been troubling y’all enough?” Yoonsu is already in the process of rolling her eyes, and Soomin follows suit.
“Why is he so difficult to handle?”
Hyejoon can only sigh in response.
“Grin and bear, darlings. If you want your project funding,” they roll a finger at Yoonsu, the most irritable of this cadre, “grin. And bear.”
“No, but how can you justify this?” Yoonsu jumps at the reprimand, even setting her drink down to let both her hands express her anguish. “It’s three in the afternoon, a hot Friday. And he calls us across town for an open discussion .” She turns to prompt a voice of agreement, and you find Soomin slapping the table top – evidently, he was a participant on that taxing day.
“Guess what was actually open? His mouth. Never closed that damned thing.”
“And his zipper. Didn’t bother closing that either,” Soomin adds.
A short burst of giggles erupts among your group, laced with very well-deserving sympathy. The man was a pain to handle, his futile questions stumping the best of you. And with your recent job upgrade, you’ve had to see more of him; more than you’d like.
“I don’t think I’ve seen Yoongi as mad as he was with Byeongho. The way he was fiddling with the paper weight,” you reminisce, “I’m sure he had a good mind to stuff his yapping mouth with it.”
Hyejoon ushers everyone towards the nearest bar counter, and you proceed to empty your glass. As you walk, Soomin continues the woes.
“He also has no understanding of resource allocation versus output expectation. ‘Aren’t you all established engineers? Can’t you even do this much ?’ Ugh.” Soomin mimics the exact words you’ve heard from Byeongho many times; his intolerable management-ass catchphrase. “One day he’s going to expect us to walk him to the moon, armed solely with our diplomas.”
“If it means leaving his ass there, I might just do it.”
Your quiet quip releases a roar of laughter amidst your group, the anguish of dealing with stuck-up representatives releasing into the wind. Perched at this bar, you four continue to laugh it up, fetters of corporate unshackling with every roll of mirth produced. Minutes fly by in merry guffaws, precious minutes that slip under your radar, minutes of you letting your guard down. Minutes when you couldn’t keep tabs on the man you’re wary of.
And somehow, he’s right behind you.
No, you do not speak. You don’t really register his presence behind you until it is too late. But as you habitually wrap your hand behind your back as a casual stance, something disturbs your palm, and before you can turn around and find the source, the piece of paper lays in your hand.
With a calm demeanour, you turn your back towards the raucous group, and open the piece of paper in your hand.
“Hey good lookin’. Wanna spice up this boring evening?”
Under the question, there are two checkboxes.
A “Thank you for saving me, yes!” and a “Not at all you creep, this is a professional setting.”
And in the end, a “- Hoseok :)”
This is why you were avoiding him.
Because the way your heart is trying to tear through your ribs on getting a note from him, you’re sure you’d have a novel heart attack if you actually talked . Your confidence falters, quakes at its ankles every time he is concerned.
Is this what 1700s couples felt like? A whole organ threatening to tear its way out of your body with its aggressive flutters?
No wonder cocaine was normally prescribed medication.
You look up to check for prying eyes, but no one seems to be paying attention to your suspiciously bent figure. What you find instead has you confirm it is Hoseok, because he is currently standing two tables away from you – and last time your satellite was functional, he was quite a distance away.
Deep breath .
You open the chit again.
“Hey! Whatcha fiddling with?” Yoonsu breaks your reverie, almost making you jolt, but thankfully she doesn’t peer too hard. “Hangyeol says there’s some mulled wine near the entrance – do you want some?”
“Yeah! Get me a glass please!”
An echo of “you got it” reaches your ears as they move away from you, but it never fully registers, because all your focus returns to stare at the piece of paper in your hand, weighing your options and fears.
What should you do? Hoseok, the gentleman that he is, is giving you a very easy way out of this.
And every muscle in you is repelled by the option. Out? Which way is that?
But you leave it unchecked for now. With a hasty scribble, you add a new blank to the end of the note.
“ Query: Might this be a continuation of our night? ”
You join a different circle of colleagues – thankfully, corporate society is fairly welcoming, even if they don’t recognize you – infiltrating their conversation with not much focus except polite words of agreement. But again, all your eyes are scanning the venue, trying to locate your surreal penpal.
He finds you before you find him, his figure steering between tables to approach your neighbourhood. You grip the sliver of paper between two fingers, jutting it out slightly to show him the piece of paper – and with faux confidence you initiate your walk towards him.
But his resting hand throws you a quick gesture that you interpret as him telling you to wait.
His slender fingers then point you towards a platform on his left, with a plate of pot-pourri-esque flowers – his casual stance wary to not throw anyone off around him – and it's more than enough of a hint for you. Casually swinging your empty glass, you pretend to walk to the bar, and you place the paper on the petals arranged on the plate.
It’s not like anyone else is paying attention, but in that moment, it feels like the weight of the world’s eyes falls on you.
You walk past without turning back, reaching the bar – as your play-acting self intended to – and get yourself a glass of water to nurse. With calmed nerves, you set on your way back.
When you look up, intending to check whether your message has been received, you see Hoseok walking away from it, the chit still on the plate, but folded very differently. With curiosity drawing you in, you pick up Hoseok's response and saunter towards a comfortable cushioned corner.
" If you would like it to be.♡ We could also discuss the stock market and world affairs if that is up your alley. "
Beyond the joke that would make you grin any other day, the penmade heart between the lines is making your own flutter in delight.
And you realise, there isn't much use of this query you got answered, because it doesn’t affect your original response.
You check the affirmative box – ticking it a couple times for good measure – and you don't forget to include a giant 'N.O.' above the "stock market and world affairs" option he presented. You begin your search for the recipient again, walking back to the same place you found this.
This time he doesn't maintain eye contact for long, but you're sure he saw you put the paper back on the plate, so you walk away once again. In the periphery of your vision, you see him casually strolling towards the drop location, and you empty your heavy lungs to calm your flustered nerves.
Chill out, good God.
Finding your group of friends again, you meld into the cacophony they generate, but not without a piece of your being sitting in that folded piece of paper.
If you're asked, it's been a good hour since the last exchange between you and Hoseok.
In reality, probably ten minutes.
But the reminder on your watch gives you anxiety with no reprieve, your tired feet shifting your weight from one to another. Hyejoon is narrating a story to the interns, a scene from the time you all were younglings in the company. Everyone throws in their own anecdote, and big or small, it’s met with a gaggle of drunken merriment. You too have plenty to add to this melange, but for now, your contribution is just in polite smiles and laughs at the appropriate junctures. For your mind is all on him.
What will he do now?
Will he demand for your underwear in public again? Will he command you to commit filthy sins in some dingy corner, slapping a hand on your mouth to shush your brain dead moaning? Will he drag you out to some other place all together…
It's like your lungs rattle within its cages, and a shudder passes your body at the various possibilities of ending that sentence. Blasphemous horror permeates your chest when you realise there’s not a lot of protest in your brain at all those ideas. With the fog around you growing thicker and thicker, your hands itch to feel the napkin again.
Amidst the overwhelming words being passed around you, you feel someone brush past your back, and as a reflex – like your subconscious was expecting this exchange – the hand resting behind you discreetly opens up to catch hold of the response. Clutching it safely, you act like you’re adjusting your pants when you tuck the piece in your waistband.
When you find a good point to excuse yourself from the crowd, you slide away to a darker corner, slipping the chit out, bracing the sinister aura it is emanating. You’re brimming with excitement, hands desperate to tear it all and go have him right here, right now. No piece of paper you’ve handled before has had this much personality, you reckon.
“You know what I’ve been thinking of? ”
You’re almost scared to read the next lines.
“More than your full pussy? And more than your welted ass?
I can’t let go of your pained face that took every strike I gave .”
He’s no bard, but fuck, the words strum all the right chords in you. The exact face he talks about tries to surface, topple over your calm demeanour, and it hurts to say that it’s winning the fight. The words feel so casual, so off-handed, you can imagine him whispering the same in your ear with the same nonchalance. He’d probably pull himself back after saying it, and then be so amused by its effect on you.
After a long bout of dreaming, you curse yourself for your overactive imagination because the image hurts .
“Next time, I want a bigger mess on you darling… gonna release all over your pretty face, your breasts, your thighs. I want to watch you lap it all up without waste, make you show me how hungry I’ve left you.”
Each word punctures your skin like a syringe, pushing into you copious doses of lust – you fear an overdose with the way your head reels re-reading his message. You lick your drying lips instead of drooling over the chit in hand, because the sticky sensation of his seed on your body is something you find yourself longing for more than necessary.
After safely storing the piece of literature he penned in your pocket for later, you slip out another napkin from a nearby table to write your shaky but resolute response.
“Why don’t you just skip the middlemen and cum in my mouth?”
You place the chit under a stray plate, in his vision, and step away – but not without keeping a watchful eye on his movements.
And you wish you did not.
Because unlike the previous times, he stands there, reading your response – and then simply looks at you.
Cocky bastard smirks at your gaping face, matching your gaze with an even more powerful one in return. He scrawls something short and quick on the paper you left, and places it back at its original place. Once he leaves, you don’t waste a second, racing ahead and filling the space he left empty a moment ago.
Oh heavens , what ill-fated karma is being returned to you? If it was not a crowded venue, the groan you let out would have been louder, much louder. Right now, the passing waiter who hears your pained voice under your breath probably assumes that your footwear is killing you.
You frantically look around for Hoseok before thinking up a response, but you can’t locate the man. Either he’s not here, or he has seamlessly blended into the hoards of red-and-white CEOs.
“Fuck you!!! I’m ready to soak through my LEATHER pants without a damned touch, have I not earned it already??”
You add a frown at the end of the sentence, because your mask is slipping down (always is, around him), and you place your answer back on the plate – what espionage movie is this – ready to stand guard until he returns. But a sudden hand on your shoulder almost skins you alive in shock.
“He- Woah ! Are you okay?”
You raise both hands at a petrified Yoonsu, and erupt laughing at each other.
“Sorry, I was lost. Kinda tired, haha.” Being tired is part of your personality, so the lie flows out pretty smoothly and doesn’t raise any red flags.
“Okay okay, scared me. Oh! You didn’t catch the mulled wine! It was pretty bomb ,” Yoonsu smacks her lips at the thought of the sweet warm beverage.
“Ah yes, I mulled over it ,” Yoonsu threatens to kick your shin at your excuse of a joke, “no no, I got sucked in some other conversation. I’ll see if I can cop a glass now!”
“Do that, it was in high demand. Actually,” Yoonsu looks back towards the exit, “Mirae and I are skipping after we say our byes to the upper peeps. If you have hurt your eyes enough from the red, do you want me to drop you?”
On any other average day, your answer to this offer would be a resounding yes. The thought of being burrito-wrapped in a cosy blanket, digging into that book with your expired Christmas candle lit is beckoning at you with siren voices.
But right now, it’s a hard-hitting no.
“Naah, I’m okay. I wanted to meet some more people before starting next week, so I’ll do that.”
“Girl, it’s a party,” Yoonsu sighs, “I doubt anyone wants anything to do with next week.”
You grin at her. “Yeah, understandably so. Still worth a shot.”
“Okay baby, take care, and text me when you get back home!” She wraps you in a tight, inebriated hug that you return in kind, and walk with her to the exit. You find Yoonsu’s friend, and spend another ten minutes saying your goodbyes. After the parting, you promptly return to the table like a coil attached on either ends.
But the glass you left on the table now stands shifted, and sports a new piece of paper lodged halfway underneath. The original chit is nowhere to be seen.
Also, on the other half of the letter, is a stray piece of ornament – a ring that looks very similar to what Hoseok’s hands had on.
“I don’t need to touch you to make this fun.”
You don’t want to agree, but you have to. With one night with him under your belt, and you can surely say his confidence is not misplaced. His next words though…
It’s not new for him to leave you speechless, but this time, it’s a whole new brain-emptying sentence.
“If you’re really that wet, soak my ring. Let me see, maybe we’ll throw in some consideration…”
You stay stunned for a good minute, eyes ping-ponging between the letter and the apparatus he graciously granted for this experiment. Your ears Then, with shaky hands, you try to write back something before you set about your task – but the ink of your pen doesn’t grace you with words, instead a flow of mistakes and scratches are what you abandon the message with.
With a vexed grunt, you give up, letting your cunt speak as your final response.
You’re being as quiet as you can.
Unfortunately, what you can and can’t do are being wildly redefined at this moment.
Loosely wearing the ring on your thumb and holding it in place with your index finger, you rub the cool metal over your wet pussy lip, trickles of your arousal painting the silver into an icy hue. You push the ring inward, your clit experiencing different faces of the ring in the process. It feels like your tricep is on the verge of cramping, but the brain… The brain is a powerful muscle, overpowering the pleas of your arm and continuing the dance you currently dance.
With an awkward twist of your hand, you shallowly dip your ringed thumb into your hole, slightly curving your back to make it happen. For a brief second, very brief second, the ring makes you forget that it’s your finger, mind allowing you to submerge into the fantasy that Hoseok decided to let go of inhibitions and took you right there.
You are insanely turned on.
Juices have flown onto your hand, their path retracting to the joint of your thumb holding the loop – the dribbles trying to mess up the rest of your hand. You get back to teasing your swollen lips, and your puffy clit, the simple up-down motion making you forget the insanity you’re making yourself a part of. Making you forget that normal people don’t do this.
Making you forget all the unwanted normalcy.
How would it be if he was here? Thinking about Hoseok having you spread, teasing you solely with the touch of his jewellery, looking at you with a vicious smile… telling you how easy you are… You almost lose yourself to the oncoming orgasm.
But it doesn’t happen.
Maybe because even the Hoseok of your imagination is a sadistic dick. What did you expect? You can only draw inspiration from reality.
Your possible orgasm ebbs back into its recedes, leaving you very high and incredibly dry. It feels like you’re standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to take the plunge, but with every jump you try to fall, and the edge only extends, never letting you drop yourself into the abyss. You give up on your ministrations with an unsatisfied grunt, and bring your hand up to examine the ring.
The debauchery this sole ring holds is insane.
You zip yourself back up and try to restore your face to your neutral self, going as far as looking right into the bathroom lights to restore your pupils.
The moment you open the bathroom door, the incoherent songs playing in the arena assault your ears – your flailing senses try to peer through the sea of dichromatic colours, trying to find the one man before the ring dries out. God forbid that happens, and he doesn’t believe you’re stupidly wet.
Well, he could just check for himself.
Your ears pick up a particular laugh amidst a boom of hilarity – and your sense of sound guides you towards the group Hoseok is a part of. As soon as you meet eyes, he excuses himself out of his crowd, and with a laconic strut, comes to stand right in front of you.
The mechanics of your body come to a halt. Even if you two have been speaking all this time, the words in your throat die – no, killed by the tight knot on your vocal box that you just can’t seem to swallow. All you can do is stare, get sucked in by his extremely palpable aura, and hand him the ring with a quiet “ here .”
Neither do your feet move, nor do his. The ring has exchanged hands, and now adorns Hoseok’s slender digit – your eyes are zeroed in on his face, head quite close to empty. So no cell in you could have expected his next move.
Because he just brings his ringed hand to his lips.
And kisses the ring.
No. Sucks on the ring. While directly looking at you, and not saying a damned word.
All the care you held to mask your expression has long been ditched in the closest trash can – you scrunch up your eyebrows and suck a shallow breath in, a choked moan making its way out of your parted lips. His eyes pick up every single feature on your face, a proud glint in his gaze very apparent. He steps into your space and lodges his lips close to your ear, and husks out his first words to you.
“ That’s the look. ”
Dirty bastard. Absolute abomination. Just an all out asshole who is hell bent on making you collapse.
Because after he uttered those three words, he went about his merry way, and you wobbled your way back to some known faces and seated yourself on the first open seat you found. And by channelling all your energy, you pretend to be a functioning member of society who does things other than desire to be raw dogged by your boss’ best friend. And since that time, he seems very happy to remain in his close-knit circle, barely throwing you a glance.
The ring of course, still remains on his finger, and he obsessively fiddles with it – but it doesn’t seem to affect his conversational abilities, talks flowing with no distractions visible.
There’s no two ways about it; you’re hot and bothered. On the outside, you keep your cool just as Hoseok does – but on the inside, your guts are rearranging themselves due to lack of external help.
This is ridiculous.
A surge of courage suddenly decides to swim through your veins as you tear apart one more piece of your napkin, and scribble your number into it in haste.
Armed with it, you slide across towards Hoseok’s table, where he is standing around a large group, with people talking over one another – in the fifth hour of the party, you don’t expect comprehensible conversation. Putting one foot ahead of the other, you stride on till you’re barely an inch away from the man. You throw in a thank you to the Gods for making everyone as delirious as they are, and seamlessly slip your number into Hoseok’s unzipped pocket.
You can feel his frame still against your fingers, but with the many heads obstructing your naughty hands, you are safe from suspicion. You walk away soon enough, jumping companies as usual until you find a solid spot to get seated.
Times like these you wish the skin on your back could detect shifts in the atmosphere behind you. The nerve you had to hand him your number slowly disintegrates into nervousness about getting a response. Anxiously fidgeting with your phone, you engage in a light conversation about movies with the current set of people, lighting up your phone screen every second minute to check for any development.
You could have sent your phone flying across to the chocolate fountain beside your table, the notification feeling much louder than usual, even with the commotion around you. With all the composure you can procure, you open your phone, hoping for it to be exactly what you want. What you need. What will hopefully extinguish the fire that has set inside your brain.
unknown number: Get yourself alone. Right. Now.
The trail of skin on your body relives his touches, patterns of heat forming on every place his touch has fallen. Your toes curl inside your heels, the anticipation of the night blinding and deafening any other sensory input. With as much poise you can manage, you relieve yourself from all your company, and move to the washroom – praying to the heavens on your way that every attendee doesn’t have to pee for a long time.
An empty stall. Yahtzee.
After locking yourself in, and triple checking for possible eavesdroppers, you open your phone awaiting the next ding.
But it doesn’t come.
With every passing second, there is only silence, and an empty notification bar greets your agog sight.
“Fucking piece of— UGH !”
You open the number next to your latest message. And you let it ring.
“Made you crack,” is the smug response you get, when Hoseok finally answers his end. The rasp in his voice makes you glitch, the power of telecommunication turning his voice hoarser than it is in person.
“You’re annoying .”
“You didn’t look too annoyed when I had your pussy juices in my mouth.”
God. It happened many, many minutes ago and yet the scene burns vividly in your eyes, like it’s happening in your current timeline. You give out a shallow, warbled breath and continue on, as he seems keen on hearing you out today.
“You look fucking insane today,” you rest your fingertips on your lips to control the quivering, trying to remember his whole fit, “insanely hot. I just can’t help it anymore.”
“You’re one to talk,” Hoseok’s words come out less as speech and more as a coarse grunt, “leather on your ass looks… so good… Makes me wonder.”
Makes you wonder, too. Surely, your innocuous pants aren’t the leather he’s imagining at this moment.
“Remember your safeword?”
“Yes,” and just to be sure, you add, “ Keynote .”
“Good,” his voice is crystal clear, none of the gruff play showing in the notes. “You’ll use it whenever you need, correct? Even if it’s right now?”
“Yes. Don’t worry, I definitely will.”
“ Gooood. ”
The difference in tone between the last use of that word and this one is astonishing. Hoseok’s voice comes out a little pained, like his dick is being relieved from its confines. And what you wouldn’t give to be in its presence right now.
“You have unbelievable self control, I must say,” your blank brain offers.
“ Tsk, ” he chips into his microphone, “you’d think I do… but with you testing me every single waking day in the office? I was close to risking it all.”
You let out a small laugh. “Ever heard of workplace fun , Sir?”
“ Fuck, ” the grunt permeates through your head, poking holes into everything it can touch, “you’re lucky I’m a patient man. Fun would sound very different if left to me.”
If the beating of your heart was any indication, his definition of fun totally suits your agenda.
“What part of ‘call me by my name on site’ do you not get, you cock-craving whore ?”
Maybe it’s also the over-the-fabric touch you’re subjecting your nipples to, maybe it’s also the imagination that you let run wild over the past hours – maybe it’s just him – but hearing the words come from him releases a full-blown moan out of your lips, his brusque manner making you lightheaded. You switch from bare touches to tweaks, your breasts tingling with anticipation and wanting more.
“You and your innocent little eyes, with your ‘Yes Sir’ s and ‘No Sir’ s and ‘Of course Sir’ s , ” Hoseok works his words through his discordant breathing, “the seams of your skirt look very enticing those days – they would last a mere second under my fingers.”
Letting out a ragged chuckle, you steady your phone in one hand, unbuttoning your pants with the other. You sure did have your fun with him, when time was abundant, people were scarce, and twilight had befallen your offices.
“You didn’t just sit there and take it all,” you challenge, “that night in the elevator?”
There’s a low curse on the other side of the call, followed by slow, rhythmic rustling of fabric – Hoseok is definitely jerking himself off right now, and for now, you can do nothing but writhe in your increasingly tightening pants.
“I only respond in kind,” he offers, “and you’re lucky it ended where it did.”
“It was not very kind.” You can feel wetness still gushing, your fingers now swathed in the arousal your body is releasing. “Neither did I feel very lucky when it ended, you should ha—”
You were going somewhere with that sentence.
But right now? When you register the sound of spit, all the trains in brain central have gone under repair, the tracks have fallen off, and chaos has descended on the station. There’s pounds of imaginary sand falling down your throat, sucking it off of all moisture.
With your fingers picking up speed over your clit, you let out a moan that can be described as nothing but unhinged. The sound of him spitting again cuts through your senses, the audio file burnt into your eardrums now, evoking memories of the night of your conference.
“ Ho– Sir… ” the tension you’ve been holding onto all day doesn’t let you speak, pushing all your energy towards your twiddling fingers, “we should t–test the seams—” you pause to gulp a fat blob of accumulating dribble, “the seams of my skirt.”
“If I have to bite it off o’ you, I will ,” Hoseok growls into his mic, and it makes you clench the empty air. Your swollen clit is aching, begging, grovelling for more friction. With every glide of your digits you can hear the squelches of your soused lips, and you’re hoping he does, too. It’s sending a flurry of signals around your nerves, the delirium of the approaching orgasm breaks down any embargo you set on yourself – your throat getting louder, fingers getting faster, feelings getting headier.
“Are you really trying to cum right now? Don’t you fucking know better ?!”
That’s how every joint of your body feels, the paralysis induced by his words spreading like a blaze through a dry forest, tearing through your muscles with great ease. With the change in tenor, his words turn less conversational and more commanding. But your immobility doesn’t hide your chagrin; you let him know your displeasure with a long, wanton groan of protest.
“Don’t give me that bullshit.”
And you’re prompt to concede; only with a lower, more breathy whine. His words tone down your frown, lest he hears, and wait in silence, static, as Hoseok contemplates his next move.
“You’re bold today…”
“Good thing, I don’t need to be there to tame you, right?”
You always wonder if words alone can push you over the edge. His words. Today, the lord Almighty has presented a well-packaged opportunity to test your theory.
“Let me hear you slap yourself.”
If there comes a day when he stops surprising you or leaving you with your jaw hung, that’s the day the world implodes.
He says it so normally, so laid-back, not a hitch in his voice to hint at how ridiculous his ask – no, his demand is. “Thrice. Make sure I hear the snap, or else I’ll make you go again.”
“Or… we could just stop, right here .”
At some point you need to stop asking yourself; but how are you accepting all of this without a word of revolt? Any protest you could have had has long died, and fuck , every single utterance from him springs your muscles to work. The state of arousal your body is in makes air too heavy on your lungs. You murmur a small “Yes Sir,” and get to work.
Wittingly or unwittingly, you didn’t even attempt to go light on yourself with the first one. The sound shocks you before the sting, but you ardently hold the phone close – hoping Hoseok feels the burn he landed on your cheek. Your zeal to please does not subside for a second, as you pause to whisper, “Is it okay, Sir?”
“My bitch in heat…” is all that Hoseok hisses, and rightfully so.
You land the second slap over the previous one, the overlap doubling the prickles that spread over the area. Immediately, you rub the spot your fingers landed on, sucking in a sharp breath through your clenched teeth.
In the intermittent time, you can only hear the lulls of Hoseok’s breaths. Slow, deep ones. The sound has the potential to calm your nerves, but right now, it is only revving you on. Having his spellbound attention, at his own party – it feels like a privilege, even if he is the one who initiated this.
With a sinister thought in mind, you move your hand downwards – a quiet slide over your body, pushing your pants down to give you some space; needed space for what you’re going to do. Hoseok has been patiently waiting, and you move your phone to the preparatory site.
The last slap whips through the air, landing smack dab on your open and waiting clit. The groan that emanates from the depths of your throat is very, very different from the first two; a depraved, drawn out sound that Hoseok undoubtedly recognizes.
Holding your phone back up, you try to open your voice up. “O-okay, Sir?”
“Out of my reach,” Hoseok grunts into the phone, breath tight and words tighter, “you really soar high, don’t you?” His tight voice feels like it’s gripping at your own throat, and you find it hard to even move when he spits his next command. “Harder.”
“I said harder . Like you mean it .”
You very much meant it the last time, but now – your fingers get a new lease at life from the power of his words. The next one hits hard like he demanded, your pussy lips feeling the tingling numbness after. You clench inward, body standing straight on your tip-toes, and you stagger back onto the wall.
Hoseok sounds distressed, like his lungs are rendered incapable of pulling another breath, like he is fighting the bones in his body and controlling himself from tearing through whatever boundaries divide you two. The rhythmic thumping on his end quickens.
After adjusting your stance, you put forth your meek question, “Can I–Can I go on, please ?”
“ Hmmmn ,” he gives an appreciative grunt, “go on baby, let’s see how you do by yourself. Try to feel as good as I made you.”
“ Fucking impossible ,” but you don’t waste another second, fingers parting your lips and gliding over your wet crevice – sparks crackle everywhere on your body, and you draw furious figures over your nub. “You do it yourself.”
“One day,” with a deep sigh, he starts, “ one day. I’m going to turn my office into my playroom…”
You swallow a bubble of lascivious greed.
“... and you, my plaything.”
Does he have to be this incorrigibly hot? With his play on words interjecting your imaginary view of him jerking off to you, your fingers twist faster in the confines of the terrible posture you’ve assumed.
“As if we can be quiet there.”
“Don’t worry,” there’s a dull clunking sound on Hoseok’s end, “makeshift gags are my speciality.” Hoseok’s movements get sharper and faster, his jangling zippers giving you more information for your imagination – more than necessary. “You just worry about how you’re going to sit on your ass after.”
“Just my ass?”
Hoseok lets out a tuft of breath at your cheeky words. “You want more worries?”
You press two fingers on your clit, feeling it throb under the pressure, holding your orgasm at bay to enjoy this banter you never got to engage in. “If they were worries, I wouldn’t be asking, would I?”
“ Fuck , you better remember your words baby,” he beams, only getting a flurried whisper of yes ’s from you. Your figure eight’s barely resemble eights anymore, drawing a collection of squiggly lines on your bud that meld according to the high that is approaching you.
“Remember them when I dig my fist into your hair, pull you around like my puppet,” Hoseok’s relentless voice sends shivers through your aroused skin.
“Yes, yes, I would lo—”
“And when I whip your tits and spit on your heated, bruised skin.”
“Oh God, S-Sir, I w-want it so bad,” a sob almost tears through you.
“Fucking feisty…” his hands are still working his dick (how does he have this self control? You’re about to break down like loosely stacked lego bricks), “I can’t wait to bind your knees together and fuck you like you deserve,” his sentence is interrupted by a harsh curse, “ sh–fuck, your already tight hole straining with no space.”
Out of all the things that you thought could make you cry, the desperation for an orgasm was never on the list. But when you feel a droplet slide down your cheek from the corners of your eyes, you confront the unfortunate reality – that list needs some serious rearranging.
“I want–I wa— Good God, please,” your broken utterance is hopefully expressing how much you want this.
“Would you like that?” Hoseok's jeer flushes you with a new wave of heat, your ankles ready to give up and plop you on the ground. “Would you like my tongue working your nipples, as you writhe under my grip?” His rasps grate on your skin as you let out an unhinged plea that barely resembles a language, his abrasive tone licking at your wounds.
Bottom line, you’re ready to burst.
And when he says “Are you ready to cum for me?”, you’re sure your shriek of assent can be heard wherever he’s holed up.
Just like that night, he commands you across the walls.
And your brain is tuned for nothing but compliance.
At the burst of the dam, your body feels faint, like a feather moving to the dances of the wind. Like a burden toppling off your back, letting you stand straight for the first time in years. Like the dissonance in your bones has suddenly cleared, the harmony in your body playing mellifluous melodies for your ears to enjoy. In the chambers of your mind, there are distant echoes of Hoseok’s raspy grunts, each sound only propelling you further into the air.
The workout however, both physical and mental, catches up with you. In the shift of a second, your body goes from feeling weightless to having leaden flesh and bones. Your skin now awakens to the light sheet of sweat that formed over you through this ordeal. You slide down the wall that supported you for this long, and let out a long-drawn sigh.
You feel fucking terrific.
At the moment there’s a long pause between you two. You can’t say it's uncomfortable, but it makes you very aware of yourself. The lingering breathing between you two continues for a while, until you feel your muscles awake enough for operation.
You’re about to break this long standing silence, but Hoseok beats you to it.
“ Fuck! ”
After the peace and quiet, this almost makes you jump out of your skin.
Hoseok only clicks his tongue in return, tufts of breaths telling you he’s holding back a snort. “You happened.”
A funny smile creeps up on you, a mix of bewilderment and amusement. “I’m sorry?”
“Let’s just say,” Hoseok pauses in a moment of distraction, then continues, “these pants aren’t exactly stain proof.”
You can envision the scene clearly now, breaking into a fit of giggles – one that Hoseok joins as he vigorously wipes at the fabric.
“So,” comes from Hoseok, and you realise you’ve been seated in the same splayed position for quite some time, “wasn’t this a lot more fun?”
“You really didn’t have to convince me,” you giggle back, as you pick your pieces off the floor, “I was ready to me impolite and leave the mome—”
Your home screen looks back at you, the phone app hiding amidst a bunch of icons with no active call in sight. You click on it – the thirty-two minute call just abruptly ended with no sound reasoning. Weren’t you talking just fine?
Oh no . What if someone walked into his hiding spot? Oof, that’s embarrassing.
Speaking of embarrassing…
In the past thirty two minutes, you must have spent a whole two minutes paying attention to your surroundings. If people came in, they would have left with a very different disposition. All your talking, whining, begging – you had to have been loud. A small shudder passes your spine at that thought.
The hue of your red outfit matches your mood – embarrassed and scandalised – but by the grace of the heavens, there’s no one to accost you with wary glances. After giving your soiled hands a good scrubbing down, you fix your appearance – tucking the many stray strands of hair into a moderately clean look – and you leave the washroom.
A gargantuan hope is that no one notices your extended absence, or there aren’t a lot of stories you can make about spending an endless hour in the washroom. Periods? Phone calls? Explosive diarrhoea?
As you’re standing outside ruminating, you move to fish out your phone from your pocket – but the corner of your vision catches Hoseok walking towards you.
The moment you meet his eyes his steps quicken, determinedly in your direction. You start approaching him too, with no plan in mind. The intention was to hold a respectful distance between you two – the area is secluded, but people are still walking about.
The issue with that intention is, neither of you truly intend on it. The respectful distance is soon cut down by many, many metres. The ruler between your feet would show a reading of bare inches.
“Is this fine?”
His soft-spoken concern. His perturbed eyes. His fragile touch on your arm, not wanting to hold you unless you give the okay.
It shatters you that there is so much respect in the body of this disrespectful man.
“Sorry, my battery died,” he continues, when you don’t respond, “I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that. Are you okay?
“Yes,” you affirm, and lean into his arm, “I’m okay. Are you?”
“I am. Better than okay.” His smile is so soft, so genuine – not like the loud ones in public, not like the snarky ones under the sheets – just radiating a gentle, warm glow.
For a few seconds, you are just standing there. In the middle of the corridor. Smiling at each other, speaking in eyes. Just addressing the rising realization that fuck , you really did this.
And goddamn, right now, even the few inches separating you are painful.
“Can I–” you start.
He did not stop to think for a moment. So why should you?
Without delay, you smush yourself against his awaiting lips. His mouth feels so gentle, just like the night at the hotel where you wrote your doom. There’s never a tear, never a shred, never a smidge of power that he exudes when you’re playing.
In the throes of your kiss, you have no perception of your limbs, and you find yourself sandwiched between a wall and your kisser. Hoseok’s arm rests on the wall, as he deepens his reach within your mouth, tongue firing up your inner walls. It feels exquisite, sending you into a labyrinth where every turn gives you more delirium. You bring your hands up to his cheeks, and trace small, light circles with your thumb – and you feel Hoseok shift imperceptibly into your hand.
You drink and drink, the external party long lost in its own universe, and you in your own. You shift from one side to another, flitting your eyes open to take a peek at him, trying to look through the fog of dilation. But his eyes are glued shut, every nerve pouring his heart into this kiss. And so do you.
His hand slips around the back of your neck as if to hold you, as if you’d ever go anywhere. In this instant, there’s no other place you’d rather be. You purr into his lips and return in kind, threading one of your hands through his hair, pulling him closer into your body. As your breast presses further into his chest with every breath, you run your tongue over his own muscle, before letting him pull away for a nanosecond.
“ Mm-hmmn , fuck .”
The microscopic break is enough for him; he dives back into you, noses jammed against each other. The incendiary quality of this kiss is very far off from the kiss you shared in bed. There is so much want, so much hunger being exchanged – not a nerve in you two experiences the satiation that your previous bout of togetherness possessed.
The eternity you spent in the kiss feels like two seconds when you finally part. Even then, you refuse to let him loose from your grasp, and he opts to join foreheads with you, intently looking into your eyes, getting the oxygen levels in your systems back in order.
“We have a,” Hoseok nudges your nose with his own, hand wrapping around your waist as he chooses his words, “a penchant for a wall dividing us.”
Your eyes widen before scrunching up at his words; you really do. Eye contact is hard to maintain when you’re casually talking about your eavesdropping days, so you move to look to the side. But Hoseok halts your avoidance, gently redirecting your chin to bring your gaze back to its place.
“I always miss out, don’t I,” he murmurs, before lodging himself in your neckline, his lips leaving a blaze on his path. The barely-there kisses on your neck automatically pull your brows in, and you bite your own lip to quieten that possible moan. The question of what he’s missing out on stays afloat somewhere in the confines of your mushy mind.
But before you can pose the question with relative stability, he brings his lips up to your ear, delivering the last blow of your night.
“Next time, I won’t.”
“Hoseok, if you keep hosting parties for every milestone we hit, you best beeliiieeevvveeee I’m slaving for the capitalism I despise!!”
At the moment, this exit is a crowd of rambunctious employees, laughing at the very drunk and very loud Hyejoon’s subservience to their overlords.
Hoseok is looking at Hyejoon with unbridled exuberance, patting them on the back and chirping, “More reason to have these frequently! But I hope this doesn’t send you out of order tomorrow!”
“Look at meee ,” Hyejoon sings, swaying from one side to another like a dancing flamingo, “I’m steady like a bu uuulll !”
“A Spanish Fighting Bull, yes, that’s the comparison” Yoongi quietly adds, and the place breaks down into another gaggle of laughter at the quip. Hyejoon giggles along merrily in acceptance with the bestowed title.
After many more minutes of titters and goodbyes, you start walking towards the swathes of exiting attendees, until you finally cross Hoseok.
“Get home safe, everyone!” he addresses the whole group, but his focus is on you.
You give him a cheeky smile and lean in a bit closer.
“Yes, Sir .”
Thank you for making it to the end! For more of my writing, find my masterlist here. As always, thoughts and feedbacks are greatly appreciated!