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an-annyeoing-writer · 1 year

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vampire!J-Hope x Reader: dinner time.

➢ Genre: suggestive fluff

➢ Warnings: minor mentions of death, blood

➢ Rating: +16

➢ Word count: 2 124

➢ Release date: 29th Dec. 2022

There were different things that people did to quench their instincts. Sometimes, biting your nails was sufficient to deal with nerves. Some other times, you could find fulfillment in avoiding creaks in the pavement. Some needs were a calling – you would find yourself becoming annoyed with yourself if you didn’t do your nails pretty every week or two, and stressed out if you didn’t watch a good TV show once in a while to rest your mind off with this mindless leisure.

Things, however, went on a completely new level when your boyfriend was a vampire. And, although he did pretty well behaving in socially acceptable ways on usual, once in a month even he had to indulge in his instinct, and wouldn’t you be a bad girlfriend if you deprived him from the pleasure of it?

It felt like a discovery of something new every time; the time spent together like this was especially intimate, and every time it happened, you felt all the closer to him. Was it what having a soulmate felt like? It must have been the case. You wouldn’t give your relationship for anything else in the universe.

You were so deep in your thoughts that it was the sound of a twig snapping nearby that made you suddenly return to reality. You froze, pressing your back into the tree you hid behind, the only one in sight that seemed wide enough to cover your entire silhouette. You held your breath, trying not to move an inch, as you heard very, very quiet steps coming in your direction.

He stopped right behind your tree, and you could swear you heard a low chuckle before he calmly walked forward, as if you weren’t there. You knew that there was no way he didn’t sense you – but you had nothing against taking this chance, and you waited a minute or so longer, making sure he’s gone again, before pushing yourself off the tree and running down the path you previously chose.

The forest was dark, and you barely saw where you were going. You stumbled on the uneven ground every few moments or so; that was the only real threat that you had to keep in mind – it would be quite unlucky if you were to sprain your ankle.

Yet, you weren’t prepared to step knees deep into a swamp and you let out an irritated whimper at the wetness seeping through your trainers and sweatpants – at the very least, after the first few months together, you learned that choosing cheap and easy-to-wash clothing for your adventures was the wisest choice. That was definitely, however, not the kind of mess you expected to occur.

You moved backwards, stepping back onto the dry surface. There was no point trying to clean anything – it was too dark for you to see anyway, so you let out a sigh before focusing your gaze on the space in front of you. Although everything was covered in shadows, your eyes had adjusted to some extent, allowing you to see the moonlight reflecting in the disturbed water’s surface. The swamps seemed to spread far forward, and there was no way for you to cross them without risking getting yourself even dirtier; not to mention, you had no idea how deep could they actually get. The solution was only one: you needed to go back.

Once you stopped running – you had no strength for that left anyway – everything around you became stoic, and you realized how empty the space around you felt. Shouldn’t there be birds, any wild animals? You wondered whether they were just asleep, or did you chase them away with your noisy behavior… or, maybe, were they feeling the predator lurk?

You pondered on how over the ages of human development, lack of a reliable threat source among other species dulled out people’s senses. You weren’t smart like animals who can actually stay quiet, nor as fit to run from the danger. You were as helpless as a newborn.

Yet again, so deep in your thoughts, you barely felt a brief, warm sensation on your neck; a breath? You turned around, startled, your heart beating in your chest. You stood in one place for too long, wondering where to go. Your legs had gotten cold from the water they were soaked in, and your steps were even more obvious now that leaves stuck to your heels.

Another sound of broken twigs, somewhere to your right; that made two signs in such a short time – you were certain that he knew what he was doing, and he was getting impatient. You started jogging towards your left instead.

You could swear that you felt a hand on your shoulder that made you pick up all your strength and run with all you’ve had, your breath and heartbeat deafening you, darkness around you becoming blurry; hell, it was a miracle that you didn’t fall onto your face yet, until-

“STOP!”

You were caught mid-step in his arms and pulled backwards before you could even react, your head spinning at the sudden change of directions. You stumbled in your tracks, confused to the core.

“Don’t move.”

He held you upright, tight against his chest, and your heart beat fast as you tried to comprehend, what was going on. He was completely still, letting you calm down, but with your face pushed into his chest, you couldn’t even see his own.

“H-Hoseok?”

“It’s okay, just don’t move for a second.”

“What’s going on?” you whimpered.

He breathed out a shakily, his voice becoming tender.

“You almost stepped into snares. Just don’t move for a moment, you’re okay.”

His arms wrapped around you protectively, and you could tell, he was even more shaken than you, who just barely started to realize the danger you unconsciously found yourself in. You twisted your neck to look behind – surely enough, even in the darkness, the shiny surface of metal trap was quite visible. The more you looked at it, the more you realized it was not a small device, this thing… You shuddered at the thought of what would happen if you actually landed with your foot in it.

But you stood a good meter away from it, fully aware that there’s no way you can walk into it now, especially with Hoseok’s undivided attention on you, making sure that no step of yours will end poorly.

Yet, his hold on you didn’t subside, and you realized how scared he must have been; it must have been moments, from him observing you from quite far away to noticing the danger you were in and having to jump in without a second thought. After hours of such a harmless chase of yours, to turning into an actual danger – he must have been in even more shock than you were, so you pulled away from him just a bit, reaching your hand to touch his face in a calming motion.

Hoseok’s jaw was tense, his eyes still clouded with crimson of bloodlust.

“Hey… Hey.” You shifted to cup his face and make him look at you. His face relaxed, but he still seemed so vulnerable and worried, his breaths barely starting to calm down. Something was still wrong – you decided not to pry.

“Let’s go home” he finally said.

“Are you sure?”

“Let’s.”

He held your hand tightly as you walked through the dark forest to the car parked at its edge. You didn’t speak a word and neither did he, not sparing you a glance until you sat in the car, and he let out a deep breath, closing his eyes to give himself some time to calm down. You put your other hand over the one he held yours with, gently stroking his skin to soothe him.

A few minutes had passed, the atmosphere around him gradually calming, and eventually, you decided it’s a good time to speak.

“Hoseok, hey.”

He looked at you, defeated.

“Thank you” you whispered. “For saving me there. It’s okay now.”

He let out a dry laughter, finally letting go of your hand and bringing it to his forehead.

“God, that was such a stupid idea to come here” he spoke.

“You’re hysteric” you stated.

“You could have died there.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“The chance of dying from something like this is probably below one percent, you’re definitely being hysteric.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I said I’m not.”

“Hysteric vampire. You’re a shame to your species, love.”

At the last comment, he couldn’t help but laugh genuinely, shaking his head in disbelief. You sighed in relief, realizing he finally calmed down.

He was sitting in the driver seat, and you quickly decided that there would be nothing nicer than to sit in his lap now. Maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea, after all; maybe after all this time of horror-themed roleplay it was the right time to enjoy the time together like a normal couple?

Hoseok quickly wrapped arms around you, keeping you close to him. He looked quite tired, his head instantly resting against your chest. His calm breaths hitting your skin made you realize how cold you felt; your legs all wet from the previous accident, but your entire body also rather chilly from the temperature outside, despite the long exercise-like run that you had. There was far too much sweat on you for your liking, but it seemed Hoseok didn’t mind, pulling you even closer as he noticed your discomfort, reaching under the seat to pull out a blanket and wrapping it around your frame. He turned the car’s heating on as well.

He stared at you adoringly when you adjusted the blanket, finally becoming comfortable in the rather narrow space of the car.

“Do you want to go home? I could stay like this” you admitted rather boldly, leaning your face on his shoulder.

“We can stay like this… a bit.”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“I am… just a bit.”

When he smiled down at you, you saw his fangs protrude, sharp as needles, and as dangerous as exciting to see. Your breath hitched at the realization. Hoseok’s arms wrapped around you tighter, and you felt your stomach flutter with fear and excitement – the kind you knew and cherished, the sensation of adrenaline mixed with vulnerability. God, did it feel nice when his hand rested on the back of your head, pulling you towards him, and you obediently let him maneuver your body in a way that was convenient to him.

“Shh” he whispered, although you swore you didn’t make a sound. His lips touched the crook of your neck and you shifted, straddling him instead. The vampire hummed, able to press your whole chest into his own as he pressed a light kiss into your skin.

When the pain came, you let out a breathless whimper, your fingers clutching helplessly on his shirt as he dug his fangs in deep, completely paralyzing you. His gulps were slow, he took his time, making sure not to drink from you too greedily, his arms still wrapped around you, securing you in place, making you feel safe. You didn’t know how it happened that instead of a pained whimper, you let out a moan instead. You sometimes wished to ask him, if it was normal – was a bite supposed to eventually make the victim feel good? Or was it just you, hooked on the idea of having a vampire of a boyfriend, the forbidden relationship just so exciting that enjoyment of being his victim became a quirk of yours.

You weren’t to find out about the truth this time, though. With blood loss, you found your body relaxing into his embrace, your hands resting loosely on his shoulders, your body relaxing to the point of becoming limp in his arms.

When he finally pulled away, he made sure you saw him lick over his lips in an almost theatrical manner. The corners of his lips lifted in a smirk as he looked up your worn out face, his own no longer showing any fatigue. You breathed out a small laughter.

“Thank you for the meal” he purred.

You leaned in and put a kiss on his lips, tasting the blood that it came with. Hoseok deepened the kiss for just a moment before he pulled away, admiring your own blood that now found itself in the corner of your mouth, and wiped it away with his finger.

“Thank you for taking care of me” you replied.

But the smile on your face slowly relaxed as you leaned onto his shoulder again. The blood loss started to take better of you, your thoughts dissolved and the warm coat of slumber finally embraced you fully.

#kdiarynet #bts hoseok #jung hoseok #j hope x reader #j hope scenario #bts j hope #vg: bts #vg: j-hope #vg: drabble

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arson-09 · 1 month

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Man, Rhysand was never the dreamer in that god awful series. It was always Tamlin

Tamlin is the one who has always done everything he can do to stop injustice. Protecting mortals, always accepting fae from other court in his land, trying his damnedest to find a way to break the curse instead of stealing a mortal. He has always dreamed of a safer and more just world and has always tried to make that come true. Even after loosing so much he always did whats right and true in the end.

but hes doomed by the narrative. His good deeds and genuine soul over shadowed by the biases of the narrator. Hes the age old tragedy of wanting to be the best he can and do the best he can.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #tamlin #pro tamlin #sarah j maas #sjm #he’s actually such a good and interesting character but is thrown aside for a supposedly morally gray man #the fact tamlin tries to be so morally good causes more interesting scenarios #hes my babygirl #i have so many thoughts i hope this makes sense #my brain is melted from playing stardew valley #Tamlin is so tragic he deserves a happy ending #with people who care for him and who he loves #thats a major part of my fic #if i may self promote #anti rhysand #adding that tag cause some of yall dont know how to scroll

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7brownsuga7 · 2 months

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Hobi boyfriend headcanon ♡

He’s literally like your best friend. You guys do everything together, it feels so natural. You can banter with him like a friend and love him like a lover.

His camera roll is filled with pictures and videos of you. He enjoys taking them, and loves to look back at them. He’ll even show you them and will laugh and watch you get embarrassed.

Random pics. Like I said his camera roll is filled with you. No matter where you are he has to stop and take pictures to capture the moment. Loads of candid and off guard pics too.

Posting you all the time with cute caption and music to go with it.

Doesn’t like to colour coordinate but likes to kind of match. Like not those cringy couple outfits, but he likes to coordinate his outfits with yours.

Very touchy feely. He loves having his hands on you and giving you little kisses. Hugs, hand holding, thigh gripping all of that.

Loves hearing about drama. You’ve got any work tea? He’s all ears. He knows about some drama? He’s telling you for sure! And if there’s any drama/tea involving you he will be on your side no matter what. “Baby that’s ridiculous you’re not in the wrong at all” (even if you are lfmao)

Pamper days! He will match his nails to yours! And will post them along with yours. He’ll definitely get your initials on them.

Cherishes little moments like playing music in the kitchen and dancing with each other.

This will be a relationship that involves dancing. Come on it’s Hobi we’re talking about! He’ll love having little silly dance battles or just getting lose and dancing around the house. He’ll also plan dates where you might dance, like bars/little gigs.

Whatever you want you get. He’ll cater to you 100% he loves buying you things and doing things for you. Whatever makes you happy.

Wants to see you succeed. Whatever your passion is he is behind 100%. He’ll help you achieve your goals and is your no.1 supporter.

He confides in you and loves talking to you about his interests and passion. And will love to introduce them to you.

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xjoonchildx · 1 year

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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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giddyfatherchris · 3 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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jimilter · 1 year

Text

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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bts-scenarios-br · 27 days

Text

Reaction - Quando ele age de forma superprotetora com você.

(gên. feminino)

Kim Namjoon

Um dos hobbies favoritos do Namjoon era visitar exposições de arte, e isso não era segredo já para ninguém. E é claro que você, como a boa namorada que tenta ser, adora o acompanhar nestes momentos, por mais que às vezes não entenda muito as obras. Em uma de suas visitas, no entanto, algo um tanto quanto estranho começou a acontecer com você, quando um homem que aparentava ser alguns bons anos mais velhos que você começou a andar de forma estranha ao redor de onde você estava com seu namorado.

No início você o ignorou completamente, mas depois de alguns minutos do homem ficar para lá e para cá sempre muito próximo de vocês, enquanto te olhava de forma estranha, você começou a se sentir desconfortável demais para permanecer quieta.

“Nam…” Você sussurrou, se aproximando do seu namorado. “É impressão minha ou aquele cara tá meio esquisito?”

“Hm?” Ele respondeu, virando o rosto para você e passando o braço pela sua cintura. “Esquisito como?”

“Não sei, ele parece que não sai da nossa cola…” Falou, e viu seu namorado dirigir um olhar não muito amigável para o cara. “E ele fica me olhando meio estranho também, dando uns sorrisinhos nojentos, sei lá…”

“Ele deve ter a idade pra ser seu pai…” Ele falou, olhando fixamente para o homem dessa vez. “Babaca… mas olha, acho que ele recebeu a mensagem.”

Você olhou para trás e, de fato, o homem que estava ali há poucos instantes já não estava mais à vista.

“É, acho que realmente tenho privilégio de namorado assustador…” Eu falei, o dando um leve beijinho na bochecha, o que o fez rir de leve.

Vocês aproveitaram a exposição por mais alguns minutos em paz, quando um dos organizadores veio informar que um dos principais artistas estava em outra sala e gostaria de tirar algumas fotos com o Namjoon, que aceitou de bom grado.

“Tem certeza que não quer vir junto? Sabe que não tem problema” Ele disse pra você, que já estava se sentando em um banco que tinha por perto.

“Estou meio cansada de andar tanto, na verdade.” Disse, sorrindo de leve. “Pode ir, enquanto isso eu descanso meus pés um pouco.”

Ele acabou por fim cedendo, entendendo o seu lado, e se despediu com um beijo doce na sua testa, prometendo que logo logo estaria de volta. Assim que todos se afastaram, você soltou um suspiro profundo, fechando os olhos por alguns segundos e aproveitando o silêncio que tinha ficado na sala vazia. Mas é claro que o seu sossego durou pouco.

“Olha só, está sozinha agora?” Uma voz surgiu ao seu redor enquanto você sentia alguém se sentando do seu lado, fazendo com que abrisse seus olhos e se deparasse com o homem de mais cedo. “Pensei que nunca iam nos deixar a sós.” Você não respondeu nada, apenas franziu o cenho e olhou para frente, esperando que ele percebesse que você não estava muito afim de conversar. “Está se fazendo de difícil, entendi… aposto que seria muito mais simpática se soubesse quantos dígitos eu tenho na minha conta bancária…”

Okay, com isso você tinha chegado no seu limite, mas não um limite de nervoso, e sim do ridículo. Não teve como você ter qualquer outra reação que não fosse começar a rir do comentário idiota daquele homem. Ele queria o que, se tornar seu Sugar Daddy ou algo assim??

“Olha, o senhor me desculpa, viu, mas eu não tenho o menor interesse em saber quanto dinheiro tem.” Disse, e viu ele ficar visivelmente ofendido por o ter chamado de senhor. “E se me der licença, eu realmente gostaria de aproveitar um pouco o silêncio.”

“Isso aqui é um lugar livre, você não manda aqui.” Ele disse, sem paciência. “Acha que é a dona do lugar, por acaso?” Você suspirou, vendo que não teria o seu tão precioso silêncio tão cedo. “Você devia ter muito cuidado com o que fala, viu garota… caso não tenha percebido estamos sozinhos aqui, se eu quisesse eu poderia-”

Você não pôde ouvir o resto, porque ficou em silêncio logo em seguida, parecendo totalmente assustado com algo que viu atrás de você. Quando voltou o olhar para lá, em curiosidade, deu um pequeno sorriso ao se deparar com o seu namorado parado na grande porta do local, acompanhado de dois seguranças logo atrás dele.

“Poderia o que?” O Namjoon perguntou para o homem, que permaneceu em silêncio. “O que, perdeu a coragem agora que sabe que não pode vencer na força? Se for o caso eu sinto em lhe informar, mas você é bem covarde.” Seu namorado se aproximou, pegando na sua mão e te trazendo para perto dele. “Esse foi um péssimo dia para você sair por aí achando que pode fazer o que quiser com as mulheres só porque é homem e tem dinheiro.” Ele começou a andar para fora, sem soltar a sua mão, acenando com a cabeça para os dois seguranças assim que saiu de lá.

Ele demorou um pouco para te soltar, só fazendo isso quando estavam do lado de fora, e te puxando para um abraço imediatamente.

“Me desculpa por te deixar sozinha, eu não devia ter saído.” Ele murmurou, finalmente se afastando e te olhando, acariciando o seu rosto. “Você tá bem, ele encostou em você? Eu juro que se esse homem tiver relado em um fio de cabelo seu eu volto lá e perco o meu réu primário…”

“Eu tô bem, Nam.” Você disse, rindo de leve e o puxando para mais um abraço. “E não foi sua culpa, quem quis ficar pra trás fui eu.” Completou. “E devo admitir que você estava bem atraente me defendendo todo bravo lá dentro…” Disse também, fazendo ele soltar uma risada e te dar um selinho, mas percebeu que ele também ficou levemente envergonhado.

Kim Seokjin

Duas das suas coisas favoritas eram viajar, e o seu namorado, então não é difícil de imaginar como estava se sentindo quase no céu por estar passando as férias na praia com ele, depois de meses sem terem um bom momento para relaxar à sós como esse.

“Droga…” Você disse, revirando a sua bolsa. “Acho que esqueci minha garrafinha de água no quarto…” Suspirou, com sede.

“Não tem problema.” Ele disse, se levantando e limpando a areia da bermuda. “Eu vou lá comprar outra pra você, minha carteira tá aí?” Você concordou com a cabeça, a tirando da sua bolsa e a entregando para ele, que a pegou e colocou no bolso. “Sem gás, certo?” Você concordou de novo, e ele se abaixou para dar um beijo no topo da sua cabeça.

“Obrigada, amor!” Você gritou quando ele estava se afastando, fazendo com que ele se virasse para você e te mandasse um de seus beijos característicos enquanto piscava um olhos, te fazendo rir alto.

Ficou apenas observando o movimento por um tempo enquanto esperava ele, e focou em específico um grupo de caras que estava jogando vôlei um pouco mais à frente de onde estavam. Apesar de estar olhando para eles, porém, você estava completamente perdida em seus próprios pensamentos, o que fez com que se assustasse quando a bola escapou e veio em sua direção. Por sorte, ela não te acertou, aterrissando bem na sua frente, e antes mesmo que pudesse se mexer para jogar a bola de volta, um dos rapazes já estava abaixado na sua frente, com a bola na mão.

“Desculpa pela bola, ela te acertou?” Ele perguntou, parecendo até que preocupado.

“Não, ela parou na areia.” Respondeu, de forma educada. “Voou um pouco de areia, mas nada que o vento não faria sozinho eventualmente.” Ele riu do seu comentário, de forma um tanto quanto exagerada (você era engraçada… mas não tanto).

“Que bom.” Ele se levantou, te estendendo a mão dele, o que te fez olhar confusa para o gesto. “O que acha de vir jogar com a gente?”

Você segurou uma risada, fingindo ter tossido um pouco. Não que não soubesse jogar, mas a ideia de um completo desconhecido que deveria ser mais novo que o seu irmão caçula ter te chamado para jogar bola com ele e os amigos dele enquanto você esperava o seu namorado era um tanto quanto ridícula.

“Muito obrigada, mas eu vou passar dessa vez.” Disse. “Hoje estou aqui para relaxar, nada mais.”

“Mas gastar energia jogando vôlei pode te ajudar a relaxar também.” Ele falou, voltando a se abaixar na sua frente, e você apenas arqueou uma sobrancelha em resposta. “Vamos, você parece bem legal… sem contar que deve ser uma gracinha te ver correndo e pulando por aí.”

Você abriu sua boca se forma espantada, e só não teve a oportunidade de ofender o cara porque seu namorado, que aparentemente tinha chegado no momento perfeito, foi mais rápido nisso.

“Gracinha vai ser a sua cara cheia de areia quando eu esfregar ela no chão.” Ele falou, parando atrás de você e fazendo sombra sobre vocês dois. “Ela já falou não, é tão difícil assim de entender?” O rapaz se levantou, levemente assustado. “Mas se quiser eu posso jogar com vocês, sou ótimo em bater em bolas” Você tossiu mais uma vez para esconder a risada, observando então o cara murmurar alguma coisa mal criada enquanto se virava de cara feia, voltando aos seus amigos.

“Tá tudo bem, jagiya?” O Jin perguntou, preocupado, se sentando do seu lado e acariciando a sua perna.

“Tudo sim.” Você respondeu, rindo e o dando um beijo na bochecha, o que fez ele sorrir em resposta. “Mas na próxima vez por favor não faça ameaças tão engraçadas, senão eu vou rir e quebrar o clima completamente.” Completou, rindo.

Min Yoongi

“Olha, sinceramente eu espero que não haja próxima vez.” Ele disse, mais alto do que o necessário, como se quisesse que as pessoas ouvissem. “Mas se tiver, vou levar a sua crítica em consideração.” Completou, dessa vez mais baixo para que apenas você ouvisse, o que te fez rir mais uma vez.

Ir em eventos com a família do Yoongi era sempre uma aventura. No geral, eram todos muito respeitosos, até porque tinham uma grande admiração para com o seu namorado, e não eram doidos de faltar com respeito por você. Mas é claro que, como em todas as famílias, a dele também não era perfeita, e essa foi uma das situações onde você percebeu isso.

Era o casamento de uma prima um tanto quanto proxima do Yoongi, então ele fez questão de participar da cerimônia presencialmente. Estavam sentados em uma mesa junto com os pais do Yoon e mais alguns parentes, estando ali, basicamente, as pessoas que você conhecia.

“Acho que vou pegar alguma coisa para beber, você quer algo Jagiya?” O Yoongi disse, já se levantando da mesa e olhando em volta.

“Só uma água tá bom” Você respondeu, e ele concordou, se virando e indo até onde ele acreditava ser o bar da recepção.

“E então, como está a sua mãe, S/N?” A mãe do Yoon falou, estendendo a mão para segurar na sua.

“Ela está bem, disse que não vê a hora de vir visitar para ir tomar vinho de novo com a senhora!” Você respondeu, rindo um pouco, e a sua sogra se juntou a você.

“Que ótimo, mas olha, dá próxima vez você tem que vir com a gente também, quero ter uma noite das meninas com você!”

“Eu super topo” Você disse, e ela deu um leve aperto na sua mão, sorrindo, e parecia que ia dizer algo quando vocês acabaram ouvindo algo que preferiam não ter ouvido.

“Eu não acredito que ele realmente trouxe uma estrangeira pro casamento da prima.” Você ouviu vindo de trás de você, e logo se lembrou que se tratavam de algumas primas distantes que nunca se mostraram muito simpáticas.

“Pois é…” Outra voz concordou. “Já não basta ele estar estragando a imagem da família pro mundo inteiro, ainda quer esfregar essa vergonha na nossa cara…”

Você ficou alguns segundos sem reação, apenas encarando o arranjo no centro da mesa, e só acordou da transe quando sentiu a mão da sua sogra na sua mais uma vez. Foi quando percebeu que ela também tinha ouvido, o que te fez ser tomada por um sentimento de vergonha, por algum motivo.

“Não liga pra o que essas mal amadas estão dizendo, minha querida…” Ela disse, te olhando fundo nos olhos. “Elas sentem inveja de você porque você conquistou mais essa família do que elas que estão com a gente desde que nasceram…” Ela completou, o que chamou a atenção do seu sogro, que franziu o cenho.

“O que aconteceu?” Ele perguntou, deixando a taça de vinho dele de lado. “Essas mal criadas aprontaram alguma coisa, foi?” Ele disse, já se levantando, mas foi parado por uma mão no ombro dele. Uma mão que você já conhecia muito bem.

“Deixa que eu resolvo isso, pai.” O Yoongi disse, aparecendo de repente, e indo direto em direção à mesa vizinha de vocês, colocando a mão sobre ela e se inclinando sobre as mulheres, que de repente ficaram em completo silêncio. “Olha aqui, eu só vou dizer isso uma vez… eu posso arruinar a vida de vocês com essa família, sabem muito bem disso.” Você conseguiu ouvir, mesmo que ele estivesse falando baixo para que não chamasse muita atenção. “Então eu tomaria muito cuidado com as merdas que falam sobre as pessoas que eu amo, se fosse vocês.”

Curto e direto, esse era o seu homem, que depois dessas breves palavras voltou para a mesa de vocês como se nada tivesse acontecido.

“Normalmente eu te daria bronca por arrumar encrenca, mas dessa vez, acho que foi merecido.” Sua sogra disse, enquanto o seu namorado se sentava entre vocês.

“E põe merecido nisso.” O seu sogro completou. “Tava demorando pra alguém colocar essas chatas no lugar delas…” Ele fez você e seu namorado rir, e sua sogra o dar um leve tapinha, mas ela riu logo em seguida também.

“Você não acredita nelas, né?” O Yoon perguntou baixinho pra você depois de um tempo. “Elas não sabem o que falam, desde sempre só gostam de ofender quem é mais querido do que elas…” Ele disse, apontando então para o palco, onde os noivos estavam tirando foto. “Quando eles começaram a namorar, elas tentaram convencer todo mundo de que ela tinha traído ele, só porque não conseguiam aceitar que a prima delas estava sendo feliz com alguém bom, mas ninguém nem deu bola.” Ele deu de ombros, rindo de leve logo em seguida. “Ser alvo delas é um sinal de que na verdade todo mundo da família te ama, então eu ficaria lisonjeada se fosse você.” Você riu um pouco também.

Jung Hoseok

“Quando você diz desse jeito, realmente parece uma honra então ser ofendida por elas…” Disse, rindo mais uma vez, e recebendo um beijo na bochecha do seu namorado.

Nos últimos dias o Hoseok estava um tanto quanto estressado e nervoso, e sua saúde mental não estava das melhores. Isso era claramente pela pressão do lançamento do novo álbum, e da auto-cobrança dele para a perfeição. Uma das únicas coisas que o dava um pouco de sanidade era você e a sua companhia, e era por isso que nós últimos dias você estava fielmente acompanhando o Hobi em seus compromissos todos (por pedido dele mesmo).

Nesta tarde, por exemplo, o trabalho era gravar uma faixa para o álbum. Acabou que infelizmente um imprevisto ocorreu que já deixou o Hobi nervoso, que foi que o produtor que tinha se preparado para trabalhar com ele teve uma emergência familiar, e então o Hoseok obviamente o deu uma folga por quanto tempo fosse preciso. Mas isso acabou fazendo com que ele tivesse que trabalhar com literalmente quem quer que estivesse disponível naquele dia (já que parecia que todos os bons produtores da empresa tinham evaporado - até mesmo o Yoongi, que nunca é visto fora do estúdio, que aparentemente tinha o casamento de uma prima ou algo assim).

“Estamos muito ansiosos para trabalhar com o senhor, e é uma honra ter essa oportunidade em tão pouco tempo na empresam.” Um dos homens disse pouco tempo depois de vocês terem entrado no estúdio.

“É verdade, acho que é uma das maiores realizações da minha carreira até hoje.” O outro completou se curvando, e fazendo o seu namorado rir com os novatos.

“Parem de exagerar, tenho certeza que são ótimos.” Ele falou, deixando a bolsa dele no sofá, onde você se sentou logo em seguida, o que chamou a atenção dos homens que finalmente pareciam perceber a sua presença lá.

“A senhorita vai ficar aqui por enquanto?” O primeiro perguntou, apontando para você mas falando com o seu namorado, que concordou com a cabeça no mesmo instante.

“Sim, é minha namorada, ela está me acompanhando essa semana.” Ele sorriu. “Já posso entrar na cabine de gravação?”

Os homens rapidamente concordaram, abrindo a porta para o seu namorado e então se sentando na frente do equipamento, mas não sem antes dirigirem um olhar para você, que não conseguiu entender muito bem a mensagem que carregava.

“Okay, quando estiver pronto!” Um deles falou, e em instantes você estava ouvindo a voz doce de seu namorado, mesmo que um pouco abafada pelas parede a prova de som.

Porém, logo o nervosismo do Hobi começou a se mostrar presente mais uma vez, pois ele começou a errar a música repetidas vezes.

“Sinto muito.” Ele disse, pelo microfone, suspirando depois da sétima vez que estava tendo que voltar a gravar.

“Está tudo bem, isso acontece.” Um dos homens falou, segurando o botão que permitia que o Hobi o ouvisse, o soltando logo em seguida.

“Quando estiver pronto!” O outro completou, dando um tempo para o Hobi revisar sua parte, e repetindo o que o outro havia feito com o botão. “Olha eu aposto que ele está assim por causa dessa vadia.” Ele falou, se virando para o outro e apontando para você, que conseguiu claramente ouvir tudo. Eles achavam que você não falava coreano, por acaso? Ou só não tinham a menor vergonha na cara?

“Pois é… e ela nem é tão gostosa assim que mereça tirar a concentração desse jeito, convenhamos.” O outro completou, e os dois deram uma risadinha nojenta, enquanto você tentava assimilar o que tinha acabado de acontecer.

Mas de fato nem deu tempo de você reagir, porque em poucos segundos a porta da cabine para o estudo abriu abruptamente, revelando o seu namorado furioso. Foi só então que um dos homens percebeu que o seu cotovelo estava em cima do botão do microfone esse tempo todo, ou seja, o Hoseok ouviu tudo o que disseram para você.

“Saiam daqui!” Ele disse, exaltado, apontando para a porta e olhando com fúria nos olhos para os homens. “Saiam agora daqui, vocês estão demitidos!”

“Mas, senhor-” Um dos homens tentou falar, com desespero em seus olhos, mas não conseguiu terminar por conta de seu namorado, que tinha aberto a porta do estúdio e apontava para a saída.

“Não quero ouvir um pio, quero vocês fora daqui!” Ele disse, observando os homens saírem quase cambaleando. “Vocês nunca mais pisam nessa empresa, e se bobear em nenhuma mais, então vazem!”

Depois de alguns segundos em silêncio enquanto observavam os homens fugirem em desespero, o Hobi mudou completamente a fisionomia, se virando para você com total preocupação e carinho em seu rosto.

“Jagi, tá tudo bem?” Ele se aproximou, se sentando no sofá e te puxando para fazer o mesmo. “Eu sabia que esses caras não prestavam no momento em que os vi, mas não achei que seriam tão baixos assim…” Ele te puxou para se aproximar dele. “Eu sinto muito por isso, de verdade.”

“Está tudo bem.” Você sorriu, se afastando um pouco para que ele pudesse olhar nos seus olhos e ver que era genuíno. “Eu fiquei mais assustada com a coragem de deles de falar aquilo na minha cara do que ofendida, pra ser sincera.” Seu namorado riu.

“Nem me diga… nunca vi pessoas serem tão caras de pau desse jeito, sinceramente… não sei como é que foram contratados….”

“E como fica a sua gravação agora?” Você disse, preocupada, e o Hobi suspirou.

Park Jimin

“Eu vou ver se o Jungkook está livre para ajudar, a faixa já está quase pronta de qualquer maneira, não é nada que ele não consiga fazer com excelência.” Ele sorriu, ele dando um beijo na testa. “E sei também que ele sim vai saber cuidar bem de você enquanto eu gravo.”

Graças ao título de It Boy dado (com muita razão) ao seu namorado, não era incomum ele ser convidado para eventos e desfiles de marcas luxuosas, e, nos últimos tempos, também não era incomum que você o acompanhasse em tais eventos.

No momento, por exemplo, vocês estavam rindo dentro de um carro provavelmente mais caro do que o seu apartamento enquanto aproveitavam a vista do lado de fora da cidade das luzes, mais conhecida como Paris.

“Eu ainda não acredito que me convenceu a comer lesma ontem.” Você disse, revirando os olhos.

“Qual é, queria mesmo vir para Paris e não comer Scargot?” Ele perguntou, rindo ao se lembrar da sua reação com o prato. “Se for assim já aproveita e não visita o Louvre.”

“Pelo menos ele não me fez quase vomitar!” O deu um leve tapa, começando a rir também.

Em mais alguns poucos minutos vocês chegaram no local onde seria realizado o evento. Assim que desceram já se depararam com inúmeras pessoas os aguardando, não apenas da imprensa mas também muitos fãs do seu namorado. Vocês sorriram e posaram para todos, e ele até mesmo conseguiu se aproximar sorrateiramente para falar com alguns fãs, ficando contente ao ouvir deles todos o quanto vocês dois estavam lindos juntos.

Mas é claro que, como tudo o que é bom dura pouco, logo a paz é animação de vocês com tudo teve que acabar.

“Como assim querem que ela sente lá no fundo?” O seu namorado perguntou para o rapaz que estava organizando os convidados.

“Sinto muito senhor, são direções dadas à mim.” Ele respondeu, com um certo desinteresse.

“Tá tudo bem, Jimin, eu fico lá sem problemas…” Você disse no ouvido dele.

“Nem pensar.” Ele respondeu, mas alto, e logo se virou para o rapaz novamente. “Vocês por acaso têm algum problema com a minha namorada?” Ele perguntou, perdendo um pouco a paciência. “Porque não apenas querem que fiquemos separados, mas querem praticamente esconder ela.”

“Não senhor, não é nada disso… são apenas protocolos…” O rapaz disse, começando a perceber que não seria tão fácil o trabalho dele.

“Protocolo para que?!” O Jimin perguntou.

“Para a propaganda da marca, é preciso que as pessoas de maior influência apareçam juntas para aumentar nossas chances de-” O rapaz nem conseguiu terminar a frase, pois já foi cortado por seu namorado irônico.

“Ahhh, então me querem rodeados de celebridades que eu mal conheço para ficar melhor nas propagandas, entendi…” Ele deu uma risada irônica. “Mas olha, sinto em lhe informar que se não for pra ficar com a minha mulher do meu lado, eu não fico.” O Jimin disse, cruzando os braços em uma tentativa de aparentar intimidador.

“Mas o senhor não pode sair assim, nós temos um contrato…” O homem começou a dizer, já visivelmente desesperado.

“Quer tentar a sorte?” Seu namorado falou, mas o homem nem teve a chance de responder, pois uma mulher um pouco mais velha, que parecia ser uma das grandes responsáveis pelo evento interviu na conversa no mesmo instante.

“Olha eu sinto muitíssimo pelo mal entendido, nós já resolvemos o problema!” Ela disse, com uma expressão de cautela. “Vocês dois se sentaram juntos onde já era planejado, não se preocupem.” Sorriu, apontando para a direção para aonde deveriam ir. “E como pedido de desculpas pelo inconveniente, por favor aceitem que nós lhe oferecemos um jantar em um restaurante de nossa recomendação para depois do desfile.”

Vocês aceitaram a oferta, e seu namorado também se desculpou para caso tenha parecido mal educado. Logo foram conduzidos para os seus lugares, onde se sentaram e observaram o movimento por um tempo enquanto o desfile não começava.

“Olha, eu tenho que começar a discutir mais se isso me garantir um jantar sempre.” O Jimin disse, e você riu, o dando um empurrão de leve com os ombros.

“E eu tenho quase certeza que alguém levará uma bela bronca da chefe por ter tentado discutir com o Park Jimin…” Você o provocou, fazendo ele rir.

Kim Taehyung

“Para com isso…” Ele falou. “Mas você não está errada…”

O fato que o Taehyung é uma borboleta social já não é segredo para ninguém, e como consequência disso você acabava tendo que o acompanhar em festas e eventos constantes de pessoas que muitas vezes mal conhecia. Como era o caso atual, é claro. Um dos amigos dele tinha lançado um filme de produção muito grande, e é claro que fez uma grande festa para comemorar (e não, não era o Jackson) com o máximo de pessoas possível.

“Tem certeza que tá tudo bem a gente ter vindo, Jagi?” O Tae te perguntou, quando conseguiram parar no balcão do bar que tinha no lugar.

“É claro.” Você sorriu, apertando de leve a mão dele. “Você sempre me acompanha quando quero ir em algum lugar, mesmo que seja chato para você, o mínimo que posso fazer é te acompanhar também às vezes.” Ele sorriu.

“Tenho tanta sorte em te ter…” Ele murmurou, se aproximando e te dando um selinho, fazendo você ficar levemente envergonhada.

“Eu é que tenho… todo mundo aqui que gosta de homem não tira os olhos de você.” Disse, fazendo ele revirar os olhos. “Estou falando sério, acho que até devem me odiar, ficar pensando ‘o que essa baranga tá fazendo com ele?”

“Cala a boca…” Ele disse, segurando seu rosto e te dando mais um selinho. “Para de falar bobagem.”

O que ele não te disse, no entanto, era que enquanto você dizia suas preocupações em forma de piadas, ele conseguia perceber as duas mulheres que estavam atrás de você (que você não conseguia ver por estar de costas para elas) estavam, de fato, o olhando de uma forma até desrespeitosa. Mas ele ficou quieto, até porque não queria alimentar seu desconforto nesse lugar.

“Com licença.” Vocês se assustaram quando uma das mulheres em questão disse, de repente parada entre vocês dois. “Você é o Kim Taehyung, não é?” Ela se virou para ele, literalmente dando as costas para você.

“Um… sim, sou eu.” Ele respondeu, franzindo a testa e já se levantando para poder ir até o seu lado, mas ele acabou parando quando ela colocou a mão no braço dele, o segurando no lugar.

“Ui que ousada…” Você murmurou, meio que pra si mesma, mas pelo olhar que o seu namorado te deu, meio que pedindo socorro, você soube que tinha sido alto o suficiente para eles ouvirem.

“Ué, onde você esta indo?” Ela falou, com uma voz que tentava ser sedutora. “Ainda nem comecei a falar.”

“É, mas sinto muito, não estou interessado em ouvir.” Ele disse, e ela riu. Riu.

“Você é engraçado…” Ele colocou a mão no peito dele, que se afastou na hora, mas ela nem pareceu ligar. “Mas eu acho que você ficaria muito interessado…”

“Olha, caso não tenha percebido, eu estou aqui com a minha namorada.” Ele falou, e ela deu de ombros.

“Ela não precisa saber…” A mulher falou, fazendo você e o seu namorado arregalarem o olho.

“Eu tô literalmente aqui…” Você falou, se dirigindo diretamente para eles pela primeira vez, mas nem precisou brigar, porque o seu namorado já fez isso por você.

“Olha, só pelo desrespeito de você estar flertando comigo enquanto minha namorada que eu amo tanto está bem atrás de você, da pra ver que você não seria do meu interesse nem se eu estivesse solteiro.” Ele falou, e ela pareceu se abalar pela primeira vez. “Eu gosto de pessoas com integridade, sabe.” Ela já ia se virar para sair de lá, mas seu namorado foi mais rápido em a segurar pelo pulso. “Onde pensa que está indo?”

“Ué, agora quer que eu fique?” Ela disse, com um sorriso irritante.

“Credo não.” Um franziu o cenho. “Mas não vai embora sem pedir desculpas pra S/N.”

Ela o olhou indignada, e estava prestes a bater boca de novo, mas ele foi mais rápido em abrir a boca.

“E se eu fosse você eu a pediria desculpa agora mesmo… senão eu vou garantir que nunca mais pise os pés em nenhuma festa desse tipo de novo.”

Ela suspirou, mas a ameaça acabou funcionando, porque ela se virou para você, e, pelo menos tentando segurar o deboche, te pediu desculpas, indo embora logo em seguida, quando o seu namorado soltou o braço dela.

“Me desculpa, Jagi, você não merecei ter ouvido isso tudo.” Ele disse, quando ela se afastou, se aproximando de você. “Essa mulher é louca sinceramente…tava achando que chegava aos seus pés…”

“Não exagera, Tae…” Você riu, o dando um beijo na bochecha.

Jeon Jungkook

“Não estou!” Ele rebateu, pegando na sua mão, fazendo com que se levantasse. “Vem, vamos pra casa, eu já já de ficar fazendo fita pras câmeras… vou mandar uma mensagem pro Hyung, ele vai entender.”

Quando você recebeu uma ligação do manager dos meninos naquela manhã em desespero perguntando se você poderia ser a tradutora deles para a entrevista que tinham marcado para aquela tarde, você nem mesmo pensou duas vezes antes de aceitar a proposta, apesar de ter se arrependido depois.

“Jagi, esse não é seu trabalho, e eles nem vão te pagar pra isso, estão se aproveitando de você.” Seu namorado disse, ranzinza, assim que você o deu as notícias.

“Qual é Jungkook, a tradutora de vocês está muito mal, ela me disse que teve que passar a noite no hospital, qual o problema de eu ajudar?” Você perguntou, colocando a xícara onde tinha tomado o seu café na pia. “Você acha que eu não sou capaz? Ou está com vergonha de mim, hein?”

“Que?” Ele te olhou, com a testa franzida. “Pelo amor de Deus, S/N, você é uma das pessoas mais inteligentes que eu conheço, é claro que é capaz.” Ele disse como se fosse a coisa mais óbvia do mundo. “E eu vivo me exibindo por te ter como namorada para todo mundo naquela empresa, então é óbvio que não tenho vergonha de você, para de falar bobeira…” Ele suspirou, fechando os olhos por alguns segundos. “Eu só não gosto que eles abusem da sua bondade, e estou com um mal pressentimento com isso tudo…” Você suspirou também, se aproximando e segurando o rosto dele com as suas duas mãos, olhando no fundo dos olhos dele.

“Eles não estão abusando de mim, Kook, eu realmente quero fazer isso.” Você o deu um selinho. “E além disso, o que pode dar errado?? Eu vou estar com vocês o tempo todo.”

“Espero que você esteja certa.” Ele disse, rendido, e te puxando para um beijo doce, fazendo você sorrir contra ele.

Mais tarde, foi enfim o momento de você fazer o seu trabalho (temporário). Seria uma entrevista com uma grande revista internacional, e o entrevistador tinha vindo até a Coreia apenas para falar com o grupo, por isso era muito importante que ela acontecesse naquele dia.

Mas assim que entraram na sala onde o homem estava, o Jungkook percebeu que seu mal pressentimento estava certo. Bastou o cara te ver para mudar completamente a expressão, passando a ficar com uma praticamente pornografia todas as vezes que olhava para você. O JK não sabia ao certo se você não tinha percebido, ou se estava ignorando pelo bem de conseguirem essa entrevista logo, a única coisa que ele tinha certeza é que o sangue dele estava quase fervendo todas as vezes que o homem te secava de cima a baixo, sem qualquer pudor.

“Então, e se pudessem colaborar com alum artista americano, qual seria?” O homem perguntou, para você.

“De novo essa pergunta…” O Namjoon murmurou baixinho antes mesmo que você pudesse a traduzir para todos, fazendo você segurar uma risada.

“Acho que no momento eles não tem ninguém em mente, já tiveram oportunidades com artistas incríveis.” Você disse, tentando ser sutil, e o homem concordou, sorrindo e se ajeitando no sofá onde estava, se aproximando de forma discreta de você.

Foi então que o Jungkook percebeu você vacilar pela primeira vez. Assim que o joelho do homem tocou no seu, você congelou por alguns segundos, olhando fixamente para suas pernas antes de pegar uma garrafa de água, usando disso como desculpa para se afastar. Mas infelizmente seu espaço já estava acabando, já que estava agora encostada no braço do sofá.

“É impressão minha ou esse cara tá perto demais da S/N?” O Yoongi sussurrou para o seu namorado, mas nem mesmo conseguiu uma resposta, pois em pouco segundos tudo virou um caos.

O homem começou a fazer a próxima pergunta, mas começou o grandiosíssimo erro de achar que não haveria problema em dar mais uma investida, colocando a mão dele na sua coxa e a apertando de leve. Para você, foi como se tudo tivesse acontecendo em câmera lenta. Em um momento estava em pânico por um estranho estar te tocando assim, e no outro estava sendo puxada por seu namorado para ficar atrás dele, que se levantou e se colocou entre você e o homem, que também se levantou pelo susto.

“Ei, ei, o que houve?” O Namjoon, que mal tinha raciocinado o que tinha acontecido perguntou, se levantando, e todos os outros fizeram o mesmo.

“Ele tocou nela.” O Jungkook respondeu, de forma seca, e instantaneamente você foi puxada para os braços de alguém, que logo reconheceu ser o Tahyung, que junto com os demais membros parecia querer te deixar o mais longe possível do homem.

“Você tá bem?” O Jimin perguntou, e você só conseguiu assentir com a cabeça, estando mais confusa do que tudo.

“Olha, eu nem fiz nada demais, qual é.” O homem disse, claramente irritado. “Só relei nela de forma gentil… agora é proibido tentar flertar com uma mulher bonita, por acaso?”

“Quando é minha mulher é proibido sim.” O Jungkook conseguiu dizer em um inglês apressado, e de longe você conseguiu ver a cor sumir do rosto do homem.

Foi só então que você percebeu que, na correria de ajeitar tudo, vocês nunca o informaram diretamente que mais do que uma substituta, você era namorada do Jungkook. Na cabeça dele, você não passava de uma tradutora contratada de última hora, então não imagina que os garotos se incomodariam se ele te assediasse ao longo da entrevista.

“Acho que o que ele quis dizer.” O Namjoon falou, se intervindo entre os dois. “É que quando é uma mulher que não te deu a liberdade pra isso, não é certo a tocar sem permissão” Seu tom era calmo, mas seu olhar era quase que assustador.

“Não, olha esperem, houve um mal entendido.” O homem de repente começou a dizer de forma desesperada. “Eu não fazia ideia de que ela era sua namorada, se eu soubesse eu claramente não teria feito nada disso, foi só…”

“Então acha que se não fosse namorada de ninguém estaria tudo bem você a assediar assim?” O Nam respondeu, e o homem tentou inutilmente se defender mais uma vez.

Afinal, os managers e produtores dos meninos foram todos chamados, juntamente com os seguranças. A entrevista foi cancelada e, por mais que você tenha optado por deixar aquilo tudo em segredo, rapidamente foram informados pela direção da revista que punições seriam tomadas com o homem, e vocês seriam recompensados.

“Aqueles idiotas acham que dinheiro vai resolver…” O Jungkook disse, mais tarde, quando estavam já no conforto da sua cama. “Eu sabia que você não deveria ter ido, se eu tivesse sido mais firme com a empresa e te protegido melhor nada disso teria acontecido…”

“Para com isso, amor, a culpa não foi sua…” Você disse, se alinhando no peito dele, que te segurou com os braços. “Eu estou bem, tenho um namorado que é quase como um cão de guarda.” Levantou o olhar para ele, sorrindo de leve. “Cada dia que passa você se parece mais e mais com o Bam.” Ele enfim deu uma leve risada, beijando sua testa.

“Acredite, eu sou mais esperto que o Bam.” Ele respondeu, fazendo você rir também.