Hoseok Oneshot - Tumblr Posts

Blue side

Hoseok's always known you as Namjoon's little sister. One day, he realises you're more than a match for him.

Pairing: Hoseok x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Brother's best friend AU, smut, angst

Word count: 7.7k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, fast cars

Jung Hoseok revs his engine as he rolls into the garage, a burst of bravado after a fucking hairy night.

Park Jimin goes to greet him. His sling’s off but he holds his arm up, bent at the elbow, wrist encased in plaster.

Hoseok pushes his door open, climbs out from his low seat gracefully, like he’s done it thousands of times. 

He has.

Jimin takes in Hoseok’s appearance, really not that different from when he started the night except that he looks a little more dishevelled, a lot more weary.

His eyes ask the questions he doesn’t want to bombard Hoseok with, and Hoseok, always kind, says, ‘everyone’s on the way.’

Jimin lets out the sigh he hadn’t known he was holding in.

There’s a honk, obnoxious and unnecessary, and Hoseok exchanges a wan smile with Jimin.

‘Fucking kids,’ Hoseok mutters.

Tae parks up tight next to Hoseok, tailed by Jungkook on his bike.

Jungkook drops his helmet on the workbench with a careless clatter, hand already up to fluff his matted hair.

There’s a gap of time then, meaningless banter that no one takes in because they’re really just waiting for the rest.

In the end, there’s one last car, the tail end of the convoy. 

Yoongi’s driving in that breathtakingly confident way he does when he’s tired. He parks without revving or honking, just cutting the engine without a pause. 

Then everyone’s getting out. 

A beautifully groomed Seokjin, a Namjoon just in his shirtsleeves, and you, curled into Namjoon’s side under his arm.

Your eyes meet Hoseok’s for just a second, clocking him. 

You’re always aware of him, like he’s always aware of you.

‘The other car’s in the parking garage,’ Namjoon says, low voice more of a rumble than words because he’s been out all night and he forgets to modulate his voice when he’s tired. 

Hoseok lets himself glance over you like he would anyone else, scanning for injury.

Drinking you in with his gaze because it’s all he’s allowed to do. 

Namjoon’s arm stays locked around your shoulders. He looks at the group assembled in the garage. 

Jimin’s already hit the automated doors, locking up. All secure.

There’s not really a lot to say but good night.

***

Hoseok and Namjoon have been friends for so long he can’t remember a time Namjoon wasn’t in his life. 

They used to drive Hobi’s beat up Hyundai round the hairpin bends of Samo Hills, over and over, setting different challenges each time. 

Who could make the fastest time.

Who could make the fastest time and not turn the blocks of soft tofu in the cooler boxes into mush.

Who could make the fastest time driving and then picking up a girl in the bar.

So dumb, and still one of the best times in his life.

Hobi’d always been aware of you in the periphery, how could he not be?

He’s spent as many nights in Namjoon’s house as he has in his own, especially since his old man started drinking so much.

He feels weird admitting it, but he only started to really see you when you started bringing boys home.

Namjoon, protective older brother that he was, was quick to adopt the role of guard dog, letting his height, and in more recent years, the width of his chest do the intimidating for him.

You’d been amused by Namjoon’s protectiveness initially, laughing it off. Then one day, you’d come home upset because some idiot had tried to make you do something you didn’t want to do.

Hoseok had been in the kitchen fixing himself a sandwich. He’s never thought of himself as any less obtuse than the next guy but a blind man would have been able to see you were upset.

You’d muttered a ‘hello’, politeness ingrained in you. 

‘Are you ok?’ Hoseok had asked, peanut butter forgotten.

‘Guys are assholes,’ you’d said, your lip wobbling just a little.

The flare of protective rage had surprised Hoseok. 

‘What happened?’ he’d asked, voice sharp.

You’d looked at him, uneasy. ‘Nothing.’

You’d grabbed a drink from the fridge, twisting the cap until Hoseok had held his hand out for it.

You’d passed it over, he’d opened it and handed it back. There was a mark on your wrist.

You’d seen that he’d noticed it. 

‘I did that,’ you say, quickly. ‘I was trying to get a bracelet off, quick.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I didn’t want to give him a blow job.’

Hoseok had stared at you, trying to process.

‘He was an asshole,’ you’d said. 

Hoseok had said, slow, ‘some dude gave you a bracelet, and wanted you to blow him.’

You’d looked at the ground. ‘I thought he liked me. I’m an idiot.’

‘Did he call you that?’ Hoseok had asked. 

‘No, I called him that,’ you’d said. You’d smiled, rueful. ‘After I threw the bracelet at him and kneed him in the balls.’

‘Sounds like you took care of him,’ Hoseok had agreed.

You’d laughed.

‘Want a sandwich?’ Hoseok had asked.

‘Yeah ok.’

By the time Namjoon had turned up, you were watching TV together because Hoseok had sensed you didn’t want to be alone.

You’d started to spend more time together after that, not a lot, just the odd occasion when Namjoon was caught up.

Sometimes you’d go to the store together, pick stuff up for dinner. One time you’d parked the cart in the pasta aisle and stared at the packages of pasta for so long Hoseok had felt like he needed to say something.

‘I like penne,’ he’d offered, gently.

You’d smiled at him as you picked up a packet and placed it carefully in the cart.

‘Joon likes penne.’

‘We like a lot of the same things,’ Hoseok had agreed.

‘Cars. Girls. Books.’ You’d checked things off on your hand, fingers curling.

Hoseok had reached out, curled your ring finger into your palm. ‘Penne.’

You’d laughed and he had too. 

When you’d got back home, Namjoon and Yoongi were in the kitchen. One look at their expressions and Hoseok had known something was about to go down.

Namjoon had asked if you could make dinner whilst they talked.

You’d looked at him narrow-eyed, and had said, ‘sure Joonie. I’ll eat it too, and leave you the scraps.’

For a moment the siblings had looked at each other, not alike physically, but so similar in their personalities that a wry grin had already started to curve Hoseok’s lips, even before Yoongi had reached over, picked the groceries out of your arms, and said, ‘I like scraps.’

Dinner had been more than scraps, you were a pretty good cook. 

On their way out, Namjoon had told you the usual. 

Not to let anyone in unless it was him or one of his. 

Not to wait up. 

To call the police if they weren’t back by sun up, because the life insurance wouldn’t pay out unless there was proof of death.

He’d been saying the same thing to you for forever, as long as Hoseok could remember.

You’d pulled him into a hug. Then, for the first time, you’d grabbed Hoseok too. 

‘See ya later,’ you’d whispered in his ear, on tiptoe so no one else could hear.

‘Yeah. See ya, scraps,’ was all Hoseok could manage. 

He thought about that hug a lot, wished he’d been quick enough to hug you back instead of standing there like he didn’t want to.

And then he drove, like he always did.

***

As soon as there was enough money you went off to college, fielding the teasing about being a genius with your usual good-natured comebacks.

You told everyone it was your brother who was the genius, and Hoseok doesn’t think you were wrong, just that you underplayed your own cleverness.

Namjoon had been obsessive about making sure you had enough, it wasn’t enough for him that you were getting your education, he didn’t want you to feel conscious about your own background compared to your peers.

Hoseok knew you well enough to know you would never let that kind of thing get you down. Not coming from where you were from.

He’d been dropping something off, close to the general area where you lived, though he was hazy on the details. He’d seen a billboard with a girl who looked a little like you, and, impulsively, had pulled over and texted you.

Hoseok: Hey, scraps, I’m in town. Want to meet up?’

He’d told himself he’d give you ten minutes to answer and if you didn’t he’d call it. 

He didn’t have to wait long. His phone lit up almost instantly.

Scraps: I’m just out of class. Starving. Let’s eat?

Hoseok pulled up to where you’d said to meet, and there you were, pretty and fresh with your backpack double-strapped to you.

You’d slid into the passenger seat, and Hoseok had glanced at your friends, all looking curiously at him.

You’d seen his look. ‘They’re not looking because they’re worried, Hobi. They’re looking because you’re cute.’

Hoseok had laughed. ‘If your brother ever visits you —‘

‘Oh yeah, him too. Yoongi. Seokjin. You.’

You’d rolled your eyes. ‘Spent my whole life protecting you all from my friends.’

Hoseok’s tickled that you think that. 

‘What do you want to eat?’ you ask, putting your seatbelt on, turning to him.

Your smile makes Hoseok feel light, easy. 

‘Take me somewhere you like,’ he suggests.

You end up in some tiny place, squashed up next to each other. It’s bustling, filled with people, but all Hoseok remembers after is how you were so close your arm pressed against his the whole time, and how nice it made him feel.

He drops you off at your place, and you ask him, a serious look in your eyes, if you want to come up.

‘I should get going,’ Hoseok tells you.

Something like disappointment flits across your face, quickly replaced with your pretty, nonchalant smile.

‘Tell Joonie I’m happy, ok?’ you tell him, unbuckling your seatbelt. Then, you roll your eyes at him, aware of the irony. ‘Drive safe.’

The laugh dies in Hoseok’s throat as you put your hand on his forearm, and say, quietly, ‘For me.’

Hoseok promises you that he will.

***

You’re back for Christmas break, Hoseok’s heard. 

He’s waiting by the car for Namjoon a couple days before Christmas, freezing his ass off. The engine’s running but he wants to be quick on his feet in case Namjoon or Yoongi needs help.

His breath’s coming out white, the air is that unrelenting cold it gets this time of year. 

Namjoon and Yoongi emerge round the corner, and Hoseok’s adrenaline ebbs. 

He gets in, flicks the lights on. 

The cold draft that waves in as the boys climb in reminds him how quickly he acclimatises to the warmth. 

Back at Namjoon’s place the lights are still on.

You open the back door as they’re walking up. 

‘Merry Christmas yo ho ho,’ you say, a curl to your lip that doesn’t quite make it to sarcastic because of the brightness in your eyes.

‘Get inside, you’ll freeze,’ Namjoon says.

‘I’m dressed,’ you retort. 

Even Yoongi’s not proof against your cheerfulness, managing a crooked smile as he steps past you.

‘Hobi,’ you say, warmly. 

Hoseok slings an arm around you in an awkward side hug.

You don’t seem to mind.

‘When did you get back?’ Hoseok asks, taking the mug you pass him. 

‘Yesterday,’ you reply. ‘I’m back until next week.’

Namjoon takes a gulp of his drink and coughs violently. ‘Shit, what’s in this?’

‘It’s eggnog,’ you say, serene. 

Yoongi swirls his mug, suspiciously. ‘How much rum did you put in it?’

‘I don’t think you’ll be able to drive after this,’ you say cheerfully.

‘It’s almost undrinkable,’ Namjoon remarks, grimacing. 

‘It’s ok,’ Hoseok says.

Yoongi snorts. ‘Cheers.’

You turn back to the stove. ‘I’ll make ramen.’

Hoseok, for just a moment, lets himself admire the graceful line of your neck.

When he looks away, Namjoon catches his eye.

They stare at each other. 

Yoongi gets up, chair scraping obnoxiously on the wood floor. 

‘Anyone want a refill?’ he asks. 

‘Yeah,’ Hoseok says.

Namjoon breaks his gaze and says, ‘fuck it. Pour me another, Yoongs.’

***

It’s Christmas eve, and Hoseok thinks, hand on his heart, that if he never had eggnog again in his whole life it would be too soon.

Namjoon’s sprawled on the couch, flipping through movie options.

You come in, a tray in your arms full of Christmas themed junk food, and stare, surprised at the empty pitcher. 

Hoseok hadn’t wanted you to feel bad about your terrible eggnog, so he’d challenged Namjoon to a drinking game whilst you’d been fixing snacks.

Like driving Samo Hills, it’d all ended up being a speed challenge in the end.

Hoseok doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know he’s as flushed as the stockings you’d pinned to the mantel. Three, one for each of them.

Namjoon’s phone rings, and he swipes blearily at it.

You pluck it out of his hand and answer. 

Your tone makes Namjoon sit up. 

‘It’s Jimin. Jungkook’s hurt. They need you.’

And then Namjoon’s stumbling upright, trying to stay up, moving like he’s on a rollercoaster. 

Hoseok isn’t doing much better.

All he knows is, they need to find a way to get to Jungkook.

You’re moving faster than either of them, already in your puffy jacket, keys in your hand.

‘I’ll drive,’ you say. 

‘No, you’re not going,’ Namjoon says immediately, reaching for the keys.

‘You’re not going anywhere without me,’ you say. 

Namjoon looks at Hoseok helplessly. 

‘Get the keys Hobi.’

You shove your hand in your pocket and look at Hoseok. 

Hoseok’s never going to be the one to force you to do something you don’t want to do.

You’re shoving Namjoon’s jacket onto him, zipping him up. 

‘Come on, Jungkook needs us.’

Namjoon’s been chugging water, the car windows wide open to the chill, trying desperately to sober up on the way. 

Hoseok’s doing ok, he thinks. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again you’re pulling into a spot on the street, Namjoon’s low voice murmuring instructions.

Hoseok’s still more drunk than sober, but the adrenaline thrumming through his veins is helping tip the balance.

Namjoon’s got his usual set of instructions for you, but you cut him off.

‘Go help Jungkook, Joon. I’ll wait here.’

You say it firmly, calmly. 

Hoseok watches the way Namjoon’s hand lands on yours, a rare display of affection.

Then he’s out, running alongside Namjoon.

***

By the time Hoseok gets back to the car, the darkest part of the night is over.

He knocks on the window gently, trying not to startle you.

The doors unlock, and he slides in next to you.

‘Where’s Joon?’ you ask immediately, scanning for your brother.

‘He’s gone to the hospital with Jungkook and Jimin,’ Hoseok tells you. 

‘Is he ok?’ you ask, voice losing its sharp edge of panic now that you know your brother’s ok.

‘Yeah, Jungkook’s fine, his shoulder’s dislocated and he’s a bit banged up but he’ll be ok.’

Hoseok nudges you gently. ‘Move over, let me drive.’

You’re quiet as Hoseok pulls the car out of the space, puts on the radio to the station he and Namjoon always listen to. 

A piano solo plays, a piece he likes. Hoseok finds himself sneaking glances at you in the flashes of streetlight as he drives.

You’re tired, and so pretty his heart longs for you.

‘Are you ok Hobi?’ you ask.

‘I’m fine, Scraps.’

His voice comes out raspy, low. 

He takes the Samo Hills route because it’s familiar, even though it’s a little longer.

You put your hand on his, for an instant, and squeeze.

Hoseok says, when you’re pulling your hand away, ‘you can hold my hand. I like it.’

Your fingers flutter in the air between you, and then your hand closes over his.

This is a dangerous game he’s playing, Hoseok tells himself. 

But he can’t help himself, not when he’s driving his favourite route, when the dawn’s just breaking, shades of midnight to shades of blue.

It’s his favourite time of day, the promise of another new beginning, another chance to remedy the fuckups of yesterday. 

He tells himself that this can be his Christmas present. 

You’re still holding his hand, and you hold it all the way as Hoseok drives you home.

***

Hoseok walks into your living room on New Year’s Eve to find Yoongi buried in his phone and raised voices from the kitchen.

‘Scraps looks less scrappy, and Namjoon’s being overbearing about it,’ is Yoongi’s succinct summary. 

Hoseok raises an eyebrow and heads for the kitchen.

He immediately curses Yoongi in his head.

Less scrappy seems a gross understatement.

He’s torn between wanting to look his fill and wanting to grab the chunky sweater Namjoon’s holding out to you and wrap you in it. 

‘You tell her,’ Namjoon says to Hoseok, exasperated. He turns back to you. ‘You’re gonna have dumb douchebags trying it on with you all night.’

‘Yeah, and you’ll have girls all over you. How is that different?’ you ask, patiently.

‘I can look after myself,’ Namjoon snaps. 

‘I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,’ you shoot back.

‘You’re both pretty,’ Hoseok says, trying for levity. 

Two sets of eyes glare at him. 

Then you sigh. 

‘Joonie, I can handle myself.’

Namjoon sighs, too. ‘I know you can.’

You reach out and unbutton one of his buttons, taking it down to the middle of his chest.

‘Now we’re even, ok?’

Namjoon rolls his eyes but doesn’t do his button back up.

‘Let’s go.’

The party’s a good one, at some guy’s mansion. The music’s banging, the place already full of people.

You disappear with a couple girlfriends, leading them away from Namjoon and Yoongi, throwing Hoseok a sideways glance that makes him remember how you said you were trying to protect them all.

He smiles at the memory.

Yoongi looks, nonplussed, at a girl who walks right up to him and asks his name.

He keeps her waiting just long enough that the confidence in her eyes starts to falter, then he lets her tug him away from Namjoon and Hoseok.

‘Fucking Min Yoongi,’ Namjoon says, but there’s affection in his voice.

‘The only man I’ve ever seen who can make women go crazy for him just by existing,’ Hoseok agrees. 

He grabs a drink, watching in amusement as Namjoon executes a well-timed dimple flash at a very beautiful woman wearing a white crop top.

He follows it up with a casual flex of his arms, because he’s always been an overachiever.

Soon enough Namjoon’s got his arm around her, but he’s still looking around for you.

‘Hobi, have you seen Scraps recently?’

‘Don’t worry,’ Hoseok jokes, ‘I can babysit your baby sister for you.’

It’s a dumb joke, a throwback to when Namjoon’s overprotectiveness was a running joke amongst the group. 

Hoseok only realises how it would sound to you when he sees the stricken look on your face. 

You’re too slow, and too upset, to hide it. 

Hoseok’s heart stops seeing you frozen in your tracks, barely two feet away.

You react first, tearing your eyes away from his, veering away from him even as he says your name and reaches for you.

Hoseok looks to Namjoon. He shrugs. ‘Let her cool off. We can talk to her tomorrow, ok?’

Hoseok can’t let you walk away, not like this. He starts after you.

By the time he finds you, you’re under some guy’s arm, smiling up at him. 

Hoseok says, ‘hey, can we talk?’

The guy’s arm tightens around you like he owns you, setting Hoseok’s teeth on edge.

You smile, but there’s a look in your eyes Hoseok’s never seen before.

‘Don’t worry, Hobi. I’m fine. Enjoy your night.’

Then you’ve turned away, and there’s only so much of the guy’s hands on you that Hoseok can watch before he’s turning away too.

***

Hoseok’s got the kitchen smelling like coffee and fresh bread by the time you make an appearance the next morning.

You give him a smile of genuine pleasure as you accept your mug of coffee.

Hoseok doesn’t want to sour the mood but he needs to set the record straight.

‘About last night,’ he says.

Your smile doesn’t dim. ‘It’s fine Hobi,’ you insist.

‘No,’ Hoseok says, ‘What I said— it was just a stupid joke. No one thinks of you as an annoying baby sister. I don’t think of you that way.’

You search his gaze.

‘It’s ok,’ you say. 

Hoseok knows that it’s not ok, he can hear it in the brittleness of your voice, he can see it in the way your eyes are shiny with tears.

You turn away. ‘I should pack. Thanks for the coffee.’

Hoseok says, ‘let me drop you off at the train station.’

***

You’re quiet as Hoseok drives, your seatbelt tight over your puffy jacket. 

‘I’ll be in your neck of the woods next month,’ Hoseok tells you.

‘Yeah?’ you ask. You smile. ‘Let me know if you want to meet up ok?’

There’s a pause, then you say, carefully, ‘don’t feel obliged though.’

Hoseok wants to go back in time and punch himself in the face for what he said.

‘I want to,’ he says.

You’re looking out the window, at the icy road, the January slush.

Hoseok parks up, and you turn to him, lips parting to thank him because you’ve always been sweet like that.

He leans over, across the centre console and kisses you.

You let out a soft breath that makes him feel a little crazy for you.

Your lips are sweet and warm. You taste like coffee and cinnamon.

Hoseok pulls away to check your expression.

‘Is this ok?’ he asks.

You nod so quickly he’s endeared. ‘Yes Hobi.’

Your hand’s curled around his neck like you don’t want to let him go.

‘I’m gonna talk to Namjoon,’ Hoseok tells you. ‘If you’re ok with that.’

‘What are you gonna say?’ you ask.

‘I’m gonna say that I like you,’ Hoseok says. He puts his hand on yours. ‘That I’m gonna ask you out.’

The smile you turn on him is so pretty he kisses you again.

***

Hoseok parks up outside your apartment. 

You’re at the door to greet him like you often do when he and Namjoon get back after a job.

The smile on your face falters even though he tries his best to smile back at you.

‘Hey, let’s get inside before you freeze, ok?’ 

He’s never been inside your apartment before, and he wants to look around but as he unzips his jacket you step forward and snuggle yourself into his chest for a hug.

Hoseok has a lot to say to you tonight but for now he lets himself lean into you just a little.

You smell so good. 

You’re looking up at him now. 

‘You spoke to my brother,’ you say, flat. It’s not a question.

‘I did,’ Hoseok says, figuring he might as well just come out and say it.

‘And.’

‘Namjoon’s worried about us dating,’ Hoseok tells you.

You’re both still standing in your hallway, next to the door.

You reach out and take his hand. 

‘Let’s talk about it,’ you say. ‘Stay for a bit.’

There’s a nervous energy to your posture as you wash up after dinner. Hoseok dries the dishes after you wash them, stacks them up.

You turn off the tap and turn to him. 

‘Want tea?’ you offer.

‘Let’s sit,’ Hoseok says.

You take the opposite end of the couch, pull a cushion into your lap.

‘Hey,’ you say, hesitant. ‘You don’t have to feel —‘ 

You pause like you’re searching for the word, but Hoseok thinks you’re just worried to say it.

He reaches for your hand.

‘You’re not going to hurt me if it was all a mistake,’ you say, and your candour takes Hoseok’s breath away.

You smile like you mean it. ‘We can forget it ever happened. You felt bad and we kissed. It’s no big deal.’

Hoseok can’t believe what a mess he’s made of this.

‘You’re right,’ he says. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, because I like you. I like you a hell of a lot.’

He reaches out to cup your face. 

‘I didn’t kiss you because I felt bad,’ he tells you, quietly. ‘I kissed you because I’ve been wanting to for years.’

‘I want to kiss you right now,’ he admits. ‘I promised your brother —‘

You cut him off by leaning close.

God he can smell your shampoo, familiar and sweet.

‘Forget my brother, Hobi. Do you want to kiss me now?’

Hoseok already knows he’s not going to say no to anything you ask for.

***

He’s lost track of time a little, lying in your bed like this, nothing but snow outside your window.

You’re in his arms, and he likes how you feel, all soft and warm.

He can’t believe he gets to hold you like this, that you’re burrowing your face into his neck.

Your lips press against his skin, and then there’s a thrilling moment when he isn’t quite sure it’s your tongue flicking against his neck.

Then your parted lips press against his skin and you suck.

Hoseok groans, hand coming up to tangle in your hair.

His cock presses against the seam of the nice jeans he put on because he wanted to look good for you.

He’s hard as you are soft.

From here he can see straight down your top, the curved mounds of your very pretty tits.

He can see the outlines of your nipples, pressing against the silky fabric. 

‘Can I touch you?’ he wants to know.

You lift your lips off his skin, and the look you give him is so heated he can’t stop himself.

He kisses you again, hungrily, revelling in the feel of your soft breaths against his cheek.

You whimper as he hooks a thumb under the strap of your top, tugging it off your shoulder. 

You do the same to the other strap, and Hoseok could cry at the sight of you.

He kisses over the tops of your breasts, moving slow, savouring the feel of you.

He flicks his tongue over a nipple, and a moan falls from your lips. Hoseok puts his lips to your nipple and sucks. Your hand curls around the back of his neck.

‘Don’t stop, Hobi,’ you plead. Hoseok doesn’t answer, can’t answer with your breast in his mouth, so he slides his hand around to your back, pulling you closer. 

You’re moving against him with that careless grace he’s always liked. He’s no slouch at controlling his movements but he loves the way you press against him. He likes the way your hips rub against his, the friction against his aching cock just enough.

You’re spreading your legs under him, your fingertips hooking into the waistband of his jeans.

‘Can I touch you?’ you ask, so sweet and polite Hoseok wants to worship you and defile you, not necessarily in that order.

‘Touch me, baby,’ he says, voice low, raspy.

You undo his jeans carefully, drawing him out as he pushes his jeans down. 

Your hand wraps around his cock, gentle, careful. You slip your thumb over the head, twisting slightly, making his hips rock into your hand.

‘You feel nice,’ Hoseok says, encouraging. He can’t look down, can’t watch you stroking him, because it’s too much. He might cum watching you, and he’ll be damned if he blows his load before he gets inside you.

‘Can I touch you?’ he asks, politely if not as sweetly as you asked.

‘Yes,’ you say, lips parted slightly as your hand tightens around his cock. 

‘Here, baby?’ Hoseok asks. He pulls your loose sweats down, admires the smooth warm skin of your thighs. He splays his hand over your skin, slips a thumb under the centre panel of your panties, right over your core.

He groans at how wet you are. 

‘For me?’ he asks, teasing.

Your eyes meet his, serious and dark as his fingers start to move inside you.

‘For you,’ you say, lip caught under your front teeth, plump, pink.

Hoseok curls a hand around himself, over your fingers, trying not to groan at the pleasure of it.

‘This is for you,’ he tells you.

‘I want it, Hobi,’ you say, voice breathless, high as he rubs his thumb over your clit.

‘You can have me,’ he promises.

He means it in so many ways he can’t say. He means you already have him, you’ll always have him, but he can’t tell you all that right now in this drugged haze of pleasure he finds himself in.

Hobi tries to show you instead.

He enters you slow, confidence building as he watches you writhe on his cock.

Your cheeks are warm, eyes bright, and you’re so beautiful he feels blinded.

So he closes his eyes.

Presses his lips to your skin.

Rocks against you, cock so hard he’s worried he’ll hurt you. Would be worried if it weren’t for the pleasured sounds falling from your lips.

You sound so pretty panting into his ear, gasping his name. 

Hoseok can feel the way you push up to meet him, thrust for thrust, ankles locked in the small of his back.

It’s so you that it pulls him out of his head for a moment. You’ve always given as good as you got, always supported Namjoon, pushing against him trying to keep you out of trouble.

Your hand on his cheek makes his eyes fly to yours.

‘Hey,’ you say, a question in your eyes even as you hold him close to you.

‘I can’t,’ Hoseok says. 

‘It’s ok,’ you say, simple, easy. 

Like you’re the one comforting him.

Hoseok pulls out, laying on top of you, hard and aching. 

He’s breathing quick, harsh. 

You kiss him on the cheek with such tenderness he wants to cry.

‘It’s ok, Hobi.’ The sadness in your voice makes his heart crack, just a little.

Then you’re sitting up, getting dressed. It’s dark now, he can just about make out the silhouette of you against the window.

You’re beautiful even when he can barely see you. He knows you so well his mind can fill in the blanks.

Hoseok feels like the worst kind of asshole. He shouldn’t have come here. Shouldn’t have touched you, let alone fucked you. And now you’re sitting by the window. It’s too dark to see your face.

You say, ‘hey, Hobi. It’s ok. We both love Joon.’

Hoseok gets up, kneels at your feet, your legs curled up in the armchair.

‘I’m sorry.’

There’s the faintest sigh, a thickness to your voice that hurts his heart. 

‘Me too, Hobi.’

***

Hoseok, Namjoon and Yoongi arrive back at Namjoon’s to a darkened house. 

Namjoon, always on high alert, is already on his phone calling you before Yoongi’s even flicked on the lights.

Hoseok’s up the stairs before he realises he’s moving. Your door’s slightly ajar, one look and he can see you’re not there.

Namjoon’s on the phone, his voice low, terse. ‘I’ll come and get you.’

He turns to them. ‘She’s down the block. I’ll walk her back home.’

‘What happened?’ Hoseok asks immediately, voice too brisk, snapping in his panic.

‘She’s fine,’ Namjoon answers. He’s already half out the door.

It’s only fifteen minutes before you and Namjoon are stomping on the mat before entering the kitchen, but Hoseok realises how tense he’s been when he sees your face.

You look a little tired and cold, and Hoseok notices you’ve got Namjoon’s jacket on, fluffy house slippers on your feet.

‘Someone knocked when we were out,’ Namjoon says. He looks tense, still. 

‘It was probably nothing. I shouldn’t have run,’ you say. You’re slipping Namjoon’s jacket off, Hoseok can see you’ve only got a thin t-shirt on underneath. 

You turn to Namjoon. ‘I’m going to bed. I really don’t think it was anything to worry about, Joon.’

Namjoon looks unconvinced, but he says nothing.

You nod to Yoongi and flick your gaze to Hoseok. He hasn’t seen you since he left your apartment that last time. 

You look at him for a moment, almost like you’re expecting to say something. 

Hoseok can think of a million things he wants to say to you, but he’s too slow. 

You’re stepping past him, careful not to touch him like he was never inside you. 

***

Hoseok’s trying to reach the cereal box on the top shelf, damn Namjoon and his long reach, when you enter the kitchen quietly one morning.

You’re in the clothes you went out in the night before, and he startles you so badly that your heels drop to the tiled floor with a clatter.

You look at them, and him, and decide to play it out with breathtaking audacity.

‘Good morning Hoseok,’ you say, like you have every reason to be in a very tight, very short black dress at 8am on a Sunday. 

‘Hi,’ Hoseok replies. ‘Want breakfast?’

You look at his arm, still outstretched, and reach under the table to pull out a step.

You hop up on it and get the cereal box down for him.

‘Joonie does it on purpose so I don’t finish the good cereal,’ you say, rolling your eyes.

Hoseok laughs, and you do too.

Your laugh is pretty, and Hoseok realises with a pang that it’s been a while since you last smiled at him like this.

‘Late night? Who’s the lucky guy?’ Hoseok asks, trying to sound casual.

The smile drops from your face as soon as the question leaves his mouth.

‘Ah, no one,’ you say. You’re stepping away carefully, sliding along the counter, picking up your shoes. You laugh, but it sounds forced. ‘Nothing happened.’

Hoseok says, ‘Scraps?’

‘Scraps is exactly what I am,’ you say. You sound like you’re joking, but there’s no humour in your expression. 

Hoseok’s reaching for you, but you’re turning to head up the stairs. 

***

Namjoon says, ‘we need another driver, Jimin’s still out with his wrist.’

‘What about Minjun?’ suggests Hoseok. 

‘He’s not free tonight,’ Namjoon replies.

‘Scraps?’ asks Yoongi.

‘I know you didn’t just suggest my sister for our most dangerous job in months,’ Namjoon says, eyes narrowed at Yoongi.

‘She’s like a sister to me too,’ Yoongi says, evenly. ‘Getaway is low risk.’

‘Not no risk,’ counters Namjoon.

‘Scraps is pretty good at looking after herself,’ Yoongi points out.

‘We’re not getting her involved in this,’ says Namjoon, sharply.

‘Involved in what?’ you ask. 

Hoseok looks up at you, and like always, is struck by how lovely you look. 

‘We need another driver for tonight’s job,’ Yoongi says to you.

‘And you’re not it,’ Namjoon says. 

‘I can help, Joon.’

‘She can ride behind me,’ Hoseok says. ‘We’ll convoy her.’

Namjoon gets up. ‘We could ask Haru.’

You stop him from pacing, gently, a hand on his arm. 

‘I can do it Joon.’

Namjoon looks at all your faces, the indecision on his face writ clear for all to see.

Gentle, as always, you tug at his arm. ‘Let’s take a walk, Joonie.’

‘It’s cold outside,’ Namjoon grumbles, but he’s already following you out the door.

It’s nearly an hour before you come back, flushed from the cold, shivering.

‘Hoseok, you’re in front like always, Yoongi you pull up the rear. Scraps will ride in between and she’s not getting out.’

Yoongi snorts. ‘It took you an hour freezing your balls off to work that out?‘

You lift the bag you’ve got dangling from your hand. 

‘We got take-out too.’

The smile on your face is infectious.

***

Hoseok starts his engine, hands moving to the steering wheel and the stick shift automatically. He glances in the mirror. There’s just enough light to see your face.

You stick your tongue out at him, and Namjoon, beside you, says something that makes you laugh. 

 Yoongi’s lights flick on behind you, reflecting against the stark white walls of the parking garage. Taehyung and Jungkook are riding with him. 

Jimin hits the gate switch, the shutters concertina up, and Hoseok does his customary rev as he rolls out. 

He drives slow initially, letting you get used to the pattern of his driving. He drives through an intersection, through the part of town where tight streets give way to wider lanes and longer stretches of dark. 

He rolls into a slip lane, joining the highway. The hand on the speedometer swings round steadily as he picks up the pace. 

You’ve found a rhythm now, keeping just the right amount of distance between you. Hoseok knows Yoongi, behind you, will take care of the rest.

He can’t see Namjoon but he imagines he’s sitting back in his seat.

Hoseok puts pressure on the accelerator. 

He drives, like he always does.

***

So far everything’s going to plan. Namjoon, Tae and Jungkook are out on the job, Hoseok’s circling the block, keeping an eye out.

There’s movement out of the corner of his eye, and Hoseok slows to get a better look.

The car pulls out in front of him quickly, too quickly.

Hoseok sees the gun, but he’s already reacted to it. 

In his lifetime of driving up front, his reflexes have never let him down. 

His car turns into the collision, headlights from the upcoming vehicle shining right in his window, blinding him. 

He’s cut it fine, but he’s done just enough. 

The other car hits him side on, crashing into the tail end of his car as he spins.

The impact is always jarring, no matter how much he tries to brace.

His airbag doesn’t deploy, thank god for small favours. 

Hoseok comes to a complete stop with his arms braced over his head.

He turns his head, looking for you. 

Your car’s stopped, lights on. 

He can’t see you. Fuck, where are you?

The passenger door’s wrenched open, and you’re climbing over, undoing his belt, calling his name.

‘Get back in the car,’ Hoseok tells you, urgently. ‘There’s a gun.’

‘Not without you,’ you say. ‘Come on, Hobi, get your ass in gear.’

Hoseok climbs out after you, staggers to your passenger seat. 

He risks a glance at the other car. The driver’s slumped over the wheel. 

Yoongi rolls up alongside you. ‘Get the fuck out,’ he commands. ‘Scraps, take Hobi and go. I’ll take care of the rest.’

You’re still looking at him, so Yoongi promises you, ‘I’m not coming back without Joon. Go, Scraps.’

You reach over and buckle Hoseok in. ‘Are you hurt?’ you ask. Your hand cups his cheek.

‘I’m good, Scraps. Let’s go.’

***

Hoseok’s never been driven by you before. 

If he had to compare driving styles, he’d say you’re most similar to Yoongi. 

There’s a quiet confidence about the way you drive, it’s unflashy but he likes it.

You’re driving down Samo Hills by the time Hoseok’s phone lights up.

‘Joon’s with Yoongi. They’re all fine,’ Hoseok tells you.

For the first time tonight, your hands tremble on the wheel.

‘Pull over,’ Hoseok says. 

He puts his hand on your shoulder, feels the way you’re shaking.

‘Pull over, baby,’ he says.

You pull into a layby, cut the engine.

The lights fade out, and it’s so dark he can’t see you at all.

All he can hear is the hitches in your breathing as you cry, and Hoseok’s so sick of not giving in to you.

He pulls you into his arms.

He comforts you the way he wanted to that night he came to your apartment.

‘You’re ok, baby,’ he tells you, smoothing your hair, stroking your back, holding you tight.

Your tears wet his face, and Hoseok swipes his thumbs over your soft cheeks.

‘Don’t cry, Scraps, please,’ he pleads.

‘I thought you were hurt,’ you sob, words staccato, drawing gasps of breath in between.

Hoseok’s pretty sure he’s bruised if not broken a couple ribs, but there’s no way he’s telling you that.

‘I’m fine,’ he tells you, tilting your chin. Your eyes search his face, lips parted slightly.

‘I’m gonna kiss you, is that ok?’ he asks.

You nod. 

Hoseok nudges in close, breathes in your scent, and kisses you with all the longing he’s felt for you.

Since you first started hanging out with him after school. 

Since he saw you with that absurdly cute backpack strapped to you.

Since that New Year’s eve where he had to watch another man touch you when it should have been him with his arm around you.

Hoseok’s not going to let himself make the same mistakes again.

You’re whimpering in his ear, soft sounds making his cock surge in his pants, making him chub up for you.

Hoseok leans the seat back as far as it’ll go, watches as you look him over.

‘Come sit on me,’ he says, his voice that raspy low tone he gets when he’s turned on.

You climb over him gracefully, all legs and big eyes. 

Hoseok pulls you down to him. Your hips move against his, and he groans. 

‘I want you, Hobi,’ you say, quietly, eyes shining.

‘You have no idea how much I want you,’ Hoseok replies. 

There’s a devilish spark in your eye. 

‘How much do you want me?’ you ask.

Hoseok blinks at you.

Christ. Are you pouting at him?

You’re undoing your jeans, the sliver of pink panties enough for his cock to press uncomfortably at the seam of his pants.

‘You left me all wet for you before,’ you say, when Hoseok doesn’t reply. 

Hoseok can’t stop his groan as you push your jeans down and travel your fingers under the band of your panties.

‘You’re gonna make me cum just watching you,’ he tells you. 

‘Are you hard for me?’ you ask, feigning innocence.

‘I’m so fucking hard,’ Hoseok tells you, honestly.

‘Show me.’

Hoseok undoes the fly of his pants, pushes them down. He watches as your eyes drop to the outline of his cock.

‘We haven’t got a lot of room,’ you say. 

You tug your panties aside and roll your hips over his bulge.

Hoseok puts his hands on your hips. 

‘You gonna let me in?’ he asks.

He draws himself out of his briefs, hard, leaking, already sensitive.

You brace a hand against the window and scoot forward. 

Hoseok grabs your hips and pulls you down onto his cock.

‘Hobi,’ you cry, as he fills you.

‘Yeah?’ he asks. ‘You like me like that?’

You moan instead of answering, and Hoseok jerks his hips up against you.

 ‘Answer me,’ he says.

‘I like you inside me,’ you say, moaning as he bucks up again.

‘I like being inside you,’ Hoseok tells you. He squeezes your hip. ‘Fuck! You feel so good.’

He lifts up your top, pushes your lacy bralette up so he can touch your skin.

Fuck your tits look beautiful. 

You look beautiful.

You’re biting your lip as you ride him, all slick and sweaty and breathless, and Hoseok could watch you forever.

He pushes up against the footwell, bucking up into you, hips slamming up into yours.

He can tell you’re close by the way you’re clenching around him, by the way your voice has gone high as you pant his name.

He pulls you down against him, mouth open against your skin, whispering praise to you as you take him.

You tell him you’re cumming, and Hoseok can’t hold back. He flexes up into you, grunting as he releases, hot streaks of cum that roll down his cock as you move your hips. You moan and bury your face in his neck.

Hoseok curls his arms around you, taking the weight of you, and closes his eyes. 

Why has he spent so much time fighting this? You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

***

Hoseok stirs when you start moving. You put a hand on his chest, and he brings his own hand up to cover it.

You look at him, uncertainly.

‘Stay,’ he says.

He’s hardening again, the head of his cock pushing against your folds, so close because he hadn’t moved after he’d softened out of you the first time.

He shifts, moving so he’s on top of you, between your legs.

You’re looking up at him, eyes so wide he can’t help himself. 

He kisses you again.

He pulls back just long enough to ask if he can enter you again.

This time, it’s slow. 

Hoseok kisses you as he thrusts, your eyelids, your cheeks, the hollow between your collarbones. 

‘I’ve missed you,’ he tells you. 

His reward is a smile so bright it could light up the world.

The pleasure’s building, slow, and he thinks he could keep going like this, make you cum on his cock. 

So he does. He rocks his hips against yours, whispering praise in your ear as he fucks into you.

You’re getting tighter now around him, arching against him.

He knows you’re close. ‘Hey,’ he says, raspy, low. 

Good girl that you are, you moan, ‘yes, Hobi?’

‘Cum for me,’ he urges, reaching down, squeezing your ass.

He moves faster, which you seem to like. 

He feels like he’s hurtling to the edge of a precipice, pleasure surging. 

For a moment, he’s suspended.

Then he falls, and he takes you with him.

***

By the time Hoseok rolls back into the parking garage, the dawn’s starting to break.

He parks up in his usual space. 

You’re climbing out the other side of the car, greeting Namjoon in a tight hug, grabbing Yoongi’s arm when it looks like he’s about to pretend he doesn’t want to hug.

Hoseok grabs Namjoon after you’re done with him, because he’s his closest friend, and last night was a hell of a lot.

Namjoon’s hold is tight, strong, sore on his broken ribs but Hoseok wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything.

He exchanges a look with Namjoon as he pulls away. 

He has a feeling Namjoon already knows what he’s going to say before he turns to you, holding out his arm.

‘Come on Scraps, let’s go to bed.’

You curl into his side. 

©hamsterclaw 2022

the retreat | jhs

(or, the one where namjoon just wants hoseok to take care of himself, but then there's a fake relationship, only one bed, a guy who doesn't talk, and maybe a weird cult.)

✤ pairing: hoseok x f. reader ✤ genre: childhood bf2l, fake dating-ish au; crack, fluff, smut ✤ rating: explicit. minors do not interact. ✤ warnings: there is a lot of talk about food and eating in here, so i would not suggest reading this if you are sensitive to those kinds of triggers. tropes galore! side taegi. 5th muster jimin from that one vcr. hobi is pansexual and i do not wanna hear from the weirdos during pride month, or ever. he is a millionaire tho so he's not off the hook. a slight astrological dragging. a strained mother-daughter relationship. the smut is not super explicit or detailed but warnings are as follows: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), biting, hair pulling, hobi may or may not rip a pair of underwear, fingering, protected vaginal sex. a brief but canonical breaking-the-fourth-wall appearance by park bogum. beta'd by me, so any mistakes are my own. ✤ wordcount: 19.6k ✤ thank you: @the-boy-meets-evil, as always, for the encouragement and reading every draft of this. @hot-soop for both the astrological advice and advice in general. @effortandmore for reading this over recently and telling me it was worth finishing. i would get absolutely nothing done without the three of you. ✤ author's note: i was supposed to have this posted for jess's birthday two years ago. we're not gonna talk about that, because this just means i'm a month early for this year. happy early birthday, jess! anyway~ this is basically a 20k love letter to jung hoseok bc i miss him. i hope you enjoy it.

Jung Hoseok is overworked.

(He’s also filthy rich, the proud owner of not one but two Lamborghinis [that he doesn’t even drive], and smiling on the cover of Forbes. He has a top floor penthouse in the most expensive high-rise in the city and a vacation home along the Italian coast. When he needs to go on a business trip, his driver takes him straight to the tarmac where he boards a private plane. His tailor just sends him clothes now, the cost of dressing Jung Hoseok far outweighed by the dozens of other filthy rich men who flock to his store to buy whatever he’s wearing.)

Jung Hoseok is also going to have a stroke and die before the age of 30, because what’s a little money at the expense of his mental well-being and cardiac health?

“All things considered, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go out,” he argues, clammy palms flat on his expensive desk. Rosewood, because not only is he a millionaire, he’s a millionaire with taste. None of that monochromatic minimalist bullshit for him, thank you.

In front of him, Kim Namjoon also looks to be on the verge of a stroke. Not of the same variety. Namjoon is paid well because he works for Hoseok and Hoseok insists on it. None of that heartless, dickhead-to-everyone, impossible-to-work-for CEO reputation for him, either, thank you.

Namjoon is also a militant vegan and has twenty-six plants and one bonsai on his desk named Bonnie. He insists on spending his lunch breaks in Hoseok’s office, lecturing him on the benefits of plant-based diets and exercise and meditation. Despite his perpetual smile and sunny demeanor, no one else speaks to Hoseok this way, but Namjoon does. Absolutely doesn’t give a shit.

“It absolutely would be the worst way to go out. Have you even been listening to me?”

Hoseok sighs and closes the symptoms of a stroke tab in his browser. “I always listen to you, Namjoon, I just don’t always listen.” A smart choice, too, judging by the swamp-colored sludge Namjoon has in a glass container, because he doesn’t use plastics.

Following his boss’s line of sight, Namjoon frowns. “It’s a pitaya bowl. Don’t look at it like that.”

“It looks radioactive,” Hoseok says, face contorted in a wince. “Like it’s going to become sentient and sprout six arms.”

Namjoon scoffs. “If it does, I hope it uses all six of them to slap the shit out of you.”

“I could pay it to spare me,” Hoseok insists, chin jutting out indignantly.

One of the reasons Hoseok had all but demanded HR hire Namjoon—despite there being a plethora of other candidates who were just as qualified and nowhere near as hell-bent on him taking care of himself—was his grit and determination. He’d showed up two hours early to his interview and steamed his suit jacket in the employee bathroom. It was completely insane and even more neurotic, but Hoseok had been taken with him immediately.

Now, it seems that determination and hard-headed nature is coming back to bite Hoseok in the ass.

“Oh, yeah? You’re gonna pay your blood to not get cut off from your brain and your heart, too? Well, good for you, Hobi. I heard blood has even started taking American Express. You’re in luck—”

Unable to take anymore, Hoseok groans and waves his arms to cut him off. “Okay, I get it! God, why did I hire you? Your desk alone has to be violating at least fourteen different health codes. Your office is humid. Do you know how impossible that is to achieve outside of a greenhouse?”

“You hired me because I’m good at my job and I’m not afraid of you, so I have no issue slapping your fourth double bacon cheeseburger of the day out of your greasy, on-the-brink-of-dying hands. Christ, you act like it’d actually kill you to eat a vegetable for once.”

Hoseok squawks. “Hey! That definitely didn’t come up in the interview, and I have never eaten four cheeseburgers in a day. Stop being hyperbolic.”

“Speaking of things that start with hyper- and have a Bin them, hyperbaric therapy is great for people with infections from oxygen-starved tissue—”

“Is this what you do all day? You just sit on the internet and search for diseases I could potentially die from and then you come in here and harass me about them?”

Namjoon’s face, which had previously been scrunched up in righteous indignation, smooths over into something far more serious. (He doesn’t even have wrinkles. Namjoon’s skincare routine must be immaculate.)“Someone has a stroke every forty seconds in this country, Hoseok. I wouldn’t joke about this.”

Well, okay. Every forty seconds is far more often than Hoseok had been expecting. Not that he thinks about stroke statistics often, and definitely not outside of Namjoon’s overbearing presence—but, in his defense, it’s not like he’s had much of a reason. He gets a physical and routine blood work done every year and his doctor has never rung any alarm bells, so why would he?

But the resolution with which Namjoon is hammering away at this is definitely giving him pause.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, either. “See, you are concerned! Look, you’re far more likely to stick with something if you don’t overwhelm yourself, so let’s start small, okay? One salad per day. And a real salad, Hoseok—not one of those ones loaded with cheese and bacon and drenched in ranch dressing.”

Hoseok’s jaw snaps closed. “Then what’s the point of eating a salad?”

“To prevent you from dying before your thirtieth birthday. We’ve already established this.”

“Okay,” Hoseok drawls, “but it’s not the salad’s fault if that happens. You shouldn’t take it out on him.”

Namjoon gags. “Leave it to me to work for a man who thinks salads are male.” He casts his gaze skyward. “Please, Lord, if you’re listening, please put me out—”

“Please put me out of my misery first,” Hoseok interjects, also staring at the ceiling. Then, with a leveled glare, he says to Namjoon, “Fine. State your terms.”

“Really?” Namjoon asks, having the audacity to look shocked.

“Yeah, if it’ll get you off my back. I can’t spend one more lunch break in here with you.”

Namjoon smiles. Nothing friendly, either—it’s purely sinister and mocking. Then he says, “Great success!” in a horrible impersonation of Borat and the moment’s gone, lost to the stagnant air conditioning of Hoseok’s office.

Unsurprisingly, Namjoon’s terms include a lot of vegetables.

Hoseok has a private chef, of course, so it’s not like he has to really do much other than smile through the pain. But, really, would it actually kill him to be allowed a steak or some lamb skewers? What had started off as salads for lunch has turned into a full-blown war between the two of them. Hoseok had shown up with cheese and bacon on his salad one time and Namjoon nearly went off the rails, performing a very enthusiastic speech about how Hoseok cannot be trusted when left to his own devices, so here they are.

Namjoon’s trying his hardest to crack Hoseok, and Hoseok wouldn’t have become the CEO of a Fortune 500 company by the age of twenty-eight if he were so easily cracked.

So, yeah, here they are. Locked in a stalemate like two idiot deer with their antlers tangled together, except instead of feuding over territory or a mate, they’re ready to spear one another over vegetables.

Darwin would have a lot to say about this.

On Friday, at exactly one-o’clock on the dot, Namjoon barges into Hoseok’s office and slaps a stapled-together pile of papers onto his desk. “New terms.”

“Oh, no thank you,” Hoseok replies airily. “I’m not much of a Dua Lipa fan.”

“Wha—that’s ‘New Rules.’”

“Is it?” Hoseok’s smiling, eyebrows raised in that way that makes him look super charming and innocent.

Namjoon isn’t fooled, though. “Cut it out. I saw you eating ribs under your desk the other day. You owe me this.”

Not much shocks Hoseok, but being outed like this so brazenly sure does. “How did you know about that?”

“Uh, did you forget your office walls are made out of glass?” Namjoon twirls a finger in a circle, as if to say look at your four glass walls, you fucking idiot. Isn’t it great to be rich and have no privacy? “Not to mention you had a glob of barbeque sauce on your shirt that I could smell from a mile away.”

“I could’ve put it on my salad,” Hoseok reasons.

“Oh, please.” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Six ribs and a side of potato salad does not a salad make.”

“What do you mean? It’s literally called potato salad, isn’t it? God, you’re uptight.”

Namjoon sucks in a deep breath, most likely reciting meditation mantras in his head while he thinks about his plants. “I didn’t come in here for this,” he eventually says, and Hoseok is honestly impressed at how collected he sounds. “The point is you can’t be trusted, so there’s new terms.”

Grabbing the stack of papers, Hoseok flips through them casually. “And if I don’t agree? Don’t forget I’m your boss.”

“If you don’t agree, I’m posting the security footage of you eating those ribs on Twitter.” Hoseok’s looking positively scandalized now. He wouldn’t. Namjoon wouldn’t do that to him. “Honestly, Hoseok. You should be ashamed of yourself. You looked like that video of that oversized baby covered in peanut butter.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Hoseok asks, eyes narrowed. “Seriously, who are you? Because the man standing across from me is not my sweet baby Namjoon. Sweet, sweet Namjoon, who always checks the toilet bowl before he uses it because he saw one of those videos from Australia of a snake being in there and he’d feel too guilty to even piss on a snake—”

Namjoon plants his palms on Hoseok’s desk and puffs out his chest a little. It’s a great chest, Hoseok must admit. Namjoon had mentioned in passing he’d started going to the gym, so he’s not—“I’m not afraid of you,” Namjoon reminds him. “Try me.”

“I have thirty-two lawyers.”

All Namjoon does is quirk an eyebrow. “I have thirty-thousand Twitter followers.”

“I can fire you.”

“Please do. Capitalism is a scourge on this earth and I no longer wish to participate in it.”

“I can fire you and make sure you never find employment in this city ever again.”

Namjoon shrugs. “Fine by me. I’ve been thinking about moving out of the city, anyway. Too much air pollution and I have no space to garden.”

Two things become clear very quickly: 1. Namjoon is far more cut-throat than Hoseok ever anticipated him being; and 2. Hoseok is woefully underprepared for this particular battle. No matter. He’s business-savvy. There’s no shame in conceding an unwinnable battle if he can still win the war, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“Fine,” he relents after an awkward staring contest that lasts two minutes too long. “What are your new terms, then?”

“You have to go to a wellness retreat.”

Hoseok can’t stop the giggle that bubbles out of his mouth. “Sorry, did you say a retreat? How is that a punishment?”

“It isn’t,” Namjoon says. “It’s meant to reset your body and mind. No phones allowed. Just you and your partner in the refreshing, reinvigorating air of the rainfor—”

“What was that?” Hoseok interjects.

“What, the rainforest part? Don’t worry, it’s safe. You’re not, like, sleeping outside with tarantulas and shi—”

“No, not that. Me and my who?”

“Oh!” Namjoon grins. “Your partner. See, I did a lot of research and found the absolute best and most effective wellness retreat for people of your… uh, standard. And the man who runs this retreat is incredible. Like, world-renowned. But the catch is it’s a couple’s retreat, so you’ll have to find someone to play pretend with you for a month.”

Hoseok is a great businessman. He’s good at negotiations and managing relationships and making smart, anticipatory decisions. He has the bank account and name plate with accompanying title on his desk to prove it. But, as he takes in Namjoon’s words, the only thing his brain can come up with is the Windows shutdown sound and a glaring blue screen alerting him to danger.

Nevertheless, one of Hoseok’s rules for business is to never let the opposition see him frazzled. “Why don’t you just come with me?” he offers casually, his tone completely at odds with the pained, panicked expression on his face.

“Two reasons,” Namjoon says quickly and without hesitation, as if he expected this and had all the time in the world to prepare a rebuttal. “First, you couldn’t pay me enough to act like we’re a couple. No offense, but you’re kind of insufferable and I would never date a carnivore—”

Hoseok clicks his tongue. “Wow. Some offense taken.”

“—Second, someone has to stay behind and hold down the fort if you’re going to be gone for a month.”

“Why can’t Brad do it?” Hoseok asks. This time his strained tone completely gives him away.

“You don’t trust Brad.”

Hoseok’s brows furrow. “I never said that.”

“You absolutely did say that,” Namjoon responds immediately, pulling out his phone. “On April nineteenth at approximately ten-twenty in the morning, you said, and I quote, ‘Namjoon, why do you think I hired you? If I had to suffer through having one more Ivy League white guy who played lacrosse and got grandfathered into a fraternity as my assistant, I was going to throw myself down this elevator shaft.’ To which I replied, ‘Oh, you don’t like Brad?’ And you said, ‘Brad’s fine, I guess. I just don’t trust him.’ So, I asked you why, and you said, ‘I wouldn’t trust Brad to order a box of staples, let alone to know the difference between tteokbokki and hotteok—’”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d say at all,” Hoseok lies. It absolutely sounds like something he’d say at ten-twenty in the morning on the nineteenth of April. “Also, did you really make a note of that? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Namjoon fires back. “I obviously took a voice recording of it first and transcribed it later. Sometimes I listen to it on repeat when I really want to strangle you and it calms me, because it serves as a reminder that if I go to prison for attempted murder, Brad will take my job. And we can’t have that, because you might simply distrust Brad, but I fucking hate him.”

Hoseok gapes a little. “We sure can’t,” he agrees. Tense air settles between the two of them as they both wait for the other to make the first move. Namjoon’s patient, having already played his hand knowing Hoseok has nothing to trump him, but Hoseok’s stubborn. He’ll drag this out as long as humanly possible. He’ll be ninety years old, on his fourth heart transplant, and still waiting to go on this trip. He’ll—

He’ll have to step down as CEO, because he has, once again, severely underestimated Kim Namjoon.

“Stop thinking so hard. It’s already booked and paid for.”

“With whose money?”

“Company card.”

“Which has my name on it. I’ll just cancel it.”

“It’s non-refundable, but go ahead. You’re still out all that money, though, so you might as well go.”

“I can’t just take a month off,” Hoseok says. He’s grasping at straws now. No one would dare tell him no, even if he wanted to take the next six years off. Human Resources would simply say of course, sir, have a great vacation, sir, see you in six years, sir, and off he’d go.

“Sure you can.” Namjoon stands, wipes his hands on the dress pants stretched to their limit across his thighs, and looks entirely too smug. “Better start looking for a date. Maybe you’ll have some luck on Tinder.”

Bile rises in Hoseok’s throat. “Tinder? Are you joking? I’m too rich to go on there. What if I find a nice date, take them home, and wake up in a bathtub full of ice because they found out who I was and decided to sell my organs?”

“No one would want them,” Namjoon deadpans. “I see the absolute filth you funnel into that body of yours and I can say, with one-hundred percent certainty, that your organs are worthless. Mine, on the other hand. Pristine—”

“Get the hell out of my office. I can’t even look at you right now.”

Good thing, too, because Namjoon’s still wearing that stupid little smirk. The really smug one that infuriates Hoseok to no end because it brings out his dimples, makes him look innocent and cute even though he’s not. The one that gloats Namjoon’s victory, like he’d known all along it was going to end this way. He’d hid those cards so far up his sleeve, Hoseok’s surprised they hadn’t started sprouting from his ears. God, he’s really insufferable. Makes Hoseok’s blood pressure spike something fierce.

“Did you ever stop to consider you’re the problem?” Hoseok calls to Namjoon’s retreating frame. When had he gotten so broad? “That maybe, if my heart does give out, it’ll be because I have to deal with you, the most stressful person on earth?”

“Nah, it’ll definitely be because two of your desk drawers are full of those disgusting oatmeal creme pies.” Somehow, Namjoon looks even more smug as Hoseok tries to discreetly glance at the aforementioned drawers. How does he find out all these things? “Anyway, you leave in two weeks! Good luck in your search. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, sir.”

Just as he’d assumed would be the case, Hoseok has no luck on Tinder.

See, he’d fucked up from the beginning, deciding to be honest and truthful and explain his plight to any sympathetic pair of eyes that may have gazed upon it. He’d also decided to use his real name, and anyone familiar with those List of Billionaires We Should Eat listicles had snuffed him out immediately. Long gone were the days of genuine conversation and playful flirting. Now, Hoseok’s inbox is full of more genitalia than he’s ever seen in his life. He’s literally drowning in it and can’t even take time to appreciate the situation in which he’s accidentally found himself.

He’s absolutely going to kill Kim Namjoon once this is all over.

After getting over the embarrassment of the next day’s MULTIMILLIONAIRE CEO JUNG HOSEOK SPOTTED ON TINDERheadline, because he hadn’t even had the good sense to use Raya, Hoseok resigns himself to scrolling through the contacts list in his phone. He’s not desperate or stupid enough to invite his ex, or any of the myriad of names he can’t put to faces because, despite what Namjoon says, he’s still concerned about his organs, so he also resigns himself to calling you.

His best friend.

Who’s going to spend the rest of her life roasting him over this.

“What a pleasant surprise,” you greet him. “Haven’t heard from you in weeks. Let me guess, you need me to make another burner account and explain to Rose Emoji and Hammer and Sickle Twitter why they shouldn’t eat you?”

“No—”

You tsk. “That’s a shame. I think I missed my calling in life.”

“Being a Twitter troll?”

“Yeah, obviously,” you agree. “Do you remember that time I set up the fake Gofundme to pay for my conservative cousin’s cephalanalectomy surgery because the liberal snowflake surgeon refused to perform it and he was going to die if they literally did not remove his head from his ass? That was fucking gold, Hobi. I’m a natural.”

“You’re definitely something,” he acquiesces. Then he has an idea. “Hey, do you wanna help me troll Namjoon?”

Your silence is deafening. “Uh, that depends.” Oh, Hoseok does not like your hesitation at all. “He has, like, a lot of Twitter followers, so I’m not trying to beef with him publicly, even if it is on a burner account.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afr—what the fuck kind of Twitter following does this guy have?”

“It’s probably better if you don’t know,” you say, voice laced with faux-concern. “I like Namjoon and I’d like him to remain employed by you simply so he can annoy the absolute fuck out of you until the day you either retire or die. So, yeah, let’s keep that between him and I.”

Hoseok feels dizzy. Probably because he’s been eating all these goddamn salads and now he’s nutritionally deficient. “Whatever. I do actually need your help with something, though.”

“You know my rates.”

“Why do I have to pay to hang out with you?” Hoseok whines. “Isn’t my life-long friendship enough?”

You snort. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why is everyone bullying me lately? Can’t you spare a crumb of empathy for your best friend?”

“Empathy machine broke,” you deadpan. “Come on, ask me what my terms are. I already know what I want this time.”

Hoseok sighs. He wouldn’t relent this quickly for anyone else. He has a reputation to uphold, after all. “Fine. What are your—”

“I want a Birkin bag and dinner from that new Brazilian place by your office.”

“That’s a definite no on the bag,” Hoseok says. “I’m not spending that much money on anyone who isn’t my future spouse. We can have dinner, though.”

“I think you misheard me, sunshine. I said I want to go to dinner there. I’m going to gorge myself on expensive all-you-can-eat meats and I do not want to taint my experience watching you shovel a miserable, wilted salad into that pretty little heart-shaped mouth of yours. I’ll get agita.”

“Agi—I can’t believe this,” Hoseok whines, feeling the apples of his cheeks tinge red. “Have you and Namjoon been getting together to conspire against me? Is that why the two of you are bullying me?”

Hoseok expects you to say no. He expects you to say that you and Namjoon don’t even speak, you’d only met him once at that Christmas party a year ago, during which Namjoon spent the entire time waxing poetic about conifers and that time he dropped acid at Yosemite and cried for a week straight. But no. No, you don’t say anything at all, and if Hoseok was feeling bullied and just a little scandalized before, he’s absolutely feeling tortured now.

Namjoon, on his own, is bad.

You, on your own, are worse.

The two of you, together? No. Hoseok simply can’t—and won’t—allow it.

You suck in a breath. “In my defense—”

“You absolute traitor,” Hoseok seethes. “You, of all people, have betrayed me?”

There’s a tiny gasp on the other end of the line. “Oh, come off it, Hobi!” you snap. “Have you ever seen yourself eat? It’s foul. Like something straight out of Animal Planet.”

“It is not!”

“It is, and you know it,” you fire back. “I once watched you eat an entire personal-sized pizza in forty-two seconds. I don’t even think you chewed it. You just detached your jaw like some kind of creepy snake and inhaled. Something needed to be done.”

It’s Hoseok’s turn to gasp. “And that something was going full Judas Iscariot and selling me out to the Romans for thirty pieces of silver?”

There’s a pause on your end. “Is Namjoon the Romans in this scenario? Because, if so, I’ve got to say—”

“Who cares!” Hoseok snaps. “Who fucking cares who the Romans are—”

“The Romans, probably,” you chime in unhelpfully.

“—because the two of you have officially given me agita. How’s that? Huh? First I have to sit through all of Namjoon’s lunch lectures—”

“He should trademark that. Has a nice ring to it. Namjoon’s Lunch Lectures.”

“—then, I had to start eating salads. Salads. Then he signs me up for some stupid wellness retreat in the goddamn rainforest and tells me I have to find a fucking date, so off I go to Tinder, but everyone on there only wanted me for my harvestable organs, so I was like, ‘You know what, Hoseok? You know who you can always count on? Your best friend of twenty years. She’s never let you down. She’ll go with you, and the two of you will have a good time, because she’s your best friend and you enjoy her company.’ But no, come to find out—”

There’s a very loud shriek of laughter. “Oh my god. Holy shit, Hobi, is that really why you called? Namjoon actually signed you up for that couple’s retreat?”

Now, there’s a very loud shriek of disbelief. “You fucking knew about that?” You try to contain your snort. Really, you do, but it’s no match for Hoseok’s palpable ire. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be good for you, sunshine. You’re clearly overworked. You had visible stress lines in the last selfie you posted on Instagram.”

“I did not, I use hyaluronic acid!” he insists, but if Hoseok swipes out of your call to pull up his Instagram account, no one has to know.

You groan. “Why do you keep arguing with me? I’m never wrong.”

“Yes you are.” There’s a very pointed pause during which Hoseok can very clearly, in his head, hear you say see?

“Listen,” you say, voice strong with all the conviction of a person who hadn’t spent the last five minutes being a menace to society—and Hoseok. “I’ll go with you. I have some time off from my program and there’s nothing I’d rather do than spend a whole month in the rainforest with you.”

“I feel like that was sarcastic.”

You tut. “Honestly, Hobi, it’s like you don’t even know me at all. You know number three on my bucket list is going to Costa Rica to hang out with sloths.”

His phone pings a second later with a text from you. An article about a sloth sanctuary greets him, and he swallows the immediate ew that’s on the tip of his tongue. Sloths are cute, sure, but they also have bugs. “Great,” he chokes out. “Are you gonna meet a sloth and turn into Kristen Bell? Because I’m not signing up for that. You look like Kim Kardashian when you cry.”

“Fuck you.” Hoseok is a millionaire, he doesn’t deserve this treatment. “Now, what are your plans for tomorrow night? Let’s do dinner. We need to take a bunch of selfies during sunsets so we look like a plausible couple.”

When he was eight and you were seven, Hoseok witnessed his first act of violence.

A kid on the school bus had been giving him a hard time. Nothing totally awful, just being a bit of a dick the way kids are wont to do, and Hoseok was a pushover back then. Just wanted everyone to like him so he never really stuck up for himself. Just smiled and laughed off the teasing and cried about it later.

Apparently this was unacceptable to you.

You tossed your bookbag in Hoseok’s lap, pushed up your sleeves, made your way to the back of the bus, and told that kid you’d slam his head into the window if he didn’t stop picking on Hoseok.

He’d gotten his head slammed into the window approximately fourteen seconds later.

(Never messed with Hoseok again, though.)

Since then, the two of you have been nearly inseparable. Sure, there had been petty arguments here and there, and Hoseok had gone to an Ivy League across the country, but it was rare for the two of you to go more than a few days without talking. Even now, when Hoseok works eighty hour weeks and is busy being a Very Important Person, he still makes time for you. Sometimes that time is just exchanging stupid memes over text, but he always makes the effort.

Which is why, even though you don’t see the point in crafting some elaborate backstory and had only said the thing about the sunset selfies to con him into coming over, he stays quiet and shows up to your apartment for dinner and worldbuilding anyway, because it’s been too long since he’s last been here and he misses you.

“Are you taking notes?” Hoseok asks, pointing at you with his fork. “This is important.”

You groan into your wine glass. “Fake dating is so hard,” you whine. “Why can’t we just tell the truth?”

He levels you with a stare. “Because! Don’t you think it’s a bit…”

“What, you think it’s totally unbelievable that I could be in love with you?”

Oh. Hoseok doesn’t like this at all, either. Doesn’t like the way the words sound in your mouth. Doesn’t like the way his stomach drops as he digests them. Doesn’t like how nice they sound, like you’d just waded through all the extracurricular bullshit to get straight to the point and arrive at the inevitable conclusion, which is the two of you riding off together into that sunset you’d mentioned before.

He doesn’t like feeling like he might want that.

It’s not like he’s never thought about it. You’re his best friend and he has 20/20 vision, so of course he has. It's always just been one of those things: didn’t want to ruin your friendship, moved across the country, got too busy, didn’t think you’d want him like that in return.

“I—no,” he says unconvincingly. “I just… it’d totally be weird, right? Us pretending to be a couple?” He throws in a chuckle for good measure, as if the thought of dating you is so preposterous it simply has to be a joke.

You just shrug. Where Hoseok is all nervous jitters, you’re solid and unshaken, always. “Not really. We’ve been friends forever. We’re obviously comfortable with each other. You showing up to my place in those disgusting crochet shoes is proof enough of that.”

Hoseok looks down at his feet and frowns. “They’re Valentino.”

“More like Valenti-no.”

He rolls his eyes. “See, that right there is why we can’t wing this. I can’t pretend to like your awful jokes. I’ll out myself immediately.”

You roll yours right back. “Nah, I think it works. You’re obviously the high-strung CEO who doesn’t appreciate good humor when he sees it and I’m the sad housewife who just wants you to laugh at my jokes.” You jut out your bottom lip and pretend to cry. “Why won’t you just laugh at my jokes, Hobi?”

He flicks a green bean at you. “How’d we go from fake dating to fake marriage? Stop trying to swindle me.”

Once again, you pout dramatically. “God, first you refuse to laugh at my jokes, now you refuse to marry me? You’re breaking my heart here.”

“I’m not buying you a ring,” Hoseok scoffs. “I know for a fact you’ll just turn around and sell it for triple the price to some poor, unsuspecting bastard.”

“Not my fault there’s a lot of poor, unsuspecting bastards in the world. All of this just proves, for the billionth time, that I’m the better businessperson between the two of us.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Hoseok sighs. “Just because your lemonade stand outsold mine once doesn’t mean—”

“I also outsold you during that candle fundraiser in the fifth grade. And the candybars during Little League. And that bullshit one in high school with the pineapple pizzas—”

“Fine!” Hoseok throws his hands up. Then, with as little of a grimace as he can muster, he says, “Let’s go to Costa Rica, Mrs. Jung.”

It doesn’t land.

Your jaw drops immediately, an exaggerated gag spilling from your lips. “I changed my mind,” you deadpan. “No marriage for us unless you take my last name.”

“What’s wrong with mine?”

“Feels bad in my mouth. What’s wrong with mine?”

Hoseok rolls his lips together. “Nothing, really. Just—”

“Is this some kind of male pride thing? You refuse to take your wife’s last name for fear of public ridicule and castration jokes?”

“No.” Hoseok glares at you. “It’s just—the reservation’s in my name. Besides, if someone made shitty jokes about you, I’d slam their head into a window, too.”

“Oh.” As soon as your jaw snaps shut, a brilliant smile splits your face. “That was unexpectedly wholesome, Seok. You’re getting soft in your old age.”

Only for you, he wants to say. Instead, he shoves another forkful of rice in his mouth and a copy of the itinerary in your direction.

(For all your bravado and willingness to slam the heads of elementary school bullies into windows, you hate flying. So, if you squeeze Hoseok’s hand too tight and he snaps a photo of it under the guise of how comically purple-red it’s turning, and not at all because it’s the first time you’re holding his hand and some weird, sentimental part of him wants to commemorate it, that’s his business.

If his heart is so full it nearly bursts out of his chest at the sight of you crying over a sloth, and if he memorizes the stars in your eyes as you hold one—not caring about the bugs or the giant claws or the fact that sloth fur kind of looks like a bird nest, algae included—that’s his business.

If he posts the photo of you crying to his Instagram, knowing damn well you’re going to yell at him for it later, and he cackles wildly over Namjoon’s comment:

[namjooning commented: why does she cry like that kim kardashian meme? junghoseok replied: Right? That’s what I said]

—that’s his business. It’s only because he’d said you look like Kim Kardashian when you cry and, if nothing else, Hoseok loves to be proven right. It has nothing to do with wanting to remember you that happy forever. Not at all.

If he feels like he’s going into cardiac arrest when you hug him tightly, murmuring a quiet thank you in his ear on the last night of your stay at the sanctuary, it’s simply because you’re not very tactile. Hugs—and outward affection—from you are rare. That’s all. His skin absolutely does not break out in goosebumps. Doesn’t feel tingly all over. His breathing continues as normal.

If he finally comes to the startling realization that he’s in way too deep when you fall asleep on his shoulder during the drive to the resort, well…

Hoseok may be deadly smart, but he’s always been a complete fool when it comes to you.

If he sends a panicked text to Namjoon asking how he’s supposed to survive the next month, and if Namjoon misinterprets it as an ambitious, live-to-work type-A personality freaking out over not knowing how to unwind and tells him to just take it easy, and Hoseok misinterprets that as go for it, well…

The next four weeks sure are going to be interesting, aren’t they?)

See, the thing about Hoseok is he has all the money and prestige a man of his status could want.

He’s filthy rich, he’s well-respected, he’s kind. People love him. He loves people in return. He’s been called the living embodiment of actual sunshine more times than you or he could possibly count. There’s truly nothing he wants for in this world.

Hoseok is also the type of person who gets anxious at the thought of calling the Malaysian restaurant you two frequent to place a delivery order. Namjoon has to force him to make his own personal appointments under threat of death. He changed doctors because his new one lets him schedule appointments online. He won’t go to a fast food drive-thru unless they have mobile ordering.

It’s just the way Hoseok is. He’s been that way as long as you’ve known him—at least since that time in the fifth grade when his mother once gave him twenty bucks and told him to call the pizza place and order dinner for the two of you and he totally balked, resigning the two of you to toaster oven Ellio’s that tasted way too similar to skating rink pizza to be a coincidence.

Which is why he balks again as soon as the two of you reach the front desk of the resort, shoving you in front of him to talk to the man behind it.

Maybe it’s the raging pansexual inside Hobi rather than his uncharacteristic fear of talking to literally anyone, but you totally get it. You don’t really want to talk to this man, either. He’s ash blond and bathed in golden light, highlighting his already golden skin to look completely ethereal, and he’s got a smug look on his face that tells you he knows exactly how intimidatingly good-looking he is.

Still, you’re not easily shaken. Jung Hoseok is your best friend—and fake boyfriend, lest you’ve forgotten—for fuck’s sake. You’ve committed violence for him. Golden Desk Boy is going to have to try a whole lot harder than this. “Hiii,” you say, lips painted in a saccharine smile. God, you’re so fake. “We’re checking in under Jung.”

The man—whose name badge says Jimin—returns your fake smile. “Great! Thank you so much for joining us for your stay.”

You take a moment to look around while Jimin pulls up your reservation, purposefully skipping over Hoseok’s form. He’s not doing anything, just sitting in a plush armchair as he pretends to read the newspaper, but you feel the flames of annoyance licking at your heels nonetheless, because you wouldn’t be here to begin with if it weren’t for Hoseok and his subordinate micromanager, and what kind of weird place has he brought you to?

Everything is white. Not in the sterile kind of way, because the monotony is broken up with lush greenery and the occasional piece of teak furniture, but there’s enough white for you to wonder if it’s some sort of statement. The floors and walls are white. All the non-wooden furniture is white. Jimin’s silk uniform and teeth are both blindingly white. Not that you’d seen many people since you stepped into the lobby, but the ones you had seen had been wearing white, too.

Jimin looks up from the computer screen and you’re almost surprised to find his irises aren’t white, too. Maybe it’s rude, but he seriously gives you the creeps. “Everything is ready for your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Jung. I’ve requested someone come to retrieve your luggage.”

You gawk. “Oh, we’re not—we’re not married.”

“Oh?” Jimin asks, one perfect eyebrow arched as his eyes twinkle with intrigue.

“Yeah,” you insist. “Not that I need to explain my morals and ethics to a stranger, but I don’t believe in the patriarchy.”

“Really? That’s great,” Jimin lies. This man is overflowing with shithead energy. “Neither do I.”

You scoff. “Oh, sure. That’s why you just assumed my bes—my partner and I were married.”

“That’s what the reservation says.” He looks very amused now. Kim Namjoon is going to receive a very lengthy text message in approximately ten minutes. “I do apologize for this mistake. I’ll make sure to correct it right away.” Amusement slowly morphs into a challenge. “Is there a new last name I can put on the reservation for you instead?”

Call it a hunch, but you think it best to not give this person any of your identifying information. “No.”

“Shall I leave it as Jung, then?”

It physically pains you to say this, but you manage to choke out a very strained, “Yes.”

“Fantastic,” Jimin sing-songs. “I’m very glad we were able to sort out this issue for you, Mr. and Mrs. Jung.”

Choke on a dick and die is what you want to say (for no reason, really; it isn’t like Jimin’s been outright cruel to you), but as much as Hoseok avoids people—and avoids confrontation even more—he appears at your side, looking every bit the sunshine after a storm he always is. “Everything okay?” he asks, placing a gentle hand at the small of your back. “…Dear,” he tacks on as Jimin’s eyes study the two of you.

“Everything’s great!” you chirp, determined to cast away Jimin’s obvious suspicions. “Jimin here says someone’s coming to get our bags.” Another fake, saccharine smile. Like sweet’n low. “He’s been very helpful.”

Everything’s great, in you-speak, translates to I once, foolishly, thought Kim Namjoon was on my side. I now see the errors of my ways and I demand justice and revenge. Fool you once (getting roped into being Hoseok’s fake partner to come to a weird wellness retreat), shame on Namjoon. Fool you twice (allowing him to book the reservation and label you a married couple), shame on you. There won’t be a third time, because Kim Namjoon’s days are numbered once you’re both in the same country again.

“Will you be needing a tour?” Jimin asks, voice tinkling like expensive crystal.

You grasp Hoseok’s hand far too tight to be believable and wave off the receptionist. “No, thank you! Just a map will do. That’s how we met, you know—at a… map… class.”

“A map class?” Jimin parrots. “Riveting.” He smiles. Sweet’n low.

“It sure was!” You turn to Hobi. “Wasn’t it? …Babe,” you choke out. The word tastes so gross on your tongue.

When you look up at him, Hoseok’s wearing that trademark expression of his: the one where his eyes are too wide, tight-lipped smile stretched too thin. Hoseok’s convinced it’s convincing. It isn’t. It’s terrifying and makes your skin feel itchy from the inside. “Mmm, yep,” he agrees easily. “Love a good map. Some good… cartography.” He pinches three fingers together because he’d seen it on The Sopranos and it’s just a thing he does now.

Sometimes you forget Hoseok is rich-rich.

Of course Namjoon had mentioned booking the trip on the company card and of course you know what someone like him having access to a company card implies. It’d implied you were going on an all-expenses-paid trip on some massive company’s dime. But, perhaps naively, you’d just envisioned a fancy hotel room at some resort near a beach. Shoreline bonfires, tiny portions of food on massive plates when you order room service, colorful drinks with tiny umbrellas and a skewer of fruit stuck inside, three-digit price tag.

Instead, the two of you follow the map to a secluded, private house. There’s a balcony. The shower is made entirely of glass and surrounded by the lush greenery outside. The exterior wall in the bedroom is also made of glass and affords you panoramic views of the beach and forest and everything in between. The thread count of the Egyptian cotton sheets is disgustingly low.

(Which, speaking of Hoseok and all his money—he’d been the one to teach you about thread counts to begin with. You’d wrongfully assumed the higher the number the better, but Hoseok had gently grabbed the scratchy 1500 count sheets out of your hands with a pained grimace and handed you a set of Supima cotton sheets with a startlingly low thread count instead.

Rich people have everything backwards.)

Truth be told, it’s exactly the kind of place you’d see on some influencer’s Instagram account. The kind of place they’d delude you into thinking you could afford, too, because having your influencer boyfriend take a picture of you sinking into the lush white duvet and plastering a $10 filter on it is more important than affording your student loan payments.

But you digress.

Either way, you’ll have to send a thank you card to the board of directors.

Hoseok, on the other hand, balks for the second time. Takes one look at the singular bed and completely shuts down, Windows sound effects practically blaring over an invisible loudspeaker above his head once again. “Where’s the other bed?” he asks stupidly.

You snort. Stash your suitcase in the corner. You’ll unpack it later… or next week. Whenever you get around to it, really. “What other bed?”

“You know, like. The other one.”

“There’s only one, Seok. Why would there be two? This is a couple’s retreat.”

He pouts. “Not every couple sleeps together, you know. My grandparents have separate bedrooms.”

“No offense, bud, but your grandfather also wears diapers.”

“So?”

“So there might be a correlation, is what I’m saying.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as your husband of seventy years just because he might pee the bed sometimes?”

You level him with a look. Unpacking doesn’t sound like such a bad idea anymore. “I’m well past the age where I could conceivably be married to someone for seventy years, so it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re not even thirty yet.”

You click your tongue. “Hoseok, you of all people know I never expected to live past the age of thirteen. There’s no way I’m making it to ninety-seven.”

“You only thought you were gonna die when you were thirteen because you had your appendix removed.” You give him another look. “And you got your tonsils removed that same year.” Another one. “What?” he huffs. “What’d I forget?”

“That time we were playing volleyball in gym class and you spiked the ball right in my face and broke my nose.”

“Not a life-threatening injury.”

“Thirteen was a really hard year for me,” you retort, overdramatic as always. “It’s a miracle I survived.”

“Oh my god—”

“A miracle, Hobi.”

With a disapproving shake of his head, he’s off to unpack his luggage, because Hoseok is filthy rich and has expensive clothes that, according to him, cannot, under any circumstances, go hours without being hung up properly. You’ve never seen a silk shirt with a wrinkle in it, let alone a wrinkle on any article of Hoseok’s clothing, but you learned a long time ago it’s much less stressful to just let him be neurotic about his wardrobe.

You, on the other hand, are going to do no such thing. You’ll live out of your suitcase for as long as you can get away with it, so you flop face-first onto the bed, careful to leave your shoes dangling off the edge. Hoseok’s already going to give you shit about—

“Yah!” he wails, his fifteenth white button-down shirt draped haphazardly off a hanger. “No street clothes in the bed!”

You roll your eyes. “Street clothes? Who says shit like that? Most people just have clothes.”

“You’ve been wearing them all day,” Hoseok argues, because there’s very little he loves more than an argument. “They’re dirty, and now they’ve made the bed dirty, too.”

However, to the detriment of Hoseok’s well-being, you love arguing, too. You look down at both your clothes and the pristine duvet and vaguely gesture at both. “Ah, yes. So filthy. The bed—which you’d nearly had an aneurysm over sharing with me not even ten minutes ago, might I add—is so dirty. How will we ever be able to sleep in it?”

Watching Hoseok mentally tabulate through the Seven Stages of Grief is the most entertainment you’ve had in hours. Jaw clenched, he simply stares at you for a few seconds before leveling his voice and repeating, “No street clothes in the bed.” Then he tacks on a please that’s clearly an afterthought. “Didn’t you bring loungewear? Can’t you just wear that instead?”

You did, in fact, bring loungewear. It would’ve been irresponsible not to, considering the length of your stay and proximity to paradise, but stubbornness seems to be the flavor of the day so you just shrug and toe your shoes off. “I’m not going to change. We don’t have long before we have that welcome dinner, anyway. I’m not going to put on loungewear only to change into dinner-wear and then come back, shower, and change again into pajamas.”

Hoseok’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What welcome dinner?”

“Do you not read?” you tease. “There was a whole itinerary attached to the map. We have a welcome dinner tonight with that guy Namjoon’s in love with.”

“Which one?”

You click your tongue. “The guy who runs this place.” Then you furrow your brow. “What do you mean ‘which one’?”

“Nothing. Just—you know how Namjoon is. He falls in love at least eight separate times whenever he goes to the gardening store.”

“Guess he doesn’t herb his enthusiasm.” Hoseok groans loudly as you point finger guns at him.

He lobs a mated pair of socks at your head that bounce off your ass instead. “Please just get ready for dinner. I can’t do this.”

To put it mildly, Kim Seokjin is fucking weird.

Hoseok hadn’t noticed. He’d taken one look at him and his mischievous eyes and welcoming smile and dove right in, engaging him in endless conversation about god-knows-what. That’s just how Hoseok is. Aside from his justifiable distrust of Tinder dates, he makes and keeps friends effortlessly. It’s the sunshine in him, your mother always used to say, because Hoseok was always the sun and everyone else were sunflowers, desperate to bask in him and reflect his light.

(Namjoon has always said it’s because he’s an Aquarius. You don’t know what that means, but you assume it’ll click once you buy a few crystals and start exclusively listening to Fleetwood Mac.)

And that has always been okay—good, even. He’s never lost that innate goodness, even when he’d been placed at the head of a billion-dollar corporation where ruthlessness is encouraged. Hoseok’s edges remain rounded and soft; he emphasizes a need for kindness, shows it has a place amongst the cold, calculated world of business. Really, it’s great. You can’t be more proud to call him your best friend.

However.

It doesn’t mean Hoseok isn’t a fucking idiot sometimes.

Because he’s good, his first assumption is always that others are good, too. No matter how many times you’ve grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him away from a fire, his first instinct is still to reach out and touch it.

His first serious girlfriend, back in high school? Yeah, you’d warned him about her. Told him she was messing around with a kid on the soccer team on the side, but Hoseok had insisted she’d never do that. “She’s into embroidery,” he’d said, as if that excused someone from being a two-timing cheat.

That guy he’d been partnered with for a serious project in business school? You’d listened to Hoseok talk about him over Skype once and suggested he find a new one. Kept silent as he unloaded on you a few weeks later after the guy had fucked him over.

You’d even advised him against hiring Namjoon. Couldn’t fathom why Hoseok would even be considering hiring someone who showed up to an interview hours early. Obviously he hadn’t listened, and look where it’s gotten the two of you.

It isn’t that you’ve got a sixth sense for assholes or anything. It’s just that Hoseok’s such a terrible judge of character that it makes you look like Sherlock Holmes in comparison.

So it comes as no surprise to you when Seokjin excuses himself for a moment and Hoseok turns to you with hearts in his eyes only to be greeted by your Hoseok you’re doing that thing again where you put people on a pedestal who are not to be trusted look.

“No,” he dismisses immediately. “Him? No way.”

Your nostrils flare. “Hoseok. Don’t be an idiot about this. He’s weird.”

“He’s just eccentric. Aren’t all these New Age hippie types like that? The guy runs a wellness retreat for fuck’s sake—of course he’s weird.”

“His vibes are off,” you retort, which admittedly sounds like a New Age hippie thing to say, but the longer Hoseok insists you’re wrong, the more you begin to wonder if you are. The two of you had been sent here by Namjoon, and he’s easily one of the weirdest people you’ve ever met. Maybe Hoseok’s right.

You allow yourself two minutes of self-doubt. Then you’re shaking your head and poking your tongue into the fat of your cheek because you know bad vibes when you feel them and Kim Seokjin has them in spades.

The man in question returns a few moments later, two new men in tow: a taller one with a boxy smile and a tan and a shorter one with a scowl that looks permanent but not on purpose, like it’d just shown up on his face one day and forgot to leave. The grumpy-looking one sits across from Hoseok, looking every bit as unsure as you, while the other one takes the empty seat to his left, right in front of you.

“I’m Taehyung,” he says, ass barely in the chair before he’s leaning over the table to shake your hand. His feels like a hand that’s shaken many others—firm, warm, soft. Feels a lot like shaking Hoseok’s hand might feel, an importance simmering beneath the surface, but you’ve never had a reason to do so. “This is Yoongi.” Taehyung gestures to the man beside him. “He doesn’t talk much but you get used to him, I think.”

“You think?” Hoseok laughs, an eyebrow quirked, fully in his element. Words soft, edges softer. Hoseok was born for these types of moments. Meeting strangers, knowing what to say.

Yoongi stays quiet. Barely looks around the room, which is a feat in itself. Seokjin had invited all of you to dinner in a grand dining hall, walls tall and floors gleaming, both stark white like the rest of the resort. Immediately sat at the head of the table like some sort of king, and you would’ve thought something of it, maybe looked at Hoseok and mouthed what’s this guy’s deal? But then he placed his napkin neatly across his lap, looked at the two of you, smiled dazzlingly, and said, “Is cereal soup?”

It had all gone downhill from there, really.

Now Taehyung and Yoongi are seated across from you and Hoseok and Yoongi still hasn’t said a word and you’re hoping maybe, just maybe, he’s also picking up on how weird all of this is. Taehyung has that exuberant optimism that reminds you a lot of Hoseok so you disregard him as a comrade immediately. Just the kind of guy to love any and everyone, oblivious to bad vibes. No, Yoongi’s the one you need on your side and it’s glaringly obvious.

One small hiccup, though: he really doesn’t talk.

Like, at all.

Taehyung talks enough for the both of them, endearing everyone with a smile and an endless supply of stories told in that deep baritone voice of his. Every now and then he’ll turn to Yoongi and say isn’t that right, dumpling? and Yoongi just hums an acknowledgment. Doesn’t seem put off by the pet name at all, despite looking like someone that’d be put off by pet names.

They’re cute. You mouth as much to Hoseok and he just smiles at you in return, a soft little thing. Yoongi and Taehyung are the kind of couple who give off we’ve been together for decades energy even though they don’t look much older than you. Just two people completely at ease with one another, and it does something to your stomach. All small, hidden touches and words communicated through looks alone. Best friends and lovers. Partners both in crime and in life.

It’s a sweet moment.

It’s a moment completely negated by Seokjin’s booming voice at the head of the table. “Well, this was fun, wasn’t it? Let’s move to the lounge.”

Yoongi doesn’t look to Taehyung. Yoongi looks to you, and it’s only because you’d looked at him instead of Hoseok that you notice the subtle downturn of the corners of his mouth, the slight pinch between his brows. He doesn’t outright ask it, but there’s a question in his body language: What’s this guy’s deal?

It’s one you’d also like an answer to.

Yoongi keeps his eyes on you the entire time the five of you talk in the lounge. Well, Taehyung’s once again speaking for both of them, hands and arms gesturing wildly all around him, and Yoongi seems more than content to sit in silence. Seokjin and Hoseok chime in where they should, asking questions and emphasizing words and generally being agreeable. You, on the other hand, sit next to Hoseok and try to exude the same energy Taehyung and Yoongi do. The we’re so in love and comfortable with each other we don’t even need to touch type. The we only post selfies together three times a year because we don’t need to flaunt our relationship variety.

But, as all inevitable things inevitably do, the conversation moves to relationships. Seokjin sneaks it in under the guise of getting to know everyone, and Taehyung takes the bait immediately, seemingly always looking for a reason to show off Yoongi and talk him up. You hate that it’s endearing. You hate that you want something like it—someone enamored with you without preamble. A just because kind of love. Something solid and bone-deep.

“It was totally by accident,” Taehyung’s saying as your attention drifts back to him. Not soon enough, because he’s clearly halfway through a story and you have no idea what the plot is. “We’d both been backpacking through Europe, and I was trying to check in at this tiny hostel in Thessaloniki but my Greek is terrible, understandably, so I was really struggling. Trying to tell the poor woman behind the desk my name and that I’d booked a private room, and she just kept shrugging and looking at me like I was crazy. It was, like, midnight, so I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, and then out of nowhere this guy”—He jerks his thumb at Yoongi, who remains silent and still—“just comes up behind me and starts speaking fluent Greek.”

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “Fluent Greek? Wow,” he says, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe, “that’s really impressive.”

“You have no idea,” Taehyung continues to gush. “He speaks, like, fifteen languages fluently, I swear to god. Anyway, turns out the hostel never received my reservation, which makes sense because I’d tried booking it from the top of a mountain. Yoongi took pity on me and let me share his room since they were fully booked.”

Seokjin smiles and touches a hand to his heart. It’s completely performative but it works—Taehyung looks like he’s just passed some silent test and won the lottery. “Adorable. And so noble, Yoongi. Not many people would do that for a stranger.”

Yoongi shrugs.

Undeterred, Seokjin turns his attention to you and Hoseok. “How about the two of you? Set up by friends? Blind date?” His beady eyes are studying you both diligently, eyes raking over your face for the tiniest tell. “Childhood friends turned lovers?”

Hoseok coughs.

“We met at a cartography class,” you explain, voice even despite Seokjin’s prolonged eye contact making you want to lock yourself in the nearest bathroom. Hoseok had nearly given the two of you away, and it was all you could do to recall whatever bullshit you had tried selling Jimin to cover your asses.

Yoongi’s fighting off a smile. Taehyung looks enthralled. “Cartography? Whoa, now that’s something you definitely don’t hear everyday.”

“A lost art, if you ask me,” Seokjin says. “Are either of you geographists, then?”

Hoseok tenses, fidgeting ceasing immediately. The two of you hadn’t talked about this—about how honest you wanted to be, how much would be fabricated—so while this is typically the kind of environment he’d thrive in, you pluck the reins from his hands and take over. “Double majored back in undergrad. Geography and psych.”

“Interesting combo.”

You nod. Not the first time you’d heard that. “Well, there are things you want to do and things you should do, so I did both.”

“And what was it you wanted to do?”

You wave your hand, gesturing vaguely. “Ah, you know. You go into university with all these aspirations, have all these starry-eyed ideas. You’re gonna be someone, you’re gonna help people, you’re gonna make an impact and travel all over and be super important. People are gonna pay to hear you speak and all that bullshit.” Hoseok’s looking at you—you can feel it, but you can also see the blurred outline of his profile. “What did I want to do? Something in human geography, maybe cultural or political geography.”

“The psych degree?” Seokjin continues prodding, and you find you don’t mind it. Hoseok certainly never had. Was always far too busy doing important business things on the opposite side of the country.

“Picked it up about halfway through. Figured I should have a back-up plan in case I wound up being the only geopolitician working at Starbucks.” Your fingers start picking at your pants even though there’s nothing to grab onto. You’d only packed your best, keenly aware of the standards required to be in Jung Hoseok’s inner circle. “A lot of the research and analysis courses overlapped, so I just… did it.”

“That’s very ambitious.” Seokjin’s compliment feels like some weird kind of approval, like another unspoken test Taehyung would grin over passing. “And now? You’d mentioned undergrad.”

“Started a post-bacc in GIS since I liked doing research. Hence the cartography class.”

Hence the cartography class, as if that’s the end of it and there’s nothing else to say. Like you hadn’t dropped out of that to pursue a Master’s in psychology and maybe med school or a PhD to follow, because your mother would be proud of someone with a doctorate, right? You could finally stop hearing—

Did you hear Hoseokie got an internship at Google? They pay $8,000 a month!

Did you hear Hoseokie graduated at the top of his class? His mother said he didn’t even have to apply to any MBA programs, they recruited him! He’s torn between Stanford and the University of Penn. Isn’t that a nice problem to have?

Did you hear that Hoseokie finished his program early? He’s so smart. His parents must be so proud of him.

Did you hear Hoseokie’s moving back? Just an associate vice president position for now, but his mother says there’s already talks of him being promoted to CEO within the next few years.

That’s not to say you weren’t proud of him or that you were resentful. You’ve always been Hoseok’s biggest fan, but Hoseok had moved across the country and still casted a shadow so large it was impossible to not be swallowed up by it, and it’s hard to have all the things you want to hear be said about someone else.

So, yeah, hence the cartography class.

“What about you, Hoseok? You’ve been quiet.”

Hoseok’s never quiet. When you turn to look at him, he’s already staring back. There’s no perpetual million-dollar smile, no wrinkles at the corner of his eyes from laughing too much, smiling too much, enjoying life too much. There’s just a concerned look that you don’t really know what to do with, because you’ve spent so much of your life worrying over Hoseok—over his concerning judge of character, his inability to cook, those kids on the schoolbus, his diet and now his organs—that things feel out of sorts now that the script is flipped.

It takes him a while to come back down to earth, realize someone has asked him a question. “Business,” is all he says.

He’s still staring.

Things are tense.

Weird-tense, because things are never tense between you and Hoseok. Not even back in high school when you’d threatened his then-girlfriend, the one who was cheating on him, and she ratted you out. Hoseok had shown up all red in the face, talked a lot about what would happen if you ruined things for him, but you’d just said alright, Hobi, whatever you say and things had gone back to normal.

But back in your overpriced rental house, things are definitely weird-tense.

“You never told me any of that.”

Ah. You shrug, toweling off your hair after your shower, and rifle through your suitcase for suitable pajamas. “You never asked.”

“I thought the map story was bullshit. You never—you double majored?”

Isn’t this so typical, you think. You could write a biography on Hoseok, all his accomplishments and dreams and all those silly little subplots that connect at the end, and he didn’t even know your college major. Majors. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

In the bathroom, you go through your skincare routine on autopilot and floss and brush your teeth. Try to rid yourself of the taste of disappointment. Smear cold cream under your eyes and try to pretend the sting is from the scent and not welling tears, because this is not something to cry over. This is stupid and unimportant, and you now have two and a half degrees in psychology that tell you how to deal with it.

But Hoseok’s reluctant to let it go. Wants to talk it to death when you’re more than happy to never discuss it again. You’re twenty-seven, meaning you’ve had at least five years to accept the fact that your mother had given all her pride to Hoseok instead. You’re not really keen on spending another five years feeling inadequate. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He appears in the doorway of the bathroom looking positively distressed. “Mom had only told me about the psych degree and that you were trying to get into UCLA for your Master’s. She never said anything about the geography degree.”

You just shrug. “Things you want to do and things you should, right?”

Hoseok doesn’t buy it. “Was telling me what was going on in your life not something you wanted to do, then?” He looks stung.

You’re tired, still a little fucked up from the jet lag and sitting through a bizarre dinner and serving yourself up on a silver platter to an even more bizarre man that now knew something about you that not even Hoseok had known. “I’m going to sleep,” you say, because you’re even more loose-lipped than usual when tired and prone to irritability, and provoking an argument on the first night of a month-long vacation is not something you’re going to do.

And Hoseok—

Hoseok must get it, you think, because he seems to deflate. Just sighs, shoulders hunched, before he steps aside to let you out of the bathroom. No argument, no thinly-veiled threats, no guilt-trips. Resignation: the same kind Namjoon had spoken about when he’d relayed the story of how the wellness retreat came to be.

A resigned Hoseok is probably a dangerous Hoseok, but you’re too exhausted to give a shit. You’ll strategize in the morning, come up with a new plan.

Except the morning comes and Hoseok doesn’t mention it at all.

He doesn’t say anything about it for the next three days, actually, which are all the same and go like this:

On the morning of day two, Hoseok reluctantly wakes you up just after six. There’s a small offering of fruit and coffee waiting for you on a tray that you promptly ignore in lieu of going back to sleep, which lasts until approximately 6:06am when Hoseok wakes you again. The two of you are scheduled for a morning yoga session at seven-o’clock, which is supposedly mandatory and can’t be canceled.

Taehyung takes the mat next to you, leaning over to ask, “Have you ever done this before?” with a slightly panicked expression on this face.

“Every Saturday morning back home,” you answer. Taehyung chuckles nervously, and your experience becomes painfully clear when you’re nailing your Sugarcane pose and everyone else topples over sideways. Yoongi doesn’t make a sound as he hits the floor, and he’s so quiet that your instructor misses him completely when they fret around the room helping everyone else.

You’re so distracted by helping Yoongi yourself that you miss the deep furrow of Hoseok’s brow. And the crestfallen look on his face. Just another thing he hadn’t known.

After you survive yoga, the two of you sit through an awkward breakfast with Taehyung, Certified Chatterbox, and Yoongi, Not One. Taehyung doesn’t comment on Hoseok’s newfound quietude, which is a little surprising, but Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at you that makes your coffee suddenly taste stale.

Between the hours of nine and one, Hoseok disappears to go to the spa or the gym or the gift shop, because he is literally incapable of not spending money. You’re waiting for him to realize how weird it is for a wellness retreat to sell souvenirs but he never brings it up, just strolls back into the room each time and dumps a concerning amount of magnets into his suitcase.

(You wonder if any of them are for your mother. You wonder what she’ll think about this—you and Hoseok going to a couple’s retreat together, playing pretend. You wonder if bagging someone like Hoseok would finally make her proud of you and how shallow that is.)

After lunch, which is barely less awkward than breakfast, the four of you are ushered into a so-called Meditation Clinic, hosted by a very muscular guy with a baby face and a lot of tattoos. His name is Jungkook, and he nearly sends Hoseok into Sexuality Crisis Episode No. 2. Hoseok doesn’t do a damn second of meditating for three days, just stares at the wall looking like a baby who’d just been tricked into sucking on a lemon. Taehyung chatters away at you the entire time, completely oblivious to Jungkook’s annoyed stare. You share an exasperated look with Yoongi on your way out.

Hoseok returns to your rental home on the evening of day three looking scandalized. Apparently, this is the result of him running into Jimin, who’d offered to read and analyze his birth chart for him. Apparently, this is Jimin’s second job when there’s no new check-ins to harass. Apparently, Hoseok has been “read for filth” by “the stars” and “doesn’t wish to discuss it further.”

(Interestingly, Jimin corners you not long after. There’s a dangerous twinkle in his eye as he says, “Curious?” and gestures to a small room just off the lounge.

“The curtain’s kind of corny, isn’t it?” you say, scoffing as one strand of beads smacks you in the side of the head. “Like, this all feels very mysterious carnival tent and not billion-dollar resort, y’know?”

Jimin takes a seat behind a large desk, completely void of decoration. You’re not sure what you expected—some tarot cards, maybe a crystal ball to sell the illusion—but it’s empty. “You must have Leo placements,” he mutters.

“Moon and Mars, actually. Lucky guess.”

He gestures for you to take the seat in front of him. “Mm, not really luck, they’re just really good at lying.”

“And what am I lying about?”

Jimin ignores your question. Instead, he cocks his head to the side and says, “When’s your birthday?”

“Aren’t you the astrologer? Take a guess.” Jimin just stares, looking endlessly amused. Eventually you huff and answer. “March 15th.”

Overdramatic as always, Jimin fake-gags. “A Pisces sun with a Leo moon? Horrendous, truly. How do you function?”

“Stunted, clearly.”

He actually laughs at this, rewarding you with a brilliant smile and an endearingly crooked front tooth. “No matter.” He shakes his head, blond locks falling elegantly around his face as if arranged by the gods themselves. “You may have a truly tragic sun-moon pairing, but it bodes well for you and that neurotic mess of a best friend you’re fake-dating.”

You choke so hard Jimin actually offers you a glass of water.)

Dinners are spent as a five-piece. Seokjin asks more idiotic questions, such as are eyebrows considered facial hair, which prompts a very deep exhale from Yoongi, and did Adam and Eve have bellybuttons, which sends Taehyung into an existential crisis he’s yet to recover from.

Sometimes there are bonfires on the beach at night during which Jungkook plays an acoustic guitar and sings like an angel. Hoseok is conspicuously absent during these.

He’s also absent during your nightly routine. You shower, smear your skincare all over your face, and brush your teeth alone. You change into your pajamas and crawl into your side of the bed alone. By night three, you’re so annoyed you build a pillow wall between the two of you that you instruct Hoseok, under threat of bodily harm, not to demolish.

On the morning of day five, you’re awake before the sun. You sit in the darkness for a while, listening to Hoseok’s soft breaths on the other side of the pillow wall. He hasn’t gone five days without talking to you in twenty years. Even when he’d threatened you over his high school girlfriend, you were back in his good graces within 48 hours, and all of this for what? Because your mother is kind of an asshole and you’re kind of jealous and Hoseok is kind of self-centered sometimes?

“Hobi,” you say, leaning over the wall to nudge his shoulder. “Hobi, wake up.”

He doesn’t budge, mouth hanging open as he continues snoring quietly, these little hiccups of breath every now and then. All you can do is sigh. “Hoseok.” Nothing. “Jung Hoseok,” you try again, voice hardened into a baseless threat. He keeps snoring.

You groan, run your hands over your face in exasperation. Stupidly, you’d assumed that Hoseok would be easier to wake up now that he’s a Very Important Person worth millions of dollars. Clearly he’s not. So you throw the duvet off your legs and stumble to the bathroom in the dark. Brush your teeth and wash your face and throw on a loose long-sleeved shirt and a pair of yoga pants. It’s the weekend, so you’re free to do as you please, no mandated schedule, and you know exactly who you’re going to see.

Unsurprisingly, Taehyung is on the beach, cross-legged in the center of a large blanket close to the water but far enough away that the tide isn’t a concern. His curls are blowing gently in the breeze and every now and then he lets out a huff as he tries to flick them out of his eyes. No wonder Yoongi took pity on him back in that hostel in Thessaloniki. You’ve barely known him a week and are already hopelessly endeared by him.

“Good morning,” he says, eyes closed. Even the sun is barely awake this early, but it spills across Taehyung’s cheeks in dusky, golden rays nonetheless. “The beach is beautiful at this hour, isn’t it?”

Ah, so Taehyung’s one of those. Chatty at all hours, just like Hoseok. You groan. “Yeah, sure.”

“I have a thermos of coffee if you want some.”

“You just carry around thermoses of coffee?”

Taehyung laughs. “No. I don’t drink it, but I always make some in the morning and put it in a thermos in case today’s the day Yoongi decides to wake up before noon and join me.”

You eye the empty space next to him. “I’m guessing today’s not the day.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “After forcing him to wake up at 6am to do yoga the last few days? I might never see him again.”

“It’d be deserved, in his defense.”

Taehyung seems to think on this. Has a laugh just as airy as the gentle ocean wind, one that makes you feel like you’re the funniest person in the world. So much like Hoseok. You wonder if you’re like Yoongi. If you’re just as closed off but more talkative. You wonder if there’s a reason Yoongi holds his cards so close to his chest or if he simply sees no reason for anyone to know him. He’s got Taehyung and fifteen languages and a lifetime’s worth of stories, what more could he need? “You’re probably right. Where’s your other half?”

“Also asleep.”

“Wow,” Taehyung deadpans, “there are parallels everywhere.”

You don’t know him well enough to know how he means it. If it’s sardonic and taking the piss out of that sort of thing the way Yoongi would mean it, or if he’s genuine how Hoseok would be. So you just hum a maybe-agreement and stare out at the ocean.

Truth be told, you’re not sure why Taehyung was the one you wanted to find. He just seems like the type to know a lot about relationships, people. Seems like someone who’d meet and befriend more people in a day than you would in five years, so someone like that’s gotta have some sort of answers.

“How long have you and Yoongi been together?”

“Oh. A long time. I was nineteen when I went to Greece and Yoongi was twenty-one, but it was such bad timing, you know? Like, I was only two months into a year-long trip, and Yoongi has to be dragged into everything kicking and screaming, so we didn’t reconnect for over a year after we met.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

Taehyung smiles: small, tender, fond. “A little, yeah, but I think that sort of stuff is inconsequential in the long run. What’s a year’s worth of distance when you’ve got the rest of your lives?” He shifts on the blanket, a frown dragging down the corners of his mouth. “Although I went to Australia a month later and got bit by this huge fucking spider, so I guess the rest of my life was questionable for a while. In that case, yeah, it would’ve been really hard.”

You hum again, and in a need to fill the silence, Taehyung asks, “What about you and Hoseok?”

“What about us?”

“How long have you been together?”

We’re not, really, sits on the tip of your tongue. Jimin has already seen straight through the bullshit, so why not Taehyung, too? What’s the worst that can happen—they kick you out because you’re not a proper couple? What does that even mean? You’ve known Hoseok for twenty years. You watched him grow into a successful, kind, intelligent adult from a stupid-as-fuck eight-year-old. You’ve watched him fall in love and get his heart broken and piece it back together again. You know his takeout orders and his favorite color and the movies he still cries over but lies and says he doesn’t. You know the smell of his mother’s perfume when she squeals and hugs you like you’re her own. You’re one of two-hundred followers on Hoseok’s private Instagram account—the one you and Namjoon and Hoseok’s sister always join forces to bully him on when he tries posting a thirst trap.

You know what Hoseok looks like when he cries. You know what he’s like when he’s vulnerable and insecure and you know how to be a pillar for him when he’s like that, and he knows the same about you.

Some couples don’t have half of that, so what does it mean or even matter if your coupling is proper? Isn’t what you have enough?

You sigh. “We grew up together. I’ve known him for twenty years.”

“Oh.” Taehyung sucks in a breath. “I thought you’d said—”

“Yeah,” you interject. “We’re not, like, romantically involved.” Another sigh. “It’s a long story.”

Taehyung just smiles, looks at you with those butter-soft eyes, and you’re diving into twenty years of history and backstory. You tell him about punching the kid on the bus. You tell him about Hoseok’s first serious girlfriend in high school and how it made your stomach hurt—

(“Because you had a crush on him?”

“What? No.”

“Hm. Okay.”)

—and you tell him about your mother and all her misplaced pride. He laughs at every story you tell him about Namjoon and how you and Hoseok wound up at this weird wellness retreat. He stops laughing when you tell him that you and Hoseok haven’t spoken properly in days, and his eyebrows get very serious when you admit it’s the reason you came to find him.

“You just look like someone who might know how to help me fix it,” you finish.

Taehyung tries—and fails—to not look pleased as punch at this. “I’m generally very unhelpful. Well, Yoongi says I’m not-not helpful, but sometimes I try to help too much and wind up making things worse.” You shoot him a dubious look. “I won’t do that this time, though, I promise! Please consider me your official relationship fixer.”

“I’m not sure this is a good idea anymore.”

“It probably isn’t, if I’m being totally honest, but if I can manage to make Min Yoongi fall in love with me, I’m extremely overconfident I can do just about anything.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

He claps his hands together. “Great! We can start with you apologizing and telling him you’ve been acting out due to temporary insanity on the basis of being in love with him for years and never saying anything.”

“Excuse me—”

“It’s best to be extremely honest about these sorts of things as to leave no room for misinterpretation or misunderstandings,” Taehyung says, tone condescending like you’re a child though it’s working overtime to not sound that way. At your slack jaw, Taehyung’s eyes grow wide. “Have you seriously never thought about it?”

“Me and Hoseok?”

Of course you’ve thought about it, it was just dismissed immediately each time. You love Hoseok; he’s the most important person in your life, and that’s exactly why you shooed those intrusive thoughts away every time they crept up. You’re not generally one to overthink on consequences, but Hoseok is always an idea you’ve treated with kiddie gloves. Something delicate. Something placed in an enclosure with 21mm glass walls and eighteen security alarms. So, sure, you’ve thought about it in the same way you’ve thought about winning the lottery or telling your PhD advisor to fuck off and moving to some remote island paradise where there’s always someone to wait on you hand and foot.

Of course you’ve thought about you and Hoseok, in the same way you think about all inevitable things (like the heat death of the universe) and also impossibilities, both wistful and staunch.

“Yeah,” you eventually answer. “Of course I have.”

Taehyung blinks owlishly. “I thought for sure you were gonna deny it.” Then the smile is back and it makes his eyes glitter like tiny stars. “But that’s great! The first step is admitting you have a problem, or whatever. Anyway! Do you still have feelings? Yoongi thinks I’m bad at reading people”—Yoongi is right, you think—“but I’ve seen the way he looks at me a million times, and sometimes that’s the same way Hoseok looks at you. So I think you should tell him.”

Snorting, you turn your gaze to the ocean. Even the water seems to still be sleepy at this hour, the waves small and gentle as they lap against the shore. “Maybe later on. Getting rejected a few days into a month-long trip doesn’t really sound like my idea of fun.”

Face scrunched up in disgust, Taehyung whines, “You wouldn’t! You’re gonna waste all this time because you think you’d get rejected when in actuality all you’re doing is wasting some really great glass walls to fuck against.”

You blanch. You can say, with one hundred percent conviction, that you’ve never thought about sleeping with Hoseok. Okay, so that’s not entirely true. There was the one time you had to defend him from Rose Emoji and Hammer and Sickle Twitter when they threatened to eat him and one person suggested sparing him because, excessive wealth aside, he had big dick energy. That’d given you pause. Did Hoseok have a big dick?

“No way,” you retort, “Hoseok is like a Ken doll. Completely smooth from the waist down. Dickless.”

Taehyung heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Another L for the gay community.”

Hoseok sleeps until noon.

You’ve already washed the sea salt from your hair and returned to the rental house with your own small haul of gift shop magnets by the time he stirs awake, groggy and looking worse for wear. “Wha’ time s’it?” he slurs, voice far too deep for you to remain unaffected.

“Just after twelve,” you answer. “I can make you some coffee if you want.”

All you get in response is a muffled groan, Hoseok’s dandelion bed-head disappearing under the fluffy duvet once again. You’ve known him long enough to know that means yes, to know he takes his coffee with far too much cream and sugar, the liquid something close to bone white by the time he’s done adding and mixing.

You set the mug on his nightstand and sit on the edge of the bed, leaning over to peel down the duvet and scratch at his scalp. “Coffee’s ready, sunshine.” Eyes still sealed shut, you move your fingers lower to tickle at his neck. “C’mon, Hobi, you’re pissing away another beautiful day in paradise.” You don’t bother telling him it’s overcast and drizzling; not like it matters, because Hoseok groans again and swats your hand away before shoving his head under his pillow.

He says something you can’t catch, words unintelligible beneath layers of down. “What’d you say?” you ask. When his head pops up, expression frustrated and cheeks flushed red, you poke the dimple in his left cheek. He has to fight off a smile.

“I asked why you’re being so nice to me.”

You frown. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

Hoseok sighs. Adjusts until he’s sitting up, long, skinny legs tangled in the comforter. Something about his hands is so interesting he’s unable to focus on anything else. “Because I’ve been a dick to you.” When you move to protest, he tacks on, “And not just on this trip, either. For a while.” For a second, you think he might cry. Hoseok used to cry a lot as a kid—had too much empathy for such a small body to know what to do with so all the excess tended to leak out. “God, there was so much I didn’t know? Like your majors? And the yoga? I just…” He trails off, looks lost. Picks up the coffee mug just to do something with his hands. “It feels bad. It just feels really bad.”

You return his sigh, wishing Hoseok was a little less honest. Always the first to put himself out there, be vulnerable, and sometimes it’s nice and sometimes it makes you feel guilty. “It’s okay.”

“It isn’t,” he argues.

You hold up a hand. “I know where you’re coming from, and I get it. I would probably feel bad, too, if I were in your position.” He whimpers, earning a soft laugh from you. “But I’m telling you it’s okay. I don’t blame you, all right? I never have. I don’t lay in bed at night agonizing over it. This isn’t like that for me.”

“Then what’s it like?”

You hum, knowing this is a moment to handle with care. You can’t be reckless here. So you think it over, and you say, “It’s… I don’t think this happened because you don’t care, because I know you do. I know I’m your best friend in every way someone can be your best friend, and you’re my best friend in all the ways someone can be mine. It’s just that those two things look different, is what I’m saying. And I think that’s okay.”

“It’s unbalanced.”

You nod. “Yeah, maybe it is, but sometimes that happens. It hasn’t always been unbalanced.”

This seems to calm him, and his smile is slow, reluctant, but it’s there nonetheless. “Okay.” He exhales the weight of the world. “Okay. I’d still like to be better, though.”

“We have all the time in the world, Seok.”

You normally eat most of your meals with Taehyung and Yoongi anyway, but since your conversation on the beach, Taehyung attaches to you like a limpet.

The first time had been unnerving. He’d cornered you outside the dining hall, stomach rumbling even as he demanded to know everything, please spare nothing, no detail is too small. There hadn’t been much to report, just that the two of you had talked and things were better.

“Did you tell him you’re in lo—” had earned him an elbow to the ribs.

He hasn’t asked again.

But he’s still hard to shake during mealtime, especially breakfast, because he wakes up ready to talk, conversation locked and loaded on his tongue. Yoongi, of course, doesn’t talk at all, so he offloads onto you and Hoseok, who’s too good-natured to ask for some peace and quiet.

“Seokjin asked me last night if water was wet,” he says, spearing a long piece of pineapple on his fork. “Like, obviously it’s wet? It’s water.”

“It isn’t, though,” you argue. “Water is just water. Wet is a state—”

Taehyung, cheeks bulging around the fruit like a hamster, frowns. “Huh? No. California is a state.”

Yoongi faceplants onto the table.

“No, Tae.” You shake your head. “Like, a state of being. Water makes other things wet, but it’s not wet itself.”

His frown deepens. Looks to Yoongi for help, clarification, but he’s still face-down, so he looks to Hoseok instead. He, very steadfastly, says, “She’s weirdly smart, man. I dunno. I’m not arguing with her.”

“Why? Because you’re also—” Another elbow to the ribs. He coughs, makes a very valiant attempt to look cool, calm, and collected. “You’re also very smart, Hoseok,” he amends. “I am very interested in hearing what you have to say.”

“In business, though. I’m not really smart in science stuff.”

“Interesting,” Taehyung muses. “Would you say you’re smart in love?”

Hoseok is good-natured enough to look genuinely confused. “Huh?”

Yoongi finally picks his head up. Sends Taehyung some kind of look that must mean something to only the two of them, because Taehyung just sighs, put-upon, and shoves a piece of cantaloupe in his mouth. He doesn’t talk to Hoseok for the rest of the day.

Two weeks pass in a blur.

The schedule remains the same. Yoga, shared meals, weird quasi-therapy sessions which you have come to realize are just minor cult recruiting, bonfires on the beach. You and Hoseok stay up late talking and barely make it on time to whatever activity you have first thing in the morning. Jimin corners you at least once a week to talk about your “fucked up and frankly demonic” birth chart because he refuses to believe it’s real. Jungkook offers to teach the four of you how to surf but abandons that five minutes into the first session after Yoongi refuses to touch sand and Hoseok nearly passes out from seeing Jungkook shirtless.

…Which Taehyung catches, of course, because he just sidles up alongside you. Says, “Ooh, interesting,” again, in a really smug way, before intercepting Jungkook and leading him far, far away from the beach. You think he winks at you over his shoulder.

Bastard.

But it works, much to your surprise. Of course the two of you have talked it to death, but part of Hoseok’s bid to be better also seems to include being more tactile. Which… is nice, you’ll admit. Hoseok’s fingers are long and slender and perfectly manicured, his hands soft, so it feels nice when they play with your hair or scratch gently at your back or hold your hand, but it also fills you with an anxious kind of dread.

Uncertainty, maybe.

You know how these things work. Forced proximity, only one bed. You’re two-thirds of a psychologist, after all, so you wouldn’t be surprised if Hoseok is just caught up in the moment, at the relief of overcoming an obstacle and making it to the other side. (God knows the bender he’d gone on after graduating business school attests to that.)

Curiously, none of that stops you from leaning into it.

It doesn’t feel weird. It doesn’t feel awkward or strange or anything besides natural. Hoseok’s bare face is the last thing you see before you fall asleep and the first thing you know you’ll see when you wake up, and just having that certainty, that security, makes the early mornings bearable. It makes them something worth looking forward to. It makes all the tension in your body unwind. Makes you pliable, has you laughing freely and leaning into Hoseok’s side during all those meals Taehyung spends talking. Except he’s not talking so much anymore—now, he’s studying. Smiling. Sending little glances only you and Yoongi catch.

Everything comes to a head at another of Seokjin’s weird dinners.

“A question for your discussion,” he begins, and you swear you hear Yoongi groan under his breath. When you look over at him, he’s nonchalantly chewing his food, no indication at all that he made a sound for the first time in two and a half weeks, so you convince yourself you’re hallucinating. “If no one ever sneezed again, how long do you think it’d take you to notice?”

Yoongi must feel you looking this time, because he offers up a dead stare in return. While Taehyung and Hoseok debate their answers—

(“Well, I work in an office, so probably not long.”

“Ah. I work from home, but I think it’d be pretty obvious? Especially during allergy season.”

“Yeah, for sure. It’s one of those things you’d definitely notice. It’s like—you know when you’re cooking and finally turn off the vent hood and the quiet is a little disorienting? It’d be like that, I think. Like, you definitely—”

“You notice something’s absence more than you notice its presence.”

“Yeah! Yes, exactly.”)

—that dead stare of Yoongi’s morphs into something more mischievous, slow like molasses. He catches your eye, winks, and fakes a yawn.

Taehyung startles, like he forgot Yoongi had been sitting next to him the entire time. “Oh, you’ll have to excuse him,” he says, cheeks dusting pink. “Someone told him once he’d been a rock in a past life and it catches up with him every now and then.”

Seokjin lets out a high-pitched giggle, looking absolutely delighted at this. “A rock, huh? Fascinating. Please tell me all about it.”

“Well, I think a lot of people would assume igneous, but that’s always seemed a little shallow to me, you know? I think he’s more metamorphic—”

As Taehyung rambles on, Seokjin turns his attention to you and Hoseok. “What about you two? What do you think you were like in a past life?”

“He had to have been a monk or something,” you declare, poking the crater of one of Hoseok’s dimples. “He’s been hoarding good karma for centuries and cashed it all in for this lifetime.”

“Aish,” Hoseok replies, cheeks matching Taehyung’s as he scratches at the back of his neck. “I don’t know about all that. It’s just luck, isn’t it?”

You look at Hoseok. Really look at him—at the way his lips curl around his teeth as he tries not to laugh at the way Taehyung’s still going on about rocks; at the way he pouts and gags a little whenever he takes a sip of champagne; at the way the stars in his eyes turn to glitter when Seokjin gives him an opening to talk about his dog. You look at Hoseok and you think yeah, it could be luck, but it feels more monumental.

It feels predestined.

And you’re not sure what that means. Of course friendships can feel predestined; you’re not one to discount the importance of platonic relationships. You’re not sure what it means in the context of yours and Hoseok’s friendship. You’re not sure if your stomach hurt back when Hoseok got a girlfriend back in high school because it was predestined to be platonic.

You frown as you swirl the wine around your glass.

Truth be told, you’re not sure about much of anything right now.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, patting your thigh to get your attention. You’re in a dress. A nice one: silk, a slit up the side, drapes perfectly over the lines of your body and clings where it should. Does absolutely nothing to spare you from the heat of Hoseok’s skin through the fabric. “You okay?”

You’re fucked, is what you are.

“Yeah,” you reply, offering what you can only hope is a convincing smile. “Think I drank this a little too fast.”

“Do you want to go back to the house? We don’t have to stay. Taehyung’s still talking about the difference between limestone and sandstone, so I don’t think we’ll miss anything.”

You nod, dropping your voice to a hushed whisper. “Yeah, that might be a good idea. They look like they’re about ten seconds away from mixing up geography and geology and being really offended when I don’t know anything about rocks.”

The two of you stand, and Hoseok’s hand immediately moves to the small of your back. Warm, warm, warm, and you can’t convince yourself it’s the wine that’s making you lightheaded.

“Oh-ho-ho,” Taehyung chimes, looking pleased as punch at the sight of Hoseok’s hand at your back. Throws an elbow into Yoongi’s ribs. He doesn’t even flinch. “And where are the two of you going?”

“Uh, home?” Hoseok answers at the same time you say, “Fuck off, Taehyung,” because your face feels like it’s on fire and you’ve had enough of his ribbing.

Except, as it turns out, some amalgamation of home and fuck off sounds a whole lot like home, to fuck, and Taehyung might’ve been serious about the matchmaking thing, but even this kind of misunderstood forwardness has him choking on his sip of wine. Yoongi slaps at his back in the most patronizing way you’ve ever seen someone try to save another person from choking.

“Is he okay?” Hoseok asks, completely oblivious.

You shrug. “No. In so many ways.”

Through his choking, Taehyung manages a glare. “Takes one to know one,” he childishly responds, and you roll your eyes at the exact moment Seokjin grins and does a little wiggle, starts up a very enthusiastic fight, fight, fight! chant.

The thing is—Taehyung is drunk. You know he’s drunk, so him overriding Seokjin’s chant with one of his own—kiss, kiss, kiss!—certainly excuses and explains his behavior, it does absolutely nothingto extinguish the wildfire that’s sparked in your belly.

It’s a bad idea.

You and Hoseok have kissed before, when you were twelve and he was thirteen and he landed on you during a game of Spin the Bottle. Everyone around you had erupted into excited jeering, but the two of you shared a mortified look before he shuffled over on his hands and knees looking less like he was about to have his first kiss and more like he was being dragged to his death.

Looking back, that had been offensive, but he’d still puckered his lips and kissed the pout off your face all the same.

So it’s a bad idea, and you should tell Taehyung that the two of you have already kissed and to knock it off, because the second time you kiss shouldn’t only be to shut him up, but you’re both a little drunk in general and a lot drunk on the thought of redemption. If you pursed your lips the way he had fifteen years ago, leaned in close enough for him to smell your perfume, would he wear another mortified look? Or would he—

Fuck it, you think.

Because, once he realizes you’re serious, that you’re actually considering kissing him, the look he wears is not mortified. He looks a little awestruck—slightly dumb, if you’re being honest; definitely dazed—and it takes all that wildfire raging in your gut and unleashes it. Inspires just enough confidence to step closer, lean in; close enough to feel the warmth emanating from Hoseok’s skin, but still far enough for him to pull away if he wanted to.

Hoseok doesn’t want to.

And his hands are already at the small of your back, so it’s so easy to pull you closer. So easy to move them to your hips, grip a little tighter just in case you start to drift away. So easy to press his lips to yours and kiss the absolute life out of you.

You've kissed a lot of people over the span of fifteen years. None of them had lips as soft as Hoseok’s.

He must’ve done a lot of kissing, too, because the way he moves his mouth is sinful. Precise and confident, just a tease of his tongue. You can feel his smile against your lips and it nearly makes your knees buckle. Reminds you, more than the taste and smell of him, that it’s Hoseok you’re kissing, and the thought alone has you gripping at his dress shirt.

Any other time he’d complain about the wrinkles.

Not this one, though.

“Are you nervous?”

The question finds you halfway out of your dress. “Not really,” you answer. “I think my strap is stuck.”

A nervous laugh is punched out of him, but he moves to help you nonetheless. Gently touches your arm and spins you around, fingers ghosting along your skin as he untangles the strap and pushes it off your shoulder. The fabric pools on the floor, emerald and glittering, as you step out of it, and you laugh. It’s been three days since you and Hoseok kissed. The two of you have done a lot of kissing since then, and he’s still so hesitant; eyes still widen every time you lean in close, like he can’t believe it.

Hoseok is still so shy.

“Why would I be nervous?” you ask, because keeping him talking is the best way to keep him out of his head. “It’s you.”

He whimpers, like that’s the worst possible reasoning you could’ve given him. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I’m nervous.”

“It’s okay if you are,” you say, turning around to fully face him, and Hoseok looks struck. Torn between the way his nerves are eating him alive and the sight of you in just a pair of lacy panties. “We can do whatever you want, Seok.”

“I—no.” He swallows hard. “No, no, I think—we should definitely… you know.” You quirk an eyebrow. “My dick is fighting for its life right now.”

You dare a glimpse downward. Hoseok’s dick doesn’t look like it’s fighting for its life, outlined and half-hard in his expensive trousers, but what do you know? “Taehyung asked me about your dick once.”

“What.”

“Well, not exactly. He’d asked me if I ever thought about having sex with you—”

Hoseok whimpers again. “Please do not tell me what your answer was.”

“—and I told him you were like a Ken doll.” At his questioning look, you clarify, “You know. Dickless. Smooth from the waist down.”

“Wow. Why would you tell me that? Not gonna lie, it’s a little emasc—”

“I might need to see it. For science.”

Hoseok startles. “M-my dick?”

“Yeah. For science,” you repeat. “Taehyung is gonna be thrilled. He called your dicklessness, and I quote, an L for the gay community.”

Your best friend seems to ponder this. His hands hover uselessly in the air, and it’s ten seconds, twenty—you think he might call the whole thing off, but then he shrugs and undoes his belt, the metal clanky in his haste. “For the gays,” he explains as he pushes his pants down his thighs.

“Of course,” you agree, nodding seriously. “They deserve it.”

“What else did Taehyung say?”

“Nothing much. Just that we need to get our shit together because we’re wasting some really good windows to fuck against.”

Hoseok doesn’t fuck you against the windows the first time.

The first time is slow and unhurried. Because it’s Hoseok, he lights a candle and the two of you take your time touching, learning, shaking off the dregs of apprehension. He flushes crimson and nearly does a runner anytime something goes less than perfectly, and it’s so endearing you have to stop yourself from sinking through the mattress under the weight of all your affection.

The second time is all raw, desperate need. After a day of sly smiles reserved only for you, Hoseok meets you in the bathroom at the end of another night. There’s a spot of toothpaste on your sleep shirt that he disregards at the sight of your bare legs. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and then there’s only enough time for anticipation to start simmering beneath your skin before he’s moving.

(Technically, the third time is only a few hours later. Just like it has everyday since you arrived, your alarm goes off at six sharp, time for yoga, but instead of ushering you out of bed, Hoseok hits the snooze button and pulls you closer. Fits himself to your back and slides your panties to the side, speaks an is this okay? in his impossibly deep morning voice, and then you’re nodding your head and he’s pushing inside.)

Now, though—

Nerves have been shaken off. Another weird dinner has been sat through to which you’d worn a two-piece outfit, the top cropped just enough to show off a strip of skin—modest enough for the motley crew you share your evenings with, but apparently scandalous enough to drive Hoseok insane. He’s all barely-contained energy beside you, hand gripping your thigh, not paying a lick of attention to the conversation.

You lean over, speak the question just below his ear. “You okay?” Goosebumps erupt all over his skin.

“We need to leave right now.”

“Really? Why? You aren’t having a good time?”

Hoseok makes you pay for your smart mouth. Has you pressed against the expanse of windows in your bedroom, stripped down to just your underwear and the top he insisted you keep on, only your shoulders pressed against the glass. Presses wet, open-mouth kisses along your calves, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and then he’s canting your hips forward to nip at you over your underwear. More silk and lace—thin enough to feel the warmth of his breath, then nothing but warmth when he licks a stripe up your folds, spit seeping through the fabric.

“Fuck.”

He does it once, twice more before he leans back, refuses to meet your gaze. Your brows furrow because your hands are tangled in his hair, tugging as you try to get him to look up at you, wanting to see the evidence of your arousal on his face, but then he’s smirking out of the side of his mouth, hands reaching for your underwear.

You register the cold air of the room on your skin before the sound of fabric ripping.

Then you’re saying, “What the fuck, Hobi, did you just—” and he’s laughing as he nods, not a care in the world except getting his mouth back on you. He licks and sucks until you’re nearly trembling with the need to come, begging him to let you, and you think if you were anyone else he’d drag it out longer. Make you beg a little more. But regardless of whatever he’s told himself over the years in order to cope, Hoseok can’t deny you anything, so he presses two fingers inside, right on the spot that whites out your vision.

He touches himself to the sight of your orgasm.

Rolls the condom on. Runs his cock through your folds, tells you to slick him up. As he presses inside again, crowding close, breath fogging the glass behind you, he tells you to thank Taehyung for the idea.

You’re gonna have to thank him for a whole lot more than that.

In hindsight, you should’ve known Namjoon was nothing more than a dirty little schemer.

There’s three days left of your stay, and the question had been nagging at you ever since you cut through the reception area to get to the meditation class you were running late for. Jimin, of course, gave you shit for it: wordlessly, because he was busy checking in a man with far too much luggage. A man who was checking in alone, and that was not a thing, so far as you were aware, so your curiosity was to be expected.

“Can I just ask,” you say, once again in Jimin’s strange little room behind the beaded curtain. “Why a couple’s retreat?”

“Huh?”

“Isn’t it less effective for Seokjin’s weird cult? Like, statistically speaking, you’ve got to be more likely to recruit single people, right?”

“Huh?”

You blink. “What part is confusing you? And don’t say the cult, because I had that pegged on, like, day three.”

“No,” Jimin agrees quickly, “Seokjin is definitely officiating a cult. I just—why do you think this is a couple’s retreat?”

“Uh, because Namjoon said it was? That’s why me and Hoseok are faking being a couple—”

“Were. Were faking.”

“—and it just sort of made sense, considering the people who showed up after us were literally a couple.”

Jimin sighs, schools his expression to the one he always uses when he has to be condescending and speak to you as if you’re a woefully stupid child. “I don’t know who Namjoon is, but I’m assuming he lied in order to get you two to do… exactly what you’ve done.”

“What.”

“This isn’t a couple’s retreat, buttercup, just a regular ol’ wellness one.”

“That Seokjin also uses as his cult recruitment headquarters.”

“Yep.”

“I feel betrayed.”

“Pisces usually do.”

“Excuse me—”

“You’re excused,” he dismisses, shooing you out of his closet.

Despite his innocent nature, Hoseok isn’t nearly as shocked as you to learn Namjoon deceived him.

That’s life, I guess, was all he’d said, the picture of comfort and nonchalance as he lounged in bed, wrapped in a fluffy robe, arm behind his head like a king. You had been shocked—no longer at the betrayal, but at Hoseok’s quick acceptance of it. Hoseok from a month ago would’ve been flustered and on the brink of a meltdown. Hoseok today just shrugs it off.

“I’m just saying.” He dangles a stem of grapes over his mouth like an asshole. “Jimin called it a wellness retreat, right? I didn’t get roped into Seokjin’s cult and we’re… well, whatever we are, so a win is a win. Seems like wellness to me.”

“Whatever we are,” you mimic, pitching Hoseok’s voice up a dozen octaves. “Wow, how romantic.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes, pats the spot next to him on the bed. “If you’d like to come over here, we can have the highly-anticipated ‘what are we’ discussion that no one in the history of human relationships has ever once dreaded having.”

You wave him off. “No need. It’s you, and I trust you, so I don’t think we’re going to go back home and you’re going to write this off as a weird forced proximity thing and ghost me.” You finish the application of your facemask, laughing to yourself at Hoseok’s offended scoff. “Besides, constantly having to defend you from Rose Emoji and Hammer and Sickle Twitter is the pinnacle of devotion and love. That’s the kinda shit that forms a trauma bond.”

“For my peace of mind, then.”

“Fine. Hoseok, I love you dearly as my best friend and I’m probably halfway in love with you as a romantic partner, and even though this vacation has been incredible and rewarding and you are very good at sex, I am also very much looking forward to having my own space again because you are almost impossible to live with.” You roll your lips at the sour expression marring his face. “That said: you still owe me dinner at the Brazilian spot near your office, so I would like it very much if you took me there as a date. You can tell Namjoon I’m your girlfriend if you wish.”

“And are you?”

“Ugh. Of course I am, Hobi. What do you take me for? You think I’m the kind of woman who agrees to spend a month in the rainforest and almost get roped into some sketchy cult with anyone who asks?”

“Well, I don’t know! Maybe!”

“You’re impossible. Do you want to be my boyfriend or not?”

At this, Hoseok’s face lights up so bright it puts the sun to shame. Smiles so big you can hardly believe it. “I would love nothing more.”

During your last group meal, Seokjin invites the new guy to join you.

Taehyung is enthralled immediately, gesturing for him to take the empty seat to his left. “Hello, nice to meet you! I’m Kim Taehyung and this is Min Yoongi. Are you here for the wellness retreat part or the cult part?”

Seokjin chokes on a slice of mango.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kim Taehyung. I’m Park Bogum,” the man responds. “I’m here for the cult part.”

Seokjin promptly stops choking.

Saying goodbye to this place, these people, is bittersweet.

The last four weeks have undoubtedly been the weirdest of your life, but they’ve more than made up for it with what you’ve been given in return: a blossoming relationship with Hoseok, Taehyung and Yoongi’s friendship. Even Jimin and Jungkook come to see you off, and Jimin surprises you by wrapping you in a tight hug, assuring you that you’ll still be his second-favorite Pisces long after you’re gone.

“Wow, rude. Who’s the first?”

“Yoongi.”

“Yoongi? How is he your favorite? He doesn’t talk!”

Jimin smirks, smug and patronizing. “Exactly. Have a safe trip, buttercup.”

Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t say much at all. You suspect he showed up only to look hot and catapult Hoseok into his final sexuality crisis, and that suspicion is confirmed when he leans against the wall and pushes his hair away from his forehead. The sound that comes out of Hoseok is part whimper, part pain and suffering, and truly catastrophic for his ego.

“Get it together,” you plead, but it falls on deaf ears. Hoseok is in a Jungkook-induced haze until you’re halfway to the airport, Taehyung chattering the entire way.

And then—

And then.

“Well, that was fucking weird, huh?” Yoongi asks.

Hoseok is running late.

He’s gotten better at equalizing his work-life balance since returning from your trip, but he still gets held up sometimes. A lot to catch up on, he’d said, and you can understand that. He’d spent his first week back doing nothing but haranguing Namjoon, so that surely ate up a lot of time.

Still, he’s never been quite this late.

The waitstaff are looking at you with concern. They used to look at you only to see if your water needed topping up, so this is an unfortunate development, especially for someone who looks as you currently do. Any person in this overpriced Brazilian steakhouse would be honored to even sit at the same table as you, let alone be able to call you their date, so Hoseok really has a lot of nerve.

You’re halfway to telling him as much over a very angry text message when he appears in front of you, face flushed, chest heaving, hairline dotted with sweat. “Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Got a little caught up.”

“No shit,” you whisper-yell, “that waiter over there looked like he was about ready to call the cops on me. I probably can’t even afford the water in this place.”

Hoseok grimaces. “In my defense, I have a very good reason.”

“Oh yeah?” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest. “And what is that?”

Wordlessly, Hoseok hands over a garishly orange shopping bag emblazoned with a very familiar logo and brand name. Suddenly, it feels impossible to breathe. “You didn’t. Hobi, tell me you didn’t—”

“You know how much bullshit you have to go through for one of those things? God, I had to put in a request. Not to mention it was like fourteenseparate credit checks…”

You tune him out. Instead, you peek inside the bag with what you can only describe as pure dread. Not at the implication, because that has you thrumming with joy and affection, but at the cost of—

“You got me a Birkin.”

Hoseok looks at you like you’ve sprouted a second head. “Um. That’s what you said you wanted, right?”

“You said you weren’t spending that much money on anyone who isn’t your future spouse.”

The look doesn’t budge. “Yeah? I’m clearly not following.”

“When did you put in the request?” If your voice is audibly waterlogged, Hoseok doesn’t mention it, but you can feel the tears pooling at your lash line nonetheless.

The confusion finally clears and gives way to another brilliant smile. A little bashful, too, because he hides behind the menu and refuses to look at you. Says something you don’t catch, can’t hear over the dim chatter of this restaurant, and he groans in pleased faux-annoyance when you tell him to repeat himself.

“I said… I put it in the night you kissed me.”

It feels like you’ve been punched in the chest. “You’ve known that long?”

And Hoseok—Hoseok ducks behind the menu again, but this time you can hear him loud and clear: “I’ve known a lot longer than that.”

author's note pt. 2: if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, any reblogs are greatly appreciated and my inbox is always open for feedback. ♡

Matters of the Heart | JHS {M}

it seems not even the passage of half a decade can diminish the hold of Mr. Jung’s charms on your heart. but the rumors that welcome you home speak of his imminent marriage to an heiress, one who bests you in every infuriating, ‘ladylike’ fashion. just how, then, are you meant to interpret the undeniable sparks of desire in his eyes?

or: “do you truly think me so proper, my lady?”

pairing: hoseok x reader genre: romance, smut words: 13k contains: victorian au, much banter/teasing, virgin reader but she’s a feisty one, era-appropriate dirty talk, unprotected sex  a/n: this is part of the “A Very Merry Fic-Mas” collaboration with @lamourche, @kpopfanfictrash, @kittae, @underthejoon, @floralseokjin, & @winetae! it is heavily inspired by Jane Eyre, though our Mr. Jung is much more respectful than Rochester ;) please note that Jin’s last name has been changed for clarity’s sake with all the Kims + a few minor Victorian customs have been forgone for ease of reading.

Keep reading

Love Letter To Miami || Jung Hoseok 

pairing: fashion designer!hobi x latin f!reader || exes to lovers au

Genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, slow burn, 

W.C: 18k

Warnings: slow burn, angst, lots of Miami references, maybe actually a little too much ( I am not sorry I miss home lol) alcohol, language, mentions of pregnancy, arguing. 

Thank you so much to @astronaut-jin-moon​ for beta reading this. It means a lot!

Synopsis: Hoseok unexpectedly uprooted his life in Miami for a chance to chase his life long dream. But he sacrificed the only thing that kept him rooted…you. 

Now, he’s back home after six years. 

AO3

a/n: Hello, I am back after 672389238 years. If you guys didn’t know I moved to the other side of the world on my own for work. I was supposed to finish this and upload it back in March. But settling down was harder than I expected and other factors came into play around April. So, this story is very near and dear to my hear. 

Please let me know your thoughts. I am also thinking about writing a second part. But again I am a full on adult now so it’s a bit harder to write as much as I used to. Still, I have no many ideas please let me know and thank you for taking the time to read this.

Enjoy!

Keep reading

banana clip | jhs

↳ summary: he’s your roommate and your best friend. that was enough of a reason for the heartsick feeling in your stomach at the thought of him leaving, wasn’t it? 

but even so, with him in tokyo and you in los angeles, you can’t help but wonder if he looks both ways every time he crosses your mind.

↳ genre: fluff; angst; roommate au; study abroad au (is that a thing? i’m making it a thing); friends to lovers; jung hoseok x reader

↳ rating: pg-13

↳ warnings: swearing, mild alcohol consumption, pining and overthinking, timeskipping but all of it is denoted by timestamps, introvert hoseok indulgence

↳ word count: 25.1k

↳ a/n: can you believe i plotted this fic in 2019? and then it ended up being nothing like my original outline LOL. heavily inspired by hoseok being an infj and his s-tier instagram usage. unbeta’d as per usual, but dedicated to rose @kinktae​ for her roommate hobi dream (which i included, minus the **** ******** unfortunately). messed around a lot stylistically and characterization-wise in this fic, please feel free to hit me up and let me know what you think!

Keep reading

Holiday Inn (M)

Feel on each other and sip on some Hen

One thing leading to another, let the party begin

• Pairing: Rapper!Hoseok x Businesswoman!(F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Rap Group!AU, Humor, Smut, Strangers to Enemies to Lovers

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 37.6k

• Summary: If it’s not the loud music, it’s the constant rapping. If it’s not the constant rapping, it’s the hysterical laughter. And if it’s not the hysterical laughter, it’s the moaning and screaming women. How the hell hasn’t your neighbor been kicked out yet? Oh right; he’s a beloved rapper.  

• Warnings/themes: Hobi is an inconsiderate fuckboi and his posse are dicks, Y/N is stressed and lacking in sleep, so many noise complaints 😤, swearing, flirting, repressed sexual desire, Hobi will not let this woman live jfc, drinking, partying, groupie love, Y/N gets toasted and lets it all out 😅, unintentional voyeurism, an attempt at phone sex is made, dirty talk, making out, degradation, usage of sl*t, teasing, oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, deep throating, spanking, biting/marking, hair pulling, Hobi’s chains 🥵, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, rough sex, protected sex (don’t get preggo by famous rappers y’all), cumshot, some naughty pictures, raunchy rap lyrics

• Song Inspo: Holidae In - Chingy (Spotify | Soundcloud)

• Playlist: Hobi Focus 💿; Overall Trilogy 💿

• Notes: Here it is; the first installment of Tip Drill: The Trilogy! This was supposed to just be some fun from the fake fic title game and it spiraled into a full-blown situation 🥲 You can thank/blame @herecomesjoon​ @sunshinerainbowsbts​ @miscelunaaa​ @minttangerines​ for encouraging my ‘horny on main for Hobi’ brain to do this! And a huge shoutout to my wifey @playmetheclassics​ for beta’ing this chaos! 😘😘😘 Crossposted to AO3.

• Taglist: @parkdatjimin​ @jimilter​ @joontied​ @highly-functioning-mitochondria​ @swweetnightt​ @sopeorsoaporsoup​ @sugalaritae​ @cris1984love​ @hobi-love​ @bebejungkook​ @armys-dna​ @moonchild1​ @withjaejae​ @aliimac​ @kookieswan​ @i-dont-give-a-fok​ @withjaejae​ @codeinebelle​

Masterlist | Namjoon | Yoongi | Hardline

“Here is your room key, miss. The elevators are to your right, make sure you take the ones on the left side so you don’t end up on the wrong side of the building. Please don’t hesitate to contact us if you need anything.”

You took your keycard with a smile, making sure to remember the receptionist’s directions.

“Of course.”

The man shot you a megawatt grin. 

“Enjoy your stay!”

Keep reading

me and mr. jung | jhs (m)

My embarkation ticket to The Seven Seas Collab hosted by @ressjeon. The deep blue waters can be just as messy as solid ground.

pairing — investor!hoseok x singer!reader summary — Looking to diversify his investments, Jung Hoseok decides that cruise ships are the way to go. To get the lay of the land, he embarks on a promising ship, where one of the beautiful performers has his attention immediately. genre — smut, fluff (ish), forbidden love, love at first sight au rate — 18+ word count — 7.2k warnings — explicit sexual content, pov switch, alcohol intake, power dynamics, masturbation (f), unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating if you squint. author’s note — this fic had so many plot changes, y'all 😭 Alas, it's here with all it's glory. Shoutout to Yannie for putting together this amazing collab, and for brainstorming with me <3 And yes, there will be a part two in the future.

The indigo blue stress ball was at its last leg in Hoseok’s hands. He sat behind his mahogany desk, listening to his financial adviser babble about his personal portfolio. He’d seriously considered spiking his cup, but no amount of bourbon on his coffee could make this meeting interesting.

“Listen, Derek,” Hoseok started, “As much as I love talking about money with you, we’ll have to finish this another time. I have another meeting to attend.”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Jung,” Derek said apologetic, already getting up from his seat. “I’ll reschedule with your secretary.”

With Derek out of his office, Hoseok could finally roll his eyes and take a deep breath. How his father managed to get by day in and day out in this company was a mystery. Taking a short minute to rest, he placed his elbows on his desk, looking at a photo of him and his father. His mom took it on a trip to Disneyland when he was five. With big Mickey Mouse ears, and a smile that looked soldered to his face, all Hoseok wanted was to be like his father. He was sitting on his father’s lap, and the picture looked a little blurred, like he’d be jumping up and down, too excited to sit still. 

Many times over the years, Hoseok would come to this very office and see this picture that never left his father’s desk. When dad was in a meeting, he would sit on his leather chair and pretend to make important calls, sometimes indulged by dad’s secretary. All that little boy dreamed about was to be important like his father and make him really proud. 

If he only knew then about the boring meetings with stuck-up business associates, and the bootlicking, barely competent employees, maybe he’d rethink his decision to be a hedge fund manager. Yes, he did get the fun part of dressing in tailored suits every day, but the fun would end there most of the time.

Even with a boring job, Hoseok hadn’t noticed that he’d become a workaholic just like his father. Getting home too late to cook dinner, leaving too early for a proper breakfast, eating lunch at a restaurant every day. How does one become a workaholic with such a boring job? Boring job, but having a talent with numbers. Boring job, but being trained by his Ivy League education. Boring job, but being able to accurately predict the market for his clients. Boring job, but fulfilling his own dreams and his father’s dreams. Boring job, nonetheless.

“Amanda,” Hoseok called through the speaker, “Please reschedule my agenda for this afternoon, I’ll take the rest of the day off.”

“Yes, sir. What should I tell them?”

“Just make up an excuse. Once you’re done with that, take the day off as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hoseok didn’t give a second thought to his decision, just grabbing his coat and wallet before leaving. His apartment was the only place that came to his mind at that moment. No place else sounded interesting enough. 

Turning the keys to his apartment, the first thing he noticed was the mail, piling up on top of his foyer’s accent table. He took them to his couch, determined to sort them out today. He didn’t have anything to do anyway. But by bill number three, he’d given up, laying down and whining into the cushions.

Too many thoughts, too many decisions to make. Should he change his career? If yes, would that tarnish his father’s memory? Would his mom think of him as a traitor? What else was he good at? If he was going to stir the pot, it would have to be something he’s really good at, right? His mind gave him no rest, yet somehow he managed to fall asleep.

Three hours later, his body still felt tired. Hoseok opened his eyes, his gray walls looking like an infinity pool. He had promised himself to buy some art as soon as possible when he moved in. Yet another chore that got pushed back to make room for meetings. He didn’t know if the sun was still up, but the pink hues of the sky clued him in.

Through his peripheral vision, he spotted something colorful on the floor. It was a little too distracting to his eyes. He was still a little disoriented, a little sleepy, but the colorless apartment helped his search. 

With blue and gold letters, an invitation.

Sweet Night Cruise Line would like to formally invite Mr. Jung Hoseok to embark on his next business adventure…

The plane from New York to Lisbon went like a blessing. No screaming babies, no dogs, no fighting couple one seat behind, no chatty passenger by his side, he even slept through the whole 7 hours. A first for this Jung. The flight from Lisbon to Málaga went much the same, fairly empty for a Friday afternoon. Hoseok wanted to take this as a good sign.

But the real showstopper was provided by Mr. Kim, sending a limousine for the one hour drive from the airport to the pier. To take the fastest route, the driver avoided the coast, driving through a small highway. He regretted he didn’t get to see much of Málaga, but that went away as they reached Venus Beach. From his window he could see the locals and tourists enjoying the beach views restaurants. He’d promised himself to come back here before his “business trip” ended.

With a keycard in hand and his luggage being delivered to his cabin, Hoseok followed the young concierge escorting him to Mr. Kim, who was hosting a crew member party before the guests arrived the following day.

“Hoseok, look at you all grown up!” Mr. Kim said, coming to greet him at the deck. Hoseok laughed as they shook hands.

“It’s been too long, Mr. Kim. I hope everything is going well,” Even if not fond of small talk, Hoseok always knew to be polite to everyone, especially to his father's close friends.

“They certainly are. Here, have some champagne,” Mr. Kim offered, waving at a nearby waiter. “If you’re not a party man, Hoseok, my crew will most certainly make one out of you,”

“I can imagine, this is looking impressive!” The party was already a rave. Cameras flashed everywhere, and the music was not awful, vanilla jazz like at his office. That already set them apart from the office crowd he knew. The canapés were to die for, the bottles of champagne just kept on coming, and he couldn’t quite see from that far, but he thought he saw some guys setting up a karaoke machine.

“There’s no crew party like Sweet Night’s. Here, let me introduce you to our staff captain.” Mr. Kim guided him towards a tall man. His black hair was carefully pushed back, and he wasn’t wearing his uniform, or anything super formal for that matter, just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and gray slacks. He noticed Mr. Kim was also dressed like the captain, just with blue and black variations of colors. He immediately regretted his choice of dressing in a three-piece suit.

“Hoseok, this is our Staff Captain and my nephew Kim Namjoon,” Mr. Kim introduced, “Namjoon, this is Jung Hoseok, a dear friend of mine, and possibly a future investor. He’ll be staying with us for the first half of our trip.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jung, I’m very pleased to have you aboard. I’m sure you’ll find our accommodations to your taste,”

“Thank you and please call me Hoseok. I’m already feeling like an old overdressed man, and I’m not even 30 yet.” Hoseok joked and they politely laughed.

“Nonsense, you’re dressed just fine. You have good taste in tailoring,” Mr. Kim encouraged. “Would you like a short tour of the ship? I’ll give you a proper guide as the week progresses.”

“Sure, let’s go.”

Mr. Kim showed very little of each floor. He started by going down two levels and introducing the restaurant and dining hall. As soon as the elevator doors opened, he could see the massive staircase leading to the level above it. The walnut wood was delicately carved into banisters and chairs, probably the tables too. The tables were set with cream colored linens, complimenting the blue curtains and the deep brown of the chairs. 

Going up a level, he could feel the mood switch. The stage perfectly fitted the space. What Hoseok assumed was a dancing floor, was surrounded by small black tables with four seats each, and two circular bars, with at least fifteen seats. The stage was currently tinted with blue light. It had a piano with a 50’s microphone by the side, with two more on the back. The bars were impressive, each with many LED panels on the back and glass shelves by the sides holding many brands of different liquors. 

“This place is bigger than what it looks like right now,” The nephew explained. His deep voice made an echo as they left the empty room. “I would suggest for you to come tomorrow night. It’s 50’s themed, we’re expecting for the dance floor to be full.”

“I’ll certainly come,” Hoseok promised, even though it didn’t sound that promising, as the elevator doors closed behind them.

“And we reach full circle,” Mr. Kim finished the tour. They reached back to the deck, where a big pool and two bars were located. Getting familiarized with the deck, Hoseok looked around, before locking eyes with a familiar face. He knew her from somewhere. He looked puzzled at her, and the woman looked puzzled back. Then realization hit him as they walked closer.

“Daena?” he asked, unsure if it was really her or not. A childhood friend, someone he hasn’t seen in at least 15 years. He saw her last at a pool party at her parents mansion, the summer before 8th grade. Her father was his father’s closest friend in the business world. They’d become attached at the hip for years before Hoseok went to a boarding school in Switzerland.

“Hoseok?” she asked back. When he smiled as a yes, she ran to his embrace. Her hug was as tight as he remembered and she still wore the same floral perfume.

“I’d wager you two know each other,” Mr. Kim joked, and they laughed, pulling away from the hug.

“Yeah, since we were kids, actually. Our fathers were close,” Daena explained, stroking Hoseok’s arm gently. Even if time drove them apart, Daena would know that his father’s passing would always be a sore spot for Hoseok.

“Ms. Daena, I don’t think I introduced you to our staff captain. This is my nephew Kim Namjoon,” Mr. Kim introduced them, and Hoseok noticed as she got shy. Her smile was curt and didn’t reach her eyes. They only nodded to each other.

“What are you doing here anyway, you workaholic?” Daena asked Hoseok, teasing him with a slap to his shoulder. “Don’t you have a country to buy or something?”

“I’m actually here as a possible investor, thank you very much,” Hoseok indulged her teasing, putting his hands on his pockets and leaning forward.

“A powerful man never stops working, I imagine,” she said tantalizingly.

“Hoseok is a man that knows how to work hard while playing harder,” Mr. Kim joined in their banter. He continued to explain how Hoseok’s visit would take place, but Hoseok was too far gone to pay attention. 

Only 10 feet away, standing by one of the bars with a drink in her hand, there was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her skin glowed and contrasted with the pink and orange shades of the sunset, as if she spent the last week being pampered by the sun. She was laughing with her friends, her summer dress flowing with the soft breeze, but still clinging to her figure. She looked well rested, her face showing nothing but enthusiasm and curiosity. 

Her lips looked soft and inviting as he noticed the shimmer of her lip gloss. What a smile.

Hoseok wanted to know that woman. He wanted to know if she smelled of fresh gardenias like he was imagining. Her eyes glistened as she spoke to her friends, and he could tell they were entranced. Must’ve been an interesting story. Or she could just be saying some bullshit. He wouldn’t judge her friends for being hypnotized. It wasn’t their fault. He turns to his group, already engrossed in another conversation, yet he wasn’t ashamed to interrupt their discussion.

“Excuse me, who is that woman in the pink dress over there?” 

“Oh, that’s Y/N, she’s one of our performers. She has a lovely voice.” The nephew, whose name he would make a note to remember, answered.

“I’m sure she does.” He could no longer take his eyes off of her. He felt Daena nudge him in the ribs with her elbows, but he didn’t care if she was going to tease him.

The singer was sipping a delicate looking drink. Maybe a Cosmo? Cranberry vodka? But that was only an afterthought. Hoseok was mesmerized by her body. Her shoulders were exposed, and that already made him salivate. Let alone the curves of her breasts, peeking through the opening of her cleavage. Her legs were another thing entirely; a central feature in Hoseok’s mind. They would be the star of his imagination for many days to come. Her beautiful feet were adorned with delicate heels, with thin straps that swirled around her calves. Sexy. Beautiful. Hot. Goddess.

“Do you want to meet the crew?” Mr. Kim asked, and Hoseok snapped out of his trance.

“If that’s not too much,” Hoseok agreed, trying his best to not break into a victory dance.

The soft wind shifted in their direction, and with it came the most delicate sweet scent. It had to be her perfume, no questions about it. Once they reached her, Hoseok had to concentrate very hard to not drool at her feet.

“Ms. Y/N,” Mr. Kim called, “This is Jung Hoseok, he’s a dear friend and he’ll be our guest for the first leg of our trip.”

“Hello,” she said, and Hoseok felt like he could melt right there. Was that shimmering bells he heard when she spoke? “Is very nice to meet you, Mr. Jung.” she offered her hand with that kilowatt smile. Concentrating very hard in forbidding the excitement in his stomach to travel to his pants, Hoseok shook her hand with both of his. Better to focus on her soft hands instead of the thrill he felt when she called him Mr. Jung.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Hoseok almost whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. 

“And this is Ms. Lee Daena, another dear friend and our guest,” Mr. Kim intervened.

“Is very nice to meet you, Ms. Lee,” Hoseok was completely hypnotized, only looking at Y/N as she spoke to Daena. The softest voice. The sexiest voice. The reincarnation of Aphrodite herself. 

“Please, call me Daena,” she said, shaking the hand Y/N extended. Daena also pinched Hoseok’s arm and whispered “Get your shit together.” He didn’t. 

“I heard you have a lovely voice,” Hoseok complimented Y/N. Anything to distract the butterflies in his stomach. If it was anything like her speaking voice, Hoseok could only imagine the hold she had on the other guests.

“That’s what I hear too, but I don’t think I can agree that much,” she said with humility.

“Maybe I’ll just have to hear it and judge for myself, then,” Hoseok teased, focusing on keeping a smirk off his face.

“I guess that would be best,” she agreed, and her eyes sparkled. Hoseok couldn’t help but pay attention to the beauty of her face now that he could see it up close. Her cheeks looked as soft as her hands. He wanted to see it for himself. He almost slipped in his composure. Maybe some other time. 

“Well, let me introduce you to the rest of the staff,” Mr. Kim said, taking Hoseok off his trance again. 

Mr. Kim was right about the crew party. There would be no other like this. The food kept coming, along with the champagne. He was partly expecting to see a beer keg somewhere, and he had to remind himself he wasn’t at a college party in the 90’s. The karaoke was set at a makeshift stage, and various staff members took their turns. Hoseok also expected for Y/N to go up there and sing too, but she kept her place amongst her friends.

Hoseok was torn the entire night. He knew he was on vacation, but to everyone else he was a guest. And to stare at a staff member was wildly inappropriate. But he couldn’t help it, she was just too magnetic. She was probably a siren, taking him off his normal routes and alluring him to his death. Hoseok fidgeted the entire time he was accompanying Mr. Kim as they made the rounds. Every now and then, he’d look at her direction like a lunatic. 

“Stop staring or go talk to her. Either way, stop squirming like a little boy,” Daena whispered by his side, only playfully annoyed.

“First of all, I’m not staring, I’m just making business observations about the deck. Second of all, not while Mr. Kim is looking,” Hoseok whispered back.

“Afraid of getting caught, Mr. Boy Scout? Not much wild in you, huh?”

“Stop talking like that. We’re not in the 60’s,” Hoseok hissed, and she chuckled. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Just because,” she said, shrugging. “Don’t worry about that. I'll distract Mr. Kim now, make a run for it.” Daena offered and immediately started an animated conversation with Mr. Kim. Hoseok didn’t waste time, and in seconds he was at Y/N’s side.

“I thought I was going to see you sing tonight at the karaoke,” he said, making her turn to look at him. 

“I thought I could give the other a fighting chance,” she answered, taking the last sip of her drink. 

“What if I was Ebony and you were Ivory?” he joked, and she snorted, rolling her eyes. “Maybe some Endless Love if you’re feeling really corny.”

“Oh, that would be just fantastic. But between you and me, I don’t know if you can hold an E-flat,” she teased, leaning into him.

“Try me,” he leaned forward too, whispering the words to her. He looked into her curious eyes, and for a moment he forgot where they were. Her cheeks looked tempting again, but they were overshadowed by her lips, plump and soft, almost parted for a kiss. He leaned even more, throwing caution to the wind.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” someone asked by their side. A tall male, one of her friends, stood there with his hands in his pockets. Y/N corrected her posture, and Hoseok was quick to do the same. The friend looked suspiciously at Hoseok, before doing the same to Y/N.

“Yes, I’m ready,” she announced, grabbing her phone and adjusting her hair. “Have a good night, Mr. Jung.” she said politely.

“Have a good night, Y/N.” 

A lot of mantras went by Y/N’s head during the past three weeks. Ignore the way he’s looking at me. Do not bite your lip right now. Stop imagining yourself on your knees. Stop staring at his lips. Dating a guest is wrong. Dating a guest is wrong. Dating a guest is wrong. They all seemed worthless in the end. She could only listen to the last one. 

“Again, another great set,” Hoseok complimented, reaching for her hand. She took it as she walked down the stairs by the side of the rehearsing stage. Ignore the way it feels when he holds your hand. If he could only read her mind… “You do know how to put a setlist together.”

“Well, thank you,” Y/N said, “I am a fan of the 70’s, so I had to go all out.”

“You say you’re a fan of the 70’s and yet I see no Bee Gees in there,” Hoseok teased.

“That’s because I actually have a personality.”

“Oh really? With all that ABBA? You say I don’t have a personality, but if you really want to talk about something generic…” Hoseok continued, shrugging his shoulders.

Y/N gasped, pulling her hands off of his to playfully slap his arms multiple times. “You did not just call ABBA generic!”

“I’m sorry,” he laughed freely, trying to avoid her hits.

“Just when I was starting to like you, and you say stuff like this,” Y/N whined, crossing her arms. She pouted, shaking her head. She thought she was looking pathetic, but anything to flirt with him.

“Aw, look at you pouting,” Hoseok whined, teasing her. “Would you forgive me if I apologized?” he said softly, stroking her arm with one hand, grabbing her chin with the other. She let him guide her eyes to him, and he smiled softly. 

“Maybe,” she encouraged him, maybe batting her eyelashes a little. He squinted his eyes when he saw the playful smile on her lips.

“I’m sorry for thinking ABBA is boring and generic,” he said mockingly, a big smile plastered on his lips.

“Because they are influential to pop music to this day,” she said, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m not saying that,” he countered, with the bickering yet defying voice he always had.

“Yes, you are,” she chanted, her smile only getting bigger. She thought he would be used to it now. It’s not like that was the first time he made fun of her musical taste.

“Because they are influential to pop music to this day,” he said, sighing heavily after.

“How did that taste like?” she asked, already knowing he hated saying those words.

“Like vinegar,” he frowned. “So, am I forgiven?” he probed.

“Yes, you are,” she said softly.

“That’s good,” he whispered. She then felt Hoseok caress her cheek, ever so tenderly. His thumb left her chin and grazed her jaw, before his hand traveled to her neck. 

She took in a sharp breath. No one was around to witness any of that, Y/N was always careful to talk to him without anyone around. She wanted this to be the moment where she finally gave in to her desires. To finally kiss his lips, that looked so soft and inviting. He leaned forward, his nose touching hers, his sweet breath hitting her face.

“We can’t,” she whispered. He took a deep breath, but he didn’t move an inch away from her.

“Why not?”

“You’re a guest,” she started, “And I could-”

“Don’t think of me as a guest,” Hoseok interrupted, taking a step back to look into her eyes.

“I don’t have any other way to see it,” she continued, shrugging, “I can’t jeopardize my job like this.”

“You won’t,” Hoseok said, taking her hand back in his. “I kind of work here anyway, so you should think of me as a coworker.” He insisted and she laughed nervously.

“I can’t, that’s not what you are. You are a guest, and possibly my future boss. My love life needs to be separate!” 

“I get that, I really do,” Hoseok sighed. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position, I’m not thinking clearly.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said, kindly. She sighed and he joined her. Maybe if her decisions existed in a bubble, where one couldn’t interfere with the other… 

“In the spirit of being honest, I just wanted you to know that I find you really attractive,” Hoseok said, sounding apologetic. “And I see that it was very unprofessional of me to put you in this position, and I respect your decision. And when I was flirting with you, I thought you were flirting back. It’s my mistake that I-”

“I was flirting back,” she whispered, not wanting him to apologize for something she also had a hand in.

“Okay then,” Hoseok sighed. She looked deeply into his eyes. She could feel the sorrow being expressed in her own face. “I really wanted to kiss you,” he said softly, “and maybe do some other stuff too,” he continued jokingly, and she chuckled.

“I really wanted to kiss you too,” she reassured him.

“So it’s a no to the other stuff?” he teased, making her roll her eyes. “If you change your mind…”

“You’ll be the first one to know,” she promised.

Y/N spent the rest of the day in her cabin, thinking about Hoseok. She was starting to regret her stupid, stupid decision to not kiss him. His lips were right there, no more than an inch apart with his hand at her neck. All she had to do was lift her chin a little to reach paradise. The lips she had been dreaming about for weeks. She could finally pull his hair and moan to his lips. So what if she was going to lose her job? She could always find another one. She would not find another set of arms that she would like to be in. At least not this much. The arms that would pull her to his chest, maybe even squeeze her hips. 

But that door was closed. It needed to be.

Laying down on her small bed, she closed her eyes and traced all the memories she had of his hands with her own. Those damn hands. The way he touched her neck with just the tip of his fingers, his thumb caressing her cheek and jaw. He was driving her to insanity. His hands would also caress her arms, tender strokes that she wanted to feel in every inch of her body.

She wished he was there with her. She wished she could guide his hands through her body. If he was going to drive her to insanity, at least drive her to orgasm too. Too worked up to look back, she imagined his hands cupping her breasts. Her breath caught, and she felt her nipples getting hard through the fabric of her dress.

She also wanted him to touch her thighs. His palm would travel up and down her legs, before settling at her hips. She quickly pulled down her underwear, not wanting to lose the momentum of her imagination. She also wanted him to kiss her inner thighs, but her fingers would do for the moment. Moving up and down softly through her inner thighs, she whispered his name.

Her fingers reached her folds, and she hissed once she realized the pool that formed. Slowly circling her clit, she moaned his name again and again. She imagined what his lips would feel like. She wanted to grip his hair for him to stay put, and his tongue would go up and down per her request. 

Her fingers picked up the pace, and she curled the sheet with her free hand. She wanted to feel him moan against her cunt, beg for him to suck her clit. The knot in her stomach got tighter and tighter, and she couldn’t control herself anymore. She moaned his name again, loudly this time, as the climax reached her body. 

“Shit,” she whispered. She knew at that moment it was impossible to ignore the way he affected her. She honestly didn’t want to.

“I ain’t got no money… I ain’t like those other guys you hang around,” Y/N sang the first lines of her last song of the night. The crowd was exceptionally encouraging, she would give credit to her stage presence. At first they mostly drank at the bar, and some couples danced together, but at that moment they all paid attention to her performance, she was giving it her all. She could pull all that passion from personal experience. “I Wanna Be Your Lover” was only the cherry on top, to end the night in a funky mood. But the true crowd pleasers were “If You Really Love Me”, “If I Were Your Woman”, “Let’s Stay Together”, and “Touch Me In the Morning”. Oddly timed.

Did she really have to set up all of those love songs on the same night she decided to not deny her desires? And to make matters worse, she knew he was watching. She moved her body the way she knew he liked it too. Swinging her hips this way and that. Dancing and tapping her hips to the beat of the drums. She was also feeling herself in her bell bottom jeans with bell sleeve tie top. A dangerous combo, but she wanted something out of that night. She wanted him. 

So she decided to let him know. He would need to pay attention to that moment.

“Before we end this beautiful night, I just wanted to dedicate this next song to a friend of mine,” she started saying before the band could leave their marked places. She found him in the crowd quickly, locking his eyes easily. The unscripted message got his attention. “I hope he’s paying attention. I’ll know he’ll like this one.” She took a deep breath and started acapella.

“Me and Mrs. Jones,” she started the first notes and the crowd cheered, some couples went back to dancing, enjoying the slow pace of the song. “We got a thing going on,” the band followed her lead, one by one until the song was luscious and lustful.

“We both know that it’s wrong,” Piano.

“But it’s much too strong to let it go now,” Base.

“We meet every day, at the same café,” Guitar.

“At six thirty, and no one knows she’ll be there,” Sax.

“Holding hands, making all kinds of plans, while the jukebox plays our favorite song,” The song progressed and Hoseok got closer to the stage, leaving the shadow of the bar where he sat every day to watch her perform. “Well, it’s time for us to be leaving. It hurts so much, it hurts so much inside.” He was standing in front of the stage by that point, hands in his pockets, a confused look on his face. She needed to make herself clearer. 

“Now she'll go her own way and I'll go mine,” She stared directly into his brown eyes, she said everything she wanted to in her head, in hopes it would translate to her eyes. He had to understand. “But tomorrow we’ll meet at the same place, at the same time,” The confused look was gone, and a smirk replaced his features. He winked and she fell like swooning, but she could only watch while he walked away, “Me and Mrs. Jones…”

The song ended, and she wished the crowd goodnight, excusing herself before the band could ask any questions she didn’t want to answer. She started to walk around the bar and the dance floor, politely nodding while people congratulated her performance. He was nowhere to be found. She would scream his name on every floor if it were necessary. 

She walked towards the elevator, but the influx of people was too big, it would take forever; she’d have to do a one-eighty and bolt for the stairs. Looking at her feet, trying not to fall in heels, she went up the steps as fast as she could.

“Excuse me, miss,” she heard a male voice in front of her, but she didn’t look up. The man was insistent and held her arm, halting her steps. She turned to face him, angry words almost coming out of her lips. But at the step behind her, Hoseok was smiling angelically, his eyes glistening under the lights of the room. “Can I have your autograph?” he continued, climbing up a step to get leveled with her.

“Yes, you can,” she replied, all traces of anger gone from her features. 

“I don’t have pen and paper with me. Do you mind going to my cabin so we can find one?” He whispered to her ear, before quickly kissing her earlobe. A shiver went up and down her spine, and she had to control every movement of her body. Having sex in public was still illegal. 

“Yes, we can do that,” she whispered back. 

Hoseok wasted no time in guiding her to his cabin. They walked through a secluded hallway from the bar to a private elevator. She’d never been there before, but she knew it led to the VIP lounge. She barely saw the keycard hit the touch screen, and Hoseok pressed the buttons quickly. He was in a hurry too. They stood on opposite sides of the elevator, facing each other.

“Are you sure about this?” Hoseok asked, tapping his foot to the ground, he looked a little nervous.

“I’m sure.” 

The elevator door opened, and he guided her through the lounge and inside another hallway. They walked too quickly, she was certain someone was watching closely through the security footage, but her decision didn’t waiver. He opened his door for her, and she stood facing his ocean view window. She could only see the blackness of the night, but she was sure it would be beautiful during the day. She heard noises in the back and turned to see Hoseok pouring two drinks from his mini fridge.

“For confidence?” He offered her a glass, but she shook her head.

“I don’t need it.” She whispered, the shaky feeling of what she was about to do finally setting in. He put the glasses down and came to her side, holding her hands to his heart.

“It’s okay if you change your mind,” he said, and she chuckled, but her stomach felt restless. She was finally getting what she wanted. His lips were close, and this time she didn’t want to say no. She didn’t have to. She was committing to that moment.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” she answered, taking a step further with a small smile. Her breasts touched the fabric of his light blue suit, and she remembered earlier in the day, with her imagination unfettered. She closed her eyes. It wasn’t going to be only imagination anymore. “Hold me,” she ordered. She didn’t open her eyes when his arms held her waist, hugging her figure to his chest. “Kiss me,” she whispered. And he did.

His warm lips were just as soft as she imagined. His tongue caressed her bottom lip, and in a quest to taste his breath, her own tongue met his. Her hands, firmly pressed against his arms, went to stroke his hair and neck. She pulled his hair, and he moaned at the sensation, holding her tighter against his body. She bit his lower lip, doing the best she could to press her hips against his own. She had his help when his hands gripped her hips and ass.

They both let loose. His jacket was on the floor in a second, and his hands were quick to untie her blouse, exposing her bra. Her hands traveled down his chest as she opened the buttons of his shirt. He stripped her pants and panties off while he kissed her jaw and neck, until he could lick and suck on her cleavage. She opened his belt and unzipped his pants in the process, massaging his cock as soon as she reached his boxers. 

In a flash, she dragged his pants and boxers down his legs, and found herself to her knees, reenacting the most famous scene of her imagination. He hissed when she kissed his tip and licked his length. She spat in her hand and stroked him up and down, before doing the same with her mouth. He growled, and his deep voice excited her even further. Her walls clenched when she felt his full size inside her mouth. It filled her perfectly. She sucked him faster and faster, getting aid from her hand. She was salivating for more, clenching in anticipation. Her hand left his cock to massage her own clit. She needed no support from her wet hand, her folds were already pooled. 

“Yes,” he hissed, moving his hips in harmony with her mouth, “touch that pretty cunt, baby,” he held her in place by her neck, thrusting his hips further down her throat. They moaned in unisson. He took his cock out of her mouth, the long saliva trail dripping on the floor. “Let me fuck you,” he whispered, begging. She nodded her head fiercely.

He helped her get up to her feet and guided her to the sofa by the window. She took her top and bra off and laid down, eyes wide with expectation. He opened her legs widely, and placed himself in between, holding one thigh to his waist. He used her wet labia to lubricate himself, sliding his dick up and down. She hissed as his tip stroked her clit. She clenched as he slowly entered her core, and her breath caught. She moaned his name.

“Yes, baby, call for me,” he said to her ear, catching her earlobe with his teeth. She moaned his name again and again as his strokes got faster and faster. His hand squeezed her thigh, and he grunted. The vibrations of his voice sent chills down her spine. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he whispered.

His pace never slowed, and they moaned each other's names. She felt the knot build up in her abdomen, and her breath got shallow and quicker. “Fuck me,” she scremead, breathing harder. His hips picked up the speed, the sound of their hips meeting getting louder. She felt free to moan louder as he grunted more and more. “I’m close,” she whispered, “Let me cum on that dick, Mr. Jung,” she whined. He squeezed her thigh harder, grunting incoherently. She then felt the warmth of his jizz inside of her.

“No,” he said, breathing heavily. His hips settled still.

“W-What?”

“You’re going to cum on my mouth,” he said, readjusting her body so she was sitting. He kneeled on the floor, placing her thighs on his shoulders. His tongue went to her clit, and she gasped, placing her hands on his hair. He swirled the tip of his tongue, sliding two fingers inside her filled pussy. She hissed with the sensation. He curled his fingers, massaging her spot.

“Suck on it,” she begged. He complied immediately. His free hand massaged one of her tits, and she pulled her head back, overwhelmed with pleasure. The familiar knot came back, and she sucked a quick breath. “I’m so close,” she repeated, and Hoseok increased the pressure. She tugged his hair as she felt the warm release of the knot, and in a final moan, she fell limp on his couch.

Y/N heard the birds chirping outside. Was it morning already? She felt an unfamiliar stroke up and down her back, and was suddenly alarmed. She sat up quickly in the bed, only to see a confused Hoseok laying down by her side.

“Nightmare?” he asked, worried. She rubbed her eyes, looking around his room. The memories started to flood her head. The unplanned serenade, the quick walk down his hallway, the couch. The shower that led to a second round. The bickering over her use of his shirt to sleep. “Y/N?” he repeated, sounding a little alarmed.

“I’m okay,” she affirmed, she looked into his eyes, and he was still not convinced. “Really, everything’s fine. I’m just not used to waking up with someone else on the bed,” she confessed.

“Come here,” he asked, patting the place she’d just left. She agreed, laying her head against his chest. “Good morning, beautiful,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“Mornin’,” she replied, stretching her arms and legs.

“How are you feeling?”

“Feeling good,” she replied, stretching her neck to kiss his lips. “Real good,” she continued playfully, wiggling her eyebrows. He chuckled.

“How about some breakfast in bed?” he offered, hugging her tighter to his side.

She felt her body tense, and she stayed silent. As good as it was, there were still consequences she would have to deal with. What was going to happen to her job? For all she knew, Mr. Kim could be right outside waiting to fire her while she was dressed in her panties and Hoseok’s button up. And what about the future? What did the future held with this strange man she just had unprotected sex with?

“I don’t know,” she finally answered.

“Are the regrets knocking at your door?” he asked softly, back to stroking her back.

“Yes, and no,” she admitted, and Hoseok took a deep breath.

“Talk to me,” he prompted.

“My job…” she started, sorrow seeping through. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said matter of fact. “Your job is safe.”

“What do you mean?” she probed.

“Just trust me,”

“I want to, but you’ll have to tell me,” she pushed, getting up and supporting her weight in one elbow. “What did you do?”

“It’s a long story, okay?” he answered, pushing his hair back. “I can tell you what I know over dinner, tho,” he offered, smugly. “Tomorrow night. Let’s take advantage of the fact that we are in France, and I’ll fly us to Paris for a date. What do you say?” he continued, his eyes sparkling like a puppy dog.

“I say you’re insane,”

“Well, at least I’m hot,” he joked, and she snorted.

“Hoseok, be serious.”

“I am,” he declared. She started to get up, but he stopped her, holding her arm. “Please, just listen to my offer. Let’s just say that in the hypothetical situation where your job is safe, and no one knew we just had the hottest sex of my life, would you go out with me?” She looked at his begging face for a minute, and he pouted cutely as she pondered. “Or was this just a one night thing? You don’t have to pretend you have feelings or anything. I’m a grown man.”

“I don’t want this to be just a one night stand,” she confessed.

“Okay, good, neither do I. Then back to the hypothetical scenario,” he said, cheerful, sitting up by her side.

“And that’s only if my job is safe and sound,” she threatened. 

“Okay. If your job is safe and sound, would you be willing to date me?” he asked.

“I guess…”

“You guess?” he asked, shocked.

“If my job is safe and sound, I don’t want to jeopardize it…”

“So?” he prompted.

“So, any dating would have to happen far and outside from the ship.”

“Fine by me.”

“And while inside the ship, we have to pretend like nothing is happening between us.” she continued, a little more shy this time. Maybe this would be too much for him. Maybe this would be too much for her. She didn’t know if she was capable of pretending nothing was happening.

“That’s also fine by me,” he promised. “With that out of the way, do you want to go to Paris with me?”

“I’ll meet you outside of the pier by 5.”

party on you (explicit)

genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT with an extremely small side of fluff lol

pairing: hoseok x reader

summary: the only thing stronger than your social anxiety is your big dumb crush on hoseok - and you're certainly not expecting it when he tells you the real reason he threw this album release party.

word count: 9.8k

contains: explicit sexual content aka PORN !!!! idol-verse, literally takes place at the JITB album release party, friends to lovers, erotic hand holding, they're both cute and dumb, a studio hookup 👀 dirty talk, thigh riding, cunnilingus, a single pussy slap lol, taint touching (?), HOBI EATS ASS, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, throat fucking, reader gets a facial, and a lil bit of cum eating, it's cute 😌

A/N: so, hi, i went to hobipalooza lmao. this is actually lowkey a songfic ??? charli xcx was one of the earlier acts on hobi's stage and. my god. seeing her live was a religious experience, and when she performed party 4 u i was like hnnnhghg this should be a fic. and now it is !!!! and i hope u enjoy 🥺🥺 i tried some new stuff in here, both soft and freaky lmao so i'm nervy to share!!! as always your support and feedback means the world to meeeee ok ilysomuch bye~

read on AO3 !

~*~

You collapse back against the cushions of your couch with a soft whine of distress.

The whole thing is really so ridiculous. You told yourself when this started that you could be chill about it. People get crushes every day. It doesn’t have to be a huge fucking deal. You’re a sane, rational adult, perfectly capable of admiring a man quietly from afar while doing your best to be a good friend to him.

And, yes, maybe also obsessing a little too much over what to wear when you hang out, and what to post on Instagram in case he might see it, and dear god, how long his hair is getting. All normal crush things.

But now, as you press your phone to your chest with both hands and sigh forlornly, you wonder if it might actually be possible to yearn yourself to death. To like somebody so much that your heart just fucking explodes. If anyone could be capable of inciting spontaneous combustion, it is absolutely Jung Hoseok.

And he wants you to come to his big fancy party– has specifically sent a day-of reminder text, like you didn’t already receive a formal invitation weeks ago.

You purse your lips, fighting to keep a smile off your face despite being alone in your apartment where no one can perceive you. Hoseok is always so good at keeping in touch, even when he’s in an insanely busy season of his life. You can picture him now, probably bustling around his place in a robe, getting ready while simultaneously sending everyone their own personalized message.

Everyone– when you last chatted about the party, he rattled off enough of the guest list for you to know that easily half the industry will be there tonight. And even Lizzo has gushed about how great of a texter he is. You try to ease yourself off the ledge with the comforting thought that this has to be just one courtesy text of dozens, his pretty painted thumbnails working overtime to send gratuitous emojis out to every idol in the city.

And somehow also to you. Because your big fat crush made you stupid enough to say yes to what is arguably your worst nightmare: A party full of cool famous people, where you will know no one except the guest of honor.

Skipping the party is not an option becomes your internal refrain as the hours tick by. You have to remind yourself of this even more emphatically when you wind up on the floor of your bedroom, having tried on every article of clothing in your closet and having decisively hated it all.

Skipping the party is not an option, you think again, grabbing your phone to check the clock. Your heart sinks when you realize how much time you’ve wasted being an anxious wreck– you had planned to be ready to leave five minutes ago, not laying half-naked on the floor, hair and makeup still undone.

But skipping the party is not an option. A pre-party cry, however, might be on the table.

Pushing yourself up to sit on your heels, you force the tears back while you aimlessly sort through a pile of clothes. You’re barely looking at what’s in front of you, but you pause to do a double-take as your hand passes over a particularly enjoyable texture.

When you manage to extract the item, you realize it’s a dress you’d forgotten about entirely– something a friend made you buy a lifetime ago that you’ve never worn because you’ve always been uncomfortable with how short it is. But it’s smooth baby pink satin, and as different from your usual as it may be, you recall not being mad about the way it stuck to your curves like water.

Fuck it. You’re already late, and if there’s ever a party where you can take a fashion risk, it’s one thrown by Hoseok. You can only imagine what he might have on tonight; it honestly wouldn’t surprise you if he showed up in the same fucking dress.

The thought of seeing him is enough to make your heart leap in your chest, and you do your best to speed through your usual makeup and hair routine despite the way your hands are starting to tremble. By the time you grab your purse and make it out the door, you’re thirty minutes late. That thirty minutes quickly stretches into a full hour before you’re stepping off the elevator onto the 19th floor of HYBE headquarters, feeling like an asshole.

Gorgeous idols and various other famous people stream in around you, dressed in clothes that appear casual but you’re sure cost double your monthly rent payment, looking less than unbothered about showing up late. You do your best to slip in unnoticed and stick to the perimeter of the massive room, feeling like an absolute fraud.

Thankfully it’s only a few steps before you find a table taken up entirely by pre-filled flutes of champagne, and you eagerly grab one, mostly just grateful for something to do with your hands.

It occurs to you how little you know about celebrity culture, because the party doesn’t even seem to have started yet: early 2000s R&B is bumping through the speakers, and it feels like every few minutes the elevator chimes to let another group of people trickle into the space. You find an unoccupied section of wall to lean against as you sip your drink slowly, hoping that if you try hard enough, you might actually manage to become one with the wallpaper.

Tipping your head back for another sip of champagne, you nearly choke at an unexpected voice from over your shoulder.

“You look like you hate parties as much as I do.”

You manage to not inhale your drink, instead giving a polite smile as your eyes drift across the crowded room. You’re too nervous to immediately steal a glance at whoever is speaking to you, though you’re sure it just makes you seem rude. “Hate isn’t exactly it.” You have nothing against parties, or people who enjoy them. “I just… haven’t figured out what I’m supposed to be doing, exactly.”

“I think talking to people is generally expected,” the voice quips. “So, hey, you’re doing great already. Keep it up and they might even think you’re an extrovert.”

You exhale a soft laugh, a slight heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“But Hobi said I didn’t have to meet and greet if I didn't want to. So I’m taking that as full permission to enjoy free alcohol and read webtoons on my phone.”

Your gaze snaps over at the familiar nickname, and your mouth goes dry as you realize you’ve been casually conversing with none other than Kim Seokjin, who is absentmindedly fiddling with the thin green strap of the bag slung over his shoulder.

Fuck. Embarrassing yourself in front of random famous people was exactly what you were trying to avoid when you picked this wall to lean against. You’d figured the other members would all be out mingling in the center of things, not hiding in a corner. Who knew celebrities were just like you?

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, immediately dropping your gaze to avoid making eye contact when Jin looks up. He probably assumed you’d sidled up next to him on purpose, like some kind of creepy fan. “I’ll leave you alone, I actually really didn’t mean to–”

You glance up again only to realize Jin is laughing, shoulders shaking slightly.

“Wow, I’m so bad at this. That wasn’t me telling you to fuck off. I was just trying to sympathize.” He gestures lazily towards the stage at the front of the room. “Thankfully it looks like you don’t have to suffer my conversation any longer.”

A Jack in the Box graphic has started to flash, projected onto the screen. After a few seconds, the image stills, and a spotlight clicks on, following Hoseok as he emerges from backstage. You lean forward to set your drink on the closest table so you can join in the applause for him.

Hoseok looks as effortlessly cool as he always does, but even more so tonight, like someone has cranked his charisma up to the max setting. A real fucking popstar, a rockstar, even: baggy clothes, multiple layers of necklaces, chunky black boots, dark hair pushed back with a few strands falling into his eyes. He somehow even manages to make wearing sunglasses indoors look cool– probably because they’re immediately offset by the wide, sweet grin of his mouth as he addresses the crowd. You can hear that he’s nervous by how hard he’s trying to keep his voice even, and it’s enough to make you feel the flutter of butterfly wings in your throat.

As you pick your drink back up for another sip, you can’t help but wonder if Jin can literally see the hearts in your eyes, or a nervous little teardrop floating above your head like an anime character. You do your best to hide your smile behind your glass.

“J-Hope is pretty cool, huh?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, answering Jin’s question with a shy nod.

Hoseok descends the stage as the lights lower, and then the album intro is starting and there’s no more time for conversation. You watch from across the room as he drops down on the large built-in stairs next to Jungkook, who immediately wraps a supportive arm around his waist while Hoseok laughs like he’s embarrassed. You’ve always been in total awe of the way Hoseok can light up and command the energy of a room easily, then squirm away from it at the next second.

Jin gets waved over and gives you a small nod as he departs, and then you’re alone again with the champagne in your hand and the wall against your back and Hoseok’s music thrumming through your nervous system.

The album is nothing like you expected– you didn’t know what to expect, really– and you absolutely love it. You’ve always felt like you have a stupidly limited vocabulary when it comes to talking about music, particularly around Hoseok, but even you can manage to string together the thought that these songs are fucking special.

But then again, so is he.

In what feels like the blink of an eye Hoseok is taking the stage again to giggle through his thanks, bent slightly at the waist in overwhelmed appreciation, and then the pop playlist is switched back on and the lights are dimmed and you suddenly feel your palms start to slick up against your champagne flute.

You can’t help but wonder what the fuck you’re supposed to do now.

The obvious choice would be to finally go talk to Hoseok, but of course, he’s the man of the hour, so every other person in the room seems to have the same idea. You choose to hang back and watch as he weaves through the growing crowd, putting on a bored expression to pose for pictures, laughing excitedly as people shake his hand and speak to him in hushed tones, and flashing thumbs ups and peace signs left, right and center.

It looks exhausting, you think to yourself with a small smile. And this is why you’re not famous.

For the second time tonight someone manages to sneak up on you, and this time it’s accompanied with a gentle call of your name. You nearly drop your drink as you whip around.

When you find yourself face-to-face with Park Jimin, it takes a few seconds for you to remember how to close your mouth. What is going on?

“I thought that was you.”

You double-blink, unable to find any words at all. You have never met this man before in your life. Seen him dozens of times on your TV screen, sure, but certainly never formally introduced.

“I’m Jimin,” he says, and you have to swallow the urge to giggle in his face because, yeah, no shit.

“Hi, Jimin.”

“Hoseok is going to be excited that you’re here.” Jimin scrunches his face up a little, like he knows he shouldn’t be telling you this. “He kept asking me if I thought you would show or not. He really wouldn’t shut up about it.”

You find yourself stammering again, trying to figure out how the hell to respond. Why, out of everyone on the guest list, would Hoseok be concerned about you? And he’s talked to Jimin about you enough for him to know who you are, that he can recognize you on sight alone? Your head starts to spin, despite the fact that you’re only halfway through your glass of champagne.

“Since you don’t like parties,” Jimin says, like it’s common knowledge, as if it’s totally normal for this very busy and famous kpop idol to keep tabs on your socialization preferences.

You nod dumbly. “I, yeah. I’m just not very good at them.”

Jimin nods, pushing up the sleeves of his white Chanel sweater. “You just have to get comfortable with talking to people about boring shit. Did you try the food?”

You shake your head– the very thought is enough to make you feel a little sick. “I get, like, a nervous stomach?” You hate that it comes out like a question when it clearly isn’t.

“Aish, you and Hoseok are so alike,” Jimin rolls his eyes, hands on hips, but you can see he’s smiling a little. “I haven’t been able to get him to eat anything all day. And we ordered so much food, I don’t even know why. Like half the people in this room aren’t on fucking diets.”

“Jimin-ah!”

Both of your heads snap up at the sound of Namjoon’s voice from the other side of the room, distorted slightly by the thudding bass.

“Ahh, they’re doing pictures,” Jimin says with an exaggerated sigh, like it’s just so hard being desirable and photogenic. “Do you want to get a photo?”

You shake your head as emphatically as possible. “No, nope, absolutely not.”

Jimin pauses, squinting at you for a second in a way that makes you think that if you were closer friends, he’d be dragging you across the room regardless of your answer to the question. You watch as he clearly attempts to restrain himself.

“Well, don’t drink too much on an empty stomach, okay? I’ll make you a to-go plate of food before you leave.” He starts to walk backwards away from you, raising his voice a little so you can still hear him. “And please talk to Hoseokie when we’re done! Maybe then he’ll calm the fuck down!”

You can’t hide the smile that blooms across your face, and Jimin wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis before turning around and pressing his way through the crowd to the photo wall.

The members take turns passing Hoseok around, punctuated by the snap of the camera: pinching his cheeks, leaning into him, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his neck. You laugh out loud when Taehyung hikes a leg up high on Hoseok’s hip and tips back, a hand draped across his forehead, eyes shut, so fucking dramatic.

Hoseok stares down the camera like a professional, only to immediately dissolve into giggles between shots, tongue poking out between his teeth like he can’t quite handle all the attention. It’s enough to have you nearly fighting for your life.

The members crowd in for a few group shots, posing cutely until Jimin finally waves everyone back off to the dancefloor. He keeps Hoseok behind with one hand gripping his bicep, and your heart drops into your stomach when Jimin leans in to whisper something in Hoseok’s ear.

Oh, fuck.

You try to calm yourself down, reasoning that he could be talking about any number of important things, but then Jimin pulls Hoseok’s sunglasses off his face, turns him unmistakably in your direction, and gives his shoulders a hard push. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t quite know where he’s going as he stumbles forward and squints at the party lights, so you throw back the last of your champagne for some assistance, set the empty flute on a table, and force yourself to be brave.

You run your palms nervously over the sides of your dress, trying to focus on the feeling of smooth satin as you cross the room to meet him.

“Hobi.” His eyes find yours and you watch as his face, still in party mode— all perfect straight lines and severe grace and supermodel apathy— softens, brightens.

“Oh thank god, you made it,” Hoseok huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Come here.”

He pulls you in for a hug, not the lazy one-armed greetings you’ve seen celebrities give each other all night but a real, solid embrace, both arms crossed firmly over the small of your back. You press your nose into the crook of his neck, the thin fabric of his tank top brushing against your skin. Heat radiates off of him in waves, and he smells so good, like expensive cologne. It’s dizzying.

“Hi,” you murmur, and it’s punctuated with a soft giggle when you realize you’re speaking directly into his collarbone. You move to extract yourself, but his grip tightens.

“Five more seconds,” Hoseok says with another half-laugh, and you gladly allow yourself to melt back into his arms.

He sounds slightly hoarse, you notice, probably from talking all night. You think for easily the millionth time that you have no idea how he does it, but this moment of softness makes you wonder if being the life of the party is a little more difficult than he lets on.

Hoseok hums a little, and the feeling rumbles through your chest, buzzing all the way down to your fingertips like an electric current. When he finally releases you, it’s with a soft sigh, something that almost sounds like reluctance. Your heart backflips at the thought.

The lights flash waves of rainbow color over his face, each one painting his perfect features with a slightly different energy: pink, blue, orange, green. You momentarily forget how to talk, but Hoseok doesn’t miss a beat.

“Are you having fun?”

You nod as decisively as you can. “I’m just awkward, but that’s not your party’s fault.” He giggles, gaze flitting nervously around the room, as you continue. “Seriously, it’s a great party. And I’m not just saying that because you have free booze.”

“Did you want more?” He asks quickly, then seems to think better of it. “Or, well, how much have you had? Do you need water?”

You smile a little despite yourself. “I’m fine, Hobi, thank you. You have better things to do tonight than look after me because I nursed a single glass of champagne. And besides, Jimin already tried to mother hen me earlier.”

A look of serious anguish crosses Hoseok’s face, and he glances back over his shoulder, but Jimin has evaporated into the crowd of beautiful people. “God, I specifically told him to leave you alone.”

You shrug. “It’s not a big deal. He was sweet.”

Hoseok’s gaze lands back on you, and it feels like your chest lights up from the inside out. You almost can’t look directly at him– it’s not unlike staring into the sun. You blink up at him once, twice, more than dazed, and then he laughs again, nose scrunching slightly as if to cringe at himself.

“Agh, I feel awkward. I don’t know what to say.”

You’re smiling, too. “That’s okay,” you say, because it is. You’re perfectly content to just stand here with him, unconcerned with the chaos of the party around you.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“And– well, I guess you’ve never been here before, right? Can I give you a tour? I can take you downstairs and show you my studio.”

Your cheeks start to burn from all the questions, from how fixed his gaze is on you. It’s overwhelming. “Hobi, this is literally your party. You should stay here. I was doing fine holding up the wall over there.”

“Come on, I really want to. Please?” He leans in towards you slightly, glancing around as if to make sure he’s not being overheard. When he speaks into your ear, his voice drops to a lower register for privacy, and you can’t ignore the chills that dot up your spine. “I can’t talk to one more person that isn’t you right now.”

You nod, every nerve ending in your body now hyper-aware of how very close he is to you. “If you’re sure. I’d like that.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, and you breathe a soft giggle at how ridiculous it is that he’s the one thanking you at this moment. Before you even realize what he’s doing, his hand finds your hand, delicate fingers intertwining with yours. The skin of his palm is soft and warm. “Let’s go.” He chases the words with a gentle squeeze.

Hoseok leads you into the elevator and presses the button for a lower floor. You’re a little surprised when he slumps back against the wall with a heavy sigh as the doors close, still holding your hand.

“Oh, I’m tired.” He says quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself rather than to you. “It just hit me now. That was a lot.”

You squeeze his hand back, and his eyes flutter open to look at you. You press yourself up against the wall next to him. “You sound like me after any social event. And here I was thinking all night that you made it look so easy.”

Hoseok smiles. “I’m good at faking it. But I always collapse after stuff like this.” His eyes drift away from you and he stares into the empty space in front of him, his expression darkening slightly. “I just really hope they liked it. It’s so hard to tell what people think, or who’s only bullshitting you when they tell you it’s good. I’d rather they be honest with me.”

“Well, if it means anything, I loved it.” You say softly, your eyes searching his face. “And I’m not a bullshitter.”

Hoseok blinks, then nods once, his eyes not meeting yours. “You’re not. I appreciate that.”

The chime of the elevator seems to snap him somewhat out of his headspace, and he tugs on your joined hands to pull you through the doors as they slide open. “It’s just at the end of the hall.”

There’s something about Hoseok that comforts you all the way to your core, laps gently at the edges of your shyness until it recedes a bit. He just makes you feel like you can say anything without fear of judgment. Conversation comes easier with him, like this.

“How do you feel about it?”

“The album?” He asks.

You shrug. “Everything.”

“I’m very nervous,” Hoseok answers immediately with a bright peal of laughter, squeezing your hand again for emphasis. “I’m working really hard but… it all feels like uncharted territory. It’s so different to do it alone.”

His eyes jump from studio door to studio door as he leads you down the hallway. “I don’t know if people are going to like this side of me or the things I have to say. I don’t know if anyone will still care now that it’s just me. And ugh, I’m so unsure about the music festival. I’ve never done a whole show on my own before. I practice so much every day and I still don’t know if I can do it. Or if it will be any good.”

When he stops you outside of the final door at the end of the hallway, he seems to remember himself. “Wow, look at me. You were probably only being polite and I threw so much at you. This is just what goes around in my head. Every day and every night.”

“You sound stressed,” you say softly.

Hoseok purses his lips for a second. “I guess. I just really want to do well. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I would– what?”

It isn’t until he asks the question, regarding you with a confused expression, that you realize you’re shaking your head. The smile that has crept across your face is a mixture of disbelief and appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you’re practically laughing. “Please, keep going.”

“No, no, what is that face?”

You chew on the corner of your lip, trying to figure out the best way to word it. “I just… I don’t want to dismiss your concerns, because I absolutely understand all of them. And I would be shitting a brick, no question. But you…” Hoseok’s eyes widen a little as you pause, drinking him in, the way concern tugs down the corners of his mouth. “You just have no idea. No idea what it’s like to watch you from out here. And I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

He pauses as if to consider your words. “What do you see?”

You don’t even have to think about the answer. It feels as steady and honest as the beat of your heart behind your ribs. “I see a fucking star. I see somebody who was born to do exactly what he’s doing. And, I mean, I think being nervous is a good thing, and I don’t say this to try and invalidate how you’re feeling at all. But I don’t see any possible future where you don’t succeed, Hoseok. It’s just... not an option. You’re going to get up there and kill it, I know you are. Because it’s you.”

Hoseok’s hand slips out of yours, and you can feel the warmth of his palms as he presses them to your waist to pull you close. Anticipation sparks through you. His eyes search yours intently, like he’s looking for something. “You really feel that way?”

“Completely. There’s no doubt in my mind.” Your gaze drops to his mouth, the way his full lips are parted slightly, and it occurs to you that maybe you’re talking about more than one thing now. “It feels predestined, to me… I don’t know. Inevitable.”

Hoseok makes a soft noise as he continues to close the distance between you. “Inevitable?” You tilt your chin up towards him, every cell in your body humming. “Like this?”

The way he kisses you is so gentle and sweet, you swear your heart leaps into your throat. You allow a second, maybe two, to move your mouth against his and get lost in it, and then you force yourself to break away, your mind reeling.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“Hoseok,” you murmur, eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to navigate the discomfort of being vulnerable. “I– you should know that I really, really like you.”

“Really?”

The shock in his voice makes your eyes snap open again, and you can’t help but make a face of utter disbelief. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t realize how other people see me. You’re actually very hard to read.” Hoseok slips one hand off of your waist to push down on the door handle behind you, then gestures for you to step through. He keeps talking as he follows in after you, letting the door shut behind him. “I second-guess myself all the time with you. Jimin is so fucking tired of hearing about it.”

“Wow,” you say dumbly. “I had no idea.”

“You didn’t even text me back about tonight! I had no idea if you were coming.”

You start to laugh as the realization washes over you: you’d been so busy sighing forlornly and stressing about what to wear, you’d forgotten to actually reply to his messages.

“Okay, this time was actually an accident. But…” You sweep your gaze over his studio, trying to think. “I don’t know, I just always feel like I’m bothering you. Your life is so big and important. Even now: you should be upstairs being the star of your own party. Not down here with me.”

Hoseok shakes his head immediately. “I don’t want to talk to anyone up there the way I want to talk to you. I was such a wreck today when you didn’t answer.”

You can’t believe what he’s saying, even as he takes a step in towards you, his mouth invitingly close to yours again. “Why? I am quite literally the least important person on the guestlist.”

“Because,” Hoseok pauses for a second, then sighs. “I like you, and I was scared that you’d decided not to come, when I…” He’s practically grinning, and the tell of his scrunched up nose makes you realize– he’s embarrassed. “I threw this whole party just to have an excuse to see you.”

Your jaw drops open. “You what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

“Hobi.” You both start to laugh as you stare in disbelief, trying to process the most ridiculous statement you’ve ever heard in your life. “You could have just called me.”

“I tend to overthink these things.”

He’s close enough that you barely have to move to slide your hands up his chest and grip the lapels of his white button-down.

“I think I can help with that,” you murmur, and then you tug him back down into a kiss that makes your head spin.

The sweet nervousness of your first kiss has been replaced with urgency now, Hoseok’s mouth moving over yours like he’s hungry for it. You tug gently on your fistfuls of his shirt to move him towards you, stumbling backwards until you find purchase against the door of the studio.

Hoseok moves skillfully, tongue licking into your mouth while one of his strong thighs shifts to tease your legs apart and press between them. The quick succession of the two is enough to make your breath hitch, and it seems to encourage him more. The rough denim of his jeans grinds into your center, and your already-short dress has ridden up enough that the pressure drags hot sparks right over your core.

Your jaw goes slack as your focus slips, and you tip your head back against the door with a soft whine, circling your hips for more friction. “Fuck, Hoseok.”

His lips drop down to the exposed skin of your neck. The warmth of his mouth has your back arching, your nipples rubbed into stiff peaks under the thin fabric you couldn’t wear a bra with.

“You look so fucking good tonight,” Hoseok groans. “Driving me crazy in this little dress.”

There’s the soft brush of a hand on your thigh, and he teases the hem of your dress up higher and higher as your hips keep moving; his tongue darts out to lick a languid stripe over your collarbone. His other hand slides up from your waist to cup your breast over satin, deftly rolling the bud of your nipple between his long fingers, pinching with just enough pressure to coax a moan out of you.

“I like the sounds you make. Don’t want you to be shy with me.” Hoseok murmurs over your skin before he starts to suck deliberately at your neck, right on your pulse point. You couldn’t stifle the sound his mouth pulls from you even if you wanted to.

With all your attention drawn to grinding your clit against his leg and the warmth of his palm cupping your breast, your grip on the fabric of his shirt has loosened. Moving in a haze of pleasure, your hands fumble at his denim jacket, attempting to push it down his shoulders. Hoseok pulls back slightly when he realizes what you’re doing, though his fingers still lazily squeeze at your nipple.

“Let me just– hang on–” Hoseok untangles himself from you entirely with a sheepish grin, and you take the moment to collect yourself, your chest heaving in shallow breaths. You can feel the way your panties are soaked through as you press your thighs together, desperate for continued friction.

He’s moving quickly as he slips out of his oversized jacket and button down beneath it. You can clearly see the wheels in his head turning as he lays the pieces over the back of his desk chair, then immediately scrunches his face up as if to think better of it.

“Agh, sorry, sorry, one second–” Hoseok shakes out the jacket, then the shirt, folding both in quick yet precise succession before stacking the neat rectangles together and gently setting them on the small couch next to his desk.

Even in the dim studio lighting you can see his face is flushed pink with embarrassment as he returns to press you back against the door.

“I just– I don’t want wrinkles,” he says softly, and you’re very grateful that you no longer have to suppress the urge to take his face in your hands and kiss him.

“I like you so much,” you giggle into his mouth, and it’s punctuated with a squeak when his hands slide down to firmly grab your ass. The fabric of your dress is so thin that it hardly feels like it’s there at all.

Hoseok must have the same thought, because he releases his grip only for as long as it takes to push the skirt of your dress up over your ass; now there’s nothing separating his fingers from your skin when he squeezes you again.

“Like you,” he agrees, his voice husky. “Want to taste you.” Your core aches for his touch, clenches around nothing when he releases his grip and cracks a hand over the soft flesh of your asscheek.

“Please, Hobi.”

You find his mouth with yours again for a needy taste of a kiss, tongues sliding together. Your arms wrap around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer.

In one swift move he presses you flush against the door, and his hands slip to hitch your legs over his waist before moving back to your ass, hoisting your hips up to properly straddle him. You whimper at the grind of his erection through his jeans, right over your rubbed-sensitive center, and at the thought that he could fuck you just like this, up against this door.

Hoseok’s mouth doesn’t leave yours as he turns and carries you the short distance across the room, hands sliding to your hips so he can set you down on the desk. His lips are full and kiss-bitten red when he pulls back to look at you, pupils blown dark with lust.

“Sure this is okay?”

You meet his gaze, reaching up to dust strands of hair out of his eyes. His mouth chases the heel of your hand so he can press those soft lips into the center of your palm, chaste and sweet. 

“It’s so much more than okay,” you murmur.

He’s smiling as he leans forward for another kiss, only pulling back to press his forehead to yours once you’re both breathless. “I have wanted to do this for so fucking long. You have no idea.”

His hands hook under the backs of your thighs to scoot you gently forward until you’re perched at the very edge of his desk, and then he sinks to his knees. Your legs that were slipped around his waist find new purchase thrown over his shoulders and you tense a little when your high heels scrape over his back.

“I can take these off,” you start, but he’s already shaking his head as his palms encourage your thighs apart.

“I like it.”

You’re nearly gasping for breath with anticipation as his long fingers slip under the band of your panties and you lift your hips up so he can pull them down. You manage to extract one leg to drape back over his shoulders, leaving the lacy fabric to dangle off the other as you open up for him.

Hoseok’s thumbs press to either side of your pussy, gently spreading your lips apart to admire how soaked you already are. Anyone else examining you like this would have you squirming away self-consciously, but there’s just something about Hoseok that’s different. You want him to know every part of you fully, intimately.

“God, you are so gorgeous.” His breath is hot over your skin, makes your cunt tighten needily as if to beckon him closer.

You lean back to brace your forearms on the desk behind you and Hoseok’s gaze jumps up to meet yours. He doesn’t drop eye contact as he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to your slit, both of you groaning at the contact.

His mouth moves just as it did against yours, and you let your eyes flutter closed as pleasure sears through you like a hot knife. Hoseok grunts a little, low in his throat when he adds tongue to his kisses, licking softly but deliberately to part your slick folds.

“Hobi,” you whine, rolling your hips up into him as he starts to apply more pressure with his tongue. “Fuck, ah, feels so good.”

Hoseok pulls off of you with a throaty gasp, like maybe he was so focused on eating you out that he didn’t quite remember to keep breathing. When you look down at him, his lips are wet and glossy, spread in a wide smile. “You taste so fucking good.”

You don’t even have time to ask for more before he’s hooking his biceps around your thighs and tugging your hips towards him, pulling you even closer to bury his face between your legs. This time he licks a stripe straight up to your swollen clit, pulling the bud into his mouth to suck on.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, digging your nails into the desk beneath you as sparks shoot through you and your clit twitches in his mouth.

Hoseok hums steadily around you, as if to once again encourage you to be vocal. He starts to nod his head as he sucks, his nose pressed flush against your pubic bone. Your hips fall in time with his rhythm, grinding back down on him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper. “Shit, Hobi.” Your voice catches on a dazed, disbelieving laugh. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”

He doesn’t let up, squeezing his grip on your thighs that much tighter when you start to quiver beneath him. Your arousal coils tight and hot in your core as he works more not-so-shy noises out of you, breathy moans, needy whines.

You cling desperately to the edge of his desk, teetering equally on the edge of your own release. The wet slick wash of his tongue is lush, decadent, lapping at your clit between pulses of suction, and it’s all too fucking much.

“Yes, Hoseok, fuck!”

You cry out, your heels digging into the hard plane of Hoseok’s back as he works an intense, shuddering orgasm out of you. Your cunt throbs over and over as you come, a rush of arousal painting the crux of your thighs.

When you catch your breath it’s in uneven, shaky gasps, and the movement of your hips sharpens into jolts as you become hypersensitive to Hoseok’s mouth. He releases you almost reluctantly, still hovering close, continuing to dart his tongue out to gently lick up your folds.

“I don’t want to stop,” he says with a shy, blossoming laugh, the light catching the shine of his lips and chin when he glances up at you.

You’re dazed, beyond blissed out, unable to believe that any of this is real. You like him so much.

“Can I keep going?”

Just that sentence is enough to make you tighten all over again with anticipation. “I–” you laugh a little too despite yourself. “I want that. But I think my clit needs a second.”

Hoseok’s touch is featherlight as he circles a digit lower, over your entrance, as if to ask permission. “What about here?” Your pussy lips twitch even under so gentle a touch, but you ache for more; you like that it’s overwhelming.

“Yeah, yes. There, please, fuck,” you babble. He’s added a second finger to tease now, and you whimper when they finally press together into your sensitive cunt.

Hoseok is watching his fingers intently, and you can hear the way your pussy squelches as he pumps them slowly, can feel the tremors of your orgasm still shuddering through you, causing slick to drip from your center. You can only imagine what his view must be like, how you must look: dripping, needy, trembling for him, fingers gripping the desk and head lolling back.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, and then he dips his head down to lap below your entrance, tasting the juices that have leaked out of you. He pulls back to smack his other hand over your whole cunt, light enough that you barely feel the tap, but just the visual of it makes you squirm beneath him.

“So cute,” he smiles. His fingers rub circles into your front wall, becoming more insistent, and you breathe in shaky waves as you start to grip tightly around him.

“Hoseok,” you breathe, letting your eyes drop closed. Arousal blossoms through you like a heavy weight, your second climax already building, when you feel his other hand cup the join of your ass and thigh.

A soft whimper spills out of you as Hoseok starts to massage below your entrance, thumb working at a new bundle of nerves, like nothing you’ve ever felt. It’s pleasure that makes you hot all over, makes the muscles in your legs shiver and tense when it’s paired with the crook of his fingers still working your pussy.

“Fuck,” you pant, “Hobi, what are– that feels so–” You’re starting to lose a grip on your words, sentences going incoherent as your head spins. It’s hard to think over all the sensation, the way your body is lit up like a live wire, and the sound of your cunt gushing around him as he fucks into your g-spot.

“Has anyone touched you here before?” He asks softly, thumb tapping at the thin bridge of skin between your pussy and your ass. His head dips down for a chaste kiss there, then a second, adding a languid lap of tongue.

“N-no,” you whimper, toes curling in your shoes as he continues to drag his tongue over this delicate, sensitive place. “Keep going.”

Hoseok pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting him to you, and he lets it loose with a swipe of his hand over his mouth. His fingers slip out of you as he pairs a question with a smile. “Turn over for me?”

Your legs would be shaking even if you weren’t in fancy party heels, and you do your best to be graceful as you unsteadily spin, one arm keeping the fabric of your dress hiked up over your hips.

“Brace yourself on the desk,” Hoseok instructs, and you do, leaning forward until your stomach and forearms are flush with the wood, your bare ass hanging off the desk, presented for him. You spread your legs apart again and can feel the way your pussy drools arousal down your thighs. “That’s it,” he coaxes.

His fingers massage firmly into the flesh of your asscheeks, and your back arches up as you groan at the feeling. He spreads you just a little, enough for cool air to tease at your slick center; your hips wiggle towards him on instinct.

“Pretty back here, too,” he murmurs. “Tell me how it feels, okay? Won’t do it if you don’t like it.”

You clench for him in both places, even your fists grip tight in the fabric of your dress. “I’ll like it. Please, baby.”

“Baby,” Hoseok repeats back with a shy exhale. “I like that. I like you.” He leaves a sweet kiss pressed halfway up your thigh.

“Hobi–” you choke out a whine of his name as his breath ghosts over you, hands still firmly keeping you spread. His tongue returns to your perineum again, licking a hot, slow stripe that keeps moving up, up, until you feel the tease of warmth and wetness over your ass. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re so sensitive here, just the lightest drag of his tongue over your rim makes you moan, feet kicking listlessly as pleasure shudders through you.

“It’s good–” you manage to whimper, voice muffled slightly as your forehead drops against the desk, too, your whole body pinned down by his mouth. “–ngh, really good, Hobi.” Your cunt throbs when he does it again, as he falls into a consistent pace of long, steady laps that set off fireworks behind your eyes.

The ache in your core begs for touch, friction, and you oblige needily, tucking a hand under the weight of your hips pressed into the desk, a sweat-slicked palm for your mouth-wet clit.

Hoseok doesn’t miss a thing. It’s only for a second that he pulls off of you, but you whine at the loss of his tongue, sated slightly by the gentle brush of his lips over the small of your back. “Gonna get yourself off while I eat you out?”

You grind a circle down with your hips, hissing at the white-hot pulse against your hand. “Yes, baby, please.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement to dive back in, fingers gripping harder to spread you and tongue licking deliberately, tracing patterns that work more arousal out of your pussy. You’re unraveling fast from humping against your palm, hips jolting forward to make your clit twitch and backwards to press towards Hoseok’s mouth.

You’re already wound so tight that you’re too desperate for words, reduced instead to little breathless gasps– “ah, ahh”– as you speed up the rub of your hand, your hips. Hoseok’s tongue never falters, firm pressure laved over and over your sensitive, flexing ass.

With a soft hum of effort, you feel him press a little harder, tongue barely dipping in past your tight ring of muscle, and the sweet stretch of it is the final push you need.

You roll your clit just right over your palm a final time and then you’re shaking and moaning as everything starts to pulse. The all-over clench pushes a fresh wave of fluid from your cunt, rolling down the backs of your thighs, fat droplets of arousal that Hoseok chases with sloppy kisses as the waves of your orgasm shudder through you.

It takes a moment before you can say anything, do anything, limbs too heavy and brain too fucked-out dumb. You do your best to slide gracefully off the desk, but your legs shake with aftershocks that betray you, and you stumble.

Hoseok is quick to wrap his arms around you and guide your hips down to the floor next to him. You collapse in a heap of giggles, him tangled over your waist, the skirt of your dress still pushed up, your bare ass on his studio carpet.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok laughs, and you bury your face in the fabric of his tank top as an answer, not convinced your coherency has returned to you yet.

“Too good,” you murmur, words slurring. “Fucked me too good.”

“You’re so hot.” You can tell he’s blushing just by the tone of his voice, and you start to come to a little, slow-blinking back to reality and rolling over to look up at him. His dark eyes shine as he smiles. You don’t want to come all the way down from this dazed, happy place yet, you realize, and you curl a finger into the loop of his jeans, tugging him closer.

“My turn.” Your hands start to fumble to undo his belt buckle. His jeans are oversized, but not enough to obscure the print of his hard cock pressed against his thigh.

“Let me take you home,” he says softly, running a fingertip along your jaw. “This should be– I want you to be comfortable. I want it to feel good.”

“It all feels good,” you say earnestly, sitting up to tug at the button of his jeans, undeterred. “And you can take me home. But you’ve been so good to me, Hobi.” You manage to work his fly open, and you lift your gaze to meet him. “Let me be good to you.”

You resume your work, wriggling Hoseok’s jeans down his thighs until his hands cover yours and he takes over, stripping himself of his shoes as well. He reaches back between his shoulder blades to pull his tank top over his head, and your eyes sweep over his body, taking in his lithe figure and smooth, hard muscles. You trail the tips of your fingers down the defined lines of his chest.

“Fuck,” Hoseok starts to smile self-consciously, one hand drifting over his dick straining against tight black briefs with a slightly darker spot in the center where he’s left a kiss of precum on the fabric. “I don’t have any condoms here.”

You sit up on your knees in front of him, considering this. “Use my mouth.” The high of your orgasm has subsided enough now that you’re not quite shameless anymore, and heat blooms in your face as you continue. “Like, fuck my throat.”

He tries and fails to suppress a groan, and his delicate hands reach to cup either side of your face, thumbs rubbing circles into the hinge of your jaw. “You–” he laughs softly. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I mean it,” you say simply.

“But you really want to?”

You nod, half play-acting your shyness now, letting your lashes flutter as you blink up at him. “I’ve done it before. I like it.”

“Fuck,” Hoseok breathes. “I want to do everything you like.”

“Please?” You ask sweetly, and Hoseok is already getting to his feet, one hand still cupping your jaw.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “So pretty when you beg to suck my cock.” You’re smiling, your fingers slipping under his waistband to slide his briefs down his legs.

“Take your dress off, baby,” Hoseok instructs as he steps back to finish pulling off his underwear. “Don’t wanna ruin it.”

You do as you’re told, staying on your knees to pull it over your head, your heart squeezing again when he takes it from you and treats it as gently as his own clothes. It’s oddly domestic to watch him fold the smooth fabric with shaking hands, naked except for his jewelry, his hard dick leaking against his stomach.

When he turns back to you, you take the opportunity to properly admire him. His cock is as flushed and gorgeous as the rest of him, thick and dripping wet from his tip. You duck down to press a kiss to the sensitive spot under his head, then slide your lips up to gloss over his slit, slicking your mouth with his precum.

You look up at him, hands gripping the backs of his thighs; Hoseok’s eyelids are heavy with lust as he watches you work, tongue toying at the corner of his mouth. He groans a little as you pop just the head into your mouth and swirl your tongue over it, tasting the salt of him.

His hand slides to the back of your head, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck, and his adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows.

“Tap my foot if you need to stop.” Hoseok’s voice is quiet but firm, and his socked toes wiggle, brushing against your knee pressed into the carpet. “Okay?”

You hum your acknowledgement and maintain eye contact as he holds you still and slides his cock into your mouth. He starts off at a gentle pace, and you hollow your cheeks around him, pressing your tongue flat so it drags over his shaft as he starts to pump in and out of you.

As much as you want him in control, there’s a part of you that can’t help yourself– you lean forward, eyes fluttering closed, wanting to prove to him how much you can take. The head of his cock starts to stretch down your throat and you focus on breathing steady through your nose, your muscles jumping around him in a half-swallow.

“Fuck,” Hoseok groans, his voice dark and rough-edged. You can feel drool starting to leak out of your mouth, and the mess just makes it better. “You take it so well.”

His hips keep rolling, withdrawing his cock into the heat of your mouth only to push it back down the tight clutch of your throat. It gets easier as he starts to move faster, the weight of him pressing bright on your gag reflex in shorter and shorter bursts. It’s just enough to make tears well up in your eyes. They eventually spill over, staining your cheeks until your face is slick and wet, like the sounds of him hitting the back of your throat, all of it obscene and hot.

The hand in your hair tightens as he pulls you all the way down on his shaft until your nose is flush with his abdomen and your throat bulges, filled with him. He holds you there, eyes roaming hungrily over your face.

“You look so sweet with my cock down your throat, baby.”

The hum of agreement you try makes you gag a little, and he quickly releases, pulling out to let you gasp for air. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you smile up at him, dazed, and catch your breath.

“Was that too much?” His brows pinch together slightly with concern. You wipe a hand over your nose and shake your head.

“I want more, Hobi,” you purr, moving your face back towards his dick. You lean forward to lazily drag your tongue up his shaft for emphasis. “Want you to come on my face,” you admit as you fix your gaze on him.

You swear you feel his knees almost buckle when you take him in your mouth again.

“You are so fucking sexy,” Hoseok practically growls, hand returning to the nape of your neck. He pushes himself back down your throat and starts to pick up the pace. You want him all and take it easily now, drool slicking your neck and chest when you swallow around his length.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, and you can feel his cock twitch on your tongue as he fucks roughly into your mouth, chasing his orgasm. “Oh my god.”

Hoseok’s grip on your hair goes slack and he pulls out, hand pumping fast over his drool-glossed cock. He tips his head back, exposing the column of his throat with a heady whine when he starts to come. You’re up on your knees and ready for it, nose bumping his fist, face presented for him to paint. Warm spurts of cum hit your cheeks, tongue, lips, and you giggle a little as you try to hold still, as he makes another throaty grunt of effort and release.

“Shit,” he hisses as the movements of his hand slow, as he works out the last of it, stray drips already trailing down your neck, between the valley of your breasts. “Fuuuck.” His breathing is ragged, and you press a wet kiss to the tip of his dick as he recovers.

He’s clearly already focused on the mess he’s made of you, spinning in a dazed semi-circle before reaching to grab a box of tissues off of the desk. His bare knees thud on the carpet as he sinks down next to you.

You’re surprised when he leans in to kiss you, humming softly against your mouth, tongue even darting out to lick at the cum that drips off your lips. You smile into it, teeth gently grazing over his bottom lip.

“Hi,” he huffs a laugh as he leans back. “Was that okay? Not too much?”

You shake your head. “I liked it,” you say again, though your voice comes out a little hoarse. “Wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t. I like you. I–” your breath hitches slightly with nerves, and it’s funny to you, that it’s easy to ask him to fuck your throat, but hard to talk about the bigger feelings underneath. It’s more intimate, somehow, to be earnest. “You always worry so much about everyone else. I just want to take care of you.”

“You can.” Hoseok’s voice is gentle and warm. “We both can.” He pulls a tissue loose from the box, hovering close to you. “Let me clean you up.”

You’re too blissed out to stop yourself from giggling. “You have a whole party to get back to.” You nod dumbly at the verity of your own statement as he uses tissues to wipe cum and drool off your face, tear stains and smudged makeup from your cheeks.

“This,” he swipes a thumb down over your bottom lip, chases it with another quick kiss, “was so much better than a fucking party.” He adds the last of the dampened tissues to the small pile he’s made on the floor, tilting your jaw with his hand to inspect his work, to ensure perfection as he does with everything. “But I probably don’t have much longer before people start looking for me.”

“You should go,” you say quietly, trying to ignore the drop in your stomach.

His hand slips into yours for the second time tonight. “Will you come with me? I know it’s not really your thing.”

You falter momentarily– not because you don’t want to, but you can’t shake your own self-consciousness, this sense that you don’t belong here, rubbing elbows with all these famous people. But it’s hard to feel like any of that matters with the way Hoseok is looking at you, the soft turn of his lips in a barely-there smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.” He gives your hand an affirming squeeze. “Do I need to remind you that this entire party is literally for you?”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes at his antics despite the laugh that bubbles up in your throat. “I still can’t believe you. What is this, The Great Gatsby?”

His laugh is high and sweet, hand untangling from yours to wrap both arms around your waist, and he pulls you into his chest, bare skin on bare skin, hearts beating together. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Hobi,” you relent. “I’ll go back with you. Besides, Jimin promised to feed me.”

You can feel Hoseok’s smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Come on, then. I promise it’ll be fun. If we get Jungkook drunk enough he’ll probably start dancing on the stage.”

“Now that I have to see.”

hell in heaven - j.hs.

genre: angst (4k)

summary: because falling in love with you was both the best and worst thing to happened to him. (fools!universe)

masterlist     series masterlist

no one’s seen hoseok since that day.

the day that you two broke up.

many turned up at his doorstep only to be brushed off, even his closest friends jin and yoongi couldn’t get him to come out of his house and when they showed up with all his favorite foods, they couldn’t help but notice the dark circles that covered his usually bright eyes, he looked like he hadn’t eaten and none of his energy remained, he couldn’t even force a smile for his brothers, they left without a word from him.

can a break-up really do that to a person? ruin them to the point of no return?

Keep reading

polaris.

↳ somehow, someway, he always returns to you.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ fluff | smut | time traveler!au ◇ 11.5k [1/1]

⇢ shoutout to the lovely and talented @whimsicalliethereal, who made this stunning moodboard! thank you so much, cara ♡ 

notes: omfg planning and writing this fic was the biggest headache, but it’s finally done! i’ve been editing this thing for the past seven hours and i am going to lose my mind if i have to stare at it anymore, so here it is. i’m hoping it’s not super confusing, but please do drop me an ask if you have questions!

happiest of birthdays to the brightest, most beautiful man in the whole world!!!

warnings: some smutty stuff.

[You are 8, he is 11]

The world is small when you’re a child. At the ripe young age of eight, your entire world stretches not far beyond the little grassy yard in front of your house and your favorite swing on the school playground, and the most important problem you’re currently facing is whether or not you will be sitting with your best friend during lunchtime on Monday. With the way Namjoon is so blatantly skipping out on your scheduled playdate today, you’re pretty sure that leaving him to sit by himself for the next week would be entirely justified on your part. Maybe even the next month, if you decide you’re feeling particularly vengeful.

Pouting, you open the front door and gaze longingly at the sidewalk leading up to your house. It’s approaching three-thirty by this point, and there’s still absolutely no sign of your best friend. Hopefully, you peer down both sides of the street, craning your head to see if you can spot Namjoon’s dark head of hair bobbing your way. He only lives two blocks away, after all. But the sidewalks are empty, and he is nowhere to be found.

Stupid Namjoon, you think to yourself. There’s no way he’s going to have the pleasure of your company at lunchtime now. No way.

Keep reading

the one where hoseok comes home

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x gn!Reader Type: Drabble // Fluff // Established Relationship AU Rating: PG-13 — Minors DNI w/ my content, regardless! CW: None 💕 Summary: It’s October 2024 and your life finally — finally — resumes its orbit. WC: .5k A/N: Deviating from my WIPs (ope) because I needed a fix-it fic for, like, reality? Nobody requested this lil baby blurb, unless you count… me. Dedicated to (m)y jihope-biased emotional support moot, @here2bbtstrash

You’d learned more in eighteen months than you had in over eighteen years of formal education.

The first lesson came on your second morning alone: hotteok tastes better when it’s made for you. Even if the cook gets distracted by the background music they themselves are generating. Even if the edges are crispier than they should be, and the centers are a bit gooey, or there’s pre-packaged mix dusting over your previously clean countertops. Even if that hotteok is cold by the time you stop kissing and start eating, you know now that few things in life are sweeter.

He is, of course, but the point still stands.

Showers, you’d learned, are colder when you take them alone. This was a surprise you grappled with for weeks and a confounding reality you still struggle to square. A scientific mystery, then and now.

All of the hot water was yours — exclusively — to use as you pleased. You didn’t have to scramble, soap-covered and squealing, for the prime spot under the shower head. Cold air didn’t nip at your damp skin when you lost territory because you didn’t have to compete for any in the first place. Still, without whole-chested laughter to echo off the walls, not much existed to separate your body from cold porcelain.

The absence of personal space isn’t something you intend to ever take for granted again.

Of all the things you’d realized in your uncharacteristically quiet apartment, one thing hit a little harder:

Love looks different every day.

Sometimes, it comes at an odd angle. It’s spending all thirty minutes of a daily allowance with a phone propped against a faucet. It’s staring up at someone’s chin, watching fondly as they brush their teeth, and smiling when they remember — without being told — to put the cap back on the toothpaste.

Other times, it looks like an Excel spreadsheet of pop culture news, fastidiously collected and organized so that no groundbreaking celebrity gossip goes unreported. It’s incredulous eyes and a scandalized mouth hanging open, interjecting occasionally with, “Wa, jinjja?”

Every now and then, it looks like handwritten letters with thick, black redactions applied after the fact with a far heavier hand. Though you couldn’t tell where in the Republic they came from, you knew — without question — that government censorship does not apply to hastily doodled hearts.

Today, however, love doesn’t look like much of anything because its hands are covering your eyes.

It sounds like clean spoons clattering back into the dishwasher you’d been emptying, entirely unaware that the door down the hall had opened and shut out of earshot. It smells like army-issued shampoo and Thai milk tea from that little spot near the train station, where surprise journeys home occur two days ahead of schedule. And it feels like the ground shifting beneath your fluffy house slippers; the Earth now back on its axis and ready to resume spinning like it should.

Tonight, love will taste like hotteok for dinner — and you won’t have to make it yourself.

mami (m) | myg/knj

title: mami (m) pairing: myg x reader(f) , knj x reader(f) , slight jhs x reader(f)😛 rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; battle rap au , roommates au summary: you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date. note: heavy 00s vibes, this is just the beginning of a collection of parts instead of just a oneshot let’s fucking goooo🦋 note 2: this is pretty unedited lolll if there are mistakes i’m so so sorry! warnings for this part: language, choking, joon in sweats, bathroom s*x, b*ckshots, friendly sp*nks from your roomie🤪, it uhhh starts right out the gate lmfao, hobi in silk and a robe, yoongi is a warning in his own right, light sl*pping, you get called mamiii😗 so if that’s not ur thing i’d skip this series !!, joon is too smooth, a secret fourth guy lmfaoooo, battle rap scenarios! drop date: september 26th, 2023, 10:07pm est word count: 3.7k  mood: here 

Keep reading

WOAH, that was HOT af!!!

Hobi and his tricks, BUT our OC is hot just the same if not hotter. I'm happy that she was the one to change his life.

We have a saying: "He has found his match" :D

I hope it's not their last time ;)

"An unexpected rainstorm forces you to seek refuge at your best friend's house. Hoseok just so happens to also be your boyfriend's best friend, who till this day gushes about the night he and Hoseok shared. Soon you can't take the curiousity about his skills anymore. Especially when he looks so goddamn hot and the clothes you borrowed from him smell just like his cologne."

Pairing: Vampire!Hoseok x Witch!Reader

Genre: Best Friends with Benefits!AU, Polyamory!AU, Smut, some domestic sweetness

Warnings: minimal Yoongi x f.Reader, Domish switch!Hoseok, Switch!Reader, there's not really a D/s dynamic though just two people having sex where one just happens to take the lead more & then they change it up, *whispers* if you're new to the Sanguis Universe everyone fucks everyone here lmaoo, Hoseok is a whole boyfriend i said what i said, he gives her his clothes to wear, they smell like him <3, Hobi is a lil nervous hehehe, lap sitting, making out, oral (f. & m.receiving), mattress & thigh humping, handjob, she spits on his cock, he spits on her pussy, passionate missionary, hair pulling (m.receiving), nipple play (m.receiving), clit & pussy spanking with his cock, he shows off his vampire face, dirty talk, praise, he calls her good girl & babygirl, he's into making her beg, multiple orgasms for both, creampies, cockwarming for aftercare, cuddly aftercare, Hoseok's so whipped for her

Wordcount: 12.6k

a/n: you guys, i'm scared he is so hot fjadsfja also, if anyone dares to call me out on my oral fixation i will lick your nostril JFJADJF istfg i can't even deny that i have it hahahah have fun besties because a bitch might cum 💗

The rain surprised you today. You were at the university’s library for most of your afternoon after having spent your lunch and morning hours in lectures and classes. You want to finish your education. This is what your current plan is. A little bit of normalcy and the feeling of achieving one of your life long goals. 

You are the only one who went back to university after everything which happened. The others had no reason to do so and you didn’t blame them. You really liked being back at university, spending your days studying and your evenings practicing magic or cuddling with your  boys. You are living the best fucking life.

The rain surprised you today. You were on your way back home when a sudden rain shower took control of the sky. You could have easily called one of your boys and they could have picked you up, but you didn’t feel like it. Seokjin’s – aka Hoseok’s – house was just in reach and you are sure that you can find refuge there. 

You increase your steps, fighting against the storm. Hopefully Hoseok is home. Seokjin and Emma are back in Gordes for a few months, so Hoseok has been taking care of the house. He spends most of his weekends at the estate however, if he isn’t busy with his dance school that is. 

You hurry up the few steps and slam your finger on the doorbell. 

No answer for a few moments too long. The rain is wet and cold, the harsh storm brings down the temperature even more. You are shivering like crazy. Your clothes are soaked entirely.

You ring the bell a second time in sync with Hoseok opening the door. It results in you being able to hear the shrill ringing. 

“Hey”, you say, slipping your finger from the bell to give him a little wave.

“Hey there hey, come in. Quick, come in”, he greets you, waving you inside as he steps out of the way, “the weather’s crazy all of a sudden. Shit, look at you. You’re soaked.”

“I’m freezing my ass off. The rain surprised me”, you tell him, “can I put my stuff on the mat?”

“Yeah sure.”

Hoseok locks the door while you shrug off your soaked outdoor clothes and backpack.

“You’re lucky I have increased hearing. I was wearing headphones.”

“Yeah? Did you practice dance?” you ask, taking off your shoes.

Hoseok is already busy spreading your wet jacket on the radiator in order for it to dry quicker. 

“Nope, just making music.”

“That’s cool. You keep talking about it. I wanna listen to your stuff, seriously.”

Hoseok dismisses you with a nonchalant tilt of his head, “soon. It’s not finished yet.”

“You’re a perfectionist. I’m sure it’s already good.”

“Yeah I am, but at least it means that once it’s done, it’s amazing.”

“I can’t argue what that”, say and feel shivers run through you, “brrrr, I’m so cold. And wet. Urgh, I hate the rain.”

“You love rain.”

You laugh, “yeah, I do. I just don’t like it right now.”

Hoseok smiles and chuckles. He nods his head into the direction of the stairs. 

“You know where the bathroom is. You can take a hot shower if you want.”

“This would literally save my life. Thank you”, you say and turn to hurry upstairs, “can I borrow clothes?” 

“Yeah sure. What’s your size again?”

Spending time at Hoseok’s place feels familiar and safe. You know every nook and cranny, find everything blindly and feel at home in the rooms. It is not only because you spent months in the guestroom during the time Namjoon was still a threat and you hated Yoongi. But it is also because next to the estate, the former Sanguis frat house feels like a second home. You and the others are always welcome here, you are allowed to act at home and the company is always amazing. There are many days where you take a short rest stop at Hoseok’s place before going home. And there are also many days where the others, especially Jungkook, leave the estate to spend time at Hoseok’s instead. In a sense, the cozy townhouse has become an extension of the estate where all of you are always welcome. 

You are in the middle of drying your hair with Hoseok’s dryer when he knocks on the door.

“I’ve put the clothes in front of the door”, he calls out.

“Yes. Thanks”, you call back. 

Hoseok picked out one of his comfiest sweat suit. He is currently in a phase where he enjoys wearing matching sweat suits sets in the most colourful of combinations and with many accessories bringing the look together. He always looks to die for in them. He picked out a grey coloured sweat suit with neon green accents for you. You saw him wear it before and he looked amazing in it. 

He also laid out a pair of boxers for you and some socks. They are freshly washed because if there is one thing Hoseok is, it is clean. 

The clothes smell just like him and the cologne he always wears. Manly and clean with a hint of sandalwood at the end. You catch yourself smelling the collar of his hoodie way too vividly, cringing at yourself afterwards because of how embarrassing that was. You couldn’t help yourself. He smells so good. 

Now wrapped in his soft clothes and with your body warmed up, you decide to look for him. Knowing Hoseok, he was back in his home studio. 

It is located on the second floor just past his bedroom and the guestroom Yoongi stayed in all those years ago. The door is closed and you know that knocking is fruitless. You still do, entering his room at the same time. 

“Hobi?”

He doesn’t answer you.

Just like you had thought, Hoseok was lost in his music, nodding his head to the beat of it. You can hear snippets of it escaping his headphones. It sounds as if he was rapping "burn" over and over again. The beat sounds aggressive and perfectly rhythmical.

“Hobi?” you repeat yourself and tap his shoulder. 

He presses pause and takes off his headphones, turning with his chair afterwards.

“Hey there ___”, he says and grins, tilting his head to the side.

“Sorry to disturb you.”

“You’re not”, he assures you and studies you from head to toe, “cute. My clothes fit you well.”

“Thanks”, you say, smoothing over the front, “they smell like you.” 

He grins, “and that means?”

“Nothing”, you mumble and look away. Shit, why did you say that? So embarrassing.

He chuckles and turns back to his desktop. He is wearing a brown sweat suit today, combining some rings and an expensive watch with it. Knowing Hoseok, he would wear some funky glasses and chunky sneakers with it if he were to leave the house. But alas, only a pair of white socks adorns his feet. The latter he currently taps to a silent beat. The song must still be stuck in his head even now that he isn’t playing it.

You take a step closer and point at the screen. Hoseok sneaks a glance up at you. You aren’t aware of it, but like this, your body is touching his upper arm. Your warmth seeps right through your clothes.

“I heard glimpses of the song. It sounded really good”, you say.

Hoseok turns back to you again. Like this, you are between his legs.

“You think so?” he asks, resting his head back against the chair in order to look up at you. His elegant fingers are folded on his stomach.

“Yeah. You sang about burning stuff?” 

“Yeah”, he laughs, “you could say it like that. I still haven’t finished the verses yet. It’s just a guide version for now.”

“It already sounds good.”

“Thanks”, he says and stands up with his eyes running over your face. He steps closer to you, placing his hand on the table beside you, “why are you here?”

“I, I uhm”, you clear your throat, “Hobi, don’t be like that”, you complain and push at his chest.

“Like what?”

“A flirt.”

He laughs, “I’m not flirting. I genuinely wanna know why you’re here.”

“I was on my way home from uni and the rain surprised me. This was closest.” 

“So I wasn’t a reason?”

“You’re always a reason”, you say and nudge him, “silly.”

He laughs and steps back, “are you hungry?”

“Starving actually.”

“Wanna cook together?”

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Funky. Let me just save this and then I’m ready.”

“Yeah, take your time. I’m calling Yoongi to let him know that I’ll stay the night here”, you say with your back already turned to him as you leave the room. You can’t see the surprised look Hoseok sends you at the mention of you sleeping over or the faint smile which follows. 

“Sure, tell him”, he says and looks back at his song.

You walk downstairs as you talk to Yoongi. The latter picks up after the third ring.

“Hey, my princess.”

“Hey, my prince.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am, don’t worry. The rain surprised me.”

“I know, I noticed. I was worried already”, he confesses, making you smile.

“Of course you were. Don’t worry about me, love. I managed to get to Hoseok’s just in time.”

“Thank god, phew”, he exhales loudly, “I can relax now.” 

“Yeah”, you giggle. He’s so cute.

“Are you staying the night? I don’t think the weather’s gonna get any better.” 

“Yeah right? I’ll stay the night if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. You don’t gotta ask”, he assures you and suddenly you can hear the smirk in his voice, “maybe you’ll end up watching his stuff too, mhm?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. 

“Yoongi”, you gasp. 

He chuckles deeply, “I’m messing with you.”

“Wah, so mean. I feel hot now.”

“Sorry”, he laughs.

“You’re not.”

“Mhm, no I’m not.”

“So mean”, you mumble and snicker. Yoongi does the same. 

Silence follows, which Yoongi breaks.

“Where are you right now?”

“Kitchen. I’m waiting for Hobi to come down. He’s working on his mixtape.” 

“Mhm, the songs are really good.”

“You heard them?”

“Yeah. He showed me and asked for my input.”

“That’s so unfair. He doesn’t want to show them to me”, you whine.

Yoongi chuckles, “poor woman. You’ll love them once he does.”

“Mhm, I’m sure I will”, you say as your eyes shift to the doorway. Hoseok is finally here, “hey love? Hobi just came. I’m gonna hang up now if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, okay. Tell him hi.”

“Yoongi says hi.”

Hoseok smiles, “thanks Yoongi. I say hi back.” 

“He says hi back.”

“Thanks”, the smile is obvious in Yoongi’s voice, “have fun, love. Yeah?”

Your heart flutters. You know exactly how he meant that.

“So mean”, you mumble, making him laugh, “I’ll have fun”, you add in a chuckle.

“Good. Sweet dreams, princess.” 

“You too, Boongie. I’ll come home for lunch tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll have something prepared.”

“Ooh, now I can’t wait. I love you, Boongie.”

“I love you too, princess.”

“And Yoongi! Before I forget!”

“Yes?”

“Can you tell the others where I am? So they don’t worry.”

“Of course, I’ll tell them.”

“Thank you, love. Okay, bye then.”

“Bye, love.”

You hang up and place the phone aside, smiling to yourself. 

Hoseok, who watched you talk to Yoongi on the phone, sends you a teasing look.

“You’re so whipped for this man”, he coos and nudges your upper arm.

“Yes I am. What about it?” you throw back with a pout.

“Nothing. It’s cute”, he says and points at his fridge, “what you wanna eat? I gotta warn you, I don’t have lots of groceries because I haven’t really eaten lots of human food lately.”

“Really? But you love human food. Are you okay?”

“Very. Just way too preoccupied with the mixtape. I just crack open a blood bag and I’m good. It takes less time.”

“You guys are so lucky that you can choose if you want to eat food or not. I miss out on food once and feel shitty.”

“Yeah right, I guess we are lucky”, he says and sticks his head into the fridge, “what do you wanna eat?”

You close the distance and try to look inside the fridge as well, “what do you have? Oh pesto. We could make pasta with pesto.”

“That sounds good. I think I still have your favourite pasta.”

“Really?”

Hoseok opens the kitchen cabinet and pulls out a package of your favourite pasta.

“Yup”, he says, shaking it.

“Wah Hobi, I love you. This is the best pasta shape ever.”

“Yeah, it’s good. It holds the sauces well.”

“Agreed and it’s the perfect size for my mouth.”

Hoseok snorts, “that’s what she said”, he says, earning himself a nudge to the chest.

“Perv”, you say, but chuckle.

Hoseok snickers and busies himself with getting out the pot and filling it with water. He puts it on the stove and turns the heat on.

“What should we do now that the water needs to boil?” he asks.

“You could show me your songs.”

Hoseok smiles, “why are you so persistent?”

“Because”, you nudge his chest, “I talked to Yoongi and he told me that you show him your songs.”

“Yeah? And?” Hoseok is giggling, which means he’s being playful. 

“Hobi, come on”, you whine, chasing him to grab his waist and squeeze it.

He flees you with minimal effort, letting out squeaky giggles while his hands hold yours in place.

“I’m so curious. Come on, show me”, you whine.

“Fine okay”, he squeaks, “okay, I’ll show you. Just stop tickling me”, he says and pulls you out of the kitchen.

You skip next to him happily, swinging your hands back and forth. Hoseok studies you.

“Why are you so happy?”

“Because I’m gonna hear your music.”

Hoseok sits you down on his studio chair while he busies himself with turning on the big speakers and subwoofer. You pull your legs up on the chair so you can sit cross-legged and watch him squat down in front of the desk. He rests his chin on it as he clicks away on his computer. 

You place your hands on his shoulders and give him a gentle massage. Hoseok reacts by leaning into you slightly and letting out a deep purr. 

“Okay, this song’s called More. I really like it”, Hoseok explains.

“Is it the one I could hear?” you ask, running your fingertips through the fluffy hair at the nape of his neck.

“No that one’s gonna be called Burn. It’s not done yet.”

“I see. Well then, play it. I’m so excited.”

“Right”, he says and presses play. He gets up and stands next to you with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a stern, almost angry, expression on his face. You glance at him at first, but then concentrate on the song instead. It’s an amazing song. It is not all how you imagined Hoseok’s music to be and you feel terrible that you thought so because as you listened to the hard beat and aggressive guitar riffs between his passionate rapping, you realise just how Hoseok this song is. It is in Korean, which makes understanding the lyrics difficult for you, but you don’t have to understand every word to know that this song means a lot to him.

The song ends. 

You cheer and clap instantly, bouncing in the chair. Hoseok doesn’t react to your cheers. He merely tilts his head to the side in a twitch and clicks his tongue, looking displeased.

“Ah I could add more reverb at one sixty”, he says and leans on the table as he works with a stern expression.

“This was amazing, Hobi. Look, I’ve got goosebumps”, you say, showing off your arm.

“You think so?”

“Yes. It was amazing. It had me totally captured and I wanna listen to the song whenever I do something I need motivation for.”

Hoseok turns and sits down on the edge of the desk. He still has his arms crossed.

“Thanks ___, that means a lot.”

“I’m serious. You’re so talented.”

“Thank you”, his features soften as if he finally starts to like the song as well, “yeah, I’m proud of it”, he says and smiles, “it took me a long time to get there, but it’s a good song. You know, I need my stuff to be perfect and I can’t rest till I’m satisfied.” 

“I know. You’re a perfectionist”, you tease, nudging him in the thigh.

“Yeah true”, he agrees and pushes himself off the table, “we should check on the noodle water.”

The water is boiling when you enter the kitchen so Hoseok pours in some pasta while you prepare the pesto and a plate for later. You set a timer on your phone, showing it to Hoseok.

“We’ve got around eight minutes to spare. Any more songs you can show me?” 

“No, but I’ve got a living room we can chill in."

You chuckle, “you’re so secretive with your songs.”

“Hey, they have to be perfect. I already stressed out ‘cause you listened to More.”

“Okay, okay I’m not saying anything. For what it’s worth, I genuinely think it’s an amazing song.”

“Yeah? Thanks, uhm”, he flusters and giggles, “shit, you got me giggling. Hah, thanks.”

You chuckle fondly, “you’re cute, Hobi.”

You eat your pasta in the living room, chatting about everything and anything while outside it storms. You and he clean the kitchen after you finished dinner and then return to the living room for dessert and more chatting. 

You and he share the sofa. Hoseok is sipping on a glass of blood while you opted for hot cocoa. 

“Are you okay?”Hoseok asks, interrupting your monologue about your library experience today. 

“Why are you asking?”

“Cause you’ve been rubbing your shoulders since we sat down.”

“Oh yeah. I guess I’m just a little tense. My backbag was really heavy today and it fucked my shoulders. It hurts.”

“I can massage you.”

“Really?”

Hoseok nods his head.

“Yes please. Oh my god, my saviour”, you say and get off the couch to sit down in front of him. Hoseok hands you a blanket so you can cover your lower body and then he turns so you were between his legs and he could reach your shoulders. 

He rubs his hands together to warm them.

“Should I take off the hoodie?” you ask.

“No it’s fine. I’m starting. Is that okay for you?”

“Yes, it’s okay.”

With your consent, Hoseok places his hands on your shoulders. He begins his massage by rubbing the flat of his palms up and down your shoulders and arms.

“What did you wanna tell me before I interrupted you?” he asks.

“Mhm? Oh yeah! As I was saying, I tried to use the computer to look for the book and it didn’t show me anything.”

“Oh no. How did you find it then?”

Hoseok begins rubbing circles into your shoulders, looking for the tighter areas so he could relax them. 

“That’s when it gets cool because I used magic to find it.” 

“Yo, really?”

“Yes, really. I concentrated really hard and thought of the words Yoongi taught me and then suddenly, I heard a small bell sound.”

“A bell sound?” Hoseok gasps. He is putting pressure into his touches, relaxing the tense areas. They are hard under his fingertips, no wonder you were in pain.

“Yeah seriously, a bell sound. And it became louder the closer I got to the book and then bam.”

Hoseok gasps.

“The book was right there. In front of my eyes.”

“Okay that’s so funky. What the hell?”

You snicker, nodding your head.

“I felt like a real witch then. I almost yelled until I realised I was at the library.”

Hoseok chuckles, “you’re seriously so cool. I know who to call if I ever lose something again.”

“Yes please do. Ah”, you tense up, “ah geez, it hurts.”

“Relax. You’re too tense”, Hoseok says.

“It hurts a lot, you know?”

“I know. You’re really tight in this area”, he says, digging his thumbs into the area.

“I know, ah geez”, you hiss, writhing in discomfort, “no need to break my shoulders, ah.”

“I’m not even using a lot of my strength”, he defends himself and lessens the pressure, “how’s that?”

“Yeah, it’s better. Sorry, I’m a little wimp when it comes to getting massaged.”

“It’s chill. I can be gentle”, he says, rubbing circles into your neck.

You feel yourself shiver. Not only because of the relaxing touches, but also because of his words. You are very well aware that he didn’t mean them in a sexy way, but it’s difficult not to understand them in such a way when Yoongi’s words still run through your mind. You ogle the TV, then the armchair next to it. Yoongi told you what Hoseok did to him on that chair. You fumble with your own fingers, feeling your heart speed up in your chest. Would it be weird to bring it up right now? He is being such a good friend and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable by being a horny slut. You are aware that Hoseok is a very down to fuck kind of guy, but just because he is, doesn’t mean that he always has to be in the mood to be a horndog. He’s just a person after all and a person you love so very dearly.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asks, placing his delicate hands on your upper arms, “am I being too rough?”

“W-why do you ask?” you stutter.

“Your heart’s racing”, he says and rubs your arms, “I can stop if you don’t want to anymore.”

“No, I uhm, no. Hah”, you laugh breathily, “sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Okay? Do you wanna tell me?”

“It’s okay. I don’t wanna make you feel weird.”

“Dude, now you gotta tell me. You can’t just say that. I’m a nosy bastard”, he says, pushing you gently. He laughs.

You laugh, swaying back and forth.

“Yeah I guess”, you say.

“So? Tell me”, he encourages you.

You turn and lift your head so you can look up at him. Hoseok switches between looking into your right and left eye, letting his hands tangle between his legs.

“You gotta pinky promise not to be weird”, you say, lifting your hand.

Hoseok hooks his pinky finger with yours, “promise”, he says and seals it by pressing his thumb against yours, “now open your mouth and talk. You’re making me nervous.”

You lower your hand and take a deep breath, “I’d be down to watch your movies”, you say.

Hoseok gawks at you. His mouth falls open. The silence is intense. His eyes are almost round from how widely he opens them. His reaction is understandable and adorable.

“If you’d be down that is”, you add, giving him a little lopsided smile afterwards.

“I uh”, he lets out and blinks quickly. His air leaves him in a breathy laugh, his right hand comes to touch his chest, “a-are, are you sure?”

You nod your head, “I’m curious what all the talk is about”, you say and scoot closer to nudge his chest, “you’ve got Yoongi still talking about what you guys did that night.”

Hoseok exhales in a laugh and turns his head to the side. His hand shoots up to rub the side of his neck, coyness washes over his features.

“He does?”

“Yeah, totally. You know what he told me on the phone today?”

Hoseok shakes his head. He still isn’t looking at you, fumbling with his own ear nervously.

“That maybe you’ll show me your stuff and that I should have fun. You’ve seriously messed him up back then.”

“Yo dude that’s just- yo”, Hoseok says and stumbles off the couch, running his hands through his fluffy hair. He laughs, but it sounds nervous and so not at all like Hoseok.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, following him with your eyes. He is prancing up and down, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“You’re messing with me, that’s what up. You?” he looks at you with widened eyes.

“What about me?”

“Outta all the people coming here begging for a fuck, you’d be last I expected this from.”

“Why?” you ask in a chuckle, “you’ve got Yoongi talking about it and Kook mentioning it when I fuck him dumb. I wanna see what the deal is about. Besides, I was just asking if we could watch your stuff, I never mentioned sex.”

Hoseok scoffs, “sure ___.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest and pout, “we don’t have to do it you know? Wow, I feel so attacked right now.”

Hoseok studies you for a moment.

“Yeah uhm, give me a moment”, he says and then leaves the room.

You boil in your loneliness, feeling like dying would be less awkward than what just happened. Out of all the reactions you expected Hoseok to have, pure shock and the need to flee wasn’t one of them. You expected gloating, pride, happiness and cocky teasing, but not for him to run away. You touch your own chest because the embarrassment you feel sits heavy in your chest. This was the most humiliating shit you ever pulled. Fuck, you want to dissolve into thin air.

You pull out your phone to text Yoongi and ask him if he could come pick you up, but before you can, Hoseok is back in the room. He is carrying a translucent hard plastic box filled with cassettes and DVDs.

“Sorry it took me a while, I had to make sure the collection’s complete”, he says and puts the box on the coffee table in front of you, “I still got a box upstairs. Let me get it”, he says and disappears again.

You have never felt lighter before. All the embarrassment from before is gone from your chest. He didn’t quit on you, he just got his stuff. You sit down on the edge of the sofa and begin looking through the box. The movies seem to be from the nineties and two thousands. He’s on a few covers. Naked and with a hard-on. You try not to look at it even if you were literally moments away from watching him fuck on TV.

“Okay, I think this should be everything now. I’ve also got my Only Fans, but you have to subscribe to see that stuff”, Hoseok says and places the second box next to the first one. The box was filled with DVDs and hard drives. He sits down next to you, close enough that your legs were touching, “see anything you like?” he asks, placing his arm around you. He doesn’t let it touch you, instead he just makes you hyperaware of its presence behind you. You feel yourself fluster because Hoseok has never been that close to you with an underlying sexual intention. Of course you and he hug and cuddle as friends, but initiating touch with the near future of fucking is new to you.

You turn your head to him. Hoseok meets your eyes. You and he are just inches away from kissing. The close proximity makes you feel giddy. He’s got really pretty eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, studying your eyes and then your lips.

“Nothing.”

“Nervous?”

You look away, “shut up.”

“Wah look at you”, Hoseok coos and bumps his chest into you playfully, “moments ago you wanted to watch my stuff and now you’re nervous about it.”

“Dude, shut up”, you complain.

Hoseok giggles and pulls you into him with a strong arm just so he can shake you around a little.

“Look at you being nervous.”

“Shut up”, you whine, “I’ll punch you in the balls, I’m serious.”

“Hey, hey don’t ruin what’ll benefit you later. My balls are precious cargo, ___.”

You roll your eyes, shoving him off of you, “you’re annoying.”

“Why? I’m just saying.”

“Urgh whatever”, you say and look back into the boxes.

Hoseok scoots closer and reaches into the first box. He pulls out a DVD. He is on the cover, oiled up and with his dick in his hands. You are looking right at it if you wanted to or not. It’s well-shaped, an impressive length and just girthy enough that you have to do a double take. It almost looks – to put it frankly – just a little bit out of place on him. He is a very petite guy, slender and fit, and his cock looks almost massive on his body. His elegant fingers look so small around it.

“Your dick’s huge, dude. What the hell?”

Hoseok laughs, “right? It’s my vampire cock though. People never noticed, but it comes in handy when you can grow your dick.”

“I can imagine. For porn it’s practical”, you say and glance at his face. 

He meets your eyes.

“I hope you know that this is really fucking awkward for me.”

He chuckles, “it’s not awkward for me.”

“I know. You’re an exhibitionist.”

“Right”, he nudges you gently, “don’t be awkward. It’s just me naked and very hard.”

He makes you laugh which lessens the awkwardness. 

“Yeah, right that’s the issue here. You’re my best friend and now I’m looking at your boner. I really didn’t think this through. Dude, that’s what happens when you massage me, I say stuff.”

“I’m your best friend?” he sounds moved. 

“Yeah. Well. Technically Yoongi’s like my bestest friend, but you’re my best friend. You know?”

“This just got really emotional right now. Thank you, ___”, he says and drapes his arm over you to pull you into a soft temple kiss. 

You lean into it, feeling good about it.

“You’re one of my best friends too”, he says and gives you a little squeeze, “we don’t have to do this, you know? It’s okay if you changed your mind.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t wanna stop. I just have to live with the fact that now I know how huge your dick is.”

He laughs and lifts the DVD into your vision, “wanna know why I picked this?” 

“Cause your cock’s huge?”

He laughs, “no it’s because this is the movie I watched with Yoongi that got him all horny”, he says and flips the cover. His co-star is on the back, showing off his oiled-up hole. You do another double take not for cock reasons, but because the actor looks way too similar to Yoongi. Hoseok, who saw your eyes flit back for a second glimpse, grins, “you’re seeing it too, aren’t you?”

“I do. What the hell?” you gasp, grabbing the cover to get a closer look, “are sure that that’s not Yoongi and he just erased your memories back then?”

Hoseok laughs, “it could be a theory. But no, that’s Niragi. We did a few films together, but then lost contact.”

“It’s crazy how similar they look. Except for maybe their holes.”

Hoseok snort laughs, “___”, he gasps and nudges you.

You snicker, glancing at him, “I’m just saying. Yoongi’s not that loose.”

“I know. I felt it”, Hoseok says and looks at your lips.

You feel it, just as you feel your heart speed up because of it.

“We could watch that if you want”, he whispers.

“Intriguing, but I wanna see you act with a woman. Got something that looks like me?”

He chuckles, “babygirl, no one’s ever come close to your beauty”, he partially jokes.

You roll your eyes and nudge his chest, “sweet talker.”

He smirks and shrugs his shoulders. He gives your lips one last hungry gaze then finally looks back into the boxes, “I’ve got something you could like. You like female gaze stuff, don’t you?”

“Do I give off those vibes?”

“With the men you date? Yeah.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask in a laugh.

“They’re at your feet worshipping your every step. I’d be surprised if they even as much as called you bad girl in bed.”

You snort, “you’d be surprised then.”

“Mhm, surprise me”, Hoseok purrs and pulls out a black hard drive, “that’s where the good shit is”, he says and stands up, “get ready for a good show ‘cause I fucked like rent’s due in this movie.”

“I’m expecting great things, you know that don’t you?”

Hoseok squats down in front of his TV.

“Yeah, I do”, he glances at you over his shoulder. He lifts it after a second and giggles, “shit, I’m nervous now. You’re gonna watch my shit.”

You study him. He is so attractive to you right now. Shit, you’re getting horny. It’s so easy to get you turned on.

“Or, I don’t know, we could skip the movie and make out instead?”

Hoseok hesitates. Hoseok takes a deep breath. Hoseok looks at your lips. And Hoseok places the hard drive aside just to stand up and hurry to you. He falls to his knees in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. Like this, you are almost face to face, sharing intense silence and even more intense eye contact.

“Is this a yes?” you ask him.

He nods his head, looking at your lips.

You move in, but Hoseok moves back.

“Mhm?” you are confused.

“I just need to know that this isn’t gonna ruin what we have”, he says. You never heard him with such seriousness in his voice before, “I like you so much and I don’t wanna lose you just ‘cause of one night. If tonight’s gonna fuck us up, I don’t wanna continue.”

“It’s not gonna ruin it for me. You?”

“It’s not gonna ruin it, no fuck”, he laughs breathily, “fuck, I wanted to make out with you for ages. Not that I’m one of those desperate dudes thinking they’re friendzoned, it’s just that I kiss my friends if they’re into it. Or fuck them. And show them my porn.”

You laugh, “I know, Hobi. We’re not traditional. None of us.”

“Yeah, it’s the fucking best”, he says and moves in, cupping your cheek with both hands. His nose brushes yours, your heart skips a beat. He is looking at your lips as he talks, caressing your cheeks, “one last chance.”

“Shut up, Hobi”, you whisper and pull him in with your hand at the nape of his neck.

Hoseok stumbles into you, moaning against your lips as he scrambles to find your rhythm. You didn’t give him a difficult rhythm to follow, no, Hoseok is just simply overwhelmed by the sensation of feeling your lips on his’.

You pull back. Hoseok is looking at your lips with half-lidded eyes and a faint smile.

“Did you brush your teeth?” you ask him.

“Yeah”, he says and pulls you back into the kiss. His hand comes in contact with the side of your face before naturally gliding down to hold the side of your neck. His fingers are long enough that you can feel them brush against the nape of your neck. The touch sends the biggest shivers down your spine.

You moan into the kiss and hook your arms behind his head, tangling your fingers deep in his hair. It’s softer than you imagined it to be and that means a lot because you imagined it to be soft. Hoseok also kisses so much better than you imagined him to kiss. He knows just when to give your lips a little suck, when to involve his teeth and when to let you do your thing. His tongue also knows exactly when to trace your lips to make you crave more.

“Shit, you’re so good”, Hoseok murmurs between kissing you, standing up with his arms hooked under your legs. He lifts you off the couch easily, purring deeply when you press yourself closer and bite his lower lip. You are squirming in his arms. Just as Hoseok had thought. You’re into getting carried.

He bounces you in his arms and finally allows his tongue to stay involved for longer than a small trace. You moan, meeting his kisses with eagerness. His lips are so soft, he tastes so good and whenever he bounces you there is friction against your pussy. 

Hoseok purrs, walking with a dizzy head. He is so happy for his vampire senses right now, because you are stealing his sanity. This isn’t the first kiss you and he shared, but it feels like it to him. The night at the masquerade ball is a memory in his mind these days. It happened so many years ago and is tainted by the fun influence of alcohol. But this isn’t the result of alcohol, this is untainted and real. Hoseok almost stumbles up the stairs because he’s so excited.

He stops once he is upstairs, pressing you against the wall to break the kiss.

“Shit baby. Can I call you baby for tonight?” he rasps and begins kissing neck.

You roll your head back, revealing your vulnerable spots to him.

“Yeah, you can”, you sigh, playing with his hair and sending shivers down his spine in the process.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby. Fuck”, Hoseok moans. His breath tickles your skin, his lips follow. It feels so good that you can’t stop gasping and squirming in his arms.

There was another occasion where you and he shared a kiss. Back when Alpha was still evil and you still hated Yoongi, you came to Hoseok’s room to comfort him after a fight with Yoongi. You and Hoseok talked and somehow the conversation shifted into you giving him a kiss. Back then, Hoseok was high after smoking too much weed and the kiss felt blurry to him.

Tonight feels like fucking ecstasy to him. He is clear in the head and gets to kiss you so fucking passionately. He growls, letting his fangs grace your skin. This is turning him on so fucking bad. He sucks needily.

“Ah, Hobi”, you gasp, arching your back.

The contact breaks because he pulled back.

“Sorry, fuck”, he apologises, kissing the tender spot. He got too excited and sucked a hickey onto your skin. Now the spot is pulsating in sensitivity, “fuck, I can’t believe this is real. You’re so fucking sexy. Fuck, baby”, he growls and rolls his hips into you. His clothed cock grinds against your clothed pussy, sending electric tingles through your bodies.

You and he moan at the same time. You pull him closer while he chases you with another thrust.

You tug his head up by his hair and give him a second of droopy eye contact before you push him onto your lips. He finds your rhythm instantly, sharing the sloppiest tongue kisses with you. He growls into you, breaking away from the wall to carry you to his room. It’s not far anymore and he needs you under him.

He doesn’t bother closing the door because it’s just you and him in this big house. Nobody can run in on you and it doesn’t matter if the door is closed or not, he’ll have you screaming for him either way. No door will keep the noises out.

He places you on top his bed and steps back to take off his shirt. He throws it onto the ground, looking at you with lowered eyes.

“Couldn’t you have turned the lights on?” you ask in a chuckle.

“Ah yeah, sorry I forgot you can’t see in the dark”, he says and turns on his bedside lamp, "better?" 

You look at him instantly, letting your eyes run up and down his torso. Hoseok falls into a pose instantly, taking off his sweats as he does. He keeps his briefs on. They’re the bikini cut type, dark blue and bulging in the front. He is very obviously hard, forcing your eyes to stay on his crotch.

“You’re so hot”, you say, writhing needily.

“Thanks”, he says and climbs onto bed. He takes the spot above you, claiming your lips in a kiss. He keeps his left hand rested beside your head while his right hand dances down your body to play with the hem of your sweats. Your lips tremble against his’, your hands touch his chest. He breaks the kiss but keeps close, “is that okay for me to do?”

“Yeah” you allow him, lifting your hips.

“Thank you. You can always stop this”, he says and takes off your pants.

“I know. You too”, you tell him, writhing needily.

Hoseok wastes no time and takes off your panties as well, throwing them on the bed beside him. The hoodie he borrowed you is long enough that it covers your pussy. You squirm on the sheets, pressing your thighs together as best as possible. 

“Nervous?” he asks.

“A little. You?”

“Yeah, dude”, he laughs breathily, “I’m so fucking nervous. I could shit myself.”

You laugh, “please don’t.”

He snickers, “mhm no, I won’t”, he whispers and kisses your neck. 

You close your eyes, rolling your head to the side as a happy sigh slips past your lips. 

Hoseok pushes your legs apart with his knees, running his right hand down your torso while his left is propped up beside your head. He listens to your heartbeat for any kind of change. It is racing and increases in speed the further down his hand dances. 

Hoseok nudges your head so it rolls to the other side and he can kiss your neck there. You purr softly, squirming under him. Your pulse is fluttering. Hoseok moves closer to your pussy. Your heart skips a beat. He swerves past your heat and feels up your inner thighs instead.

Up and down. Up and down. Hoseok traces your soft skin with just his fingertips. He comes close enough to your pussy that you know his touch is there and yet never close enough that you can feel it. It’s making you squirm more and more. 

You reach up, placing your hands on his chest.

“Hobi”, you sigh, sliding your fingers to his nipples. You rub them gently, eliciting a deep purr from him.

“Mhm keep going. I like it”, he rasps and bites your earlobe softly, “is it okay for me to touch your pussy?”

“Yes, is okay. You fucking tease”, you allow him, rolling your hips up.

“Mhm yeah”, he agrees and dances his fingers up your inner thigh.

You shiver. The thought that soon you will feel his touch is making his fingers feel so much better on your skin. 

Hoseok touches you.

“Ah”, you let out, feeling his chest vibrate in a deep purr. His fingers part you for him, starting off at your entrance and painting a path up to your clit. He does a swirl when he’s reached her, then dances his fingers down to your entrance again. It is a gentle touch, barely any pressure is involved. You have to keep squirming because these kinds of touches always feel so much more intense. 

Hoseok puts distance between your neck and his lips. He studies your face and how you have it scrunched in pleasure. He takes a shaky breath, bundling the sheets next to your head. He’s so into this.

“I wanna taste you”, he confesses, “is it ok-” 

“Yeah…” you interrupt him in a breathy voice and your body writhing sensually.

“Shit, you’re hot”, he rasps and abandons you for the sake of shimmying down. He kneels by the bed and wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face.

He looks up. Your eyes are focused on the ceiling, you are breathing heavily. Pretty. He thinks you’re so pretty. 

He switches his gaze to your pussy. Your sweetened scent is taking up his senses. He lowers his eyes halfway, running them over your exposed heat. Kissing made you wet. It sticks to you and waits to be devoured. 

“So fucking pretty”, Hoseok growls deeply and connects his mouth with your pussy. 

He drags his tongue through your folds, starting on your entrance until he reaches your clit. You gasp, hold your breath and release it in a quiet whimper. 

Hoseok purrs, pressing his tongue against you. He shakes his head, grinding on you this way. This is still a warm up. He’s barely began. You’re so sweet and he needs all of it on his tongue. No wonder your boys are obsessed. Hoseok feels himself get addicted as well. 

He stops shaking his head and moves it so his tongue dances up your pussy. He flicks it against your clit, feeling your thighs twitch in reaction. So he does it again. He flicks his tongue against your clit quickly, holding your thighs as they begin trembling. 

“Oh god”, you whisper and reach for his hair. You stop yourself. You drop your hand. 

“It’s okay. Hold on if you need it”, he allows you and uses the moment to also praise you, “your pussy tastes so good. Fuck, I wanna devour you.” 

“O-oh god”, you stutter out and writhe. 

“Mhm, so sweet”, Hoseok purrs, burying his face back in your heat. His nose is grinding against you as he sucks on your clit. He keeps you pinned with his strong arms around your thighs, making you take every single second of the hungry feast. 

You whimper and reach for his hair to grab it desperately. Your other arm lies itself over your own eyes. 

“Fuck. Hoseok….”

Hoseok closes his eyes and moans into you. He releases your clit, slurping up his drool running down your folds. You tug and twist his hair, trembling in his hold. 

“Hold onto me, that’s it. Good girl”, he lulls his words because you’ve got him pussy drunk. It’s only been a few moments, Hoseok is aware, but he fucking loves eating pussy. Especially when that pussy belongs to his pretty best friend with her pretty moans and prettier taste. 

Hoseok lowers himself for the sake of burying his tongue in your pussy. His long fingers grip your hips and tilt them for easier access. His nose is pressed against you, grinding into you each time he fucks his tongue deep. 

“Hoseok oh god”, you get out and choke out a moan, arching your back because it’s impossible to stay still when he is filling you up like this. 

He breaks away, letting his spit connect himself with you. 

“So fucking sweet, baby. You’ve got such a heavenly pussy”, he praises and spits on her for contrast.

“Ah”, you flinch at the feeling, writhing seconds later when Hoseok slurps up the sinful mess, “Hobi please.”

Hoseok moans, looking up at you again. You’re begging. You’re that type of person. He slips his hand into his briefs to get his cock out because the revelation makes his cock ache. He jerks it off desperately, fucking his tongue deep into your sweet pussy. Those people are his favourites. Oh so ruined by pleasure they start begging without knowing what they’re even begging for. He fucking loves them. 

Fuck, he wants to drag every single plea from your tongue. Hoseok furrows his brows and growls against you, speeding up his tongue as he presses himself as close as possible. 

“Oh god, please”, you keen, twisting his hair. Your thighs close around his head. You have to grab more of him or otherwise you are losing yourself. He is so fast and sloppy. And so chillingly cool. Because he only consumed blood bags lately, his skin is cold to the touch and yet his mouth carries enough warmth to give you a constant change of temperature. One second his cold nose is grinding against your clit and in the next, his hot tongue follows. The contrast is keeping you on edge and desperate for more. 

“Please ah”, you beg and grab his wrist. 

Hoseok untangles his left hand from your thigh, sliding it together with your hand. You squeeze him instantly. Your palm is damp and hot.

You writhe and shake, pressing out another plea.

Hoseok growls, looking up at you with darkened eyes. You’re so fucking precious. Look at you needing to hold his hand. You are squeezing him oh so desperately that he wonders if you want to never let go again. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles in soothing and begins concentrating his licks on your clit. 

No more playing around. He needs you shaking. 

He switches between licking your clit and sucking on it, combining the two sensations until they become this electric blend of never ending pleasure.

“This is gonna make me cum”, you get out and whimper, writhing on the sheets. 

Good. Hoseok wants you to climax. This is all he is working towards right now. Your sweet, sweet orgasm on the tip of his tongue. Hoseok dreamed about it for years. He hate fucks his own fist in desperation, making love to your pussy in contrast. 

“Hobi this is- ah”, you press out and shudder. You tug at his hair, closing your thighs tighter around his head. 

He can hear your blood rush deep inside your muscles. It is rushing and pulsating oh so fucking quickly. He squeezes his eyes shut and sucks your clit between his lips to keep it there and swirl his tongue over it.

“Ah”, you get out and grow silent. You tense up before growing slack within the blink of an eye. Your pussy begins throbbing under his tongue. He’s got you. 

“Oh god, ah”, you mewl, filling the air with squeaky moans afterwards. This feels so good. Your legs feel like jello, the heat in your pussy is unbearable. He’s got you climaxing so fucking hard that you actually feel too ruined to keep breathing.

You grab his hair and fuck your hips up against his face, needing it to last so much fucking longer. 

Hoseok lets you hump his face with desperate moans leaving him. He keeps his tongue stuck out, basking in every new layer of sweetness you cover his nose with. Shit, he won’t get rid of your scent for days. It’s so deeply burned into him. Hoseok’s in fucking heaven, soiling his hand in his excitement. He isn’t orgasming, he is just very leaky. 

“Oh go-god”, you soon drop into the sheets, shuddering in the aftermaths of your high. Your fingers fall from his hair and let go of his hand, “holy fuck.” 

Hoseok purrs and gives your clit a kiss. He sucks on her one last time even if you flinch in overstimulation. You had to take it, Hoseok needed one last reminder of your sweet taste. 

“Good girl”, he rasps and smiles, “you’re such a good girl, babygirl.”

You mewl quietly, squirming from the praise. 

Hoseok drops your thighs for the sake of feeling up your sides as he kisses a path up to your face. His hard cock keeps leaking onto you as he goes. He can’t help it, he’s so fucking needy for more.

He kisses your neck. You press into him instantly, rolling your head to the side until your nose brushes against his cheek. 

Hoseok lifts his head, meeting your droopy gaze. You smile and giggle. Hoseok feels his tummy flutter. He gives you his prettiest heart-shaped smile and a little giggle with a nose scrunch. 

“We just did that”, you say.

“Yeah right. I loved it”, he says.

“Me too”, you confess and touch his mouth.

Hoseok lets you with bated breath and parted lips. You are so mesmerised by his lips, looking so utterly enchanted by them.

“Your lips are pretty”, you whisper and trace one specific spot repeatedly, “you’ve got a mole there. It’s pretty.”

“Uhm”, Hoseok lets out and lowers his head because he’s actually flustered.

You snicker and drop your hand to instead touch his wrist.

“Can I suck your cock?” 

Hoseok lifts his head again in shock, “sorry?”

“Can I suck your cock? I promise I won’t bite it off.”

He laughs, feeling his entire body tingle in butterflies. You snicker, gazing up at him with sparkly, yet lustful eyes. 

“Can I?” you ask, tracing his pecs with your nails. His nipples harden instantly, throbbing oh so needily when you brush your fingers over them.

“Fuck, I’m fucked what the fuck”, he lets out and rolls off of you.

“Why?” you ask, straddling his lap.

Hoseok sits up, gripping your hips. Your wet pussy is dripping onto his thigh, your weight is like heaven on his lap. He gazes up at you, drinking in every fucking inch of your face.

“I’m so fucking into you that it’s giving me butterflies”, he whispers.

“Good”, you say and push him down by his chest. He falls, letting out a breathy moan as his back hits the sheets. His hair is ruffled, his hands fall on each side of his head and stay there.

“Stay”, you order and crawl off of him. You run your hands down his body and take off his briefs as you go, eliciting goosebumps to the surface of his skin. He moans quietly, chasing your touch with squirms.

“Feels good”, he whispers and rolls his hips up in synch with your hands parting his legs by rubbing his inner thighs, “ah, yeah feels really good. Hah”, he lets out and laughs breathily.

Hoseok’s bed is low enough that you can kneel comfortably and reach his cock. You do so, dragging him to the edge as you fall to your knees. Hoseok mewls in reaction, gasping for fucking air. His body is burning up. You are fucking messing with him. Your knees hit the floor. The fluffy rug under you gives extra cushioning.

You reach the end of his inner thighs, rubbing circles into the spot where his groin blends into them. Hoseok parts his legs further. His cock twitches needily. You can also watch how his chest begins heaving up and down as his breathing speeds up in excitement.

You glide your right hand to his cock, placing your palm against the upper side of it while your fingers stay stretched. You don’t want to give him too many touches yet. You want your tongue to be the first thing he feels.

Hoseok sucks in air.

You move in and connect your tongue with his base, licking up a thick, wet stripe along the underside of his cock until ending it with a quick flick on his tip.

“Shit”, Hoseok releases his air in a breathy moan, closing his fingers around the sheets right next to his head. He can barely grip them, but it has to be enough. Your tongue feels like fucking heaven on his cock and he’s already burning up.

You hum and drag your tongue down his cock again, swirling it over his balls to get a good feel of them. His skin is soft and cool against your tongue. He throbs at the first contact, making you want more because it was so delicious to have him throb for you. You suck the sensitive skin of his balls between your lips just long enough that it stings a little.

Hoseok reacts in a throaty moan and his hips squirming restlessly. You release him again, guiding your wet tongue up his cock in repeated small, yet terribly sloppy licks. It results in his shaft getting all slickened with your spit. You use it to finally wrap your fingers around him and jerk him off, taking his cockhead between your lips at the same time.

“A-ah”, Hoseok moans, reaching down to grab the back of your head. His hips buck up, forcing his cock to glide over your tongue, and drops his hips again, which almost makes his cock flop out of your greedy mouth.

You let him hold your head. He clearly needs it. You force down the cocky smirk and instead hum around him as you begin bopping your head up and down his cock. You jerk off what you decide not to fit inside right now and dance your left hand up his torso until you can play with his nipples.

Hoseok is moaning so much. He tries not to be too loud, but he genuinely can’t stop his voice from working. He gasps for air and each time he exhales, it happens naturally that he makes the neediest of sounds.

You like what he does. You find great enjoyment in making men noisy for you. There is something very satisfying about using your mouth or hands to turn an otherwise well-spoken man into a moaning mess. Somehow making Hoseok moan feels even more satisfying to you. It is as if you want to prove something to him and show off with what you can do, so hearing him be so incredibly noisy feels as if you are being very successful.

You slip off of him for a moment, spitting on his cock just to pick it up with your hand and spread it in quick movements.

“Holy shit”, Hoseok whispers and arches off the sheets, “ah, a-ah what the fuck?”

His legs are shaking and he can’t do anything against it. Not many people manage to do that to him. Hoseok drops his hand from your head to instead grip the sheets and twist them. His cock twitches and throbs so nicely between your fingers, leaking translucent desperation which aches to be tasted.

“What the actual fuck?” he gets out and squeaks in a moan.

You purr and take him back inside, sucking off his wetness until he writhes under you. Now with his tip incredibly sensitive, you finally take him inside as deep as you can.

Hoseok moans your name and throws his head back, resulting in the sheets to crinkle and his chest to stick up into the air. Your fingers can’t reach his nipples this way, but you don’t mind. You take his balls between your fingers instead, fondling them as your throat jerks off his cock.

“You’re making me cum”, he gets out and groans. His right foot meets your thigh as somehow in his shakes, he manages to step on you. He doesn’t slip off, instead he uses the leverage to arch his back. He gasps, throbbing deep inside your mouth, “I’ll cum in your mouth, it’s gon-gonna happen, ah fuck.”

You moan around him, sending vibrations through his cock.

“Now, ah ___”, Hoseok moans and drops in the sheets as his orgasm takes a hold of him. He twitches and throbs inside you, covering your throat with his warm cum until it gets too much to hold and it trickles out of you. You slurp and suck hungrily, using the excess cum to jerk his cock.

Hoseok is quiet for eight seconds and then his voice finally comes back to him in a guttural growl, “holy fuuuck. What the fuuuck? Shiiit.”

He rolls his hips up needily, riding out the electric waves until the fire takes a hold of him.

“Fuck, okay. Stop”, he says, flinching in overstimulation.

You suck and suck on his tip even if it’s burning up.

“Stop please”, he begs, touching your head with trembling fingers, “hurts. Stop. Please.”

You slide off of him with a delicious moan and swallow, licking your lips just to get the droplets he left outside as well. He tastes so sweet. It’s insane how yummy vampires are. It’s like they are begging to be feasted upon. How paradisically ironic.

“Holy shit, ___. What the fuck was that?” Hoseok gets out as his legs twitch in the aftershocks.

“What do you mean? I sucked your cock”, you act oblivious on purpose, kissing paths up his thighs.

“You made my legs shake.”

“And?”

Hoseok sits up and cups your face just to pull you to your feet and therefore into a kiss. He uses his powers to get you on top of the bed and under him again. His knee is between your legs, his hands are restless on your body. He is moaning greedily, licking into your mouth as if he wanted to taste himself on you. You let him, tangling your fingers in his soft hair as your hips naturally begin squirming on his thigh. Shit, sucking his cock made you so wet. You can feel it sticking to his skin. You squirm harder, chasing the sensations. It feels so good to grind on him.

“What the fuck”, Hoseok breaks the kiss to instead very sloppily suck on your neck, “what the fuck? I’m done. That’s how you suck cock?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Dude, no wonder you’ve got your men wrapped around your fingers. Holy shit”, he babbles and shivers, “you’ve got me shivering in the aftershock. My legs never shake like this.”

“Mhm good”, you purr and squirm sensually.

“You’re fucking insane”, he rasps and reaches between your bodies. He can feel how wet you are and he is still hard as ever. You’ve also messed with his mind enough that he can’t think clearly anymore. All he wants is to fuck your pussy. The proper, respectful Hoseok is gone. You’ve turned him feral with your tongue. He shifts so his hips were between your legs and then drags his heavy cock through your folds. They feel so wet and puffy around his tip, moving right around him as he guides his cock against you.

“Oh? Ah”, you gasp and open your eyes, meeting his gaze, “Hobi…” you get out, scratching down the back of his neck just to grab his shoulders in the end.

His eyes are glowing red. His ivory cheeks are covered in black veins. You rarely see him in his vampiric state, so this is properly messing you up.

“I wanna take you”, he says and slaps his cockhead against your clit repeatedly. It sounds wet, makes you flinch and moan softly with each impact, “do you want me to?”

You nod your head, “yes.”

Hoseok gives your clit one last spank, then drags his cock down to your soaked entrance. He applies pressure and slips in without resistance.

“Holy fuck”, you and he get out at the same time, resulting in your eyes to meet knowingly.

“Jinx”, you joke and laugh softly.

Hoseok’s lips curl into a fond smile. He chuckles and tilts his head to the side, using the movement to lower himself to your face.

“Kidding, you can talk”, you say, making him laugh just as much as he moans. It results in those really deep, sexy chuckles, the kind which really messes with your sanity.

“You’re too much”, he rasps and bottoms out. He stays like this for a moment, closing his eyes to really enjoy how your walls pulsate and throb around him. He can also feel your heartbeat in them. It’s a vampire thing and means that it takes everything inside of Hoseok not to let his cock grow. He doesn’t know if your boys give you their vampire cocks and just in case they don’t, he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Oh how sweetly naïve he is.

He furrows his brows and purrs deeply, nodding his head as if he agreed with what is happening right now.

“Yeah, you’re definitely fucking incredible”, he says and peels his eyes open halfway, “can I move?”

“Yeah. Move.”

With your consent, Hoseok finally picks up a rhythm. He really drags out his strokes, including a skilled roll of his hips each time he bottoms out. He knows that he doesn’t need to go fast to make you gasp.

And it works. Two strokes in and you release your first gasp, closing your eyes instinctively as his cock fucks the hottest electricity to the surface.

“How’s that, baby?” he asks in a whisper as his hand caresses the top of your head gently.

You nod your head, giving him a little mewl.

“Mhm, it’s fucking amazing for me too”, he says and closes his eyes, “shit, you feel so good.”

He straightens up, pressing his right hand into the pillow and grabbing a bundle of it. His muscles tense and shift under his ivory skin. The red neon lights really accentuate how strong he was despite his lean frame. He meets your eyes, feeling his stomach tighten in excitement. You look so blissed out, staring up at him with heavy, half-lidded eyes. He gives you a smile, overwhelming you with it to the point where your eyes roll back and close and you let out a needy whimper. You writhe under him, reaching up to grab his wrist.

“You’re so fucking pretty, holy shit”, Hoseok rasps and tenses his jaw.

“Harder”, you breathe.

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, wiggling your hips.

“Fuck baby, that’s hot”, Hoseok moans and gets to his knees. He lifts your legs and wraps them around his waist. You mewl under him, gawking up at him with foggy eyes. The stretch follows seconds later when Hoseok buries his girthy cock in your puffy pussy, bottoming out with a sensual roll of his hips and a deep purr rumbling in his chest.

“Hobi…”

“That’s it, take me”, he speaks in a deep voice, keeping you pinned with his ruby eyes, “take a deep breath for me, babygirl.”

You follow, feeling your mind scramble when Hoseok smiles proudly.

“Good job, babygirl. Keep breathing”, he praises and rewards you with deep strokes.

Your breath shudders, your senses blur. He is so rough in his movements and yet they are still so gentle. It is difficult to describe other than that Hoseok knows how to move his fucking hips and he is currently making sure you know that he can.

“That’s it, babygirl. That’s it, keep breathing”, he rasps, sliding his hand to your lower tummy so he can apply gentle pressure.

You writhe and mewl loudly, squeezing your eyes shut. You can feel his cock reshape your insides. He is so fucking deep. Oh god, you are so sensitive inside that every time he bottoms out, you feel fiery pleasure in your entire stomach.

“Fuck, your pussy’s so fucking tight like this. Gotta stretch it all out with my fat cock, mhm?” he taunts, making you whine in both embarrassment and pleasure. He’s got the dirtiest tongue. You feel yourself soaking his cock in reaction.

Hoseok pulls out to the tip, dragging it through your swollen folds. Once, twice, a third time to really mess with your mind. He pushes back inside and gives you his whole length with a harsh thrust. The kind of thrust which knocks a sound out of you and produces the most sinful of slapping sound. You could even feel his heavy balls hit your ass.

“Please…please…”

He moans in bliss from hearing you beg, showing you just how good he can reshape you by pulling out to his tip and fucking into you again. Harshly, just like before. He doesn’t stop after one thrust, keeping the rhythm going as his long fingers slip to your clit to begin circling her.

“Ah! Oh god! Hob-ah a-ah.”

“Feels good, babygirl?”

“Ye-yeah, yeah, yeah”, he fucks the words out of you. You try to nod your head, but you just end up shaking it around on the sheets rather clumsily. It gives your hair such a sexy messiness to it, “yes. Yes, yes, yes please don’t stop”, you chant, clenching around him.

“I won’t. I can do this for hours”, he rasps and fills you with his cock oh so deep.

Hoseok drinks up the view like an obsessed connoisseur. Fuck, you’re the sweetest artwork he ever looked at. He’s got you, doesn’t he? After years and years of imagining how it might be to fuck you, he’s finally got you. And it’s fucking better than any fantasy he could have ever thought up.

“It feels so goo-good”, you sob, spilling tears from the corners of your eyes.

“‘Feels good for me too. Fuck”, Hoseok spits the last word, falling to his hand so he was right above you. Your hips tilt up, allowing his cock to pound you in a better angle. His right hand is still playing with your clit, keeping her throbbing and sensitive. His weight is on you, keeping you where he needs you to be. Wrapped around him and stuffed with cock.

“Hobi”, you mewl, spilling new tears because everything just feels too good.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, yes ah yes.”

“Fuck, I love hearing that”, he moans, “you’re driving me insane”, he adds and kisses you. He can’t take it anymore. He needs to taste your moans, your sobs and gasps for air. His fangs clash with your teeth messily, but you have enough practice with kissing vampires that you find the right rhythm soon. Sloppy, wet tongue kisses. Desperate sucks and nibbles on each other’s lips. Moments where moans are mixing and breaths intertwine. Your fingers bury themselves deep in his soft hair, his fingers increase the pressure on your clit.

You can’t grasp the passage of time when he’s got you fucked so good. Hoseok doesn’t care about it either, basking in the blissful time vacuum with you as your bodies connect in harsh strokes. Outside the storm calms down. Outside the night arrives with dark skies and quiet streets. While inside, the red lights keep you illuminated and your bodies get ruined in the sweetest way. 

“Holy fuck, Hobi ah”, you whimper, writhing under him. He’s fucked you long enough that you’re almost there.

“Yeah, that’s good mhm? So fucking good”, he lulls, dragging his lips up your neck, “fuck, you’re so fucking wet. Keep creaming my cock baby, I love it.” 

“You’re making me cum soon.”

“Yeah?” he moans against your lips, “fuck that’s hot. Don’t hold back, babygirl. I’ve got you.”

“Hobi, I have to- ah, I have to, to...I have…”

“It’s okay, everything’s okay. Don’t be scared, I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

His words are like the most wonderful hug to you. You feel so safe. He fills you with so much warmth and tingles that you fall over the edge with a whimper of his name and your legs pulling him closer.

Hoseok slows down his thrusts, keeping his cock buried deep and giving you sensual circles so your favourite spots would experience the fire as well. He presses his fingers against your clit, letting her experience warmth and pressure. This feels so good. There are no words for how good he makes you feel.

“That’s it, you’re doing such a good job. Good girl, you’re doing such a good job”, he talks you through it, making it even better with every sweet word he speaks.

You drop the back you didn’t even know you were arching and grab the nape of his neck.

“Hobi, holy fuck”, you choke out and pull his face into the crook of your neck.

“Ah, hey”, he falls with a chuckle and his right hand slamming into the pillow beside your head. It closes around the pillow desperately when seconds later, you are rutting up into him. Your legs are locked around his hips, keeping them from fleeing (not that he wanted to), your pussy is so tight around him.

Hoseok’s voice pitches, his body shudders uncontrollably.

“What are you doing?” he squeaks out, twisting the pillow, “a-ah holy fuck please slow, I’ll cum. Slow, you’re making me cum, s-slow ah.”

“Fill me up, please. Hobi please wanna be creamed”, you beg and twist his hair. You are cockdrunk. There is no denying that. He made you cum so fucking hard that all you want right now is for him to paint your walls white.

“Shit, ah”, he trembles, “shit, holy shit, ah fuck”, he pants and chases your hips in quick ruts. Four strokes it takes him, four strokes and then it gets all too much for him. He climaxes with a pitched moan of your name and his left arm pulling you against his chest.

“Yes, ah Hobi. Thank you”, you mewl, holding him close as his cock fills you with his hottest orgasm.

“You feel so good”, he gets out and drops on top of you. He shudders, exhaling against your neck with a defeated sound leaving him, “holy fuck.”

“Yeah”, you agree, snuggling your cheek against his head. You run your fingers up and down his spine, lingering on his head for some hair play each time you meet it.

“What the actual fuck”, he murmurs.

“Liked it?”

“I’m dead. What the fuck.”

You snicker, sighing happily afterwards.

It takes the two of you a few minutes of silence to really come down. Hoseok keeps lying on top of you, stealing some of your body heat as his cock slowly softens inside you. He’s got you so messy. It is seeping out of you even with his cock inside. You wanted to get up and clean, but he just told you to relax and that he will clean the sheets later.

It was a lull of his words before he grew silent again.

You like the silence. It’s relaxing and helps your brain to reboot. You need that because he really fucked you dumb.

Hoseok lifts his head when his mood lights switch to pink. Silence. His eyes race between yours. He is propped on his elbows, keeping your head caged in safely.

“What?” you ask him.

“Nothing just…” he kisses your lips. It is a sweet kiss. The kind of kiss a lover gives his precious counterpart. It leaves flutters in your chest once he lifts his head again.

Silence.

Eyes race between each other.

The light switches back to red.

He runs the back of his hand down your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful”, he whispers, making your heart flutter.

“You’re beautiful too, Hobi”, you breathe, reaching up to caress his cheek.

His eyes lower just a little bit, a shy smile curls his lips.

“Shit ___, you’ve got me feeling romantic. What have you done to me?” he says and snickers.

“Is that bad?” you ask.

“No, it’s just”, he shudders, “giving me the shivers. Mhm fuck”, he says and nuzzles his face into your neck as he lets out a cute sound. He smooches you just once before the nuzzling continues.

You giggle, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

“You’re still staying the night, yeah?”

“Of course. Why shouldn’t I?”

“The storm stopped.”

“Right. I didn’t even notice”, you say and giggle when he tickles your ear with his breath.

He chuckles softly, giving you a tender kiss on your ear.

“Fuck, you really did it to me”, he whispers with a smile on his lips and his nose nuzzling into the side of your head.

“The feeling’s mutual, Hobi”, you snicker, ruffling his hair.

“Mhm good, yeah that’s good”, Hoseok says and pulls you closer, “so like, why did it take us years to do that?”

“Our lives have been busy, haven’t they? I feel like it’s only slowly been beginning to calm down.”

“Yeah, right. Shit”, he giggles again, “I’m giddy like a little boy. You’re amazing.” 

“You’re cute, Hobi”, you whisper fondly.

It isn’t necessary to mention that Hoseok will be the one to break the news to Yoongi the next day. Hoseok will drive you to class after shared breakfast and he will pick you up again, he will drive you to the estate and then greet Yoongi with a “she just changed my life.” To which Yoongi lets a small smile escape followed by a kiss to your cheek and a teasing “I thought you wanted to change all our lives, Hoba. What happened?”

“Exactly What I Wanted”

Hobi x Reader

Summary: Your plans with Hobi take a slight turn when you wake up sore after a night together.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: implied smut, slightly suggestive, reader is mentioned being shorter than Hobi, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @princesspalaka for requesting this! And thank you all for your patience with the slower posting schedule lately.

Masterlist

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“Y/n, c’mon, you have to get up if we’re going to go get breakfast before shopping!” Hobi called to you brightly, pulling open the curtains as he quickly gathered his things to get dressed, letting the bright morning light flood into the room.

You however, refused to move from where you were curled in the bed, burrowing further into the covers with a groan, making him chuckle.

You were always much slower to wake up in the mornings than he was, usually requiring some coaxing to leave the sweet sanctuary of your bed.

“What if we just stayed here?” You asked, voice muffled by the duvet.

“But I thought you wanted those special waffles at that cafe we found?” He asked, his lips tipping into a smirk as he glanced over at you.

“They weren't that special.” You grumbled, scrunching further under the covers.

He came over, crouching by your side of the bed and lifting the cover enough to find your face.

“Please, Baby.” He cooed. “We can go to that bookstore you’ve been wanting to check out.”

You perked up at that. “Really?”

“Really.” He grinned, kissing your cheek. “But you have to get up.”

You groaned. “Fine.”

“Thank you!” Hobi pressed another quick kiss to your lips before making his way back over to the closet, trying to decide on which pair of shoes to wear.

Reluctantly, you climbed out of the bed, wobbling slightly as you tried to straighten up, feeling faint pangs of tenderness in your lower half and hips, causing you to let out a small whine as you began to shuffle slowly towards the bathroom.

At your quiet pained sound, Hobi glanced up, immediately noting your awkward stance and gait.

“Are you okay?” He asked, eyeing you cautiously.

“ ‘m fine.” You winced. “Just a lil sore.”

“You’re hurt?!” His eyes widened in concern as he quickly made his way back to your side, scanning your face worriedly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I thought it wouldn’t be so bad once I got up, and I know how you get about stuff like this.”

“Stuff like this?!” He raised his brows at you. “You mean your health and wellbeing?!”

“You know what I meant.” You sighed. Hobi had a history of being somewhat over protective of you, especially whenever you were hurt or not feeling well. And while you loved and appreciated his concern, sometimes he went a little overboard.

The first time you had woken up sore from a night together, he had all but refused to do anything beyond making out with you for almost a month. He absolutely loathed the idea of being the cause of any sort of pain or discomfort to you.

“C’mon.” He said, gently wrapping an arm around your waist and helping lead you towards the bathroom.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking care of my baby,” He replied, starting the shower. “And then, I’m putting you back to bed.”

“But I thought you wanted to go shopping?” You said.

“There’s no way I’m making you walk around all day when you’re in pain.” He said seriously, turning to help you undress.

“I’m not in pain,” You argued, trying halfheartedly to fight off his hands, but failing. “I’m just a little sore.”

“Call it what you want, I’m still going to look after you.” He responded, quickly removing his own clothing and stepping under the stream of running water, helping you in after him.

The warm water did help a bit, causing your muscles to slowly relax, your eyes drifting shut as Hobi washed your hair, careful not to let any soap drip into your face. He always handled you with such care and gentleness, like you were some secret treasure that required the utmost care so as not to break.

Your heart swelled almost painfully in your chest. He made you feel so loved and cherished, you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve him.

As he finished rinsing your hair, you surprised him by turning around and grabbing the shampoo bottle, wanting to return the favor and care for him the same as he did for you. It was a slight stretch for you to reach, but neither of you minded, Hobi slouching slightly to make it easier for you, his eyes never leaving your face as you carefully massaged his scalp.

Once you were both clean, he pulled you close to his chest, letting the water cascade over the two of you. The sound of the running water drowned out everything but the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath where your head rested.

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

His arms tightened faintly around you. “I’ve always got you.” He promised, kissing your temple.

After a few more minutes, when the water began to run cold, he helped you out, toweled you dry, dressed you in some pajama bottoms and one of your favorite shirts of his, and tucked you back into bed.

“Hobi?” You mumbled, already feeling drowsiness threatening to overtake you.

“Hmm? What is it, Angel?” He asked softly.

“Just… I love you.”

He beamed.

“I love you too.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Get some rest, Baby.”

You don’t know how long you slept, but when you woke again, the light that was creeping through the open windows now held the yellowish glow of afternoon, painting Hobi in a golden hue as he rested next to you, his fingers softly tracing patterns over your skin.

“Hey sleepy.” He grinned. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better.” You said sleepily. “I’m sorry I spoiled our plans today.”

“You didn’t spoil anything.” He looked at you. “My plan was to spend the day with you, I did exactly what I wanted.” He smiled, bringing your hand up to his lips.

You smiled.

“I ordered food from your favorite place.” He added. “Thought we could catch up on that show you’ve been watching?”

“Remind me to marry you when I’m feeling better.” You grinned, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Will do.”

@sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0o0o0ooo

Your Sweetest Lie

Pairing: Yandere Hoseok x Reader

warnings: Yandere behaviour: stalking, threats, jealously, possessive behaviour, violence. Reader is sad and alone. Mentioning of death and the use of drugs.

Summary: you always were blinded by love. So blind you couldn’t even see the monster behind his kind heart and his bright smile. Every action has a consequence and yours was that you fell for his lie that he created for you and only you

reader digression is advised. minors do not interact.

Thank you for the request. (from main account)

You sat at the the table and glanced at the people rushing in and out, groaning as they joined the long line desperate to get their morning coffee. Whilst you on the other hand were doing the complete opposite, sitting at the table drumming your fingers on your coffee cup trying to block out your friend at yet another failed attempt to try and warn you about your boyfriend.

Yes your boyfriend.

The boyfriend who had picked you up and put you back together when they couldn’t, the boyfriend who would put a smile on your face and dry your tears, the boyfriend who would give you the sort of affection that your friends couldn’t reach, yes, including the friend opposite you.

The friend who was acting like a know it all, the friend who was ripping through your heart at her ruthless words, she had only met him a few times.

Only a few times they had met and it was always at his place, he’d cook for all of them, sometimes even make the sofa up for them if they stayed late. Heck! He even brought Jackson home when he was drunk

Yet here your closest friend was, slating him. Saying he wasn’t who you believed him to be. That he wasn’t kind, that it was all just a facade.

You clenched your coffee cup the tops of your fingers paling at your anger, at your betrayal, you were finally happy with someone who was treating you well and of course your best friend for nearly a decade had to go and find his flaws.

Of course she couldn’t let you be happy.

You had to prove her wrong, your hoseok was an Angel, the light of your life the sun to your look, he’s everything you could ask for and more. He cares, he listens, he puts you before him (even though you want him to take care of himself more) he was everything to you.

You were going to show her how wrong she was, you were going to put her in her place because, honestly? You were confused he treated your friends like his friends treated you like a queen.. isn’t that what they wanted? Or did your friends enjoy you relying on them and calling them for help when your other boyfriends - your ex boyfriend left you crying on the floor with cuts and bruises.

No! Of course not, this is your best friend, these people are your best friends, they must be worried that’s all, they want the best for you, they just want to double check that’s all.

You just had to show them.

You looked at your best friend and nod “Look, F/N I really do appreciate your concern and the others, thank you for meeting up with me, but It’s really nothing to worry about.” You smile and squeeze her hand to reassure your dearest friend.

“How about we meet up on Saturday, around noon? I will speak to you all and we can come to an understanding. I know I haven’t been in great relationships in the past but this is nothing like that, trust me.”

Your friend glanced at you reluctant, you picked up on how deflated she looked when you finally responded and tapped in to what she was yapping about, but you shrugged it off. She was always a worry bot.

…

You came home and put your bag down and kicked your shoes off, not even hearing the steps of your boyfriend.. he was just so careful and gentle. His hands hooked the shoulders of your coat as he slid it down your shoulders for you.

“How was the date?” He questioned, winking at you as if he was teasing you

You raised a brow “Hoseok it wasn’t a date.” You huffed and walked past him, normally you would have laughed and told him - no reassured him he was the only one, but today you didn’t.

His eyebrows frowned in confusion. Were you cheating on him? Did you not love him anymore? Did you truly love that bitch?

He didn’t realise he had to get her blood on his hands so soon-

“We had a fight.” You mumble from the kitchen as you got a mug out for your hot chocolate, interrupting him from his thoughts

“A fight?” He asks, tilting his head before meeting you in the kitchen, pulling you into his embrace and resting his chin on your shoulder “Prey tell whatever did she do?” He asks, stroking your sides, smiling in satisfaction when you leaned back onto him.

You trusted him.

Oh how euphoric it made him to get these little hints and signs that you loved him and you trusted him.

He had you wrapped around his finger he knew that, he knew you would never leave him, he knew that. But he never underestimated the feeling of being reminded that you were his.

You were so naive.

Believing his act, his love, his adoration, his soft like touch, his smile.

It wasn’t wrong, he did love you, over the hills and mountains was his love for you, he’d go to the moon and back for you, that’s how much he loved you.

But there was a darker side to him, truly evil, despicable side to him, the smiles the softness wasn’t him, he knew that but you didn’t.

That’s was all that mattered

He finally tuned in when you were explaining why you see fighting, but it didn’t make sense..

“We were fighting about me leaving my stuff at her house all the time.” You simply lie, not wanting to make him upset “I don’t know I was saying I was overwhelmed about my chores at work and she had a go at me.”

Hoseok raised a brow at this, did you really think he was stupid? That he just graduated kindergarten? Either way it didn’t bother him, he knew the truth would come out sooner or later but he didn’t know how long he could wait

Thoughts kept racing through his mind within these few short moments that sparked by

he wanted to know why you lied..

And he was sure he’d find out soon, specially when you told him you were going out on Saturday.

Of course he let you go, everyone needs a proper goodbye.

It wasn’t supposed to get to this but your friends never made it easy..

They could never shut up.

They just couldn’t behave

It disappointed him, because now he’d have to act like the bad guy.

Oh well, it was more thrilling for him anyway.

…

Saturday dragged its way into your life, it seemed to come slowly but for you it was too fast too quick. You were dreading this day even if it was your choice.

You couldn’t help but think, if your closest friend was able to hurt you like that just a few days ago, what were the others capable of doing?

You had no way of telling, you were desperate to get off the bus before you reached your stop, but your legs were adamant that you face your fears and you prove your friends wrong.

Or did your legs want you to learn the bitter truth about your oh so wonderful boyfriend?

As you walked into your friend’s house you sat down and waited, they were all there, all 10 of your friends ironically sitting in a circle as to give you and intervention.

Like there was something wrong with you and not them.

It went just as you thought it would, you left there, heart in your stomach .. well pieces of it, you weren’t sure if it was even whole anymore.

You just wanted to be loved.

You found a great guy but they were destroying him, his image infront of you.

You tried your best to fight your case but it was 10 against one, you felt like you were a lost traveller with a pack of wolves closing in on you.

You thought you could trust them..

Of course they would do this, they think that their so perfect so they find the flaws in everyone even you.

Telling you how, dependent you were, how love made you blind, that you were naive just like you were when you were all kids..

They were basically highlighting how pathetic you were. And here you thought your dear friends were supposed to raise your self confidence, not break it as a collective unit.

Yes you were all life long friends, F/N being the closest you knew each other from birth you were in the cots next to each other and have been joined at the hip since.

Well until now..

But you surely weren’t going to break a friend friendship that had lasted for more than two decades over a boyfriend right?

Right?

You looked out of the window with your glossy eyes it was pitch black when you finally reached your stop, your head facing the ground as you pulled yourself home.

“He isn’t what you think he is Y/N.”

“He’s not perfect.”

“I know who is Ex is, Y/N, he left her with scars.”

“He isn’t your sunshine, you need to get out whilst you can”

“We’ll help you find who’s right for you.”

They all said, one by one. One by one they stabbed you in the back, not even listening to you.

They had it wrong, this man wasn’t your hobi.

And what killed you was when you screamed at them for being liars, betrayers, how they weren’t truly your friends, how they only saw the worst in you and hoseok, that it was them who didn’t truly love you not him. That you couldn’t believe they were trying to destroy your happiness.

After that tantrum, F/N just pulled you into a hug and hushed you as the rest watched you in shock from your outburst. This wasn’t you.

But, that wasn’t the cherry on the top, that wasn’t the knife in the heart; F/N whispering “It’s okay, take your time we’ll be here when you open your eyes, we won’t leave you, contact me when you’re ready.” Was and you couldn’t stand it, even remembering it made your heart ache.

But you just didn’t understand..

He was the reason why you were still here.. why couldn’t they open their eyes and see how much of a gem he was..

Rubbing your nose up your hand and sanitising your hand you sniffed and unlocked your door.

…

Hoseok sat on the sofa, he had arrived 10 minutes before you did.

He knew you had lied to him and now he knew why, you were trying to protect your friends.

So it was like that huh? It was your friends over him.

Alright, well two could play this game.

His jaw ticked when he heard the door unlock and the lights go on, he was ready to yell at you, scream at you. He was ready to put you in your place.

That was before he saw the tears in your eyes, how shaken up you were, how your frown was over stretched.

He had got it wrong.

Like he said, two could play this game, not would

He softened up and sighed softly “did you have another little fight?” He cooed as he helped you get your coat and shoes off

You nod and cry into his shoulder when he pulled you into a hug “Hob-bi I-I lied.” You stuttered as you sniffed, he rubbed circles on your back to calm you down, placing kisses on your neck

“It’s alright my dear, what happened?”

The two of you were soon on the couch, your head on his thigh as you told him everything, his fingers were running through your locks and it took everything in him not to clench or yank your hair.

He couldn’t believe how audacious all your friends were.. after everything he did to get you to be with him, after everything he did with them.. he couldn’t believe it.

He made sure he didn’t look suspicious at all that he was genuine as he could be without being suspicious.

So how could they work it out?

How could they try and take you away from him?

No it wasn’t they.

It was her

It had always been her, the leader, your best friend. She infuriated him entirely but he kept a strong face and a calm mind for you.

He knew how much she meant to you and he wanted to keep her as close as possible to keep you happy, because you meant so much to him he didn’t want to lose you, but the more you talked the more he knew you didn’t want her anymore.

At least in that moment you didn’t want her, and that moment couldn’t go to waste.

He had waited for this moment, he was fed up of treading on eggshells around her, trying not to mess up because he knew that friend was the boss of you.

She took your time, your affection, sometimes even your mind and once upon a time ago, she took your heart. She took everything that was his. She stole it, now he was going to win it back.

…

It didn’t take you long to go to sleep, it was one of the traits he loved about you, your sleeping habits, you slept quick and deep, it made things easier for him. However, just to be sure he slipped the needle into your vein and dumped it into your system.

He used his car to make his way to your dearest friend’s home he put his music on to try and calm him so he didn’t make any mistakes.

He inhaled deeply and smartened his jacket before knocking on the door, smirking at the fear in her eyes, his eyes skipped a beat.

“Why hello there, F/N.”

He stalked his way in and slammed the door closed behind him and soon she was against the wall, his hand wrapped around her fragile neck, it was so easy to break.

He could end her.

He could be free and have you to himself, that’s what he wanted.

And he was so close, so so so close.

So close that his knuckles were now white and her neck started to form purple marks as his prints indented into her skin.

As her eyes nearly went to the back of her skull

But then, time stopped.

He heard a baby cry just as he was about to pop the pill into her mouth, he groaned and dropped her, crouching to meet her eye level not even a second later.

His hand gripped her jaw.

“Now sweetheart I’m sure this is not what I think is, I’m so sure you don’t want Y/N to break up with me do you?” He asks before forcing her face to go either side “No? Nor did I? Isn’t it wonderful that we got this miscommunication cleared up?” He says softly before leaning down close to her

“Because if we haven’t, your baby isn’t going to have a mother and I’m pretty sure his father is no where close by so off to the foster system he goes~” he chuckles “so I have my Y/N without anymore interruptions, and you have your baby and Y/N. But if you dare try and mess this up for me, if you dare cross that line again, I will most certainly make sure your child ends up in a foster home and you’ll never see your best friend again.”

He looked at her with a small smile “are we clear, honey bun?” His smile only grew when she nods “good.” He crushed the pill under his boot until it turned into a clone of dust and disappeared between her carpet.

“I suggest wearing a scarf dear!” He calls out as he walks to the door and watched how she was fighting to stay awake, how she slowly stood. Oh god she was the perfect victim. So much fun.

Shame you cared for her.

Shame she had a child (that he forgot about)

“Oh and I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, one slip and your whole world will turn upside down~ just before your light switches off.” He cooed before leaving and closing the door so carefully

With such care.. unlike the ruthlessness his hands just possessed.

He punched the steering wheel as he got in his car. ‘Stupid baby’ was all his mind could think of. He knew how painful it was to grow without a mother

That’s why he gave her one last chance.

Because he knew how great one could become without the limitations of family.

…

As soon as he was home he made sure he had you in his arms as soon as he got into bed, he kissed your forehead and reached to turn off the light.

He really did seem like the perfect boyfriend.

That’s because he was in more ways than what you see.

He snuggled into you, taking in your natural scent, his grip could he lose. He knew how no one could take you away from him, no one would dare now, you are his and his alone.

And you’d never learn the truth about him because all of these proved you couldn’t handle the bitter truth.

But he didn’t mind that he was the same so he’ll keep feeding you his sweet, sweet lies and watch your smile grow with every one of them.

Because that’s what he lived for, your happiness.

He’d do anything to make you happy, you just didn’t know how’d far he’d go but at least now she did.

That’s all that mattered

No one could come between you and the the hold he had on you ever again.

All that mattered

Was that he was still your sunshine

And you were still his blooming flower

That blossomed with his sweetest lie; that you were safe with him.

Taglist:  @heartbreakmotel13 @nonameyoon @jxngh @mwitsmejk

title: what happened in neverland (m) pairing: mermaid!hoseok x pirate!reader(f) rating: 18+ genre: angst, smut ; pwp, enemies to lovers summary: you hate him. he’s your enemy. that’s just how it’s always been. so how the hell did you end up here? warnings: smut, knife “play,” bondage, rope binds, hate sex, cursing, fingering, cunnilingus, penetration, unprotected sex, choking, pussy slapping, spanking, breast play notes: it’s been a suuuuper long time coming, but here’s my contribution to the wonderful @kimtaehyunq​’s mermaid collab! if you haven’t dove into the last splash yet, please do! word count: 4.3k

-

-

What wakes you is not the smell of seawater lapping cave walls, nor the faraway shouts of your crew as they engage in an endless battle offshore. It isn’t even the sharp stings and warmth you feel around your wrists. 

No. 

It’s simply the cool touch of a blade pressing into the soft flesh of your neck. 

Keep reading

the art of war | jhs

PAIRING royal Hoseok x reader

GENRE royal au. arranged marriage au. enemies to lovers. friends to enemies to lovers.

RATING 18+. EXPLICIT.

WC 5.1K

SUMMARY The bells are tolling and you've just been married to a man you despise on Christmas Day. On your wedding night, locked alone in a room with him, tensions are rising. And so is the past.

WARNINGS enemies to lovers and banter during and before sex. use of she/her pronouns to refer to reader. multiple orgasms. fingering. praise kink. handjob. unprotected sex. creampie.

AN HAPPY BIRTHDAY @xjoonchildx!!!!!!! while this was supposed to be a drabble, the muse (dearest Hobi) has been singing especially so recently and I couldn't help myself... ANYWAYS. I am wishing you the warmest, most joy-filled birthday and year ahead of you, you deserve the entire world. Sending so much love.

And a special thank you to @dntaewithluv who read this and somehow convinced me adding 1k extra of foreplay would be a good idea.

THE ART OF WAR

The wedding bells have long since stopped their tolling, but you swear that your ears are still ringing. From the choir of twenty, from the glockenspiel that rung out above your heads as you ran from the church, from the far-too-raucous reception.

Far-too-raucous because you couldn’t comprehend how anyone could be celebrating you marrying a man you couldn’t stand in a sham of an arranged marriage. Well, your mother wouldn’t call it a sham. She would call it one of her best business moves. You, on the other hand, had a very different sentiment about it all.

You watch as Hoseok, your now husband—! the word sounds so foreign on your tongue—shuts the door behind him and throws you a small smile. It’s not the first one you’ve received from him tonight, though the others read more like the others are looking, grin and bear it, while this one seems more an accident. More, I’m so tired of this bullshit. I know you are too. But a moment after the soft expression fills his face, he’s quickly rearranging his features to something stoic, cold.

Still. Though the kind gesture shocks you and runs like ice through your veins, you don’t return the smile.

Instead, you turn towards the vanity that sits in the corner of the room.

Before you in the mirror, you hardly recognize the scene: you, in a white poof of a wedding dress, every inch the daughter of a duchess. And Hoseok, behind you, Hoseok, in his wedding regalia, the sword still tucked into his belt, Hoseok, loosening his collar. You watch as his long fingers reach and bend, his touch gentle but commanding.

But there is a small part of you that does recognize this, that remembers this, from some long forgotten daydream. A daydream of you and Hoseok, together.

You and Hoseok hadn’t always been bitter. There was a time when you were children, teens even, when you would have called him your friend. Your best friend.

There was a time when you two would crawl under the bed when your parents came calling that it was time to go, desperate to spend “Five more minutes!” together. There was a time when he used to climb the oak tree in your backyard after scaling the stone wall, and slip in through your window. A time when you would lay, side by side, staring up at the yellow paper stars that you never bothered to take down from the ceiling as you grew older. You’d tell him it was too high to reach. But when the taller boy offered to take them down for you, you’d shake your head and say you’d do it yourself, secretly happy to have avoided the funeral of your favorite decorations.

Those stars still hung above your bed in your parents manor, though these days their gaze felt more like a bad memory than anything twinkling and good. Maybe it was time to take them down after all.

As you and Hoseok had grown out of childhood, things changed. There was never a specific point that you could locate as the beginning of the end. And there were good years too, years teetering on the brink of tension and unspoken words. Years where you had grown so close that the others thought of you as destined. You would ride into the forest together in the middle of the night, stealing horses from the stable, only to go skinny dipping in the moonlight. You would write letters to one another, letters you still kept tucked beneath your bed, too afraid of what you would lose if you threw them out.

But as you neared your eighteenth birthday, Hoseok had grown more withdrawn. He would disappear for long hours into his room. And soon withdrawn became coldness as you found him shutting doors quickly behind him with a hard look in his eyes, like he had something to hide.

And the truth was, you did have something to hide. You’d taken up an interest in the art of war, particularly hand-to-hand combat. As a young woman in this day and age, it was forbidden for someone like you, especially someone of noble birth, to participate in such a craft.

When you had finally mustered up the courage to tell him that you were no longer meeting up for midnight rides because you were training instead, he had said something that had your blood running cold.

“War will never be for women.”

“War ought to be for no one,” you had spat back quickly. “So who’s to say it can’t be for me!”

The conversation had devolved into harsh words and harsher sentiments. That was the last time you both had spoken for years.

Until one morning your mother had waltzed into your room with what she had called “thrilling news.”

Thrilling news that had landed you in a white dress with Hoseok at the end of the aisle, his gaze locked on you as the bells tolled and you walked towards your fate.

At first it’s just a glance. Hoseok looking over his shoulder at you as you tinker with the bow on an unopened wedding gift, left on your vanity. It’s just one glance.

But one glance turns into a second. His gaze skating over you as you begin to undo the intricate updo that you had insisted on earlier but now regret.

“You missed one.”

“I didn’t.”

But before you can really argue with him, before you can really absorb what he’s said as an insult about your personal ability to undo your own hair, he’s gliding across the room and plucking a pin out of the back of your head.

You hold your breath in shock. His fingers linger.

Your eyes catch in the mirror and hold for a second that stretches into eons. And then you come back to yourself. You don’t thank him. You simply snatch it out of his hands with a little huff and go back to what you’re doing.

But to your dismay, he doesn’t move.

“Is that the best excuse you could come up with to get me to touch you?”

You stand up so fast your chair falls down behind you as you whirl around to face him face to face.

But you didn’t expect him to be this close, you didn’t expect him to be chest-to-chest with you. Didn’t expect his lips to be inches away from yours—

“How dare you—”

“Is it that hard to pay attention when all you’re thinking about is kissing me?”

You’re furious, flames roving through your chest like a slow burning wildfire, and he’s so close and his breath is mingling with yours, the smug bastard, his eyes ablaze with the same fire you feel—

And before you know what’s happening, your lips are crashing together. Later on, when you can’t tell up from down, you won’t be sure whether it was you or him that began it all. But in that moment, you’re pretty sure it was you.

He doesn’t hesitate before wrapping his hands swiftly around your waist, tugging you with a little huff of air to his front where you can feel something hard and very large pressing into you.

It happens all at once.

Like two stars colliding, you are hurtling towards one another at the speed of light, missing one another in your pointedness but scathing one another in your proximity.

But you keep circling back. Slower, more curious, each time.

His lips slow against yours, his breath intertwining with your breath, his heartbeat beating at the same pace as yours. He whispers your name against your lips, and for a moment, you taste sweetness. That is, until he bites down on your lower lip.

You gasp, but the inhale is not all pain.

A spark rushes through you, smothering your skin in goosebumps.

“Fuck, Hoseok,” you curse, and he grins against your lips.

You tighten your grip on him and dig your fingernails into the back of his neck, trailing them below the nape of his collar, leaving red streaks in their tracks.

But instead of gasping, just as you had, he sucks in a shaky breath and whispers against your lips, “How did you know I like it a little painful?”

A cold chuckle leaves your lips.

“A good guess.”

He kisses you again, quick, furious, all teeth and tongue and it’s then that you feel him, him grinding against you.

That’s when the reality of the situation hits you.

This is not two mere strangers — or, you have to remind yourself, two mere friends. Both of those ships had sailed a long while ago. You are something else now, something entirely foreign. And something tangled up in one another, flames stoking higher with each breath, each tangled limb and—

Somehow you’re both flustered and furious in the same moment. You pull back from him, and he looks surprised, though he quickly masks the look that darts across his face.

“What—“

“I ought to get ready for bed.”

He watches as you turn from him and make your way to the mirror in the corner, tugging at the many bows and clasps that keep you tied up in this ridiculous excuse of a dress.

“For bed.” He grins.

You glare at him in the floor length mirror, but the implication of his words warms you from within.

You have duties to perform tonight, there’s no doubt about it. And you’re not particularly adverse to the idea either, not when he looks as radiant as he does tonight, not when he kisses the way he kisses. But it’s the principal of it all, all the years of resentment hanging between you like spidersilk.

Your fingers fumble as you try to reach around back and unbutton the intricate dress and you can feel him watching you, can hear the way he chuckles smugly as you struggle.

After several minutes of trying without any luck, finally, you give up with a huff.

There’s no way you’re getting out of this on your own. You grit your teeth with the way you’re about to debase yourself, shame trickling through you like molten iron.

“Can you—” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Can you please help me?”

They were supposed to send someone to help you out of this godforsaken dress, but— your face reddens as you realize that there was someone knocking on your door while you were tangled in your husband’s arms. And that you had been far too distracted to realize what the sound was. It pains you to ask for his help.

“Pleading looks so good on you.”

“I’m not pleading,” you scoff. “You try getting yourself out of a cage of a dress.”

He chuckles darkly but approaches you from behind, his gaze challenging yours in the mirror.

“Alright. If you’re going to beg.”

“I’m not begging!”

“If you insist.”

His fingers are cold when they skate across your neck and your gaze shoots up to meet his in the mirror. He stands tall behind you, his hair dark and falling into his face, his eyes even darker, even as they catch the reflection of the hearth in them.

“It does look good on you,” he says, and you’re not sure if he means the dress or the begging. Maybe both. But as you fight the urge to roll your eyes, you watch the way his gaze narrows on the skin of the nape of your neck, as it trails down your back. And as he begins to unbutton your dress, one by one, he takes his sweet time, like he’s unwrapping some kind of precious gift. Your brow furrows in confusion.

He’s not supposed to enjoy this.

You’re not supposed to enjoy this.

And yet you do, the way his fingers grace across your skin, the way your skin warms beneath his touch. You enjoy it. You find your eyes fluttering closed, and lose yourself so entirely that soon he’s saying,

“I’m done.”

He’s still holding your dress up, in some attempt to preserve a semblance of your modesty. Though you’re not sure there’s much of it left after your earlier tryst.

A tryst you have no explanation for.

You finally nod and he lets go of the fabric. The thick winter dress falls in a heap around you, revealing the thin but warm slip they’ve dressed you in beneath. It’s the equivalent of being naked before him. He begins to look away but you’re quick to say:

“Are you so afraid to look at your own wife?”

A sly smile flickers at the corner of his mouth and his gaze darts back to rove over your body. But where they linger are your eyes.

“Are you so eager for my attention you have to ask for it?”

You finally turn towards him and stare at him for a long moment.

This is when it begins. This is when it's supposed to begin, when it's supposed to happen: your wifely duties.

Awkwardly, you reach for him.

“What are you doing?”

“I have a duty.” You say, your chest warming, your hand tracing up his torso. But as your words fall on his ears, his gaze immediately hardens. Before you can reach his chest, where you want to trace over his heart, his hand snatches your wrist.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not going to force you to do anything,” Hoseok says sternly, his brow pressing. He gently places your hand at your side and retreats to the other side of the room. “Absolutely not.”

The care with which he says it surprises you—and yet not at all. From beneath the hard exterior, you see the young Hoseok you once knew, once loved, poking through.

“But we should—”

“We should do nothing tonight.”

“But, but they’ll come—in the morning, to check.”

Hoseok’s eyes light with recognition.

“And you care that—? Ahh.”

You frown. “What?”

“I see.” He steps towards you, his shirt fluttering open with each step forward. You can’t help it when your gaze flickers downwards.

“You can just say it,” he says.

“Say what?”

“That you want me.”

“I don’t want you,” you scoff. “I only—”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I only want you in the way a wife wants her husband on their wedding night.”

“Is that so?” Hoseok asks. “And in what way is that?”

You immediately warm at the question. It feels like he has you pinned against the wall, even when he’s half the room away. As he steps closer to you, you find yourself holding your breath.

“Kiss me,” he orders. “If you’re too afraid to put it to words.”

And so you do, and just as before, it is furious.

Lips press, teeth nip, lobes bitten, and you know you will look a mess in the morning. He kisses down your neck, biting and sucking gently at the tender skin there and you cry, “You’ll leave a mark!”

“Then they’ll know you’re my wife.”

The thought brings heat to your abdomen, as the idea of wandering out the next morning looking absolutely ravaged plays in your mind. But was this how tonight was supposed to go? You had no qualms about giving yourself to your husband, but now, now, you were giving yourself willingly, eagerly, even. Your mother had instructed you on how these kinds of marital duties were to be performed, but this, lips locked and hands roving greedily over one another’s bodies: this is no duty.

This is passion.

Even if anger still simmers in your stomach.

He is kissing you, so deeply you think he might consume you whole, kissing you like you are the only person in the world. And right now it feels like it. The world outside quiets as you kiss him back, letting the noise of society, along with all the expectations and obligations fade away until there is nothing but Hoseok. The shape of his hands pressed against your back. The warmth of his thigh between your legs. The movement of his lips, inflamed and… needy?

Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok.

His hand glides up your back and tangles with your loosened hair as he presses you to his chest.

He walks you backward, his leg slipping between the heavy, warm fabric of your slip—too warm despite the winter chill—somehow managing to not trip you. The mattress of the bed hits your knees and you find yourself sitting, looking up at the man who is now your husband, towering above you. And right in your face:

“Is someone a little desperate?” You chide, running a finger along the bulge in his pants. “It doesn’t suit you.” Though that’s half a lie, because as you look up at him, your mouth waters, struck by the absolute depravity that he looks down at you with.

“I know what might suit you,” Hoseok cuts back, unerred by your half insult as his hands rove over your body. “My desperation, stuffed in your mouth, shutting you up.”

Your eyes widen at the prospect.

“Try me.”

He grins and bends down to kiss you again, interrupting your hands reaching for his pants. You are eager to unwrap him, but he is eager to take his time with you.

Things begin to devolve in the best way possible. Hoseok loses his shirt, then his pants. “I want to see you,” he murmurs as he kisses you, and soon you have lost your slip too, limbs tangling in the sheets, and soon his cock is in your hand, and you squeeze ever so gently, just to watch his eyes flutter closed.

“Let me—” he begins as his hands trail down your body.

“You don’t know—”

He scoffs. “I think I know you well enough to know exactly how to make you come undone,” Hoseok says, and something switches within you. It’s the first time he’s mentioned anything of your past, of knowing you before your wedding night, of all of the tension strung up around you.

“Don’t presume to know me,” you say. “You don’t. Not any more.”

“Is that a challenge I hear?” Hoseok asks, his brow raised.

You look up at him through your lashes, but before you can roll your eyes, he grips your chin gently, forcing you to look at him.

“Are you challenging me?”

“Maybe I am.”

It becomes some kind of competition, the both of you rushing to make the other one drown in their own pleasure before the other.

And it’s true: it’s hard to stay in control like this, with his fingers dragging through your folds, circling around your clit, his mouth pressed up against your ear, whispering sweet nothings, chiding you, urging you onward. But you cling to any semblance of control you have left, wrapping your hand around his length, running gentle, teasing touches along the soft skin of his cock.

That’s when he says it.

“You’re so good for me.”

And you come a little bit more undone beneath him. Your touch falters, your breath hitches.

“Oh, does she like being praised?”

You grit your teeth to keep from nodding.

“No—”

“I love the way you touch me,” he whispers against your ear, his fingers slowing against you, building into a gradual, unerring rhythm. “It’s like you know exactly what I need, what I want.” He nips at your earlobe. “So good.” He slips a finger within you and you gasp. “So good, just for me.”

On the final emphasis, he thrusts a second finger into you and begins pumping in and out of you. The final emphasis has you clenching around him.

His.

Even as you try to push the idea of him away, his body is wrapped around yours. His body is everywhere, atop, beneath, beside you. And you don’t want the distance, you don’t want any space between you at all.

As he draws one orgasm from you, then a second, you cling to him, hands tangling in his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, and threading around his limbs and his back, pulling him closer. And after you’ve come a second time, the two of you lay there, staring silently at the ceiling—starless, blatantly starless—as you catch your breath. The only sounds in the room are the crackling fire and the sound of your in-synch panting.

“I don’t think you could make me come again,” you challenge, and that’s enough for him.

He rolls on top of you with a cheeky grin and nips at your ear.

“As you wish,” he murmurs, and it’s not the fight you want, it’s not the fire you were asking for, but it’s good enough, because he’s sliding his hand down your torso again. As you buck your hips up to meet the touch of his hand, his cock aligns with your center, pushes in just enough.

The both of you freeze.

Eyes lock.

“We don’t have to—”

“No, please—”

The desperation in your voice surprises you, and you swallow hard as he looks down at you.

“‘Please?’” he repeats back to you, a genuine question in his voice. “You want this?”

You nod quickly.

“Then tell me.”

You repeat your previous sentiment with a sly smile. “I bet you can’t make me come on your cock.”

“I can,” he says, capturing your lips in a kiss. “And you know that. Tell me what it is you want.”

“Fuck me, Hoseok.”

He takes his time, teasing your opening with the head of his cock, sliding it through your come and the arousal already spilling again from you as your core aches with need.

“Please, Hoseok,” you beg.

“You’re so pretty when you beg for me,” he smiles. “So messy when you’re needy.”

He lowers his weight atop you as he glides his cock to your opening and pushes in an inch. You gasp, and before your eyes flutter shut at the wide stretch, you can see the pleasure that washes across his face. It’s divine. The mixture of concentration and pure desire that dances in his eyes, the way his gaze bores into yours before he bends down and presses his lips to the concha of your ear.

As he pushes into you all the way, you think you hear:

“Forgive me,” whispered in your ear.

“No,” you whisper back.

But he’s already moving, his face pressed in concentration, that look you know too well. So serious, so firm, you think, How am I going to live with this every day? Not because you don’t want to, but because in that moment you’re filled with so much need for him that you’re not sure what it will be like to want him when your marital duties have been filled and completed and you’re stuck in a house with a man who despises you as much as you despise him.

Though, when you think about it, this hardly feels like spite.

Not with his cock moving like this, not with his hips thrusting like that, rolling so smoothly into you.

It’s so surprising, how goddamn good it feels and all you feel is anger bubbling to the surface. “Fuck you,” you groan, your fingers tightening around whatever parts of him you can reach, nails digging into his skin.

“Darling, you already are,” he spits back through gritted teeth. “And so many would just kill to be in your place.”

When he flips you over, pulls your hips towards you, and begins rolling into you again, it’s entirely different. Something about the angle, your face pushed into the soft material of the mattress, your ass jiggling with each slap of his balls against your clit, it has you tumbling forwards towards delight so quickly you can’t breathe—

“This isn’t right,” you gasp and he stills, looking down at you in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“How good it feels.”

You can hear the grin spread across his face as he begins again, his hips rolling slowly into you.

“Darling, this is exactly how it’s supposed to feel.”

“How—?”

He repositions you then, so he can look in your face, pulling you on top of his lap, before slippiing into you again.

“You’re supposed to feel good,” he says, as he begins pumping up into you. “And whoever told you you shouldn’t was lying.”

His tongue pokes out between his lips as you begin to move too, chasing your own pleasure now. He nods encouragingly as you drag your hips up his cock. Your breath hitches as he reaches up and slides his thumb across your lower lip before slipping it into your mouth.

“Tomorrow, this will be my cock on your tongue,” he whispers, and you swallow around his digit as he presses down on your tongue, your eyes wide as you bounce on his cock. “Fuck, you look so good,” Hoseok curses.

He removes his hand to kiss you, growling against your lips. His fingers dig into your ass as you fuck him. Once, he brings his hand up and slaps your ass and the sound that leaves your lips is ravished.

“Ah,” he coos. “I think I know exactly what it is you like.”

You ride him, bouncing up and down on his thick cock until you wrap your hands around his shoulders and press your chests together.

“That’s it. Fuck yourself on my cock,” he says.

He’s so close. There’s something even more intimate about this, as your breath mingles and comes in pants, both of you relishing in the pleasure of the other’s body.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you curse as he hits a particularly soft spot within you, and you cling to him even tighter.

Your pace slows, and rather than hurtling towards desire, the both of you are relishing in it.

Slowly, Hoseok lowers you to your back, leaning over you.

Hoseok is determined to—what, you’re not sure at this point, but determined he is, knowing by the set of his jaw and the way his eyes won’t leave yours. Perhaps he is simply determined to draw as much pleasure as possible from your body, because with a quick movement he tilts your pelvis upwards, and the new angle, oh. You can now feel the ridge of the head of his cock pushing into you, and as it does, it catches on a bundle of nerves within you that makes you cry out. The second thing this does is that the base of his cock now presses against your clit every time he slams into you.

There is pleasure everywhere, like swimming in some deep well of warmth.

“You’re close,” he murmurs, rolling his hips into you. “Come for me, will you?”

And it’s a request, not a command.

“Come for me,” he hums against your lips. “I want to feel you around me.”

His voice is like a deep melody and as it resonates through you, you find yourself hurtling towards the edge of your own pleasure, warmth radiating from your abdomen, and the most delicious tension strung between your limbs.

“Please,” he whispers, and that’s enough for you to break into pieces, your orgasm crashing like the far waves of the kingdom through your entire body.

He’s not far behind you, and through your pleasure you can feel his cock twitch within you. He hisses, and holds himself back from you, his eyes fluttering shut. And suddenly you realize, you want his pleasure. You want his pleasure, not for the sake of winning some competition, but simply for him.

But without thinking, you reach up for him, wrap your arms around his back, and press him to your chest. He comes with you, body trembling, words spilling from his mouth that have no meaning, no rhyme or reason. But you catch it again.

“Forgive me—”

And you realize that the anger within you has been entirely replaced with the lingering numbness of absolute pleasure.

You’re sure it will return in good time, yout think.

So instead, you let your nails drag softly up the back of his neck before tangling in his hair, pressing his face into your neck. He peppers the skin there with the softest of kisses, his body still intertwined with yours.

And you lay there for what feels like eons, his weight pressing down reassuringly, the chill of the window finally seeping into your consciousness.

And suddenly, he is standing, slipping from you, his warmth removed.

“You’re leaving,” you say, your voice flat, monotone. Not stay, not, please. A simple statement of fact.

Hoseok freezes. He turns on his heel to face you.

“There is a winter storm raging right outside that window. And while you might be sweaty and hot and all worked up right now,” You flush at the implication, “I promise you that the cold will creep in. I was merely about to warm the fire.”

“Ah,” you say, turning on your side, away from him.

But a touch and a gentle tug brings you rolling back towards him. He looks upset, and before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to press at the frown lines that decorate his brow.

“You’re angry.”

“I’m not angry that you’d think the absolute worst of me,” he says slowly. “I’m only concerned that you’d think, and think so readily, that I’d be this quick to abandon you.”

He rolls into bed, pulling you on top of him.

“I’m hardly finished with you, how could I go?”

He kisses you then, and it’s not like the other kisses. The others were fire, burning towards something larger. This, however, is different. He kisses you to kiss you, for the pleasure of it all, for the feeling of your body warming against his skin, for the knowledge that you, you want to kiss him.

And what you found, at the end of it all, is that the anger in you is a dying anger. One like a star, burnt out and blackened, striving for the life that it one was, but ultimately hurtling towards a darkened coolness. And in the place of this old, stupid, anger, is rising something new. Attraction. Respect, even.

It frightens you.

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

🔆 if you enjoyed this, please consider telling me what you think by leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! i love chatting with you all!

🔆 want to read more ?

Fake Love | Jung Hoseok (M)

PAIRING: Jung Hoseok x F!Reader, mentions of Namjin

GENRE: Fake dating AU, enemies to lovers, fluff, smut, minor angst

WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content, dirty talk, slight dom!Hoseok

WORD COUNT: 16.2k

DESCRIPTION: Every year, your family spends the holidays at your parents’ cottage in the country. Freshly single and not wanting to be picked apart by your family for being alone, you decide to recruit one of your friends to pretend to be your boyfriend. The only available volunteer? Your brother Namjoon’s roommate, Hoseok. Only problem? He absolutely hates your guts.

I should get up, you think to yourself. Daylight is precious in the dead of winter, and you’ve probably already wasted at least half of it wallowing in self-pity. You’re lying in bed, duvet pulled high over your head, wondering exactly how and when your life took such a left turn.

Breakups have never been easy for you. You’d always had trouble when it came to dating—you’d always described yourself as the girl that no one would fall in love with, but who had a lot of friends. You were social, flitting around with ease between one group of friends to another, but you had always wondered if your absence would be noted if you were to just stop showing up to parties or work functions.

But then you met Jackson.

Keep reading

Keynote (m)

➺ Banner: As usual, the talent hoarder @kithtaehyung​ 💛

➺ Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Non-Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Smut, Slight Fluff

➺ Rating: +18

➺ Word Count: 18.5k

➺ Summary: Sleep was all you had desired, after dealing with an agitating boss, an incompetent coworker and an unsurmountable workload. Right up until your hotel room was flooded with an array of noises from the room next door. Shouting, screaming, begging, moaning. Sleep was all you had desired, but after this night, your desires have grown.

➺ Warnings: (phew lets get this) hard dom!Hoseok, sub!reader, sir kink, voyeurism (she listens through the wall), humping pillow (please don’t let your naked parts touch hotel pillows they are disgusting), nasty dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, masturbation (female), cursing, alcohol, some form of exhibition, name calling, is it siya’s fic if a tie hasn’t been turned into a leash, unsafe driving, we have safewords, grinding on shoe, nipple teasing, pain kink, face slap, spitting, oral (male receiving), seated reverse cowgirl/seated rear-entry/the perch, unprotected sex (for the love of Hoseok, practice safe sex everybody), creampie, spanking, pussy slap, panty stuffing (fiction doesn’t have infection but real life does, please be careful!!), more unprotected sex, tit slaps, missionary to wrap it all up <3, some makeoutz

➺ Cross Posted: AO3

➺ Author’s Note: Depictions of conference is HIGHLY inaccurate, the one I attended was disgusting and online. Big ups to @taegularities and @jimilter for legitimately fixing this whole fic because English isn’t my forte. And @lavienjin for helping me out in the earlier parts (which was in…. July….). They worked almost as hard editing the fic as I did writing, for which I am immensely grateful 💛 Thank you for your patience, and let me know what you think!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

“Soomin, how in the world do you work for a tech company,” you scream into the phone, taking a breath after half that sentence tires you out, “and not realize that the projector needs a connection? Did you think it would photosynthesize?!” 

The receptionist, earlier glaring at you for causing a ruckus, now tones down her frown after hearing the reason for your agony. Even she understands. 

Keep reading

Last Man

Hoseok's been sent to investigate a murder in a small town, where he meets you, trying to keep everything around you from falling apart.

Pairing: Hoseok x F! reader

Genre: Non-idol, police detective AU, smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Swearing, sex, murder, mentions of blood, non-graphic violence, investigative police work

Tagging: @lost-lospandos Here's cop Hoseok!

Hoseok’s had a long day, and it looks nowhere close to being over. He’s been ordered down to this one-horse town by his direct superior, assistant director Joan Kim, to look into a murder.

As far as he knows, Joan isn’t just in it to torture him, so there’s more to this than meets the eye. It would have been great if just this one fucking time Joan could give him the information instead of waiting for him to find it out himself, but he’s got to admit she’s consistent if nothing else.

He parks his car outside the police station, taking a moment to look in the mirror and wish he’d taken the time to change prior to driving here.

He’s wearing a black cashmere sweater, not a colour he normally wears, but his sister had convinced him he’d look suave and sophisticated for his date.

His date, a woman who took one look at him and called him for the cop he is and then asked nervously if he had done a background check on her. The date had gone downhill from there.

He hadn’t even had a chance to have dessert, and if he’d been a smarter man he’d have downed the rest of his wine to be over the legal limit for driving down here the instant he got the call.  

As it is, he’s sexually frustrated, hungry and too fucking sober for this.

Hoseok forces himself to stop sulking and get his ass out the car, because the sooner he gets to the bottom of this, the sooner he can get back to his lonely-ass life back home.

He braces himself as he walks across the car park to the entrance of the station. Local detectives, especially in towns like this, are classically hostile to state detectives. He’s used to it, used to the sideways glances, the barely civil mutterings and today he’s on his last nerve.

The first person he sees as he walks in is you, and he almost walks right past you until you stand in his way.

‘Special Agent Jung Hoseok?’ you ask.

Hoseok nods politely because he’s got manners, but he’s already looking beyond you for the detective who’s meant to meet him.

‘I’m Detective Y/N L/N,’ you say, persistent.

Finally, Hoseok looks at you.

Usually, local detectives wear uniform in towns like this.

You’re wearing a slinky black dress and heels that make him wish your beautiful legs were wrapped around him.

He’s one to talk, in his black cashmere and dress trousers.

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I wasn’t expecting –’

‘Yeah, I was on a date,’ you say briskly, leading him to your office.

‘Me too,’ Hoseok says.

‘Yeah? Was yours going well?’ you ask, throwing him a friendly smile.

‘Not particularly,’ he replies, honest.

‘Mine either,’ you admit.

Hoseok wonders what kind of fool would mess up a date with you.

You brief him on the case whilst coffee brews in the staffroom across the way.

Hoseok clicks through the crime scene photos on your desktop as you give him the details.

‘The victim was a waitress at the diner down the street, a college student on summer break. She was found in an alley a few streets down three hours ago. The ME’s doing the post-mortem as we speak, but it looks like blood loss from multiple stab wounds.’

Hoseok’s waiting for you to get to the point, because so far there isn’t anything about this case that necessitates state involvement. Why is he here?

It’s like you can sense his impatience, because you say, ‘It’s the third murder in as many days, all the same MO, all young women in the street, all stabbed to death.’

Bingo.

Hoseok sits up straighter. ‘Three murders in three days?’ he asks, voice betraying his concern.

You nod. ‘Technically the last two were within 18 hours of each other.’

Shit. You haven’t just got a serial killer, you’ve also got an escalating pattern of violence. Hoseok doubts you have enough manpower in your force to deal with this, especially not with the time constraint.

He can feel the familiar rush of adrenaline through his bloodstream, the urgency of the situation finally galvanising him out of his sulky, sex-deprived, hungry funk.

This is where he comes in.

‘I’m going to need to make a few calls,’ he says.

***

Hoseok looks out of the window as you drive, street-lights giving him flashes of the town in between swathes of darkness.

So far, nothing seems to stand out about this place apart from the fact there’s a serial killer in your midst and that you’re the best detective he’s had the pleasure of working with in a while.

And it is a pleasure working with you, you’re smart and thoughtful and you don’t seem to have a chip on your shoulder about working with ‘the asshole from state’ as he’s heard himself charmingly referred to in the past.

You’ve changed out of your slinky dress into standard issue khakis and an oversized jacket, which means he can be less careful about where his eyes land when he’s thinking.

Thank God for small favours.

The first crime scene is still taped off, you look at him apologetically as you lift it for him to duck under.

‘My forensics team are on the way, so it’s good that it’s still taped off, for what it’s worth,’ Hoseok says, reassuring. It’s unlikely anything now will be admissible as evidence, given it’s a public location and he knows as well as anyone that a bit of tape never stopped anyone from going anywhere.

‘At least they’ll be able to spot the crime scene,’ you say, straight-faced.

Hoseok isn’t sure if you’re joking or not but it’s funny so he laughs anyway.

He puts you out of his head as he surveys the crime scene. He’s observant, he knows he reads a crime scene better than most. At first glance, there’s nothing that stands out here, the blood splatter on the walls correlates to the deepest pool of blood, the signs of a struggle fit with what he’d expect.

You tilt your head, secure in the knowledge you’ve not missed anything obvious in your investigation. ‘The next crime scene is half a block away.’

Hoseok falls into step beside you as you lead him to the next location.

He’s thinking, trying to put himself in the killer’s headspace, concentrating so hard it takes him a couple of seconds to realise you’re speaking.

He looks at you blankly.

You hold up your phone. ‘A call’s just come in – a domestic, I need to take it. Jungkook’s on the way but he hasn’t been doing this long.’

Hoseok nods. ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘You sure?’ you ask, but you’re already jogging back in the direction of the car.

Hoseok knows you’re still waiting on the post-mortems on the last two victims, and although it’s not ideal, without a lead, you might as well be answering call-outs.

You’re pulling up to the house, cutting the engine, when a loud crash resonates through the darkness.

Hoseok’s out the car, muscle memory from years of being a cop over-riding his natural instincts, allowing him to run towards the danger instead of away.

He’s in the open door, assessing the tableau in front of him in seconds. A man, grappling with an officer, a woman crouched beside an overturned table. Hoseok’s looking for any signs of children, and he huffs a sigh of relief when he sees none.

You’re already next to the woman, and although you’d been worried about Jungkook, he seems more than capable of bringing the man in.

Jungkook ushers the man into the back of his squad car, and gives Hoseok a suspicious look.

‘Are you the date?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ Hoseok says, before his brain engages.

‘If you fuck with Y/N, you fuck with all of us,’ Jungkook says, a snarl on his lips.

‘This is Special Agent Jung Hoseok,’ you say, voice exasperated. ‘Stand down, Officer Jeon.’

Hoseok doesn’t have any time to enjoy the flummoxed look on Jungkook’s handsome face because you’re slapping a hand on his back, hard.

‘Am I going to have trouble with you?’ you ask. Your voice is stern, but there’s the slightest twitch to your lips, like you’re suppressing a smile.

‘No, ma’am,’ Hoseok replies immediately, because he’s not a complete idiot.

‘Good. Let’s get back to the crime scene,’ you say.

***

The clock above the steel gurney shows the time as 4am.

Hoseok’s switched from coffee to water because his heart feels like it’s about to burst from fatigue.

You’re leading the discussion with the ME, a serious-looking man who introduced himself as Dr Kim. You’ve been calling him Namjoon, Joon even. It seems like you know each other well.

Hoseok’s wondering how well you know Dr Kim Namjoon. He knows he’s tired because he snorts when you say the contraction of his name again.

‘Joon’ and you look at him curiously.

To cover his lapse, Hoseok reels off the facts he knows, like he’s recapping.

Multiple stab wounds, most probably a right-handed assailant, tall, judging by the angle of the wounds. Probably six foot, like Dr Kim Namjoon himself.

Hoseok files that fact under things that annoy him about ‘Joon.’

As you’re thanking him, ‘Joon’ breaks into a smile, dimples flashing. He glances over Hoseok, as if assessing if he can be trusted to escort his precious Detective Y/N L/N safely at this hour.

Hoseok doesn’t falter as he meets his gaze. He’s not a cocky guy, but he knows two things. He’s a damn good detective and he’s good in a physical fight.

He realises you’re staring at him.

You put your hand on his arm, gentle.

‘Come on, you can crash at mine,’ you say.

Hoseok’s enjoying the feel of your hand on his arm so much he almost doesn’t notice when you say, ‘bye Joonie.’

Almost.

***

Hoseok wakes abruptly to loud banging. It sounds like it’s coming from the hallway, just outside.

Concern for you has him leaping out of bed, pulling the door open, assessing the situation.

He sees Officer Jeon Jungkook outside your bedroom door and takes two steps forward, looking past his large frame to check on you.

You’re standing in the door, and it takes a moment for Hoseok to regroup, because…

Legs.

You’re in an oversized, soft-looking t-shirt that comes to the tops of your thighs, which look so smooth and soft Hoseok’s got the urge to bury his face between them, use them as pillows to rest his head.

He realises you’re looking at him too, remembers that he hasn’t got anything on his top half.

He spends time in the gym, looks after himself, but he knows that’s not why you’re staring.

The scars on his torso tell their own story, one he doesn’t always want to share.

He’d spent three years under deep cover in Kyoto, Joan Kim had been his only contact with the bureau.

He owes her his life, and she owes him a goddamn raise.

Both you and Jeon Jungkook are staring at him, and you look oddly similar.

‘Are you related?’ Hoseok asks, as though it’s relevant.

‘Cousins,’ you say, closing your mouth.

‘There’s been another murder,’ says Jungkook.

‘Fuck,’ you and Hoseok say, at the same time.

***

The officer securing the crime scene looks relieved when Hoseok and you arrive.

‘Forensics are on the way,’ he tells you.

Hoseok nods and you both approach the body.

It’s another woman, dark-haired, lying face down.

That’s not what has Hoseok dropping to his knees beside her though.

There’s a ripple in the blood pooling around her.

You’re a step ahead, hand under her neck.

‘Fuck!’ you swear. ‘She’s got a pulse.’

Hoseok already shouting for an ambulance, helping you turn her over.

He works on her with you until the EMTs arrive.

***

Hoseok scrubs a hand over his face, phone pressed to his ear.

‘What kind of fucking incompetent idiot called it without checking for signs of life?’ Joan asks. Her voice is quiet, terse, chilling.

Hoseok’s seen grown men, seasoned detectives, crumble under Joan’s icy gaze.

He redirects her attention.

‘The medics have stabilised her, they say they can’t give us a time when she’ll be awake and lucid enough to talk,’ he tells her.

‘Any other leads?’ Joan snaps.

She takes Hoseok’s silence, rightly, as her answer.

‘Call in whatever resources you need,’ she says, hanging up on him.

Hoseok heads back to the waiting room, where you’re on the phone.

‘I’ve reassigned him for the moment,’ you say, referring to the officer who’d made the mistake.

‘I’ve been thinking about links between the victims,’ you tell him.

You bring up your laptop, pull up the files. ‘A student, a grocery store cashier, a librarian and a charity worker. There’s a superficial resemblance between them all, they’re similar in colouring, in their twenties. They don’t have anything in common. They didn’t know each other.’

‘What about where the bodies were found?’ Hoseok asks, considering.

‘Public places. Two in alleyways, one in a park, one near the canal.’ You rub your eyes tiredly.

‘Forensics put a rush on scrapings from under our latest victim’s fingernails, so far there’s no DNA match,’ Hoseok reports, checking his phone.

‘It’s a lead,’ you say. ‘He was sloppy with the last victim.’

‘Any leads from boyfriends, families, friends?’ Hoseok asks.

‘They were all single,’ you reply.

Your phone lights up, and Hoseok watches as you turn it over.

You notice his curious look.

‘It’s my date from yesterday. He’s been trying to get in touch,’ you say.

Hoseok frowns. ‘He knows you’re a cop, doesn’t he?’

‘He won’t stop calling,’ you say, absently, rubbing your neck.

You pick up your phone. ‘I’ll just call him and tell him to stop calling me.’

Hoseok watches as you get up and walk out to make your phone call.

He goes over the crime scene reports again, the interview transcripts.

When you get back, you’re frowning.

‘He wants to meet up later,’ you tell him, although he hasn’t asked.

Hoseok shakes his head, irritated on your behalf. ‘Is this what dating is like for women?’

‘I imagine it’s worse for women who don’t carry a gun,’ you say, matter-of-fact.

Hoseok thinks you’ve made a fair point.

***

The state forensics team haven’t uncovered anything new from their investigation. The DNA is still unmatched.

Hoseok’s spent the whole day reading reports, waiting for the doctors to clear the latest victim so he can take a statement.

It’s frustrating, to say the least.

Jungkook’s brought him some spare clothes, muttering something about ‘having the decency to be dressed when you’re a guest in someone else’s house.’

Hoseok had muttered something back about ‘letting yourself into someone’s house without permission’, to which Jungkook had given him a dark look.

You’d mediated by fixing dinner for all three of you.

After dinner, you’d given them both instructions to call you the instant they heard from the hospital, and had left to meet your date.

Jungkook had offered to go with, and it’s the first thing Jungkook’s said all day that Hoseok’s in full agreement with.

You’d rolled your eyes and gone out the door before either of them could stop you.

***

Hoseok’s trying to call you, but your phone keeps going to voicemail.

The fourth victim’s woken up, and she’s lucid enough to talk.

Jungkook glances at him as he signals to turn.

‘She’s not answering,’ Hoseok says.

Jungkook’s surprised. ‘She always answers.’

Hoseok’s got a prickling at the base of his neck.

Jungkook tosses his phone into Hoseok’s lap. ‘Maybe she’s screening your calls,’ he says, petty.

Hoseok gives him an exasperated look but tries using Jungkook’s phone anyway, pointedly ignoring the gym selfie he has as his wallpaper.

The kid’s cut, but that’s got nothing to do with anything right now.

Hoseok tries to keep the smugness out of his voice as he says, ‘No answer.’

‘She’s never not answered a call from me,’ Jungkook says.

Hoseok rolls his eyes at the pout in his voice.

The prickling’s getting stronger.

Jungkook pulls into the hospital car park.

‘Where did she say she was meeting him?’ Hoseok asks.

Jungkook’s back straightens at the note of urgency in Hoseok’s voice.

‘The diner near the park,’ he says.

Hoseok says, patiently, ‘What’s the name of the diner?’

Thinking about it, you fit the description of all the victims.

Down to being single.

Hoseok hopes to hell he’s wrong and it’s just that your phone’s out of battery, but he doesn’t think he is.

***

Hoseok’s out of the car before Jungkook comes to a complete stop. He scans the area, years of training kicking in, adrenaline pumping, heightening his senses.

He’s shouting, ‘Police’ before he even rounds the corner to the alley between the buildings, because he wants to be able to swear in a court of law that he announced himself before kicking the ever-loving shit out of the fucking asshole who’s on top of you.

‘Knife,’ you shout, and Hoseok takes a moment to be really damn glad that you’re alive, and conscious enough to warn him, before he’s disarming the man, shoving his face in the ground, arms behind his back.

Jungkook slaps handcuffs into his palm.

‘Check she’s all right,’ Hoseok grunts.

‘I had him,’ you grumble, before you pass out in Jungkook’s arms.

***

Hoseok props his phone up next to you so he has a reason for looking in your direction if you were to wake up suddenly, but he’s really just looking at your face.

You’re a little banged up, but you’re still the prettiest thing he’s seen in a while.

To be fair, he’s only seen junkies lately because Joan’s been a hard-ass about sending him to investigate meth labs in mountain towns, but still.

You’re beautiful.

Jungkook looks up from the selfie he’s just been taking.

‘Stop staring at her,’ he says.

‘Stop staring at yourself,’ Hoseok counters.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. His phone rings obnoxiously.

Hoseok glares at Jungkook as you stir.

‘Yes, auntie,’ Jungkook says, meek as he answers. ‘She’s fine. She’s in hospital but she can go as soon as she wakes up.’

He listens. ‘Yeah, the state detective is here too.’

Hoseok’s brow furrows, but before he can ask Jungkook to clarify, he realises you’re awake.

You’re looking quizzically at the phone propped on your chest.

Then you smile. ‘I knew I needed to worry about you,’ you say.

***

Hoseok manages to convince Jungkook to go out and bring back breakfast before you wake up the next morning.

He’s lying on his bed in your spare room, staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the paperwork he has to do, when you push the door open.

The bruises on your face are a little darker, but you’re still beautiful.

Hoseok thinks it’s encouraging that you’re just in a t-shirt.

He’s not sure if you’re wearing panties, but with the way you’re straddling him, thighs either side of his torso, he thinks he’s about to find out.

You put a hand on his chest, right over the scar from the stab wound he was dealt in a suburb outside Arashiyama.

Hoseok holds his breath as you trace over the pale furrow in his skin with your finger.

You’re looking at him.

Hoseok steadies you with a hand, and lifts his head to nip at your inner thigh with his teeth.

He curls both hands under your ass and pulls you forward so your core is right where he wants it.

Oh.

You’re not wearing panties, and Hoseok falls a little in love with you right there and then.

Your pussy looks so fucking juicy, right in front of his face.

Hoseok licks up into you, and you cry out his name.

He likes the sound of his name when it falls from your lips, the way you say it breathy, needy.

He kneads your ass as he licks up again. He slides a hand round to flick your clit, and suddenly you’re so wet he can feel it on his cheeks.

You’re not shy about rocking against his face, and Hoseok’s encouraged by how slick you are, how disinhibited your moaning is.

He wonder if he can get you to scream his name.

The thought gets him so hard.

He pinches your inner thigh, bites the softness of it, and you jerk.

Hoseok soothes you with a sloppy kiss over the bite, tongue swirling over the mark he’s made.

‘You’re mean in bed,’ you say, but you sound like you like it.

Hoseok squeezes your ass. ‘Get my dick wet so I can make you scream,’ he says.

You’re turning around, licking your way down his torso to the waistband of his borrowed sweats like a good girl.

You hum with pleasure as you pull his dick out, letting it slap against his abs. You slip a hand into his sweatpants, cupping his balls, and squeeze, so hard he almost yelps.

He definitely likes it.

You tongue the slit of his dick, swirling around his head, teasing.

Hoseok lifts his head to bury his face in your cunt, thumb pressing against your ass, hard.

You’re so wet you’re smeared all over his face now.

Hoseok hisses as you take him in. The angle’s not perfect, but he doesn’t give a fuck because he feels like he’s lodged so far down your throat he can feel you swallowing him down.

You pull back, and turn to look at him, saliva and his precum smeared over your lips, hair falling in your face.

Hoseok wants to see you covered in his cum, spurt it all over your pretty face, all over those tits that he’s neglected thus far but that he can’t wait to see.

‘Let me see you bounce on me,’ he says, voice coming out raspy because he’s so fucking turned on he can barely see.

You slip your t-shirt off, and your tits are as pretty as the rest of you.

You cup your breasts, flicking at your own nipples, and Hoseok already knows that however this ends, he’s going to try his damnedest to get you in bed again, because there are so many ways he needs to fuck you to make his life complete.

Hoseok nearly cums there and then when you hover just over him, and ask him, ‘where do you want to fuck me?’

‘Every fucking where,’ Hoseok replies, honest.

You give him a wicked half-smile and roll a condom over him, and sit down on his dick, which feels hard enough and hot enough that he’s worried he’s going to hurt you.

Your eyes are closed, and you sound like you’re enjoying his dick so fucking much that Hoseok pinches your nipple, hard.

You cry out, then your hips jerk, rocking back and forth and he realises you’re cumming, having an orgasm on his dick that you’ve only just put inside you.

Hoseok doesn’t tend to give a fuck where he is during sex. Top, bottom, upside down, he doesn’t give a shit.

The only reason he grabs your hips and turns you over, underneath him, is that based on how much you seem to be enjoying his dick, he’s pretty sure he can make you cum again.

Hoseok fucks into you, determined, rhythmic, changing his angle in response to your pretty moans, until you’re squeezing so tight around him he knows he’s nearly got you there.

You seem to like when he’s mean.

‘Hey,’ he says, hoarse, so close now he’s about to burst.

Your eyes fly open, and Hoseok pinches your clit, hard.

‘Fuck, Hoseok!’

Your scream as you cum again makes him spill so hard inside you it’s like an out of body experience.

Hoseok buries his face in your neck and floats until the ringing in his ears stops and the white behind his eyelids fades to black again.

***

By the time you both get downstairs, there’s cold coffee and croissants on the table and no sign of Jungkook.

Hoseok wanders in your living room whilst you heat up your coffees.

He rolls his eyes at a prominent portrait of Jungkook, a group photo featuring ‘Joonie’.

He stops dead at a photo of you with two people who look like your parents.

He yanks the frame off the wall and brings it into the kitchen with him.

‘Are these your parents?’ he asks.

You give him a funny look. ‘Yeah.’

‘Joan Kim is your mother?’ he asks, pointing with a shaky hand.

‘Assistant director Joan Kim is your mother?’ he asks again.

At your nod of affirmation, he lands on a dining table chair, feeling like his insides are collapsing.

You’re frowning at him.

‘Fuck me,’ you say, drawn out. ‘You’re Hobi?’

Hoseok feels faint.

‘Am I.’ His voice comes out croaky. ‘Am I going to get in trouble for fucking you in the ass?’

You look like you’re torn between amusement and horror.

‘Does my mother scare you that much?’ you ask.

‘She’s Joan fucking Kim,’ Hoseok splutters.

You shake your head, pitying. ‘Wait until you find out who my father is.’

Hoseok buries his face in his hands.

‘Who is he?’ he asks.

‘Kwon Ha Woon,’ you say, looking worried.

‘Supreme court justice Kwon Ha Woon?’ Hoseok practically shouts.

He gets up. ‘It was nice knowing you, Y/N.’

He makes it two steps out your front door before he’s turning around again.

You’re still sitting at the dining table, sipping your coffee.

There’s the faintest spark of mischief in your eyes when you see him.

‘On second thought,’ Hoseok tells you, pulling you into his arms, ‘I told myself that fucking you would make my life complete.’

‘It’s not the most romantic of propositions,’ you remark, letting him walk you backwards back up the stairs to your bedroom, ‘but I’ll take it.’

‘I’ll show you romance,’ Hoseok growls, pushing you back on the bed, climbing on top of you.

‘I’ll protect you from my parents,’ you promise, eyes bright.

From what Hoseok’s seen of you, he’s pretty sure you can.

©hamsterclaw 2022