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Desire.

CEO ! Jung Hoseok x  Married ! OC 

Summary : Tall Handsome CEO Hobi meets dainty delicate country girl, Elena and falls head over heels. Too bad she’s already taken. 

Genre : Infidelity, Morally ambiguous characters. 

Chapter 1

On Fridays, Jung Hoseok liked to unwind. 

After a whole entire week of heading Gwihan Inc., going over proposals, signing off on acquisitions and baby sitting his two younger siblings who were just entering the company business, Jung Hoseok liked to relax on Friday evenings, usually with a glass of wine, maybe some good food from the Chinese restaurant down the street and occasionally with some company of the feminine variety. 

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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

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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. 

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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.

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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.

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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