#Hoseok x oc

[itssunshinetoday]

❁ pictures you've taken of your boyfriend, hoseok

More of the boyfriend pictures series

[hoseoksluna]

CHERRIES | jhs ft. jjk

pairing: soon-to-be-boyfriend!hobi x oc (feat. ex-boyfriend!jk)

genre: heavy, heavy, obnoxious smut

word count: 12.7k

summary: you don't know how he does it, but hobi makes you forget about the life you led before him, using his tongue.

playlist: hobi's playlist ; hobi's the weeknd playlist 

pinterest board: cherries / taglist: join

warnings: oh my god—dd/lg but differently, businessman!hobi, dominant and emotional and fucking possessive hobi, oc is horny... a lot, praise kink, breeding kink sdflhldghfdklaxjkfghskfg, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, female and male masturbation, use of a sex toy, cum eating, ass eating, religious personification, mentions of anal sex, thigh and ass slapping fuck

note: my babies, i'm so happy to be posting PART TWO OF BERRIES for you, oh my god. i had the time of my LIFE writing this, had to take breaks every 20 mins, was horny beyond my fucking mind BECAUSE THE SMUT IN THIS? FUCK. THIS IS PURE FILTH. 12K WORDS OF FILTHY HOBI SMUT. IM DEAD. HAVE BEEN DEAD. i missed writing so much that i spewed this out in 3 days... literally how? but i'm so happy to be back. i hope you enjoy this part. make sure to let me know what you think! i'm in a severe (hehe) need of your feedback. I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

side note: this part has the entirety of my being in it. from the first word to the last. it means a lot to me. very special chapter! <3

By the time you come out of the art museum, it’s storming. A sound so cacophonous that it spreads dots of gooseflesh along the perimeter of your skin underneath your silk dress and the layer of your heavy trench coat. Loud and violent like your heart’s deep drum that stills once you see Hoseok leaning against his glossy car. Arms and legs crossed in the same fashion, clothed in the coupled shade of blackness, a mop of tousled hair swept back and rippling in the unforgiving wind that flushes his cheeks with its rosy coldness and then clouds pull in, darkening his stare fixed on you. 

A shower of sudden rain finishes its touch on his countenance. 

Eye contact broken, Hobi’s shoulders raise as he feels the iciness of the slender raindrops falling upon him, eyes flicked up to the shadowed heavens. A heartstring of yours snaps and you don’t really know who gave the command to your aching legs to run towards him with your coat suspended over your head—whether it was that weakened heart of yours or basic human decency. Emotion versus logic. 

You find soon enough the verdict of the winner. 

Because when you have to stand on your tippy toes to cover him from the rain, despite the fact you’re wearing your high-heeled boots, and Hobi takes the makeshift shield from your hands and shrouds you both from the wetness, an identical flush crawls from your left cheek, upon the column of your nose right next to your other cheek, warming you up from within. 

Emotion. The string that ruptured grows again to its full length during that fleeting moment and you’re aching to take him home. 

No rain in sight—just him in this close proximity, in this gray cocoon, smiling down at you lopsidedly, a dimmed light flickering in his inky pools, faintly, barely, only there for you to see. To catch and cling to like his patchouli scent does to you, a whiff of dainty wildflowers leaning in and enclosing around you, forcing away the thoughts that are erect in the corners of your mind, waiting for the adequate moment to strike. Thoughts of how you sense Jungkook’s life entwining around your world again; his companion perfuming the air with petrichor, the inner turmoil she must be facing the very strength that pulled those clouds in, causing a storm to stretch across the skies. You figure each beat of her confused heart must be the grumble of the thunder, but then Hobi’s outer film of softness amidst the darkness is a force way greater, because firmness broods right underneath it, and it is an energy that keeps those thoughts pressed against the walls of your mind.

He did turn you into a locked orchard—and the threat of another declared war isn’t even a wind that brushes past your fruit trees and berry bushes. 

In fact, the more you deepen your exchange of gazes and Hobi cages you in between his shirt-clothed elbows, the more you want to show him the stain of your juices upon your panties. 

You’re aroused—blooming, in need to be picked. It outweighs the past and you’re glad for it, deem your newly born sexuality more important than the doomed normalcy of your life. 

You sink your manicured nails into that newness, adamant on not letting it go, regretting that you agreed to see your ex-boyfriend later tonight, regretting that you grew soft at the hint of his own normalcy, even though you said to yourself that you wouldn’t. It’s one of the reasons why you dig your nails deeper, maximizing your closeness to Hobi—it’s done in an effort to erase your foolish moment of weakness, to better yourself like you encouraged yourself to do earlier when you had perceived that you misinterpreted him. You curl your lips under your teeth to stifle back a sigh, wishing you were as firm as him, as stable in your decisions and your way of living as him. Wishing your weakness wasn’t a putty you play with, leave your fingerprints of your bad decisions on that blemish until you hate yourself, until the paste hardens and there’s nothing left for you to do but to watch it. Watch the evidence of your failure, your brokenness and your imbecility like still life—the curse, the doom of your life, haunting you. 

It almost slinks in, threatening yet again to desiccate your orchard, the movement akin to a wave rolling in, but then Hobi speaks. And his voice sears those thoughts to nothing. Not even their shadows are left behind. 

“Did you say hi to your friend?” he murmurs, reaching behind him to open the door of the passenger side for you, the coat that’s propped on his forearm lowering until it rests back around your shoulders. 

You can merely nod, your empty mind focused on the absence of your selfishness—for once again, you want to be close to him for his sake, even more so when Hobi places his palm on the top edge of his car so you don’t hurt your head. 

A prince, an orchardist, and a gentleman. 

You’re feeding him and sucking his dick before he goes to work—you don’t care. Hope to God he fucks your brain out of your head and plants a new one; one that isn’t so stupid. 

Seated inside his car, you glimpse profoundly at the way the rain kisses the crown of his head as he rounds his vehicle, sitting right beside you and carrying inside his heavenly skin fragrance, now accentuated by the residue of petrichor that all of a sudden doesn’t have anything to do with what you just bore. No hints, no thoughts, no wars. How he does it is something you’ll never have the capability of understanding—a fracture of attention of the intimate kind and he binds you to him, erasing your still fresh past as if it never happened. 

You flex and relax your hand on your lap, a gesture that depicts that you cherish it to the point that you yearn to submit to it and remain submitted. And you will. You’ll figure out a way to stay stable, even if events appear to try and revolutionize you. A way to keep your fist clenched in his presence. 

Hobi lets the car warm up a little bit before he turns on the heating, angling his rear view mirror just right, from which two purple, plush dice swing back and forth, colliding once and never meeting again. 

How inspiring. 

And then you watch his hands. Watch them dominate the car, spur it to life as he drives through the drenched street, parting the rain like a curtain, stepping in, taking you home. 

As if he sensed your thoughts, he glances at you. “My place or yours?” 

A red light halts his control and Hobi uses it to tap on the screen of his dashboard, dousing the space in a sultry, wet ambiance as slow, calm music breaks the silence. While it was comfortable for you, now you feel even more at ease and you wiggle in your seat, sinking deeper into the leather. 

Quite useful material for the lecherous saturation of your mind; for the lustful layer of sweat lining your skin. You feel so hot. Feel the need to be ridded of your clothes right now. Feel a certain kind of vivacity that drives you to do things you wouldn’t normally do. 

You take his hand from the shift stick, cradling it with both of your own hands, a finger tracing the veins that paint a slender but a strong temple—a temple for his beauty and character, you suspect. 

“My place,” you say, yearning to make him feel at home in your space; cook for him, make him come, stuff like that.

Green light blinks and Hobi doesn’t withdraw from your hold. No, he tells you what to do, quickly. 

“Keep your hand on mine,” he instructs and you listen, sinking your fingers between his and gripping him like in an effort to grip onto stable submission. “Just like that.” 

Your stomach flips at his choice of praise and you lick your lips, tightening your hold hard enough that he peeks at you with a smirk while he shifts the gear stick with you and speeds down the road. The heat worsens and you don’t think you can take it anymore.

That alone is the most attractive thing you ever experienced with a man. 

And when he plays with your thumb, you can’t help but to squeeze your thighs together. Watch him intently sneak a glance as you do so, knowing your dress has ridden up a little, exposing your tanned thighs, swathed with the brown leather of your boots. Your position also provides him the intriguing reveal of a secret—you’re wearing knee socks underneath. They were invisible to his sight this whole time and now that he sees them, his eyes linger there for a few seconds longer before he drags his teeth along his bottom lip, flicking his gaze back to the road. 

“You’re wearing knee socks under those?” he asks, his voice low and tortured. Doesn’t look at you as he does. Only shifts the gear stick again, stiffly. You imagine something else is stiff, too, and you smile, a tendril of confidence clothing you in allure and sinful, dark joy. It beckons your vivacity to drive forward. 

You move his hand to let the pads of his fingers feel the smooth fabric. His body twitches, his lungs inhaling a short, soft air, mouth parted, eyes unblinking, gloomy just like the heavens above. A thunder sounds and you feel like roaring just the same. 

“It matches my underwear,” you murmur and the thunder prolongs, echoing feebly. You drag his hand down your thigh with the intention to also make him feel the nylon material of your panties, but he halts your movement halfway, hand gripping your flesh, trembling ever so slightly, stirring your confidence. You almost moan at his brusqueness. 

“Don’t,” he scolds, brows furrowing, chest heaving in that slow manner. His lips dry and he wets them. Doesn’t spare you a glance. Turns the wheel with that one hand as he takes a left turn, his posture slouched, thighs spread, a small tent evident in between. His arousal for you grows and it only propels you to finish the job, knowing his scolding was merely a warning, not a portrayal of his discomfort. And he proves you right with his next words. “If you do that, I’ll crash this fucking car.” 

You laugh through your nose, your confidence and your own arousal fluttering in you, begging to be let out. Your favorite artist starts playing and you’re not surprised by the way your body reacts. Your thighs naturally spread and you move your pelvis forward. Feel your slick dampening your panties even more, trickling down your needy seashell just as The Weeknd begins to sing about your desire. 

“I wanna fuck you slow with the lights on…” 

You lick your lips, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a soft moan. Hobi digs his fingernails into your skin, coaxing another one out of you and he calls you by your name in a sterner warning. You caress the edge of his hand with the thought in mind that you’ve always loved the crescent moon, so it would only be illogical for you to not want more of it imprinted on your skin. 

“You shouldn’t praise me then,” you croak out, doused in adrenaline-tinged lust, your sweat heavy upon you. You clutch your cherub necklace, needing to be touched, a habit of yours that you’ve had ever since you were a teenage girl. Your fingers graze your collarbones, lingering in the dip between them. “Besides, you’re such a good driver that I think you can handle it.” 

Hobi hums out an endearing laugh, that smirk of his reappearing on his mouth. He rubs the moons he impressed into your thigh from side to side and your hips buck, asking for that movement down low where you need him the most. 

“You have a praise kink?” he questions and you catch him bite his lip, catch him enjoying that information, sinking it into his flesh. You want to kiss it, bruise it, make it permanent for a little while. You revel in such a dirty, yet gentle conversation and you stop yourself from bucking your hips again. 

“A severe praise kink,” you correct him, emphasizing the adjective with a bit of a bratty tone to divulge to him what he does to you and how much he needs to pay for it. And before you can go on, he catches you off guard. 

“If you want me to keep praising you then rub your clit,” he negotiates with you, taking your hand and moving the gear stick, leaving it there. “And you’re wrong. I can’t handle you like this. I can’t touch you when I’m responsible for your life.” 

Daddy. The title would’ve slipped out of the tip of your tongue had a moan not been first, coating the ambience with a sultriness that makes you tug at his hand in order to do as he says, in order to be praised, to be gratified. But Hobi doesn’t budge. He tightens his grip around the shift stick, clicking his tongue. 

“No, baby. With your other hand,” he orders, his breath shaking and amidst the enveloping of his fatherliness around you, strengthening you and binding you with ropes of safety, girlishness and seductiveness, you scrunch up your brows, wanting his hand to be there when you make yourself feel good. 

And you tell him. 

“I want you to help me.” 

The rain thickens, creating a sensual background noise to the next slow song playing and Hobi sighs, disliking your attitude. Your arousal grows to highs you’ve never seen before, a sweet, pleasing darkness consuming you, sprinkling you with glitters of appetite and craze. 

All because your sexual chemistry is so good, so strong—so natural, despite the fact you just met and don’t know each other enough for it to be possible. It exceeds the laws of human connection and the feeling of it is heady, intoxicating you with wine of the ripest cherries. You even feel as though this is your first alcoholic drink. Feel as though you’re an unspoiled virgin on the cusp of her very first sin—the Virgin Mary with long hair, cherub necklace, tanned skin, knee socks and high-heeled boots. 

Hobi erases your past life. Paints a new one with watercolors; paints you anew. You know the dulcet taste of fatherliness and manliness from Jungkook and while it was what you needed at the time, sexually that is—as it wasn’t often that he used this kind of energy day-to-day, and if he did, it was to tease you—what Hobi does runs deeper. It surpasses your need; it’s not a filling that will decompose soon enough and ask for it again. It’s something else entirely. 

It’s something that falls upon you and stays. Clicks and connects with no way out. It’s another layer of skin, strands of hair growing out of your scalp, the drum of the vein upon your neck. 

It began in the museum and uncoils here. It’s not worth it to juxtapose it with what you had before—it’s laughable to do so. Hobi has established his fatherliness the moment he held your coat as a heathen in a church, not taking his gaze off of your intimate prayers for even a split second. Unkinked it with his honesty and by expressing his responsibility over you, listening to the murmur of the sea of your sexual need but not diving head-first into it, knowing better. And now it is ready to bloom with flowerets, with fruits, with leaves to accompany you. 

“It’s this or nothing,” Hobi decides, squeezing his fingers against yours to also emphasize the gravity of his words and you purse your lips in response, finding the ultimatum so attractive. “You live thirty minutes away, so you either rub your clit on your own or you wait. It’s up to you.” 

It’s mind blowing to you how he went from being timid to now ordering you to pleasure yourself. You’re sweltering beneath your clothes and Hobi notices, looking at your body through his rear view mirror. He turns the heating up and you laugh, blush deepening, eyes crinkling at the corners. Your heart thuds heavily in your chest. 

“Why didn’t you put your seatbelt on?” he mutters, letting go of your hand and giving you a mean look that makes your walls clench and your throat let out a low, almost soundless moan. 

You never put a seatbelt on. As dangerous as it, you hate the way it chokes you due to your small stature and you tell him. “It chokes me, Hobi, I don’t really like it.” 

Hobi doesn’t respond. He reaches over and drags down the seatbelt adjuster without taking his eyes off of the road, driving steadily. His patchouli scent hits your nostrils and you nuzzle your nose into his bicep, fingers curling around his arm, smelling him in a simple, comfortable manner. Hobi gives you a quick smile and you hear the sound of him pulling on the seatbelt, but then a pedestrian runs across the previously empty crosswalk, forcing him to stomp on the brake abruptly and your heart nearly skips out of your chest. Almost flying forward, Hobi holds you in place with his strong arm, which you cradle against your quickening chest. 

Exchanging a look, you both pant in tandem and Hobi shakes his head at you. Panic lines his dark eyelashes and he immediately grabs the seatbelt and, tugging harshly, he sinks it into the buckle, placing the belt behind your back. He doesn’t acknowledge the pedestrian lifting his palm in apology and neither do you, too preoccupied with the fact he just saved your life. 

“You wear a seatbelt in my car. No buts. Understand?” 

Too shocked by the twist of events and too touched by the gesture and the sternness of his words, you nod. He pats your thigh, the one he marked, fondling the skin with his thumb, and it drives you to say something. “I’m sorry, Hobi. I’ll wear the seatbelt from now on.” 

You mean it. This has never happened to you before as you usually take the public transport, but you do understand now how dangerous it is to not wear one. Your heartbeat calms and the aftershocks of the adrenaline come to the surface, scattering along your figure. Numbness melts and your arousal returns at full speed. 

Hobi nods, smiling gently, pleased with your apology, and you feel so peculiarly gratified that you managed to do something like that to him. He sinks his fingers under your thigh and you marvel at the size of his hand because his thumb still remains there on the top of the flesh, even as he wraps his digits around you like that. Kneading just once before he lifts them and begins to tap on his screen again, shifting the energy with the voice of your favorite artist. He moves the gear, accelerating. 

“Why you rushing me, baby? It’s only us, alone,” The Weeknd sings and you sigh, your body loosening up. You hike the seatbelt around your hips higher, curling lower on the leather, thighs parting until your knee taps his hand. You miss his touch and you long for it again, finding its warm ghost on your skin not enough. 

“You like The Weeknd, don’t you?” Hobi says, his pinky finger brushing along your sock-clad knee, causing you to almost twitch. 

You smile, relishing in the love you have for the singer. “I’ve spent ten years of my life loving him.” 

Liking your answer, Hobi skims his fingers along the side of your inner thigh until he finds yours, intertwining them—this time his palm closed over the back of your hand, placing it to its former position on the stick. It’s warmed by him and you love it so much that you search for his thumb, playing with it. 

“I could tell,” he breathes, his tone deepened by a heartfelt emotion that moves through you. You raise your brows in curiosity and question, wondering how that has come to be. Glancing at you to see your reaction, Hobi laughs softly, his heart evident in the sound, coated with it entirely, and you catch his thumb, holding it, on the verge of bursting. “I saw what you did when I put him on.” 

You round the tip of your tongue along your top lip, recollecting well what you did when you heard him. “What did I do?” 

A beat of silence between you and him, he lets the singer sing his elegy. Then, his index finger traces your manicured nail on the same digit. “You spread your legs. Made such a pretty sound that I almost stopped this fucking car and fucked you until the whole city could heard it.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat and you’re too late to halt the moan from slipping out, a fire coursing down from the top of your head to your toes. You want a taste of his desire so bad that you’ll do anything for it. Even let the seatbelt choke you to death. 

Hobi gives you a look, one that chills your blood this time. But it feels absolutely exhilarating.

He calls your name. “Don’t do that to me. Not here.” 

Your breath trembles as you scurry to regain your composure, sliding up in your seat. Hobi, too, stops that movement by cradling your thigh, putting it back to the stick once you get the message. 

Why does this feel better than if he gave in? 

“What if I want to?” you challenge and Hobi rubs his eyes, slapping his hand back onto the steering wheel. Frustration, it looks so good on him. “What if I want you to fuck me here?” 

He shakes his head, just once, biting his lip, reddening the pillow. “No, I don’t share.” 

Fuck. 

This is a point of no return. You will never be the same after what he said and you feel your attachment melting into his chest, dissolving there into leaves from your fruit trees. Your imaginary wings flit, aroused from his possessiveness. 

“You know what to do,” he adds without looking at you, turning up the volume as if to subdue your incoming moans. 

A cherry on the top of the fucking cake. 

You don’t waste a precious second. Lifting the hem of your dress, you expose your drenched panties, a large wet spot in the center darkening the black fabric. Hobi doesn’t spare you a glance. No, he takes your intertwined hands and fixes his rear view mirror, tipping it down. Dangerous, but smart. Responsible. 

It’s those glimmering flecks of his character that drive your fingers to pull your panties to the side, but Hobi, once again, stops you. 

With words, this time. 

“Do you want me to die?” he rasps, tortured—horribly tortured and you cup your femininity, coaxing a groan out of him. “Do it over your panties, baby. Please.” 

He begged. You don’t think you ever heard that word come out of a man’s mouth in your life and you break, whimpering, pulling your panties back in their place over your pussy, dragging the tip of your middle finger up and down your dripping slit, sighing. Adding your index, you put pressure to the sides of your clit as you slide your digits in the same direction, over and over, teasing yourself, breathing out little moans that make him grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. 

Hobi glances once at what you’re doing and swears. “Fuck, rub your clit. Don’t tease yourself, baby. Make yourself feel good.” 

With a mewl, you stick your fingers together and begin a series of circles, doing as he says. Your eyes roll back, head knocking back into the leather, satisfaction seizing your body and sweetening it. The material of your panties is so flimsy that it feels as though your fingers are stroking your bare flesh and when you tug the fabric to your hole to wet it and rub your clit harder, your moans gain volume, mingling with The Weeknd’s poetry seamlessly and magnificently, dethroning the rain. 

And then Hobi shifts the gear stick with your hand and drives so fast that your pleasure deepens, thrill rushing in your veins. You match your circles to that speed, your sounds becoming obnoxious, whiny squeaks when you look at him to see his jaw clenched, chest heaving and the tent in his pants larger than you last checked it. 

Hobi skims his fingers along your forearm, back and forth, cradling it. Senses your stare and reciprocates it, catching you at your best when you find your spot and buck your hips, furrowing your brows. He moans, clutching your thigh. 

“So good. Such a good girl, rubbing her clit for me to get praised. Fuck, baby. You’re doing so good.” 

You lift your fingers in order not to come, the aftershocks of your ripped away orgasm quivering throughout your whole body and you squeeze his hand, letting go—wrapping it around his tent, instead. You figure he deserves it for praising you like that. 

He finds your lidded, mischievous eyes in the rear view mirror and he flattens his lips, a brutal expression on his face that should make you scared, but it doesn’t. It only spurs you on. You graze your palm on him, causing his breath to quicken, and you whimper when you search and search for the tip of his cock. He’s slender, but big and your mouth dries. 

“You almost made me come with what you said,” you say, truthfully, retracing your path down his length, his breath, now hardened, wafting over you. You love the way he focuses on the road with every fiber of his being as you’re toying with him. Love watching him grit his teeth, narrow his eyes; love watching sweat adorn his flushed chest and neck. You ache to bite him there. 

And you would—had he not buckled you in place. 

You don’t notice you’ve arrived at your apartment until he stops the car and turns to face you, leaning his elbow on the center console. Nobody could gaslight you into believing that ride took thirty minutes. Nobody. 

Hobi made that fifteen. Ferally. For you. 

You can see it in his shining face—his need for you, his desire, the fact he sped down the road because you’re so horny. And you ache to kiss him. 

“You really do have a praise kink,” he says, mutedly. Must be thinking the same because his gaze flicks to your lips. You lick them for him, encouraging him to do it. “Almost coming from me praising you. Such a good girl.” 

You hiss, the drum in your clit returning, stealing your attention. Hoseok grins, pleased to be proven right, pleased that you make it so easy for him. You squeeze his length and he makes the same sound, gritting his teeth briefly before he pouts. 

“What’s this?” he asks, speaking of your hand placement. “When did I allow you to do this?” 

You breathe heavily, descending your fingers to his full balls, feeling them perfectly due to the silky fabric of his dress pants. You knead them and he moans, the sound traveling right to your yet again needy bundle of nerves. Your hand automatically flies to it, rubbing it, and Hobi curses, eyes narrowing, fixed on the movement of your fingers. 

“It’s asking for me, isn’t it?” you murmur, sliding your hand back to his manhood and his pools almost go cross, head tilting back. Your pleasure from your motions expands, your nerve endings burning. 

“I’m so hard for you,” he agrees, his hand clasping over yours, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows with great difficulty, the column of his throat such a thing of beauty for you that it forces you to unclip your seatbelt. You’re about to crawl onto his lap, but one darkened look from him makes you decide against it. “Show me that pussy, baby.” 

Your moan has a certain elation to it, giddy at the fact you get to expose such an intimate part of you to him, giddy that he’s taking this to another level. 

You slide your drenched panties to the side and at the sight of your glistening pussy Hobi groans deeply.

“Lean against the door,” he commands, wiping at his mouth and you tremble all over, more than delighted that he’s reacting to you this way. 

You swivel, propping your back against the leather of his door and Hobi lifts your legs, spreading them. You hook one of them around the back of his headrest while the other dangles in his hold. His gaze zeroes in on your pussy and as he bites his lip, he acknowledges himself with her by tracing the flesh with his thumb. Your clit, your lips before he circles your gushing hole, groaning, bettering the song you barely can hear. Your confidence and your allure skyrockets and you follow his digit, riding it, begging for more of his touch. He plays chase with you until both of you and him can’t take it anymore and when his thumb is completely soaked, he lifts it to your mouth—only to fuck with you, though, because he plunges it inside his, leaving your own parted for nothing. 

You’re embarrassed, but he likes it. Whimpers around his finger. Pushes your knee to your shoulders and dives right in. 

You yelp, grabbing a hold of his hair as he licks over your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking until your eyes roll back, until all your still parted mouth knows is his name and your thick heel digs into his shoulder. 

But you moan the wrong variation and he’s quick to correct you with a dripping chin, his hands on either side of you, face merely inches away from yours. “That’s Hoseok for you, not Hobi.” 

Red all over, you can only moan in response, gripping his hair until he hisses in pain. He strums your clit without breaking eye contact, so slippery and swollen from his attack. The orchard in you grows, brims with fruit that is on the cusp of bursting, the berries in you big and full. His eyes narrow furthermore, pupils dilated, causing his gaze to darken in ways you’ve never thought could be possible. 

“Moan my name, baby. Show me how good I’m making you feel.” 

The wrong variation slips again, all due to the mind numbing pleasure he’s giving you. He adds more pressure to his fingers for a second before he withdraws and slaps your thigh. And slaps it again. 

“I can’t praise you if you don’t learn well, can I?” he mutters and you whine so loudly that his eyes round, body growing boneless. “Fuck, baby, if you keep making sounds like that I’m gonna come in my pants.” 

You scramble your words, find it the most difficult thing in the world. And he doesn’t help you. Not when he sinks a long finger inside your heat, fucking you slowly until you can take him. You lose your mind altogether. 

“You’re making me feel too-too good,” you breathe out, hiccuping as he adds a second finger in, silencing you when he gives you long strokes. You follow his gaze down and perceive that he’s watching you soak his digits. He twists them, moaning, a litany of mad, mad curses falling out of his mouth in a hushed tone. 

“So wet just from me praising you, oh my God,” Hobi comments and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking it as he begins to pound you to the hilt, his arm bulging, his whole body moving. “Eyes on me. What do you call me when I make you feel this good, hm? I already told you. Just remember.” 

You know which variation he means and wants to hear, but your tongue curls, aching to utter a different name that he deserves to be called by. 

And you say it, opening your eyes and boring them into his. “Daddy.” 

And you don’t stop saying it. Not when he closes his eyes for a split second, agonized by such saccharinity. Not when he undoes the button of his pants and pulls himself out while thumbing your clit. You gasp, legs quivering, what you touched brought to reality and your orgasm nears, especially when he fist-fucks his length. 

Hoseok draws back down to your clit, licking it over, nuzzling his face in it as he drinks your nectar right from the source, his wet fingers from you making squeaky sounds around his girth, causing you to scream, the intensity of the moment running so deep and you’re too weak to take it, overwhelmed by his arousal. 

He lifts his head for a moment. “I want you to call me Daddy when you come on my tongue,” he rasps amidst his growls, never stopping the movement around his cock, and you nod your head, vehemently, willing to do anything for him.

“I’m so close.” 

Hoseok pouts. “That’s so good, baby. You know what to do?” 

You swallow. “I’m gonna call you Daddy when I come.” 

He grins at you and the expression breaks when he fucks his tip, his brows casting a shadow on his face. You break along with it, shuddering—pleasured from watching him pleasure himself. And you break again when he praises you for your good answer. “Such a good girl. You’re gonna come hard for me?” 

You don’t get to say your yes because when he sucks your clit into his mouth and groans against it as he flicks it with his tongue, he’s a witness to it himself. The fruits in your orchard explode and he drinks their juices, running the muscle all over your pussy, his mouth smacking, enjoying every drop. You squeal the title, forcing pleased growls out of him that deepen when you swear, repeating the name over and over again until your orgasm smooths down the perimeters of your body, slowly dwindling away.  

You can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t see. White dots flood your vision and the only thing that grounds you is Hobi taking your hand in his. The dots swim away, revealing him on the verge of his own orgasm as he tugs on his length, rapidly now. 

“That was so good, baby. You came so well for me. Called me Daddy like I wanted. Good girl,” he praises and your moans are an endless stream, enveloping around his cock, which he guides your hand towards. The weight of it, his warmth, the protruding veins, you could come again just from the feel of him. “Jerk off your Daddy. He’s close, too, from the way you came for him.” 

The third person, fuck. You bite your lip, focusing on his tip as you grip him, twisting your wrist. His skin is sticky from your nectar and you spit onto your hand, earning a praise from him that makes your mind spin, even though you heard those two words plenty of times throughout your sinful date. 

It will never get old—it will only make your femininity wetter for him. 

And his growls, the same could be applied to them. They propel you to fuck him faster while your fingers sneak over to your sensitive clit that he provokes, rubbing circles that cloud your vision with a mist, painting him to be an angel—like the one you saw in the museum. 

And when he comes, he grows a pair of glorious wings. Black, with hints of rose gold and pinks. His body doubles over, hands propped on the dashboard and the passenger seat as he spills for you, ropes of cum painting your stomach in that eternal ivory color that serves as skin for those sculptures. In a way you become them once he praises you for making him come, his breaths a legato rivulet that gives you life, his hips snapping, fucking your hand. 

He smears his cum on your tanned stomach, fingers dipping below the waistband of your panties to discover a lighter shade of skin, marveling at the difference. Light passes through his eyes before he covers your pussy with the fabric, opening the glove department to fetch some tissues, cleaning you up, dragging down your dress and helping you sit up.

It’s at this moment, as he’s kneeling—towering over you and you’re sitting on your bum with your hands folded on your lap like the good girl he made you into, that he clutches the back of your neck and smashes his mouth into yours, moving it against you with such strength and vigor that you struggle to devour him in the same manner. It causes you to claw at his sides, to long to see his body in its full, bare beauty. His imaginary wings wrap around you, sealing the resplendence of your orgasm profoundly inside your skin and when he tastes you, his growls traveling down your throat are the raindrops that the orchard inside you needs in order to grow. You help him by moaning back, the aftertaste of you the sunlight. 

Piercing his gaze into yours, he caresses your hair, messes up your diligently fixed updo. Catches your ribbon as it falls, wrapping it around his hand, the wisps dangling from his fingers like your leg was just a few moments ago. 

You’re so satisfied that you could cry. 

You don’t even understand what just happened and how it came to be. Don’t remember what occurred before you sat down in his car—Hobi has completely and wholly erased it. 

And it’s him who notices that your hand still carries the remnants of him. You don’t care to look—you can’t rip your gaze away from the shine on his face, from the gratification smoothing out his features, from the pink flush decorating the perfect redness of his swollen lips. But Hobi forces you to, in the tenderest of ways. Looks lovingly at your palm, cooing, shooting that look into your eyes, where it unfolds, creates something new that you never experienced before. And when he grins, your stomach flips, winged creatures intoxicated with madness inside. 

“You see what you did?” he whispers, the love in his eyes expanding, growing warmer, burning you faintly. “I want you to lick it up. You deserve every drop.” The breath you let out causes him to tremble and you cradle the fabric of his shirt in your fist. Hobi kisses your fingers, looking at you through them, his smile quivering. “Stick out your tongue for me, baby.” 

You do and he slides your palm over it, his salty nectar the sea that swam against your body a week ago in your healing time and you moan, devouring his taste like he devoured your mouth, licking it up, collecting it until there’s nothing left. You show him your tongue, then, and Hobi plays with it, using his thumb, your ribbon wrapped around his hand tickling your chin. He rubs it on the muscle, playing chase with you again until he tells you to suck it. And the sound that descends from his lips once you do makes you squeeze your thighs together, your own wetness dripping out of you. 

To end it, Hobi kisses your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds longer. Caresses your mouth, tracing each line, tracing your cupid’s bow, making you glisten with your own saliva. A shining, lively angel—just like him. You whimper. 

“Swallow it, baby.” 

You do, showing him the evidence that you obeyed after. 

“Good girl.” 

You take the underside of him, semi hard, into your hand, giggling, heart thumping. “You just made me horny all over again.”

Hobi hums, brushing his ribbon-clad fingers through your hair from the crown of your head. You want him to do that once you suck him off. “And you’re gonna make me hard all over again if you touch me like that.” 

You mimic the noise he made, squeezing him. Hobi curses, delighting you. “Let’s go inside. I owe you that breakfast, don’t I?” 

He kisses you, softly, with a hint of harshness that causes your nipples to harden painfully against your bra. You almost rub your clit again, so fucking out of it, crazed. 

“You do, baby.” 

You got everything you wanted in such a small amount of time that your vision twirls. Hobi is holding your hand as you’re leading him to your apartment, your ribbon still hanging from yours and his intertwinement, and your heart hasn’t stopped beating feverishly in your chest. Not even once. 

You’re facing the inevitable as you watch Hobi unlace his dress shoes on his knee, his cock stiff and uncomfortable in his pants. You’re brazenly falling for him. You know your hormones swirling your system from the lustfulness you indulged in aren’t to blame—if there’s anyone to blame, then it’s Hobi himself. You consider him to be such a beautiful person that you would be absolutely stupid, blind and deaf not to fall for him. And what’s more, you sense your decline to be safe. Stable. A leverage that won’t ever break. A ribbon that won’t fray. 

It’s as strange as it is inviting and your submission comes naturally to you. And this time, you don’t fear it won’t last. Don’t fear you’ll let up. There’s a sense vibrating in you that assures you that Hobi will take care of it. Put it back where it belongs if it ever strays. You don’t have to monitor it. You don’t have to do shit. 

You were wrong about one more thing. Hobi isn’t Daddy. 

He’s Father. 

It’s this thought that drives you to take off your dress and leave it in the middle of the floor that leads to your kitchen. You’re barren down to your soaked underwear, bra and knee socks, your feet basking in the way they don’t have to ache in your boots anymore. Pulling a plate of eggs out of the refrigerator, you set it on the counter, preparing a pan by oiling it on the stove. You hear Hobi’s feet pad on the floor as you pop some bread in the toaster and you turn your head, seeing only his dark silhouette standing behind you, your dress and your ribbon in his hands. 

Your heart quickens, abnormally. 

“How do you like your eggs?” you ask, resuming your cooking as you break the shell of an egg on the lip of the pan, spilling the delight into the bubbling oil. 

Hobi crosses the distance and you can only feel the softness of your ribbon when he places his hands on your hips, letting them travel until they stumble across the pooch of your lower belly. He groans, holding you there, pressing his hard, silk-clad cock against your nearly bare bum. 

Self-consciousness creeps in as he kneads one of your insecurities and you quiver, clasping your hand over his, your confidence wavering. 

“However you like them is how I like them,” Hobi flirts and you laugh through your nose, shaking your head, waiting for the egg white to fade into that milky color he painted your stomach with. 

Sunny side up it is. 

“Hobi, your game is out of this world,” you flirt back, sliding your spatula under the egg to check if it’s done before you can flip it. 

Hobi lowers himself onto his knees and you gasp, soundlessly. He begins to scatter violent kisses along the dots upon the flesh of your bum, sucking it into his mouth as if it were an orange he was sinking his teeth into. You have to grip the counter in order not to fall over, willing strength into your weakened legs. 

He bites the supple roundness of your ass cheek, smoothing out the pain with a flick of his tongue and kisses, gentle ones this time around. Hums. “Is it?” 

He glides his nose along the inner of your thigh, rooting right in the center of your pussy, burying his face there. You turn around halfway, arching your back, latching onto his hair that you’ve ruined, egg long forgotten. 

“Your thighs are wet again, fuck,” he whispers, mouthing your clit before he descends once again to them, licking them over, drinking your nectar that he’s created. Trails his tongue back up and, sliding your panties to the side, he takes you into his mouth, growling as he sucks onto your lips, playing with them using his tongue, hands spreading your ass cheeks, so he can have more space to make you absolutely lose yourself in him. 

And it’s working. Even more so when he begins to swirl his tongue around that other, tiny hole, causing your eyes to go cross before they roll back. Your head dips into a dreamy daze, where time doesn’t exist as he switches between flicking your clit and eating your ass and it isn’t until a certain burning smell suffuses your nostrils that you snap out of it. 

You’ve burned his egg, its edges black like the feathers of his imaginary wings, and you yelp, turning off the stove, pushing the pan away. 

“Hobi, I burned your egg,” you exclaim and he bends you over the counter while still remaining on his knees for you, sucking your clit with all the strength he possesses. Your climax pinches you in warning, lovingly, promising to melt over you like rain soon, so very soon. 

Hobi doesn’t give a fuck about his egg, it seems. 

“Just a little more, please,” he begs, moving his flat tongue from side to side on your bud, hands descending down your wet thighs until he reaches your knee socks, stopping there. Whimpers. 

That would’ve thrown you over the edge had he not pulled away, fingers wrapping around your knees. 

You turn around and the sight of him on his knees with his glazed nose, mouth and chin, with his cock pitifully erect in his pants, creating a print that makes you salivate, absolutely and irrevocably breaks you. You can still hear his plea ring in your mind, begging you to give him a few more seconds of your pussy, and your brain malfunctions. Numbness tightens around your fingers when you cradle his face and it feels so real when you do so—the fact that you’re wanted, desired; the fact that Hobi is the one in submission to you, dominant yet attentive to you to the point that he would never want do anything you wouldn’t. He listens to you, carves his life around you… and he hasn’t even known you for a month. 

You messed up his hair—and when you run your fingers through his strands, you feel your powerful ruination sifting through them, feel your seduction and your confidence, alive and breathing in that thick, dark brown mop of his. And now you crave to mess up his skin. Bruise it. Stain it with the pinks you can see in his imaginary wings. Watch them turn yellow like the rose gold in their flecks over the following days. 

You’re not letting go of him. 

Not when he looks at you like you’re Virgin Mary and he’s a sinner. 

You pull him up by the collars of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric, adding to the ruination, and it’s electrifying. He’s the cleanest sinner you’ve ever had the grace to see and you want to stain him. Beyond the stickiness of your juices. And when he towers over you and cages you in between his buff body and the counter, hands on either side of you upon the marble, his patchouli scent making you bloodthirsty, you don’t kiss him. No, you go straight for his neck. 

He didn’t expect it, groaning when you lick a stripe over his vein, sucking the skin inside your mouth. Over and over again until the sucking noises make him twitch and fist the ends of your hair, pressing his cock against your stomach. You’re feral, you’re inhuman, scattering kisses along that column like you’ve never had a man in your hands before. And it’s true. You never have. It was always you who had been in men’s hands. Never the other way around. 

Your fingers gain feeling when you undo the buttons of his shirt, ripping some of them, secretly preventing him from going to work after you’re finished with him. Unless you plaster your correcting concealers on him, he really can’t step a foot outside. The bruise you left on his column is huge, purply red, and the only thing it’s missing is bite marks. A joy rotates in you, rooting from the fact that you’re changing his plans, that you have an effect on him, and you unfold that emotion when you tug that shirt down his broad shoulders and press a kiss in the middle of his chest. 

But then Hobi grips your hair on the crown on your head, making you look at him. 

And you can’t explain it to yourself, why you like being manhandled like that, despite the freedom you just experienced. Like a child, whose father let her run free before he scolded her and told her to stop, for she ran for too long and it’s getting cold. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, lowly, and the tone etches itself onto your own throat because your answer is ready on the tip of your tongue, unabashed, dirty, throbbing.

“I need you to fuck me.” 

Hobi blinks, his brows rising, a light like a comet shooting past his irises before an unbounded, starless night shrouds them. 

You’ve done it. You’ve stained him. Now he needs to come all over you. Make a mess. Paint you again. 

He slackens his hold on your hair. Runs his hand down the length. “If I fuck you, I’ll breed you.” Curls his hand around your throat, where those words form a new necklace, plated with that rose gold. Your mouth parts, a moan falling past, your nectar in tandem, mind dizzy from the idea of being stuffed full of his cum. He flattens his palm over your sternum, hooks his fingers over the band of your bra in the middle of your breasts. You hope he chisels the lines of his hand into your skin. You want to wear him. “Are you on birth control?” 

You stopped taking it the moment you were broken up with. Didn’t think you’d need it so soon. Didn’t think you’d have a man in your life again, let alone sleep with him. 

Your body desires to please Hoseok so resolutely that a wisp of your regret swathes around his wrist—regret that you threw away those pills that are the driving force in his sexuality. He might have been okay with not taking this any further, but you’re not. You’re far, far from okay. 

You want to be bred. You want to be bred so much that you could cry. 

Your mouth pouts, but your sadness doesn’t touch your seduction. It merely heightens it. 

“You have a breeding kink?” you ask, mimicking his former words, causing him to drag his tongue over his lips slowly, divulging his arousal. It’s another tree that begins to grow in your orchard, planted by your bare hands. A cherry tree, its pink flowerets the flush that spreads across his prominent pecs. You want to make them shiny with your tongue. 

And you do. 

You place wet kisses over the underside of his left pec, nibbling on the skin, your small stature making it easy for you. Hobi inhales a sharp breath, sneaking his fingers under the cup of your bra, grasping your breast, squeezing until you whimper. 

“A severe breeding kink,” Hoseok corrects you, just like you did in his car. He pulls down your bra straps, his hand quick to undo the clasp on your back, disposing you of the undergarment, dropping it onto the ground. Gooseflesh spreads across your skin and you let him feel it, let him feel the effect he has on you by pressing yourself against him, twisting your arms around his torso. 

A tender hug, in the middle of a bonding moment. You’d be so happy, you’d laugh, you’d skip, if you had never thrown away those pills.

You wonder if he feels the drum of your heart, if he feels how it’s creating a brand new music that no human, no celestial being has ever heard before. 

“I stopped taking birth control several weeks ago, Hobi,” you say, your regret and your sadness lowering your tone. Hobi coos and it makes you want to sob. “Did you bring a condom?” 

He caresses your bare back, your hair a stream of a waterfall that he parts with his hand. “No, I didn’t expect this to happen.” 

You do the same for him, burying your face deeper into his chest, perceiving that you’re embracing a pure angel. You engrave patterns into his skin, feathers of wings that are dripping with the fire of stars. Even though you’re dying to get fucked, this tenderness is, little by little, appeasing your darkness in a way you don’t really understand. 

“We don’t have to do anything. I can make you come with my mouth again,” Hobi says, drifting his nails along the perimeter of your shoulder blade while his other hand grips your waist. The memory of the moons to the sky you paint on his back.

You lift your head. Meet the gray clouds in his eyes. “You want to breed me that bad?” 

A smile curls one end of his mouth. “It’s what you deserve.” 

The same smile finds a way to your mouth, then blossoms into a grin, your heart a heavy music, and you press it into the middle of his chest. Bite him there, his growls another instrument in the song. He clutches the hair at the nape of your neck, coaxing out a similar sound, your darkness a wave that ebbs to and fro. 

“Put it in my ass, then.” 

Hobi calls you by your name, sternly. 

“What?” 

He sighs. “You want to get fucked in your ass on the first date?” 

You don’t know what part of his sentence makes you hiccup. Whether it’s his purity, the fact that such an angel voiced out that lewd desire of yours and didn’t jump head-first into its sea—or whether he acknowledged, once again, that this is a date. Hobi laughs, endearingly, and you blush. He kisses your cheek, lifting your chin, placing a chaste kiss onto your lips and you could die right now and know you’ll be entering the pearly gates. He’s saved a spot for you there, negotiated with God that you’ll spend your eternity there like the businessman he is. 

It’s what propels you to get on your knees. 

“Baby.” 

And it’s him stopping you each time you want more that makes you fall for him harder. 

“You’re so good to me, Hoseok, I can’t help it. I want to give back to you as much as I can.” 

He utters a low, deep curse, tipping up his chin as he cradles your face in both hands. Helps you stand to your feet, kisses you with something that doesn’t resemble the chastity of before and you moan into his mouth, digging moons into his back. You press your pelvis against his thighs, frustrated that you can’t reach his manhood and Hobi hears you, lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him, grinding your femininity against his manliness, squeaking the same curses down his throat. 

“Fuck, baby, grind that pussy on me like that. Just like that, yes. You learn well, don’t you? You’re such a good girl, you just need to get fucked, don’t you, baby?” 

You agree with every word, your expression of pleasure saying the words for you, and Hobi moans, pushing your hips down on him while he meets you each time. 

“Where’s your bedroom, baby?” 

“Down the hall. First door to the right.” 

You suck on his neck as he takes you there, plopping you down onto the edge of your bed. You watch your hands undo the button of his pants, but then he accidentally kicks into something and you know exactly what it is. 

An orange Nike box filled with the two toys you own. 

And Hobi wouldn’t have crouched to get it had you not started giggling. 

How thrilling it is—to see him holding something so private, something no one has ever seen before. 

He palms his cock once he discovers what’s inside, rolling his eyes back. He throws the box next to you on the mattress, pushing you back and ripping your panties out of your body in a split second. Your giggles die, replaced by whimpers, replaced by the beat of your clit and his vulgarities as he pins your knees down, gazing, lovingly, at the way your nectar trickles down to your other hole. He bends to lick it up and you die, too. 

“Naughty fucking girl. How can you be so naughty and so good at the same time? You’re making me lose my mind,” Hobi snarls, putting his entire weight into the back of your knees and you gush for him, gasping, not able to take his praise, your hips instinctually raising for more of his tongue, which he slaps your thigh for. Once, twice, three times, four times until you whimper so loudly that there’s nothing else left for him to do but let up, grab your pink hitachi and lay down on his back, guide you to sit on his face. 

It’s now that he takes the time to ogle your body. His night-tinged eyes glide along your tan lines, his fingers tracing them, making you shudder and rotate your hips above his mouth that he wets and keeps wetting as if it’s not enough to quench his thirst. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he chokes out, brushing the pads of his fingers along your stiffened nipples. Fireworks shoot out above your orchard, casting a rainbow of colors upon the trees and bushes. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you to have you like this. You belong to that museum, baby, but I’d die if someone were to look at you in my place.” 

His possessiveness coated with so much affection and admiration for you elongate your imaginary wings. And you can’t halt the rounding of your mouth, the pool of tears that line your eyes, the cracking of your heart as you take in his precious words. You feel like flying; you feel like soaring free with the knowledge that with the two beats of his own wings he’ll catch up to you, fly with you like two doves. 

You want to kiss him. Pay your gratitude that way and when you begin to crawl down his body, he stops you by grabbing your waist, immobilizing you above his face. 

“Stay where you are. You’re not sitting on my cock until you come on my tongue. Is that what you want? Ride Daddy’s cock until he covers you with his cum?” 

You can’t take it anymore. You simply can’t. 

Hobi turns the vibrator to life and its buzzing sound makes you quiver. You lower yourself onto his mouth that he quickly opens for you, darting out his tongue. He lets you ride the muscle, guiding your hips to twirl in circles, and you hold onto your breasts for emotional support as you sense yourself slowly disappearing in him, in the pleasure he gives you, in his warm, dark aura. 

Your mouth has no lock, no force to stop it from speaking. 

“I was wrong, Hoseok,” you start, changing the direction—swinging your hips back and forth as you grab onto his hair with one hand while the other stimulates your nipple, making you pant, whine and so terribly out of it. “It’s not your game that’s out of this world. It’s your fucking dirty talk.” 

Hobi hums, flicking your hand away and pinching your nipple, causing you to tip your head back and pour more vigor into your movement, his mouth too busy to respond. 

“If you ever talk to anyone like this that’s not me, I’ll kill her, you hear me? She won’t live to see the next day.” 

It’s Hobi now that can’t seem to take it anymore. 

Holding you steady by the waist, he sits up, sucking on your clit with so much strength that you scream, your body shuttering so violently that you completely lose yourself. He throws you onto your pillows, raises your hips until they’re at level with his mouth and finishes his fucking job. Alternates between sucking and licking, stars flooding your vision, the ones you traced on his beautiful, broad back. 

You come and you don’t stop. 

Hobi spits on your clit and presses down the hitachi on it, moving it from side to side, your orgasm prolonging, reaching highs beyond the heavenly kind and all you can see is him, doused in colors that glimmer and his name, the right variation of it this time, falls from your lips like a prayer. Right variation, right prayer. 

Virgin Mary that is looking at her God. 

Setting the toy and your bum on the bed, he takes both of your hands into his fist as you’re still convulsing, in the middle of your undying orgasm. He lines his cock at your entrance, changes his mind last minute, and glides it along your sensitive pussy, holding himself at the base. Back and forth, the ebb and the flow of the sea. The sight does anything but calm you down. It supports the continuation of your orgasm. 

“Listen to me very carefully,” he whispers, lowering your hands to his manhood until they wrap around him. “This cock has been yours the moment you came out of this fucking building to meet me outside. Every ridge, every fucking vein is yours.” He squeezes your hold against him, moving it up and down in an agonizing way that makes him shudder just the same. God at a very breaking point. “And these—” He groans as he uses your hands to cup his balls. “These fucking kids are all yours. Yours to swallow. Yours to decorate this beautiful body with. Yours to stuff your little hole with.” Your chest doesn’t rise with any inhalation of breath. You’re motionless, bloodless, paralyzed through and through. Scorching to the touch. Horny beyond your senses. Hobi pins your hands above your head, lining himself up, at last, at your entrance. Sinks inside you in one swift, but vigorous motion until he’s buried in deep to the hilt and he consumes your scream, kissing you so hard that he sucks every last drop of life you had in you. Then, he nudges his nose against yours, kissing its tip as well. “So don’t think for a second that these eyes are for anyone else but you.” A brutal thrust. A yelp. A loss of time and surroundings. “I’m yours, pup. I’m fucking yours.” A mad, mad laughter. “I’ve known you for a week. Ate your pussy first before I kissed you. And you touched yourself in my fucking car because you got horny from the way I praised you in that museum. How could I not be yours?”

The pet name, the magnificence of his sonnet, the stillness of his cock as you clench around him—the very cozy feeling of him being at home, being at the mountain of Athos that you blessed. You feel so small beneath him, so taken care of—and you’re at loss for words, though only one remains in your otherwise erased vocabulary, and from the top of your lungs, you utter it.

“Daddy.” 

His imaginary wings flutter, the pink swelling over the black, and he growls, letting go of your hands and folding you in half, leaning his weight on the back of your thighs. Props an overlapped pillow beneath your bum, so you’re at the perfect level for him to start fucking you properly.

And he does, coaxing out your screams, causing your legs to shake on either side of his shoulders. 

“That’s right, pup. I’m your Daddy. You’re doing so good, screaming for me the way I like it.” 

Hobi pounds into you, giving you a half of his length that’s more than enough. Bends at the waist to scatter wet kisses along the back of your thigh, filling you to the hilt as he does so, your juices squelching around him, making such a serene, glorious sound that forces him to bite down hard onto your flesh. No alleviation after, just long and ruthless strokes while he stares down at you, eating you with his eyes. The ghost of the pain lingers, adding to the experience, adding volume to your whiny noises. 

“You’re taking it so well. You’re a good pup, aren’t you?” 

You sob, the pressure gyrating deep in your lower tummy, the pet name the thing that will throw you over the edge if he calls you by it again. “Yes, Daddy. I love it when you call me that.” 

A hum. “Oh, yeah?” 

There he fucking goes again. 

A dam rushes to break and you’re defenseless.

“Yeah, I love it so much that it’s gonna make me come.” 

Hobi sucks in a breath. “Tell me you’re my good little pup and I’ll let you come.” The same breath he inhaled lodges in your throat and you watch him with a blurry vision reach over for your hitachi and turn up the intensity until the vibrations are so loud that you hear them echoing within your headspace.

He fucks you faster, ridding you of any chance to speak. Teases you with the toy by placing it, barely, on your stiffened nipple, leaning over to moisten it with his tongue before doing it again. And you can’t stop it and neither can he, the way your orgasm overtakes your whole being. It’s at this moment, when he thrusts become sloppy, that you manage to croak out the words he wanted you to say. 

“I’m your good little pup, Hoseok, oh fuck, yes, yes,” you whisper, your sentence blending into an efflux of legato moans—and this, this is his very undoing. 

And Hobi does something you didn’t expect him to do. 

As colors burst in your perspective and your orgasm drags you under, he stimulates your clit with the toy, pulling out of you and pressing his tip against its vibrating side, growling so deeply that it forces your juices out of you, sprinkling him with its iridescent drops as he tugs at his length. He paints your stomach, paints the hitachi, his nectar so enormous that it lands upon your breasts, even as far as on your neck. His body glistens in sweat and now your essence—and looking at him with your hazy vision, another orgasm rolls in. 

You thrash your body so hard he has to pin you down, ripping the pillow out from behind you, laying down his weight on you. He kisses you and the lip lock lasts, seemingly, for a century. He moves his mouth against yours, basking in the feel of your puffy mouth as he alters between kissing you harshly and kissing you gently, getting to know you this way. 

And when he lets up to breathe, he brushes your hair away, flings the vibrator out until it falls off the bed. 

“Say it again,” Hobi says, affection flashing in his now rounded eyes, its warmth thumping. “Louder, for me.” 

Your throat is dry, but you manage to do it with a sleepy smile. Think you would do anything to please him. “I’m your good little pup.” 

Cupping your face, he kisses you with such tenderness that you begin to cry. Your tears soak his cheeks and he whimpers into your mouth, moved just the same by the depth, the vibrancy of the energy thickening between you. 

And when he looks at you, his own tears rush in his waterline. 

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, pausing for a second. “What have you done to me?”

When afternoon rolls in, Hobi is still tangled up in your sheets. You brought him breakfast to bed, one you didn’t burn this time, while he rested, naked and gratified, still flushed in pink, but clean from your shower. His patchouli scent intermingled with your body wash, cinnamon and lemon, concocting something intoxicating in you that made you see him with a halo above his head. He became a saint by giving in to his desires, by coming so hard that you still feel his hot ropes of cum singeing all those sensitive, intimate parts of your body. Hobi took his time tracing and smearing each and every drop, rubbing it deep in you as if he was digging a grave for your past. And you watched him do it, with tear-stained cheeks, acknowledging yourself, just as intimately, with the information that this is something Hobi likes to do.

You plan to put that into practice the next time you get to touch him. 

He’s grazing his fingers along your arm as you’re laying halfway on your side, halfway on him, your leg in between his. Seems to be lost in thought, seems to be searching for his words when he widens his travel across your body, going as far as to the peaks of your shoulder blades before returning back. You feel an inkling to help him, feel like it’s the least you can do. 

“What are you thinking about?” you try, dragging a finger across his collarbone. Hobi sighs, so terribly reactive to your touch, your head lifting in such a calming manner as he breathes in and out. 

“Did I scare you with what I said?”

His heart under your ear begins to hammer and right away you understand the gravity of his question. He’s lost himself in a flashback of today’s sinful events, but stumbled across a high, overpowering mountain of his bared emotions—the blessed mountain of Athos. And it seems as though he’s forgotten the way back, the trees around him growing dense, the trees of panic that whisper to him that, maybe, he made a mistake. 

You hope, with every fiber of your being, that he doesn’t regret those words of beauty that have come to live under your skin like planets in the universe that you and he have created. 

That would ruin you. That would break you—and not in the pleasant kind that you like. That universe would drop upon you and you don’t think you’re strong enough to pick up your own half of your creation, shake it off and learn to live again. 

You straddle him and he covers you with your duvet. Not your naked breasts, but your torso, inviting you into that island. You thought he did to prevent distraction from weakening his focus, but he doesn’t regard your body like that—doesn’t regard it as an instrument of lust. Something about that moves you, enough for you to take his hands, your thumbs in the middle of his palms, and spatter your soft kisses on them. On his fingers, his knuckles. And when you reach the back of his hand, you halt, boring your gaze into his, catching that comet flying past his eyes again and staying this time, staying in the glint that appears as his brown pools wet. 

“Your words mean a lot to me. I carry them in my heart. You know that poem?” 

Hobi shakes his head, flattening his lips, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

You don’t mind. You’re delighted to enlighten him. 

“I carry your heart with me,” you recite, keeping the heel of his palm against your lips. “I carry it in my heart. I am never without it. Anywhere I go, you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling,” you finish the first stanza of the poem that has not left your bloodstream ever since you were a teenage girl. Sharing that with him brings out a sea of feelings you remember your past self invariably longed to swim in. Tenderness, closeness, passion. Having it now feels as though you’ve passed a milestone. Hobi’s halo flashes with a rosy pink hue and your softened heart constricts. “The things you said were my doing, Hobi.” 

He caresses your side, starting from your armpit, going down the side of your breast, your waist until he arrives at the fleshy part of your hip, which he grasps. His chin quivers as he opens his mouth to speak and a lump forms in your throat. 

“You’re a poem, pup,” he whispers, circling his thumb over your tummy. “You don’t mind that I said those things?” 

You kiss his hands again, upon the same places to make your affection last longer on his skin. Your clit awakens at the pet name and naturally, you scooch over until you’re sat on his soft manhood over the duvet and you begin to move your hips back and forth. Hobi hisses, but doesn’t stop you this time. Lets you do what you want in the safety you conjured around him. 

“Say them again.” 

You speed up your movement. 

Hobi moans. Pauses. Swallows. Thinks. “I’m yours.” 

You grind harder in reward, moaning with him, feeling him stiffen under your clit, feeling him comprehend that you love those declarations. 

“My cock is yours,” he breathes out, his other hand joining the other and gripping your hip, digging in his nails. Another half moons, another beauty, intensifying the pleasure. You lick your fingertips and pinch your nipples. Hobi shudders, visibly, underneath you. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna have to cancel my work meeting.” 

You laugh, meekly but seductively, prolonging your thrusts, slowing them down, coaxing pained groans out of him. A delight. “Who said I wanted you to go?” 

Hobi curses, switching places with you on a whim that surprises you, bends you over, arches your back by lifting your bum in the air. The duvet falls, sadly, off of the mattress—and your soul, for him, falls equivalently. 

He slaps the side of your thigh. One, twice, thrice. “Who’s pussy is this?” 

You long to see him, your soul begs for it. Whispers to you to grab your phone and you do, swiping your finger on the screen and angling it so your camera has a blissful view of him. Of him fixed, darkly, on your ass and your femininity in the middle. 

Curious to know what’s taking you so long to answer, his brows rise as he discovers what you’re doing and he bites his lip, pulls on your legs to straighten them and you plop down on the mattress with a loosened breath. He gets in the same position. Licks over the swell of your ass cheek. 

“Film it. Film yourself telling me who’s pussy this is,” Hoseok commands and in a millisecond, without a thought spared, you click on the red button, excitement tingling your nerves. 

“My pussy is yours, Hoseok.” 

His eyes flick to the camera, meeting your stare, and your breath hitches, the view so attractive as he mouths that skin, marking it. He sneaks a hand to your clit, lifting his body a little, and spanks the spot he bruised. You gasp, elated, humming in a high-pitched tone, causing him to smirk. 

“Ride my hand. Whose pussy is this, baby, hm?” 

You snap your hips, furrowing your brows at the faint pleasure, at the desperation that courses through your veins. 

“Yours, Hoseok, ah, fuck. I want you inside me, please.” 

And he takes you, right there on camera, from behind—immortalizing your inside joke as you and him mention it and laugh about it together, immortalizing the way he paints your wings that ivory color and the way he rubs it in, sinking it deep within its membrane. 

And when you’re so spent that you can’t keep your eyes open and Hobi is drifting his mouth over your breasts, he tells you to send it to him. And with one cracked open, you do. 

It’s later in the evening that you find out that it wasn’t Hobi you sent that video to and your blood freezes. 

Your phone rings and Jungkook’s picture fills the screen. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah, @fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist | READ part one

[chimcess]

Afterglow || jhs

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Other tags: Vampire!Hoseok, Vampire!Reader Genre: Supernatural!AU, Vampire!AU, Twilight Universe, established relationship, fluff, smut, pwp Word Count: 4.5k+ Synopsis: "A loud crack of lighting boomed in the distance followed by a low rumbling. The storm was here. My love was not. I kept watching and waiting." Warnings: Character death (brief), mental illness (not reader and very brief), penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, lots of licking, kisses, slow and deep, Hoseok is a vocal boy, they are so in love, edging, over stimulation, hair pulling, man handling, growling, body worship, breast worship, unprotected sex (stay safe), vampire/animal sounds, implied outdoor sex, they are honestly so freaking cute, let me know if I missed anything A/N: So, I recently rewatched the entire Twilight Saga and couldn't stop myself. I promise they have nothing to do with the Cullens. I'm simply borrowing S.Meyer's universe for a second. Thanks for reading.

Staring out of the second story window, I frowned. There was a thunderstorm on its way and the wind was harsh. Still, I stayed put. I would not move until I knew he was coming back.

The first few droplets that landed against my cheeks were freezing and as the rain started coming down, I got soaked. There had been a window here once but after a rather unfortunate night, one where mama had shouted and threw a candlestick holder at my head, the glass was all but gone. Only one singular piece along the very bottom of the trim remained.

She was dead now, well, as dead as I believed her to be. Daddy, too. Only I remained. The house had been suffocating at first, my body unable to handle the loneliness. My memories of the attack were weak and dimly lit, but I could never forget the moment the burn began. I will never forget what led up to it.

At the ripe age of nineteen, my father was planning to marry me off to a local boy called Percival Hobbs. Mr.Hobbs was a fine gentleman, his sensibilities and wit uncharacteristically gentle and kind for a man of the era. We were both middle classes, his family only slightly richer than my own, and well matched. I was happy to be marrying him, especially when he told me his plans of expanding his father’s business out of Virginia. I hated this place back then; I could recall that fairly well despite the thick film which covered my old life.

My mother was an unusual woman of which I had gotten my own set of quirks. When I was young, I could remember her singing as she cooked, weaving flowers through her greasy hair as she doted on my father as if he were a king. We never went without, and her joy was contagious. My mother, for all intents and purposes, was a happy person. Perhaps a bit odd, she was more outspoken and considered rather rude to the other women in Richmond, but no one could truly say anything bad about her.

It was only after a particularly nasty accident that her behavior changed. We were on our way to visit her sister in Norfolk when our horses were startled by something out in the woods. Our carriage took a fall and my mother hit her head on a rock. We were all lucky to have survived the ordeal, something my father praised God for, but mama was never the same. She never smiled, hardly spoke, and could never find the melodies of the songs she had loved so dearly. It was as though a switch had been flipped and the light within her was turned off.

Daddy was nervous, as was I, but childish worries and adult sorrow were different. I believed she was sad, but my father knew she would never return back to normal. His work became more demanding after that. As a lawyer, my father was held in high regard at the time and worked long days and nights in order to provide for the three of us. They never bore another child. I believe it was because my mother could no longer stand to be touched and my father could never hurt her, even if it broke his heart.

Years passed that way until a sudden change began to occur. No longer was she silent, but the songs she sang were very different. Her eyes were more alive than they had been in a long, long time, and her voice had come back. The joy of this was short lived, however, as her delusions started soon after. Men who were not really men, monsters who could love, and things that would reflect like diamonds in the sunlight. All of it rubbish, all of it insane, but all of it real in her fragmented mind.

Daddy was planning on getting her committed after she said there were people living in the walls of our home. He might have killed her for declaring her love for a man who shined in the sun if he had not believed her to be completely psychotic. All the while I watched as the woman I held dearly began to hate and resent the both of us. That was when the shouting started, the violence, and then father had no choice but to call the doctor.

He had no way of knowing the chain of events that could cause, nor the dire consequences it would have on me. The doctor came to the house a little after midnight to take my mother away. She screamed and thrashed violently as she went, calling out to her monster to come and save her.

His name had been Louis and I only remember it because of what happened next. She had only said his name once, a broken and terrified cry for help, when the figure appeared. He was a beautiful man; his skin so pale it shined in the carriage’s lantern light. I do not remember if his hair had been brown or black, it was too dark to make out, but I did know his eyes were red. Bloody, dripping with hatred, and trained on the hands of the doctor holding my mother.

The doctor was dead in the next breath he took, my mother curling into the beast’s chest in complete hysterics. Louis then looked at my father, his intentions clear, before finding me. I was crying, my nightgown thin and exposing, and my own horror was reflected back at me. Whatever he saw that day made all the difference. Killing my father was easy for him to do. If he was my mother’s lover, then he would have hated the man who bore her children. I don't remember screaming but I could recall my mother telling me not to be afraid. Louis would make it quick. My death, she said, would be painless.

It was not. When Louis’s teeth sank into my neck, I only felt the slightly pinprick of pressure before I grew tired and weak. I knew I would die, and I did not fight it. I was either too weak or shell-shocked to put much behind it. Then, he was off of me, and I was fighting to keep my eyes open.

“You will be magnificent,” He whispered, kissing my cheek. His voice was soft, presumably to keep my mother from hearing us. I would never know why. “I will take care of her. You take care of yourself, little one.”

Then they were gone, Louis and my mother both. I had barely managed to crawl back inside, my hand clutching the wound on my neck, when the burning started. It lasted for three days and when it was over, I woke up afraid and starved. My father and the doctor were still outside, but I did not care who they were. I drained what was left of them before realizing what I had done. Ashamed and mortified, I put them both in the carriage and set it on fire. No one could know what had happened, of that I was certain.

The next few years of my life were spent in the forests of Virginia staying out of sight and hunting. I lived off of animals mostly, their deaths did not weigh down on my conscience as much as a human's did. My family home was vacant, untouched, and our names were forgotten to time. In 1875, I finally emerged from my isolation in the forests and moved back in. By 1900, I was able to venture into town on a rare occasion when the sun was well hidden beneath a thick layer of clouds. The house had gone through very few changes and the room I stood in now had been my father’s study. I hated the thought of touching anything in it, but I knew I would need to fix this issue. I could feel how weak the wood around it was becoming.

A loud crack of lighting boomed in the distance followed by a low rumbling. The storm was here. My love was not. I kept watching and waiting.

I met Hoseok through coincidence. My friend Seokjin, a Korean immigrant who traveled across the world as a nomad, had stumbled across the boy when he was dying from tuberculosis on the streets of New York. Jin, feeling sorry for the young man, changed him as he had done so five other times. All of his children were nomads, two of them finding their mates, and I got along with them rather well. Hoseok was no exception.

Jin had come to me after Hoseok had taken a swipe at his sire’s own newly transformed mate, Evelyn. The boy needed someone to help him with his temper and dealing with two newborns was rather difficult. I remembered my own early years with distaste. We acted more like animals than people.

Hoseok arrived on my doorstep in 1953, angry, hungry, and completely irrational. He was just over a year old and while the worst of it was over, he had a gift that took its toll on him. Not all of our kind had an extra sense. Jin, for example, was completely normal. His beauty was unparalleled, but even in his human life he was the most handsome man one could have met. Hoseok, however, was not as lucky.

The boy was incredibly powerful, his ability to hypnotize anyone with the sound of his voice was something the Volturi, the leaders and rulers of our kind, would love to get their hands on. For Hoseok, it made his thirst grow quicker and he lacked control of it. He could easily manipulate those around him without meaning to, which was why his brothers did not want to deal with the task. I was Jin’s last resort and the only reason he had come to me was my own gift.

I lived in my world in a sort of bubble. Gifts, no matter the kind, were ineffective against it. The bubble was invisible, elastic, and malleable, but impenetrable. I could choose to remove it from myself and take the brunt of whatever ability was being thrown at me, but I had only done it twice. Both times had been when Jungkook had come to see me and wanted to know if his gift, to make fake clones of himself, could throw me off. He won the first round, but I came out on top the second time. Being the sore loser he is, Jungkook never asked for a rematch.

Hoseok and I took some time to warm up to one another. The pull toward him was instantaneous but he was too young and wild for either one of us to explore what that could mean. The first five months was spent chasing him down before he could attack the unsuspecting townsfolk in Richmond. Then it was showing him the way I hunted. When his eyes changed from red to amber to gold, his mood stabilized. Our friendship was finally able to take root and before long our love bloomed.

After our first kiss under the stars in the trees that surrounded my home, we were connected so deeply that removing one would surely bring death upon the other. When I was a child, I had been disappointed to grow up in the East. We were in the more rural part of Richmond and all of the girls at school made fun of me for being a ‘country bumpkin.’ As a vampire, however, my little ranch was a paradise. Hoseok and I could make love for hours and no one would hear a thing.

Right now, during this thunderstorm, would be prime time for us to lose ourselves within one another. It was a shame he had decided to go hunting alone today. Hoseok liked having space far more than I did, but I understood his wants and needs and gave him what he asked for. I could only hope his delay was from him getting distracted and not an unfortunate slip up. He had them more than I did, and they ruined his mood for weeks.

Finally, I saw him. His black hair was slick and stuck to his forehead from the rain, the linen pajamas he had worn out transparent and heavy. Elated to finally have him home, I jumped out of the window and crashed into him. The sound was thunderous.

Hoseok laughed, “Hey there, Sunshine.”

On top of him, I sighed, holding him close to me. The rain was cold, but it would not bother me. I could not get sick. Capturing his lips, I finally felt at ease. I did not like it when he was gone. The house was too quiet.

“I love you,” I sighed, feeling my body hum to life with need. “I missed you. Touch me.”

This aspect of our love life had been difficult for me at first. I was from an era when a woman did not speak this way, but after gentle coaxing from my lover, I had gotten over the prudishness of the 1850s. We were, after all, more connected than any human couple could hope to be. Gripping my hips, Hoseok licked my bottom lip.

“Can we go inside?” He asked, nipping at my chin as my hands shredded his shirt. “The rain is distracting.”

I nodded and he scooped me up, carrying me back inside at our natural speed. We were fan, faster than any living thing on the planet, and able to see the world clearly as we passed it by. Hoseok ripped the front door of its hinges, making me laugh. He was always so impatient when it came to sex.

We ran up the steps, passing the study on the way to our bedroom. The door was still open, the rain pouring into it. I wondered briefly what my father would have thought of Hoseok. Then his lips were attached to my ear and all thoughts of my father were gone.

He was less aggressive with the door to our bedroom. A creak inaudible to the human ear sent a chill up my spine as I clung to his wet body. His skin felt hot under my hands despite how cold we both were. Hoseok was panting like a dog, more from his excitement than any real need for air.

He laid me down on our bed gently before tearing off my dress. The chemise pulled apart as easily as a piece of paper. Hoseok’s mouth found my chest as soon as it was exposed to him, mouth finding a nipple as a hand fiddled with the other. Whining, I buried my hands in his hair and held him close to me.

“I missed you so much,” I cried out.

Hoseok bit down on the little nub before letting it go with a loud smack. Fingers still twisting and brushing my right nipple, he smiled down at me. Topaz eyes were pitch black with desire and a low purr reverberated through his chest. I felt it in my groin.

“I missed you more,” He replied huskily.

I smiled shyly, reaching out for him. Hoseok leaned into my touch, purring increasing as I caressed his face. Pouting my lips, I begged him to come closer with my eyes. He smiled; his eyes soft.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now.”

He sucked on my chest for what felt like hours, grinding his hips down to meet my own, and purring like a cat the entire time. He had always embraced the more animalistic aspects of our life. My breathy sighs spurred him on, my hands increasing their wandering across his torso, as I silently pleaded with him for more. Hoseok only made me wait a few moments more before sloppy kisses descended down my stomach.

A thin pair of cotton underwear separated us, but he simply licked over the fabric. I cried out, the pleasure sending shockwaves through my body. Long, hard swipes of his tongue had my writhing, his breath so hot and warm against me it felt like I was taking a scolding bath. With every lick and suck I felt myself grow hotter. Hoseok lost himself to his own pleasure, rubbing himself against the mattress as he held my legs apart.

Sex was not always so brazen. Our first few times were more primal, the need to be close after months of dancing around the issue making the release all the more powerful. After that, I had grown slightly shy. Hoseok had taken to leaving my top on during those days, letting me grow more comfortable in his presence, and taking me so gently I cried. The next 70 years have taught us a great deal about one another, and now sex was just a part of who we were. Not a day went by that we were not lost to it, each time bringing out a different part of us, before going back to our respective hobbies. In a storm like this, however, I imagined we would not leave this bed.

“Please,” I whined. “More.”

Finally, the thin piece of cotton was removed, and his tongue was on me. Long and broad at first, he liked to play with me for a few moments before diving in. Unlike myself, my love had enough patience to watch and wait. Savoring it, he said. I think he just enjoyed being the only person who could see my eyes roll back in ecstasy.

I felt the ghost of his fingers trailing down my leg at the same time his mouth found my clitoris. I hissed, back arching off the bed as he swirled his tongue around the bud. His finger pressed against my opening. I gushed around it, grinding my hips down and forcing the tip inside of me. Hoseok groaned, tongue becoming more aggressive. I cried out, pushing down again and swallowing more of his finger. Finally, with a deep growl, he pushed it the rest of the way and added another immediately after.

I had never felt more alive than when we were in this bed. With Hoseok on top of me, eyes hungry and watching my every move like I was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. The monster within me was finally asleep as I became all consumed with his touch. Finding the soft bundle of nerves within me, Hoseok purred. I sobbed, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Look at you,” Hoseok rasped, moving from my sex to watch me. His fingers stretched me out as my hips raised to meet his thrusts. “So pretty and warm.”

He kissed my neck, “Your body is so beautiful.”

Languid kisses down across my throat, teeth gently grazing the skin, before trailing back down to my breasts. They had always been his favorite part of my body. He licked down the swell before kissing my nipple. His fingers sped up their menstruations making me mewl.

“God,” He croaked, voice deeper than normal. “You love this, don’t you?”

I nodded, body twitching and convulsing. “Yes.”

“Tell me how much,” He sucked on my left nipple.

I struggled to find words. My body was on fire now, my stomach tightening and expanding, and I knew I was close. My thighs were shaking so violently I would be embarrassed if it was anybody else, but this was Hoseok, and I knew he was happy to see my body singing for him. Somehow, I managed to speak.

“So much,” I breathed. “I love it so much.”

Sitting back on his ankles, he smirked. His shirt was gone and his toned body was on full display. I would never get bored of looking at him. Hoseok was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

“You’re so messy,” His voice was like velvet. “So wet for me.”

His thumb found my clit and I was cumming before I could really savor the feeling. With a loud shout, I fell apart with Hoseok’s eyes on me. I was wired up and so desperate for more I began to beg. My pleas came out without a single thought behind them. I was drunk on pleasure and yearning for more.

“Just relax,” He finally said, hovering over me once more. His fingers were gone now and I began to tear at his pants. They were still wet and his skin had cooled the rain even further. “I’m going to take care of you.”

My hands were all over him. With his pants disposed of and his cock out, I held it tightly as I began to work my hands in a rhythm I knew he loved. Hoseok let out a guttural sound, a mix between a bear and a mountain lion, as he began to fondle my breasts again. Flicking my nipples, he fucked himself into my hand as he panted.

“Stop,” He grunted, grabbing hold of my wrist. “Grab your legs.”

I did as I was told. It had been difficult to let go of my control in the beginning. I was such a tightly wound person, my need for schedules and sameness a byproduct of my upbringing. I was raised to be prim, proper, and well put together. Even if I did not feel well, I was to be washed, dressed, and smiling all day long. Father would not accept anything less.

When my sexual relationship with Hoseok started, that was still a large part of who I was. When we changed we were frozen in time. It took a lot to cause great change within our kind. For myself, I had only had two since the burning stopped. The first was my decision to stop hunting the humans in my area. Animal blood helped calm the raging anger and depression I carried over from the last night I was alive. The second had been Hoseok’s arrival. Our mates changed us in the most profound way, and his existence made the looming sadness I carried with me fade. It was not gone, it would never fully heal for that was impossible, but he made the gaping hole in my heart three times smaller.

The other thing that changed was my horrible habit of controlling the people around me. Jin and the others all commented on my inability to relax or let go. Jimin, the first person Jin had ever changed, had joked that I was the only vampire in existence with wrinkles. I laughed at the time, but after Hoseok came to me I realized he had been right. I was always stressed, always striving for perfection, and always disappointed when it never came to fruition.

Laying underneath him, I was in awe at how easily I pushed my legs up against my chest. My arm pinned them down. There was not a worry about how improper I looked or if my hair was splayed out nicely. I did not care if this was perfect because I knew we were. Hoseok pressed himself to my entrance and I smiled. I did not need perfection so long as I had him.

Pushing himself into me, he cried out in pleasure while I chanted ‘yes’ over and over and over again. Buried to the hilt, Hoseok took a moment to hook my legs around his hips and kissed the tip of my nose. With a soft declaration of his love, he began to move.

I held onto his arms with everything I had. Hoseok was stronger than I was so I did not need to worry about my own strength bothering him. Outside the storm raged on while we rejoiced in our pleasure. Hoseok’s thrusts were hard, steady, and hit my deepest spot with precision. After so long we had one another memorized.

“S’good,” Hoseok slurred, his hips pistoning into me roughly. “You feel so good.”

I whimpered, “Baby, please.”

He grabbed my hair, roughly shoving my face into the mattress as he lifted his leg onto the bed. I wailed, his cock pounding into my g-spot making me see stars. His own sounds grew louder, growls and snarls filling the space as the sounds of us coming together grew louder and louder.

Fire was pooling in my lower abdomen, so hot it rivaled my change. I could feel Hoseok pulsing inside of me, his grip on my hair still hard and strong. Then he tugged, my head lifting off the bed as he manhandled me. He forced our mouths together, a clashing of teeth and tongue as he chased his own high. Time began to slow before fading, the fire all consuming, and I could no longer respond to Hoseok’s kisses. He let go of me then and I fell back onto the bed.

Everything faded into white, hot, searing sparks shooting up my entire body and licking my bones on their way out. I could vaguely hear the sound of something being torn as my body convulsed with the weight of my orgasm. Above me, Hoseok stuttered.

“I love you,” He said, his own pleasure closing in.

I hardly paid him any attention. Our kind would never tire, never sleep, or sweat, but I was positive I was at least two of them at this moment. I felt like I was in a trance as I watched him fall apart, his eyebrows pulled together and his mouth agape. His grunts and groans were more like cries now, higher and pitch and breathless. Then, with one final thrust he was spilling into me.

We stayed that way for a while, Hoseok inside of me as we looked into one another's eyes. Neither one of us was particularly tired but I knew we would take a break before our next round. The both of us enjoyed the human charade of cuddling and pretending to sleep for a time. Eyes closed and breathing evenly before finally one of us would break. Outside a particularly loud rumble made him grin.

“How would dancing in the rain sound?” He asked.

I laughed, heart full now that he was here.

“What kind of dancing?” I teased, already knowing my answer.

“Well, it will not require clothing.”

I pushed him away, sending his body back toward the other side of the room. With a wicked grin, Hoseok jumped to catch me, but I was already gone. If Hoseok was the strongest, I was the fastest. I ran down the hall, into my father's study, and out of the window with Hoseok fast on my trail.

My change had always seemed so meaningless before Hoseok came. Years spent wondering Louis’s reasoning and subsequent abandonment. I had never seen nor heard from either Louis or my mother since that night, and that left so much time for me to grow angry and bitter about this life. I hated what I was and who I was forced to be.

Now, running in with Hoseok in the afterglow of our love I realized something that would cause a third change within me. Everything that had led me up to this moment was worth it. All of the pain, loneliness, and heartache I had gone through was not a curse. It was a precursor. Every memory leading to the very reason for my existence closer still. A smile stretched across my face, one of my rarest, largest of smiles, and I let Hoseok catch me.

As long as he was here, nothing else mattered.

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[magicshopaholic]

Part 1: A Rainy Day

Summary: Namjoon is on holiday with his girlfriend - and without Namjoon, all hell breaks loose.

Pairing: OT7 x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Humour, fluff, angst, chaos

Word count: 6.9 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language

A/N: I can't believe we're finally here! This fic has been in mind for so long, slowly evolving from a concept with a soundtrack to a whole outline and now to a complete half of a fic! Everything from the song to the situation to the leap that most of the characters will take feel like a milestone, so here's hoping it's a good one *insert gatsby meme*

The teaser to this fic got a lot of reactions :D so to make it worth the anticipation, this will be split into two parts. It is set a week or so after Dinner at the Kangs'. Enjoy!

Tagging: @bbl32@quarter-life-crisis2@dreaming-with-happiness@faearchives@margopinkerton@purpleseoul7@confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang @xjoonchildx @tarahardcore @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids @whoisbts @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “bittersweet symphony" by the verve

teaser | main masterlist

November in Seoul rolls around unexpectedly soon and occupies its usual position: a harbinger of the cold and white winter months, making the heat and humidity of summer a distant memory.

With BTS’s world tour officially at an end, followed by its normal uptick in concert clips and dance challenges floating around the internet while the company celebrates amidst figurative piles of cash, the members finally have the luxury of a few weeks off work where seeing them off stage and in casuals is the new novelty.

This includes Namjoon as well. After a tumultuous year of heartbreak and pain and longing, along with the real and genuine fear that he may have to give up the girl of his dreams due to extenuating circumstances, he and Kaya mutually decide that they need time away to reconnect with each other. Leaving behind their homes in Seoul and Amsterdam respectively, they reunite at Auckland Airport from where they take a cab in relative anonymity to begin their vacation.

With Namjoon gone, the company automatically takes it easy on the group as well. With Namjoon gone, the members manage to relax, able to keep an additional distance between them and the company before work inevitably starts again and the nomadic life of sleepless nights, dance practices and event appearances resurface.

Perhaps they underestimate their leader’s role in their lives, or it simply does not occur to them just how dependent they all are on each other after a decade of working, living and breathing in synchronicity. Namjoon is only gone for three weeks in total - but with Namjoon gone, all hell breaks loose.

With Namjoon gone, one member crosses a line.

With Namjoon gone, one member unintentionally makes a mess.

With Namjoon gone, one member makes a joke without realising its consequences.

With Namjoon gone, one member does something he’s ashamed of.

And with Namjoon gone, two members kiss someone they shouldn’t.

—

“Screen, food, lights - check.” Jimin tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he frowns at his phone screen, eyes flitting between it and the writing pad he’s hastily scribbling on. “Need to pick up the champagne - oi, Jungkook, can you give me a ride to the liquor store? My car is getting serviced this weekend.”

“What about your Toyota?”

“It’s at my apartment. That’s farther than the liquor store.”

Jungkook pauses and looks up from the stove, across the kitchen island from Jimin. “Wait, the liquor store is in the building. Why do you need -”

“Not that liquor store,” interrupts Jimin patiently. “I need to go to the one in Gangnam, which has the tasting menu and assortments.”

“Why -“

“Because it’s Sooah’s birthday,” answers Taehyung from where he’s lying down on the sofa, scrolling through his phone and not bothering to look up. “Normal champagne won’t cut it. Not for Kim Sooah.”

Hoseok frowns, coming up from behind Jimin and peering at the writing pad. “Why not? Wait - why do you need professional lighting and sound equipment?” he asks, reading from it. “And food from Golden Pig? I thought the lunch was at MOBO Bar. Hang on -“ He looks bewildered. “Isn’t her birthday tomorrow?”

“The lunch tomorrow is for all her friends,” supplies Jungkook, pouring a steaming pot of cooked ramen into a bowl. “Tonight is just hyung and Sooah.”

“Yes, and don’t anyone be late tomorrow.” Jimin reminds them in a business-like tone, continuing to check things on his phone and tick them off. “I know you guys have to film a thing tomorrow morning, but make sure you come straight there. And, seriously - can anyone drive me to the liquor store or not?”

“I have a Zoom meeting starting in five minutes,” says Hoseok, clapping him on the back, “or I totally would. What about Yoongi?”

“He’s not here. He left for a meeting in Incheon this morning,” chimes in Jungkook again. “Won’t be back until later.”

“How much later -” Hoseok starts to ask, but is cut off by Jimin huffing.

“So no one can take me to the liquor store?” he demands. “Which is, like, twenty minutes away? I wish Namjoon hyung were here,” he adds sullenly, shaking his head. “He would’ve driven me.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” says Hoseok indulgently. “Taehyung, you can take him. Your car has a ton of extra space, too.”

“I’m busy,” answers Taehyung listlessly, still on his phone. When no one responds, he looks up to see all the other three staring at him. “Fine, I guess I could,” he agrees with a huge sigh, clambering off the sofa and trudging to the dining table, sliding into the seat adjacent to Jimin’s.

Jimin narrows his eyes. “It’s not such a big deal, you know. You can just give me your keys if you want.”

“Yeah, why are you in such a mood today, anyway?” Hoseok asks, his hands on the back of Jimin’s chair.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, running his hands over his unwashed face. “I’m just…” He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Hungry, I guess.”

“Hungry?”

“That’s code for horny,” says Jimin, raising his eyebrows nonchalantly when Taehyung looks up to glare at him, but doesn’t disagree.

Hoseok snorts as Jungkook joins them with his ramen, silently sitting across from Taehyung. “That must be some dry spell if you can’t help out your buddy,” he says, a bit pointedly.

Taehyung observes Jimin for a moment, then sighs. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s go to the liquor store. I’ll help you look for the best champagne out there - and since you’re not driving, you can try every single thing on the tasting menu,” he offers in a moment of generosity.

Jimin’s head snaps up from his phone. “Really?” When Taehyung nods, relief floods his cherubic face. “Thank God. Because I - I really need tonight to be absolutely perfect -”

“I know, I know,” interrupts Taehyung, clapping him on the shoulder and standing up. “I’ll just grab a quick shower and we’ll go. Jungkook,” he says, waiting for the younger member to look up in surprise. “Want to come along?”

Jungkook, who’s polished most of his bowl clean by now, looks up at him with wide eyes. “Me?”

“Yeah,” answers Taehyung evenly. “Why not?”

There’s a flicker of doubt in Jungkook’s eyes which he seems to partially blink away. “Yeah. Yeah, no, yeah - I mean - sure.” He scoops up a large bite of noodles with his chopsticks and inhales it. “Jus’ give me a minute,” he says through a mouthful of food.

Taehyung nods. “Ramen looks good,” he says after a moment. “Can I have a bite?”

Jungkook nods instantly and pushes the bowl across the table. Taehyung takes a bite, slurping the sauce until he’s swallowed the entire thing. “Delicious,” he says honestly, waiting just long enough to see Jungkook smile before turning around and heading into his room.

—

“This one’s fruity,” decides Jimin, smacking his lips and frowning seriously. He places the small glass down and picks up another, giving it a sniff and proceeding to take a sip. “But this one is definitely more bubbly.”

It takes a lot for a liquor store to provide a tasting menu for champagne, but for the correct price, it can be done. Taehyung isn’t entirely sure how much Jimin has paid for this particular round of testers but he gives his honest opinions, careful to keep his friend’s spirits high for today.

It hadn’t occurred to him back at the house, but it seems obvious now why Jimin is so anxious about tonight. If Taehyung’s hunch is correct, it’s because it’s Sooah’s first birthday since they’ve gotten back together after years of sniping and occasionally hooking up, and Jimin has taken on the pressure to make it perfect to the next level.

“I like this one.” Jungkook points to a bottle on the shelf. “We had it after the last concert, remember?”

Jimin looks up briefly and shakes his head. “Chandon is the last resort, if I find nothing better today. Come on, it’s Sooah’s birthday. Chandon is way too basic.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows but says nothing, his eyes meeting Taehyung’s, who takes his hunch to be correct.

“I’m going to go see if there are any other bottles at the back,” says Taehyung, leaving Jimin to overthink the little glasses of bubbly liquid. He stops by one of the staff and leans in. “Can you bill a Chandon anyway?” he asks in a low voice. “Just in case?”

“Of course. Should I combine it with Mr Park’s other purchases?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Put it on my tab.”

The staff nods and takes a bottle up to the register as Taehyung turns the corner to another shelf full of champagne, Jungkook a few steps behind him.

“That was nice,” he comments, hovering at the edge of the shelf.

“He deserves it,” mutters Taehyung, feeling slightly guilty about his standoffish behaviour at the dorm a little while ago. “Guy’s stressing way too much. I know Sooah will love whatever he’s planning. She’s chill that way.” He pauses. “What is he planning, anyway?”

“I mean, I don’t know all the details but I think it’s one of those movie screening things at the park.”

“In public? At the park? What - are they going to sit in the back and pour out champagne while everyone else is drinking cokes and beers?”

“What? No, he rented out the whole park,” explains Jungkook. “It’s just them, with a huge screen and seating and food - and champagne, I guess. He’s got professional sound equipment and heating and blankets and everything. He really went all out.”

Taehyung stares, a bit horrified but mostly impressed. “Wow. That actually sounds really romantic.”

“It does,” agrees Jungkook absently, peering at the label of a bottle where he’s still standing at the end of the aisle. “I just hope it goes well.”

“So do I. And I hope it doesn’t rain,” he points out. “It’s been drizzling every day and raining in parts of the city. It could really put a damper on the whole outdoor movie thing.”

“Yeah. Hopefully it won’t.”

“Hopefully.”

A slightly awkward silence falls over them. Taehyung glances over at him to see him pick up a bottle of whiskey from the opposite shelf. He turns the bottle over in his hands before looking at the price tag, letting out a low whistle and placing the bottle back.

“What about you?” When Jungkook looks up, Taehyung continues. “Any plans today?”

“Uh, not really.” He pauses. “I have a date, actually. Kind of.”

“Yeah? With the tattoo artist?” When he nods, Taehyung grins. “Nice. Why aren’t you more excited about it, though?”

Jungkook gives a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know. I was thinking of blowing it off. Going to the gym, maybe. Namjoon hyung usually joins me on Fridays and we spot each other on the bench press but I guess I’ll have to go alone today. Unless you want to come along?” he asks hesitantly.

Taehyung had spent a couple of hours at the gym yesterday but he nods anyway. “I’d love to, but why are you avoiding your date?”

“I’m not avoiding it. I haven’t worked out in, like… three days.”

“So come back and work out.” Taehyung frowns. “I have nothing to do all day so I’ll be here whenever. You may want to go easier on the weights with me, though.”

Jungkook chuckles, sounding relieved. “Give yourself a little more credit than that, hyung.”

“Please. Namjoon broke the lock on my bedroom door with one hand the day he left when he was looking for a spare set of Airpods.” Taehyung shakes his head. “He’s a menace, and he just adds to it whenever he starts working out.”

Jungkook laughs. “We’re definitely less clumsy in the gym than he is, that’s for sure. Is seven pm good for you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Dilara has been pestering me to give boxing a shot, so, you know. Tonight might be the night.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. That’s a good idea. I mean -” He shakes his head, as though getting rid of a fly. “It’s… it’s an idea.”

Taehyung is about to comment on this strange response but notices Jungkook gazing intently at the whiskey shelf again, his ears slightly red, and decides not to.

Ever since the Samsung event nearly a month ago, Jungkook has been almost walking on eggshells around Taehyung. Taehyung wishes he wouldn’t; that night had been awkward at best and contentious at worst, and had been entirely unexpected on various fronts. However, he and Dilara had awoken the next morning in an air of mutual forgiveness and shared an intimate couple of hours before breakfast, filled with silent apologies and hope.

Regarding Jungkook, Taehyung had had every intention of giving him the cold shoulder for a while, at least, still somewhat peeved at the sudden confrontation from his very non-confrontational friend. As it turned out, the moment they’d all reached Seoul and climbed out of their separate SUVs, Jungkook had cornered Taehyung outside their building and begun apologising profusely. 

That had taken him more off guard than their argument last night; Taehyung had tried to get a word in amidst the explanations but looking at how horrible Jungkook clearly felt, he hadn’t had the heart to give him any more grief about it. Somehow, the whole situation had ended with Taehyung comforting Jungkook, telling him to forget about it, that he understood he and Dilara were friends.

Jungkook had looked like he wanted to say something more but he’d shook his head instead, and they’d hugged until Dilara stepped out of her SUV. Jungkook had skirted around both of them for the next few days until Dilara had left Seoul, after which Taehyung had gently but categorically told Jungkook to chill out.

He isn’t sure if Jungkook has got the message yet. He thinks he has for the most part; they’ve hung out many times since then, for work, with other friends - but maybe the mention of Dilara has suddenly made him clam up again.

“Sir.” The same store staff who was ringing up the Chandon appears from behind the shelf. “Mr Park has picked out a Cristal that will be delivered to his residence shortly. Anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Taehyung starts to say as he and Jungkook begin moving towards the front of the store. As the younger member continues on his way, Taehyung stops. Retracing his steps, he picks up the bottle of whiskey that Jungkook had been examining.

“Can you add this to the Chandon?” he asks, waiting for the store staff to nod before he joins his friends.

—

Seokjin [12:30] Are you working late today?

Seulgi [12:33] Not sure. Why?

Seokjin [12:33] I’m on my way back from Annyeong now so I should be in Seoul in a couple of hours. Wanted to see if you maybe want to go out tonight?

Seulgi [12:36] It’s supposed to pour today. And doesn’t look likely with my calendar anyway.

Seulgi [12:37] But I’ll try, in case something opens up.

Seokjin doesn’t reach Seoul until almost three hours later. The long solo drive was a nice way to get some time to himself, especially with the mild anxiety that had started to creep up over the last couple of days, almost as though he was forgetting something. He would’ve spent a lot less time driving but the traffic was maddening; as per the radio, it was due to people driving in and out of the city for the weekend combined with rain warnings. 

He reaches the dorm to find it empty. Ordinarily, he would’ve gone back to his own apartment but something about being back in his childhood home for a week, along with Seulgi’s distant demeanour, makes him want to be around his friends for a little bit. 

As it turns out, none of them seem to be home at the moment but he knows they’re here: there’s a bowl in the sink with ramen sauce smeared on it; a Gucci hoodie he knows is Jimin��s is draped over the back of a chair; Taehyung’s bedroom door is slightly ajar, the bedcovers unmade and clearly slept in.

Seokjin sinks onto the sofa and lies down on it, closing his eyes and preparing for a nap. He has no plans for today whatsoever, especially if Seulgi doesn’t get back to him. He isn’t entirely surprised at her mood; ever since he’d ventured into the territory of him and Nari, she’d begun distancing herself from him. 

He couldn’t blame her; he had no idea what he was walking into with Nari and the fact that Seulgi had to stand by and wait for him to figure it out would have to rankle. He wasn’t fully surprised when, a couple of days after the fact, she confessed to Seokjin that it wouldn’t be the worst thing to take some time apart.

Sleep doesn’t come to him, not really. He dozes off at least half a dozen times without actually falling asleep, his mind constantly replaying the last few weeks, with that nagging sense of stress and anxiety a constant in his mind. Seokjin lazes around until he marks the attempt futile, just as the front door opens and Jimin strides in with his phone to his ear, followed by Taehyung and Jungkook trooping in behind him.

“Hey, hyung,” they chorus, Jungkook falling onto the sofa next to Seokjin. “When did you get back?”

“Just a little while ago.” Seokjin looks around at them, rubbing his eyes. “Are you guys also staying here this weekend?”

Before any of them can answer, one of the other bedroom doors opens and Hoseok steps out, stretching and yawning. “Hey, hyung. How was the champagne tasting?” he asks Jimin, who holds up a finger as he continues talking.

“Oi, Hobi, you’re here, too?” Seokjin frowns, bewildered. “Wait, have you been here this whole time?”

Hoseok nods and points noncommittally to his bedroom as he walks over to the dining table to peer into a bag that Taehyung has placed on it. “Ooh, Chandon. Is that the one he picked finally?”

“Jimin chose the Cristal,” says Jungkook. “And he’s getting it delivered.”

“He did and it is,” confirms Taehyung, and says no more.

Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “Okay. And what about the Jameson?”

“That’s for Jungkook.”

Hoseok just about catches Jungkook’s surprised look before Seokjin speaks again. “So - wait, I thought Jimin’s lunch was tomorrow.”

“Sooah’s, and yes,” says Jimin, getting off the phone and finally looking up, seeming a bit frazzled. “Tonight is just me and her. There was some kind of confusion with the food,” he says to Taehyung, who’s giving him a questioning look.

“Oh, hey, if Sooah is going to be with you tonight, does that mean Chaeyoung will be home alone?” Hoseok asks.

“I guess,” answers Jimin vaguely as his phone rings again. “Damn it, it’s the park coordinator again.”

“The park?” Seokjin raises his eyebrows sceptically as Jimin takes the call, and turns around to look out the nearest window. “It’s already drizzling. It’s supposed to pour tonight, you know?”

Hoseok shrugs, while Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t matter. Jimin is in charge and if he wants to give the birthday girl a night in the park, he’s going to make sure it happens.”

And suddenly, Seokjin knows what he’s been forgetting.

—

“Okay, wait.” Jimin exhales sharply and closes his eyes. “You said that you do have an option of a makeshift roof or something - but now you’re saying you don’t want to do it? I put a deposit down on the whole place,” he reminds him.

“Mr Park, I’m saying we can do it but I don’t recommend it,” says the coordinator patiently. “We use that for light drizzles or snowfall but the downpour that’s been predicted will render it useless.”

“There’s been a downpour predicted every single day of this week and nothing has happened,” he points out. “I’m okay to take that risk.”

“It’s not just the furniture, Mr Park.” The coordinator sounds mildly stern now. “It’s a lot of expensive sound equipment as well and I cannot, in good conscience, risk having it outside -“

“Okay.” Jimin interrupts him, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think. “What if we moved it to slightly earlier?”

“It’s already drizzling, sir.”

“Fine, do you have a different spot in the park?” He asks through gritted teeth. “Something more canopied, perhaps?”

The coordinator hums vaguely and there’s the clicking of a keyboard in the background. Jimin rolls his eyes at Taehyung, who’s approaching him with a questioning look, and mutes the call.

“I’m going to kill this guy,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I've been planning this for a month and he’s pulling the rug out from under me now?”

“I mean, he may have a point. If it rains then your plan is ruined - but it’ll probably stop in a bit,” Taehyung adds hastily when Jimin glowers.

“God, I hope so,” he says, although even he is starting to think that it might not. “I can handle a slight change of plan with the venue but the rest of it has to be perfect. There’s the food and the cake, and - oh, did the champagne arrive?”

“Er, not yet.” Taehyung checks his watch. “They said they would send it in an hour, right? Should’ve been here by now.”

Jimin is about to swear but just then, the park coordinator says something. He waves Taehyung away, accepting an encouraging clap on the back, and gets back on the call.

“Sir, we might have something on the other side of the park,” he suggests hesitantly. “The view is not the same, but it fits the general requirement.”

“The view - you mean it doesn’t have a view of the Han.” Jimin takes a deep breath, preparing to choose his battles. “Okay. What is this other side of the park? Where - how -  I mean, what does it look like?”

“It’s in a way that the screen and the projector and all the sound equipment will be protected, but you and your companion will still be able to enjoy the beautiful outdoors.”

Jimin frowns. “How -“ Somehow, all he’s able to picture is some kind of garage where everything is stuffed in and just two lawn chairs and dragged out onto the grass.

“It’s available for inspection now, sir. But we don’t have a lot of time as we need to confirm the booking at least two hours before the actual event in order to make preparations.”

Jimin’s eyes widen and he lunges after Taehyung, grabbing his hand and checking his watch. “It’s almost five pm! I was supposed to have the venue from seven pm anyway!”

“You are an esteemed client, Mr Park, so we can make that exception. Our staff is very efficient and can help you -“

He resists the urge to scream over the phone at someone who, at the end of the day, is just doing his job.

“I’ll be there,” he says quickly and hangs up. “Okay, I’m heading out,” he adds to nobody in particular, but Taehyung follows him into his room anyway.

“Everything okay?” he asks, stopping at the doorway.

“No. Actually, you know what? Yes,” says Jimin firmly, shedding his clothes and throwing on the outfit he was planning to wear (comfortable jeans and a Louis Vuitton jacket, plus a Gucci hoodie of his that Sooah loves to snuggle in). “It will be okay because there’s really no other option.”

“Look, I’m sure it’ll work out fine, but… I mean, I’m sure Sooah will appreciate the thought no matter how it goes,” he reasons.

“You know, I’m sure she will,” agrees Jimin hurriedly, “but I need this to be more than just a thought. Okay? Because this is - this is -” He struggles for a few moments before giving up. “This is Kim Sooah,” he says finally.

Taehyung looks like he wants to say something but instead he simply nods. “Okay, go, then. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah - can you bring the champagne down there once it gets delivered?” he asks immediately, rushing out of the room and gathering his phone and keys. “The food and cake will come there directly - hang on, I need to check out -” He fishes out his phone and makes a call, tucking the phone in between his ear and shoulder.

They reach the living room and Jimin scans it to see Hoseok, Seokjin and Jungkook in front of the television, sharing a large bowl of popcorn while a football match goes on. 

“Jungkook, I’m taking your car.” Jimin grabs a bunch of keys from the side table and, without waiting for a response, dashes out of the front door.

The park coordinator may not have been completely wrong; the rain is already at a steady speed, enough that most people have pulled out their umbrellas and the roads are starting to get jammed. He drives to the park anyway, a little unsettled at seeing it completely empty this time of day, leaves the Gucci hoodie in the backseat and runs inside towards the office.

The coordinator seems to be waiting for him. “Right this way, Mr Park,” he says immediately, barely giving Jimin time to run a hand through his damp blond hair before ushering him out under a black umbrella.

“This is the alternative?” Jimin asks a few minutes later, staring up at the thick cloth separating them from the rain.

“Yes - now I know it’s not probably what you pictured but it’s the best we can do in such short notice, Mr Park.”

“Actually, this is exactly what I pictured,” he murmurs, heart sinking. It does look like a makeshift garage in front of them, like something he would’ve planned back when they were in high school, using a bedsheet for a screen and a Bluetooth speaker for an innovative night out, with instant ramen and cokes. He’d hoped that now, all these years later, they were finally due for an upgrade - but the universe clearly had other plans.

Okay, Jimin. Stop whining. Just think. He takes a deep breath and turns around, wincing a little and trying to ignore how the rain is getting louder by the minute.

“Okay, so it’s… five-thirty,” he says. “Sooah will be here by seven which gives me just enough time to follow up on the food and drinks. What?” he asks, when the coordinator’s assistant looks confused.

“Well, it’s - it’s just -” She stutters, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Won’t the food get ruined, sir?” 

“Why will it -” Jimin stops, closing his eyes. The rain. “Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath.

“Sir, we can arrange for a table next to the screen under the roof so you and your friend can come up and take your food and go back outside -” He stops abruptly when he sees Jimin’s incredulous expression. “I mean… it could be like a buffet,” he reasons in a small voice.

“It won’t be anything like a buffet. Sir, come on -” He sighs, at his wit’s end and getting anxious. “Can’t we get - I don’t know - something stronger up there to protect us from the rain? The screen, projector, electronics - all of that is going to be under the roof. The sound is going to be compromised because of the rain anyway - can’t we just get a slightly stronger thing above our heads so the food doesn’t have to move, too?”

The coordinator starts to say something sympathetic when Jimin’s phone rings. He apologises and picks it up immediately. “Taehyung! Come to the other end of the park - no, not that side. The side by the exit parking lot.” He stays on the phone for another minute until he spots Taehyung jogging up the path with an umbrella in one hand and a plain tote bag in the other that Jimin assumes contains the champagne.

“Thank God,” he sighs, shoving his phone back in his pocket as Taehyung reaches him.

“Okay, listen -” Taehyung holds up a hand. “Don’t freak out. But I think when you gave the liquor store your address, you gave them your apartment and not the dorm. But - “ He says loudly, preempting Jimin’s heart stopping in his chest, “I got this as a backup,” he says, retrieving a bottle of Chandon from the bag.

It’s not what Jimin had chosen but the fact that something has found a solution is more than he could hope for right now. In a moment of emotion, he hugs Taehyung tightly.

“Alright,” says Taehyung gruffly, patting him on the back. “Come on now, you have things to do, Jimin. Oh, speaking of which,” he adds as Jimin steps away, “Sooah called me a little while ago. I don’t know if she was looking for hints or what, but I told her you’re working really hard at it.”

“You did?” Jimin can’t decide if this is a good thing. “Alright. Well. Got to get it done, then, I guess.”

“It’ll be great. Don’t worry.”

There’s a clap of thunder and they both jump. Taehyung opens his mouth, clearly looking for words of comfort but eventually gives up. Giving Jimin another pat on the shoulder, he hurries away in the rain, the umbrella barely helping anymore. 

—

Stepping out of a hot shower, steam still rising from the bathroom behind him, Seokjin ties a towel around his waist and enters his room. The moment he does, the first thing he sees is the view outside the window, with rain lashing down the city. He stares at it, horridly fascinated, when he remembers.

He sits on his bed, glad he’s in the warmth of the dorm, and makes a phone call.

“Hey,” he says, glad she picked up on the second ring. “How are you?”

“Fine,” says Seulgi, but she doesn’t sound curt. “You?”

“I’m okay. What about you? Are you still at Big Hit?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“Uh, have you looked outside?”

“Oh. That.” Seulgi sighs. “Yeah, it looks pretty bad. But I still have work to get done so I’m stuck here for a while no matter what. All I can do is hope the rain stops sometime tonight.”

“The forecast says it’s going to go on really late,” points out Seokjin, peering out of the window uneasily again. “I can barely see the river from my window anymore. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get home now before it gets worse. I can pick you up,” he offers.

“No. I mean - no, thank you,” she amends, her voice softening a bit. “I told you, I have a ton of work to get done. There are still two whole meetings to go - I don’t think I’ll be able to leave before ten, no matter what.”

“But it’ll get actively dangerous to commute in worse rain than this,” he argues. “The company should care about an employee’s wellbeing over a meeting.”

She scoffs. “You work for the same company, Seokjin,” she reminds him. “How many times have they prioritised your wellbeing over a work commitment?”

To this, Seokjin has no answer. “You have a point,” he admits grudgingly, and is heartened to hear her chuckle. “Okay, but can you tell me whenever your meetings do end? I’ll pick you up - and I’ll drop you to your place,” he clarifies quickly. “If that’s what you want.”

Seulgi doesn’t reply for a few seconds. “Seokjin,” she says carefully, but then sighs. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I don’t know if…”

He waits for her to continue but when she doesn’t, he speaks. “Look, I’m not trying anything,” he says, turning away from the window and feeling the same guilt he’s felt around her for weeks now. “But these are special circumstances. I mean, I don’t know if you have a window anywhere around you, but it is insane out there right now.”

“Alright,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll let you know. Chances are, the rain will stop.”

“Let me know either way.” Seokjin waits until she hangs up, not really sure what he was expecting from this exchange. Seulgi wasn’t off base at all; apart from the rain, the constant nagging guilt at putting her through this period of doubt definitely played a part.

He isn’t any closer to figuring out his stance with Nari. Seulgi feels far away, farther away than a girlfriend should. It’s a mess and all he can do now is wait.

The rain pours harder, the sky darkening and thunder deafening. Jungkook is lazing around the house, doing laundry and other chores while Taehyung is video calling a friend who’s working abroad. Hoseok is a ball of nervous energy, mentioning more than once that he hopes Chaeyoung is okay in the storm and safe at home. 

Seokjin just waits, until a couple of hours later, Seulgi finally lets him know.

Seulgi [20:00] Hey. So my second meeting hasn’t even started yet and I think the company has finally caught on to the situation outside. Apparently they got a government advisory about the storm and that it’s only going to get worse.

Seokjin [20:01] So… what? They’re not letting you leave?

Seulgi [20:02] They’re advising us not to. And honestly, I don’t think anyone should be outside in this rain. Apparently parts of the city are losing electricity, too - another team was supposed to have a work dinner in Hongdae but it got cancelled because the whole restaurant shut down.

Seokjin [20:03] How will you get home then?

Seulgi [20:03] They’ve set up rooms here - I think they’ve repurposed the resting rooms that the idols use on the top floor for the rest of us mere mortals. It’s not ideal but it’s better than trying to go out there.

Seokjin bites his lip. It sounds rather like she’s made a decision, albeit grudgingly, and in typical Seulgi fashion, has told him subtly not to bother coming over. It’s hard to argue when she hasn’t said it in so many words, and even harder to justify an argument while being able to hear the wind outside. 

“What are you guys planning to do for the rest of the night?” Seokjin asks, looking up at the others.

“Not sure,” answers Taehyung, getting up from where he was lying on the sofa and walking towards the kitchen. “Lazy night in, I think. Jungkook has a date, though,” he adds, grinning.

Hoseok whistles teasingly as Jungkook chuckles, his ears going slightly red. “I do but it’s raining so hard. I’ll probably have to cancel,” he says, giving Taehyung a sheepish smile that Seokjin doesn’t fully understand.

“Okay, so that’s two. Hobi?” Seokjin taps his watch. “What about you?”

“Oh, uh…” Hoseok shakes his head, looking a bit distracted. “Not sure. Why?”

“Just - just curious. Seulgi was just saying that there’s an advisory about the storm floating around and Hongdae has lost power or something, so in case any of you have plans…”

Hoseok’s face goes slack. “Hongdae lost power?”

“Well, one restaurant in Hongdae lost power as far as I know -”

“Chaeyoung lives near Hongdae,” mutters Hoseok, tapping furiously on his phone before putting it to his ear. “Sooah is out with Jimin so she’s probably alone…” He taps his foot impatiently for a few seconds before swearing. “She isn’t picking up.”

“Maybe it’s a signal issue,” Jungkook starts to say, but Hoseok is already off the sofa and grabbing a jacket. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To check on Chaeyoung,” he answers bluntly, rummaging for his car keys in the bowl on the mantle and dashing out of the apartment without any further explanation, the door slamming shut behind him.

Seokjin’s heart races; it’s a gale out there, but this is a sign. Chaeyoung must matter that much to Hoseok, if the decision was that quick for him. He checks his watch again to see it’s a quarter past eight. He traces the familiar route in his mind, calculating how much longer it will probably take him to get there than the average day.

Something clicks and he hurries up off the couch as well, pulling his shoes on before the other two even seem to realise that something has happened.

“Wait, where are you -”

Taehyung is cut off by the front door slamming shut for the second time. Seokjin hurries down the hall, checking his pocket for his phone and keys as he takes the elevator to the basement car parking.

If he had been amazed by the rain from inside the three storey dorm in Hannam Hill, he wasn’t ready for the real thing. The moment he pulls his car out of the parking lot and above ground, the sound of the rain hitting the roof of his car is like gunshots. For a moment, he considers reversing and doing this another day but the fact of the matter is that today is the day. 

In the distance, he sees what could be another set of headlights turning down a path and out of the main gates that he guesses is Hoseok. Making up his mind, he heads out, trying to drive as carefully as possible in the severely compromised visibility of the streets.

The roads are largely empty save for buses, some taxis and cars that seem to be desperate to get done with the night. Despite knowing the route like the back of his hand, Seokjin plugs in his phone and turns on the map in case there are road blockages, and starts driving.

He has no idea what Big Hit can possibly do when it comes to building any sort of nightly camp for its employees in the office. All these years, his attempt has remained to stay as far away from that artificially lit building as he possibly can, preferring to cling on to the vestiges of normal life outside of it.

Namjoon will know. The answer comes easily to him and even though the leader is on holiday, Seokjin decides this is enough of an emergency to disturb him during it. He calls him and waits, still driving through the rain as best as he can, the roads flowing and reflecting the street lamps, the sheets of rain falling with a vengeance. 

Namjoon doesn’t answer, possibly because it's his last few hours of vacation. Swearing uncharacteristically, Seokjin dials the next best person. The line crackles and a woman’s voice, a bit far away, sounds abruptly before another takes its place.

“Hello?”

“Yoongi,” says Seokjin gratefully, swerving down a lane and wincing as he splashes a row of bikes parked along the side of the road. “Listen - have you ever seen the resting rooms on the top floor of the company building?”

There are sounds at the other end, of similar rain and splashing water. The woman’s voice floats again, a soft “Shit” in the background before Yoongi speaks.

“What?”

“The resting rooms on the top floor,” repeats Seokjin urgently, honking at what he thinks might be another car coming the opposite way. The side mirrors are completely useless by now. “Have you seen them? What are they like?”

“Oh, that? The ones for the idols?” There’s a screeching sound on the other end and Yoongi swears this time. “They’re fine, I guess. I’ve crashed there a couple times after all-nighters.”

“Really?” Relief washes over Seokjin but before he can say anything further, the voice at the other pierces the air.

“Yoongi - that’s a tree!” 

“Fuck!” Another screeching sound, a loud one, and then silence. “Uh… hyung,” says Yoongi, sounding uncertain. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

The line goes silent but Seokjin has what he wants. He just hopes Yoongi is okay and makes a mental note to call him in a little while as he pulls onto Hangang-daero, passing building after building - museums, a school, the ramen joint where he and Seulgi had first gone to almost a year ago… he keeps going, barely able to see the flyover in front of him through the rain. His wipers work overtime as he passes the last building before the bridge, seeing the company logo flash momentarily in his rearview mirror before it disappears.

The areas off the main road are darker somehow, the roads narrower, trees thicker and the rain seeming even more stifling. But the closer Seokjin gets, the more he’s convinced that he’s made the right decision. He parks the car in his regular spot and, holding his hood over his head, sprints across the street as the raindrops pelt him until he enters the building, already fairly wet.

He doesn’t dither; running upstairs to the first floor, he knocks on the door, thankful that there’s a sliver of light underneath. Behind him, the storm rages on. As he waits, Seokjin turns to look outside the window in the corridor, seeing small gusts of wind and trees moving with the force. Twenty seconds and his socks and shoes are drenched; he slides open the window slightly and immediately backs away, the wind and droplets hitting him instantly.

The sound of the door opening is the only thing louder to him than the rain. He turns around, his heart hammering.

“Seokjin?” Nari frowns, in a college hoodie and faded jeans, thick socks on her feet. Her hair falls unbrushed down her shoulders and she’s clutching a sheaf of papers in one hand. “What are you doing here?”

He wants to smile; it’s automatic, so he does. Taking a step forward, he thanks his stars he decided to leave the dorm, rain be damned.

“Hi, Nari,” he says, watching her forehead clear just a little bit. “Happy birthday.”

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

[evillemons]

WHAT SEX WITH HOSEOK WOULD BE LIKE (j-hope pt. 3)

~ everyone’s favorite part, based on the character as described in part 1 and part 2. Masterlist here.

*NSFW CONTENT*

• Frantic and fast paced. He would have a loooot of stamina and energy.

• Messy, tongue-heavy kissing.

• Clothes would be off fast. He would not finish quickly though; on the contrary, would last quite a while.

• Hoseok is also surprisingly toned considering how thin he looks in clothes.

• I see him being shockingly dominant. He has this sexy, intimidating side to him that he would pull out in the bedroom.

• He would assert his control not so much through dirty talk or demands, but by picking her up, moving her limbs around, pushing her onto the bed etc.

• Whenever she tries to ride him, he would grab her hips to hold them still and thrust into her.

• As a dancer, he is pretty flexible and would be able to contortion them into unusual positions despite their tall heights.

• If she was inexperienced before, she might be surprised by his enthusiasm and roughness.

• Probably not a lot of oral or foreplay due to their high energies, mostly just lots of fingering and high-intensity fucking.

• Not peculiarly kinky, but they may like to use couples toys like a couples vibrator, a sex pillow, or games.

• Most likely to leave her sore the next day (in a hot and reminiscent way).

• He wouldn’t prefer the mess of finishing on/in her, and would rather use a condom.

• Although, he would be able to make her squirt easily and cum multiple times with his strong hips and fast thrusts.

• I don’t see a lot of intimate aftercare with them; they might just chat about household chores/what they have to do the next day and have a snack while still naked.

[jung-shook-iieee]

THINKIN' BOUT YOU. | JHS

➳Pairings: mafia hus' hoseok x wife reader (f)

➳word count : 6k ( sorry lol)

➳ genre : smut, oneshot. ( with a little plot.)

➳summary : You were surely enjoying the freedom hoseok gave you but you were quietly getting on his nerves lately and he doesn't know how long he'll be able to keep his emotions in control.

➳warnings : CNC, a little angst, hobi is really scary lmao, oc ignores hobi unintentionally, uses of profanities, oral (m/f) receiving, rough , slapping, degradation, angry sex?, hoseok is pretty af, touch denial, multiple orgasms, roleplays, dom/sub dynamic, 18+ oneshot.

➳A/N - I haven't proofread so sorry for any bad spellings. :) I may have written more than I intended to write, so bear with me if this is cringy. :(. Also please like and reblog if you like it. Don't hesitate to give me your feedbacks. It always helps me. <3333333

➳ A/N : this is purely fiction, I do not own any bts member or anyone else. It's just my imagination okay? So read the warnings before you read further. And strictly minors dni.

Masterlist.

His fingers tapped on the hard wooden surface which created rhythmic drumming that slowly become louder and annoying. It echoed in his office and he couldn't really focus on his paperwork, he's been sitting here for 2-3 hours and he still couldn't complete one single thing.... and all of this was just because of you.

He wouldn't mind in normal days when you took over his mind, he loved to have you in his thoughts 24/7 but today it's just really annoying him. He loved you too much to keep you away and so he always kept you real close but when he introduced you to his group, his friends, and their partners you definitely liked them a little more than he expected.

You were surely enjoying the freedom hoseok gave you but you were quietly getting on his nerves lately and he doesn't know how long he'll be able to keep his emotions in control. Anyone could see the tension and insecurity on his face when he realized that he couldn't completely dominate any subject of his.It was is in his nature to make everyone bow at his feet, hoseok was raised like that and as a ruler and leader of bangtan and Jung Inc. He expected no exception for anyone other than the handful of his loved ones.

But that stereotypes were quickly broken when hoseok realized that his woman was going out and making new friends, getting comfortable around them, handling some outer affairs of his organization single handedly, completely living her best life and mistakenly forgetting about him.

Those new friends of yours occupied your time a lot which made your schedule busier and hoseok couldn't spend time with you properly other than sleeping in the same room. Every time he initiated something you always tell him that you were tired and would like to rest. So he ends up hugging you or massaging your scalp till you sleep, no extra sharing of words and spending quality time with him.

Your behavior was leaving hoseok utterly speechless, he was used to you clinging to him wherever he goes, accompanying in his office, being a great advisor, and helping out him in some matters but now you were just busy in your own life. You even let your friends take you out for lunch and dinner which led hoseok to end up having his own meal time with old hags.

Hoseok was lost in your thoughts when you ringed his cellphone. He sighed and picked it up as soon as he saw, " Heyyy babyy. " Your beautiful voice bloomed on the other side making him smile a little.

" Hey " He replied rather plainly and he thought you would notice the lack of excitement in his voice but you didn't.

" Nothing just wanted to inform you that I might come late tonight because I'm going with Leah to check the progress of training. " You completed your sentence in one go, sure hoseok gave you the responsibility of looking after the training of rookies but he never intended you to be this serious about the whole thing.

You were going with Leah, namjoon's wife and she's a really strong and tough woman so no there's nothing to be scared about and he can't stop you from going there. " Y/n...can't you go some other day? I'll be home early and I miss you. "

to be honest, you were surprised by the sudden confession of his about missing you. Hoseok has a twisted personality, he may seem the sweetest type of guy but in reality, he's a devil in disguised. He's a sinner.

It took you a while, getting him comfortable around you so you do understand from where he's coming.

" Hobii. It's really important and I promise I'll try to be back early. " You felt guilty, but you can't say no to leah now and he trusted you with the responsibility and you had to make sure you're carrying out the whole thing correctly. You just want to make him proud.

" You don't seem to notice but you are not giving me your time, princess. " He whispered, he was this straightforward about his feelings for you and you knew he was having his separate emotional breakdown. You could sense the seriousness in his tone. You were guilty and stressed, you never got stuck between these things, but you always saw how hoseok would manage things and you were still learning.

" I promise hobi-ah after this I'll spend more time with you okay? I need to go now bye and love you. " Leah was Motioning you towards the car so you hung up the phone quickly after saying your words, not giving a chance to hoseok to even reply. You did felt a little guilty but leah took your attention quickly making you forget about the whole conversation with your husband.

Hoseok was baffled, how could you do that to him, he was waiting for you and you couldn't even talk to him properly. He clenched his jaw and Abruptly stood up and walked towards the window, he needs some fresh air to calm down his anger.

And after that, hoseok almost killed his secretary for bringing his coffee 3 minutes late. The whole day he kept sulking and frowning over little things. if you want him to wait then he will surely wait for you.

_

To say you were tired would be an understatement, the whole day you checked the progress of the trainees, a handful of them were still behind the schedule and you might have to ask Jungkook to change their routine. Other than that the equipments were quite good from the last time. less heavy and more efficient. you also checked the shipment details of the guns and other resources, tho it wasn't your headache to check but you wanted to do that for hoseok. he was already so busy and tense. you just wanted to lessen his burden.

you didn't realized the time and kept yourself busy with these chores, by the time you finished it was 1:15 a.m and your muscles were aching. so you decided to call it a night and drove back with Leah. you dropped her and then you reached your place.

you punched the passcode and the door unlocked, when you entered you noticed that the lights were off, only the kitchens were dim. For a moment you thought that hoseok was asleep, you were feeling guilty because you too extremely missed hoseok these days. You wanted nothing but to cuddle and sleep with him.

But when you entered your shared room you saw the window was open and hoseok was leaning over the wall, maybe looking at the outside beauty.

His hair was blonde and styled back, but you remember his hair was black in the morning. The side hair was trimmed giving his hairstyle a bold look. His sharp jawline was glowing under the moonlight.

The room lights were off, but still, the moonlight made you able to admire your husband's features. your eyes widened when you noticed that he was wearing nothing but only his sweatpants. his broad chest, sharp collar bones, toned abs and below it narrowed down to a v line before trailing down below his navel. The sight in front of you was too much to hold in, unknowingly you gulped loudly which made hoseok turn around.

You were so busy gawking at your own husband that you did not catch him the first time. " What's the time y/n? " He again repeated his question but this time looking in your eyes. Your breath was knocked out the moment he opened his mouth. Hoseok looked no less than a Greek god.

" You look,...hot....baby. " You mumbled softly which made hoseok quirk an eye brows. " That's not what I asked y/n." He replied walking towards you.

You again loudly gulped before answering him, " 2:00 a.m." He nodded and came closer. you looked more closely and realized that his beautiful forehead was more visible, his sharp nose and heart-shaped lips looked so delicious. His face is rather long which makes him look more masculine from certain angles. he knew what he was doing to you and you didn't even realize that your lips were parted slightly.

he touched your chin with his slender and long finger and pushed it upwards, making you close your mouth. you were embarrassed right now, you are shamelessly ogling your husband. " where were you? " he asked his minty breath fanning over your lips. you found yourself unable to reply to him, your words were stuck in your throat.

He tapped your chin harshly for an answer. " I-I was busy checking the shipment details, I forgot to check the time. I'm sorry," you replied through your small voice, he wasn't doing anything but he still made your knees weak, you felt your knees turning into jelly....his aura seemed darker than usual.

" Sometimes you really leave me speechless princess." he spoke as he took steps forward while you walked backward slowly. " you really disappoint me a lot these days Y/n, do you like it? "

his eyes were so cold, he looked like he was about to snap your neck into two but you know hoseok would never do that to you. your back touched the wall and he stood in front of you, hovering your tiny figure. he was looking so intimidating.

. " you tend to forget about us a lot y/n, are you doing this on purpose? do you like seeing me suffer? hhmm? do you like when I beg for your attention? " Hoseok gritted his teeth, he looked and sounded so scary but you know he would never harm you. That was the only thing you kept repeating inside your head.

You tried to touch his cheek with your trembling hands but he moved away from you. " Hobi... I-I know I'm late I'm sorry baby. " You spoke barely audible, your mafia husband was a dangerous man to begin with. People do not end well if they tried to mess up with him, you know this. But then you also know you are an exception, he won't hurt you. Not unless you want him to.

" It's just not about today, You've been doing this for days !!, Do I not deserve your time, your attention?? You manage your time for your fucking friends but you always leave me behind. I'm your fucking husband! For fuck's sake.!" .

Scary! That would be the only word you would describe hoseok at the moment.

Honestly, you weren't scared of him because you know no matter how much dangerous he can be for other people, he would still handle you carefully. Hoseok never got this angry on you, you know you fucked up big this time.

He wasn't the one to communicate verbally about his feelings towards you but today he's different. He was angry and still controlling himself from hurting you, you could see the anger and disappointment in his eyes.

You took in the fact that your psycho handsome husband, Hoseok was jealous of his members and your friends. On normal days you would've cooed at him, teasing him about being jealous but today it felt like you'll fucking cry if one more time he screamed at you.

" I-I m s-sorry. " You whispered, head hung low and barely audible. But he heard it. You were shivering by now but still, you dared to look him in the eye and his glare was enough to tear your eyes. But if you looked away you knew it would make him angrier, so you held the gaze even tho you were certain that you'll cry any minute.

" Are you though? Are you sorry y/n? I wanted to have you all by myself but I still... I still tried to act normal for you. Still held myself from locking You up here. You how fucked up I'm and you still tested me.!!!! " Hoseok scared the shit of you, you could see in his eyes how bad you've hurt him.

" I-I am tru-st me, I was just helping around because I thought it would make things easy- " " Oh shut up, I'm not buying that babe. " Hoseok cuts you in between, starring at you disinterestingly.

" You wanted to test my patience and you did. Now you'll face the consequences sweetheart. " Hoseok said as stood taller in front of you, not even once breaking the eye contact.

A second later you felt him cornering you around the wall, sneaking his veiny hand around your waist.

His hands were freezing cold, you gasped at the sensation and then he slammed his lips on yours before you could speak anything further, his lips molded into yours. His breath was fresh and minty and his lips were soft as ever. The kiss grew passionate eventually, it's been days since hoseok tasted you properly and so he's not giving you time to breathe. He cupped your face and tilted his head kissing you deeply and groaning in your mouth.

You were taken back and so you found yourself struggling with his desperate luscious lips but soon you gave in and you too devoured his lips hungrily. You drew your hands closer to his chest, and he felt so warm.

You hummed at the warm sensation and you dragged your hands down towards his torso.

Just when you were about to touch his lower's waistband he swayed your hand away harshly making you whine. And in a split second your back was pushed against the wall, hoseok was glowing and which made you gasp.. He pinned both of your hands above your head. " You better be at full submission today princess! I'm really upset and I won't entertain any sort of request of yours. " Hoseok gritted his teeth while he practically growled at your face. His hot breath fanning all over your face and lips glistening your undies and making it hard for you to breathe.

" Hear that baby.?? " He wrapped his free hand around your neck while applying pressure.

" I-Yess ok-hobii. " You choked on your words as you managed to reply to him. You were sure you would have shitted your pants if he did the same thing as a leader but it made your panties wetter because he was doing this as a dom, an angry, jealous and hot dom.

He blew his hot breath on your lips as he kissed you again. You Whimpered from the harsh touches of his lips, you were squirming against the wall as hoseok was deepening the kiss.

Hoseok traced his lips on your cheeks then jawline and slowly he reached your neck, he kissed your neck sensually while he tugged your waist closer to his body. Hoseok was so hot, the desperation, the need was dripping from his eyes when he looked at you. He cupped your breast and flicked your nipples over the fabric, which made you shudder against the wall. A needy moan slipped from your mouth.

" Trust me when I say I love you the most baby, but right now I want to wreck you, physically and emotionally. I want to fucking choke you and fuck you till you remember nothing but me. Only me. " Hoseok said in his raspy voice while he played with your nipples. There was a pool of slick between your legs, the dampness was increasing with his lewd threats. And you couldn't help it.

But hoseok continued, " I want to fuck you y/n. Just Wanna fuck you, so much that you can't walk straight for days baby. Wanna keep fucking you, cum deep inside you so that you could know who you belong to. You'll be a dripping mess, my mess. Wanna rip this fucking pussy so bad. "

He announced as he again buried his face in the crook of your neck and started giving your purple bruises all of your neck.

You shivered just from the mere thought of hoseok doing that to you. In all honesty, you were turned on but the fact that hoseok was actually capable of doing this to you made you think that he might actually want to kill you by fucking the life out of you. But you knew, he wouldn't do that. Right?. But fuckin you till you can't walk straight? Cumming inside? Like he really said ripping your kitty? Yep, tonight is going to be a long night. Sure you will lose the freedom of speech and wouldn't be able to walk properly after this. You were pretty sure that tonight he's just gonna actually fucking rip your pussy.

Hoseok picked you up and threw you on the mattress, hard. You screamed but couldn't do anything else. You were at his mercy tonight. " This goes off. " Hoseok signaled towards your black t-shirt and in a second you peeled the fabric off your skin. The grey lacy bra was looking attractive on your skin and hoseok couldn't help but tear that off making you yelp.

And now you were naked from above, your hair was all over your face and shoulders. You were trying to regain your senses back but before you could do that, hoseok slapped your right nipple hard. It made you cry, the pain was sharp and sudden. You quickly covered your breast " Keep your hands back, slut. " He growled and you quickly placed your hands at your back, he slapped the left one and then again the right one. The process continued until he turned your skin sore and red.

" You know your safe word, right princess? " Hoseok asked in between tormenting your nipples. You opened your eyes for a moment and nodded your head in yes. Of course consent is important. He wouldn't do anything without your consent. His growing smirk showed you that he knows you would never tell him to stop. You're just a painslut who loves being manhandled by him.

Your continuous cries made hoseok hard, painfully hard. He wanted nothing but to straddle you and fuck the life out of you. He loves you, surely he does but right now you weren't his lover but his slut, his whore. And he would not show any mercy towards you. Tonight he'll fuck you like you deserve. And the fact that your pathetic cries were turning him on was something bad. Bad for you.

Hoseok was enjoying torturing your nipples, and you were trying oh so hard to obey him by not covering your breast, it was making him proud. He gathered your scattered hair and pulled you towards his lower abdomen, your skin color was slowly turning into a reddish one. " Take my cock out. " He ordered and you complied. You fumbled with the waistband of his sweatpants and dragged them down, hoseok quickly came out of them. The way his cock slapped on his stomach got you clenching your pussy around nothing.

His dick was angry, red, and hot, leaking precum all over his beautiful head. It made your mouth water, you loved his dick. He dragged you by your hair on the ground and made you sit like an obedient puppy on your knees. From your angle, his thighs were looking so muscular and his veiny big dick made you groan. You just wanted to take him in your mouth and give him the suck of his life but you know he won't give it to you so easily.

He spread the precious precum all over his hot and red dick, he pumped it for you and cursed at the sight in front of him. You, on your knees, waiting for him to just shove his dick in your mouth and fuck you ruthlessly or Take you however He wants. He exactly knows how much of a whore you are for him and his dick.

" Tongue out. " He ordered and you took your tongue out just like he wants. You were so eager to obey him and make him happy that you don't mind the hungry gaze which he was giving you. Hoseok tapped his Dick's head on your velvety and warm tongue and rubbed its head on your tongue.

He slipped his dick deeper in your mouth while he gripped your hair tightly so that you could not move. " Mmhh- " An incoherent moan slipped out from your mouth as you felt his head hit the back of your throat. Hoseok groaned at the warm feeling of your mouth. He placed one hand on your throat and started thrusting slowly at first giving you time to relax your jaw then he increased the intensity of his strokes. Doing it all over and again thrusting deeper, a moan slipped out of hoseok's lips.

" You like that? Agghh you do like that slut I know you do. " He grunted and thrusted faster making you whimper. You only took support by holding his thighs. Hoseok was thrusting rough and fast making you gag on his dick. With every thrust, you felt your cunt pulsing with so much intensity that you were sure there's a slick pool down there between your legs.

Hoseok tightened the grip on your hair as he thrusted faster, you moaned through it and the vibration was making hoseok loose his mind. He really wants to wreck you so bad.

Hoseok felt himself close and as he looked at the mess he made out of you he was sure that he could bust at any moment now. The mere scene of you taking his dick so perfectly and lewdly made him go feral. " I'm gonn-a cum princess... Do you want my cum? Mhmm tell me? Do you want it.? " He asked as he pulled his dick out letting you breathe harshly for a second or two.

" Ye-s please please... I want it. " You begged and looked at him with wet eyes. Hoseok looked so unreal that you couldn't actually believe he's your fucking husband.

" You want it? You think you're good enough to swallow my cum princess? " Hoseok questioned making you groan in displeasure. Of course you want it, his cum is the tastiest thing you've ever had, he knows that and yet he's teasing you.

" I'm....Please baby I'm good you know. " You pleaded with your lust hooded eyes and he grabbes your jaw harshly making you whimper.

" Fine, then let me use your pretty mouth as a cump dump baby, let me use you. " He said and you quickly obliged opening your mouth and asking him to just shove his dick down your throat.

Hoseok wasted no time and started thrusting faster inside your mouth, your mouth feels heaven and he can no longer control himself. The warmth of your mouth was engulfing him deep and soon he felt himself cuming deep down your throat. Hoseok moaned and whimpered looking straight into your doll looking eyes. He sweared it urged him to fucked himself faster , he was very close and his lips were parted, head thrown back and eyes closed, he saw stars.

On the contrary, you were trying your best to swallow whole, you don't want to waste even a single drop. " Yes just like that baby, such a horny girl for me hm? Don't waste a single drop." Hoseok was blown out, you made him like this.

" You good baby? " Hoseok inquired pushing your scattered hair back from your face. You sluggishly plopped yourself against his leg. " I'm good daddy just a minute. " You mumbled against his skin.

After a minute hoseok picked you and threw you on his bed. You thought he would give you rest? Oh how naive were you. " You did good baby but i want to fuck you with my tongue, I'm thirsty. " With that hoseok laid on his stomach and pulled you by your thighs towards his face. You almost whimpered from shame but hoseok was quick to part your legs. He blew air on your core making you gasp.

" This is mine. " Hoseok said softly kissing your folds and tipped his nose on your little bud, making your pussy ache for him. He took his time in licking all of your juices, some smearing on his chin but he didn't gave a shit about that instead he dived in deeper flicking clit with his tongue then sucking the whole nub making you cry in pleasure.

" How many times do you want to come baby? " Hoseok asked looking up at you between your legs. You frowned, the sight was too alluring. You wanted hoseok there, between your legs, covered in your juices for the rest of your life. " As ma-nny as yo-u want daddy. " You stuttered, the pleasure was too much turning you dumber with each passing second.

" This is mine right? " Hoseok asked Kissing your folds once again. You quickly nodded mumbling a yes. " Then if I want to destroy this pussy would you let me? " Hoseok mumbled sucking your clit and the vibration was sending you over the edge, turning your mind blank. "Y-yes." You moaned. " Can't hear you princess. " He said as kept sucking the soft flesh. "Yesss.. Yes-ss please-e.... " You breathe out and threw your head back.

It was all that hoseok needed and he completely focused on eating you out now. Hoseok grabbed your left leg and threw it over his shoulder while he ate you out and inserting one finger inside you. The man was sure something else today, like some evil thing possessed him. He wasn't stopping, only increasing his speed and suckling your bud crazily.

You couldn't grab his hair, you don't want to upset him so you instead grabbed your breast. Roughly pulling and teasing your sensitive buds. Hoseok entered another finger and curled it up inside you making you cry. You were close, so close. " Ahh.. Dad-dy I - I'm.... " You couldn't speak, words felt too heavy but hoseok understood, he fastened his speed and it took you a second or two before bursting into his mouth. Hoseok moaned feeling your liquid inside his mouth, you taste heaven he could never get tired of your sweet little pussy.

Hoseok cleaned you up and went back straight eating you again. This man right there between your legs was unbelievable, you tried scooting away from the Oversensitivity but he quickly slapped your breast and again busied himself between your legs.

You were drained, you didn't even remember the count by now. Hoseok wasn't stopping anytime soon you begged him to stop but he turned deaf, ignoring your pleas.

After what felt a decade he lached himself away from your pussy and his chin was completely covered in your juices. He licked his lips and moaned. You felt dirty and embarrassed, it felt so explicit. But Jung Hoseok was an unbelievable man.

" Tired already? " He shook his head chuckled. " You have to do somethin about it princess because I'm going to fucking tear apart this tiny pussy. " He said softly as if it didn't made you scared for your dear life.

Before you could speak anything, hoseok lined himself in front of you and without a warning he slammed himself inside you making you choke on your tears. " That's right baby, scream.. Scream as loud as you can. You know I fucking love that. " Hoseok chuckled and grabbed your already sore breast, fucking you faster.

The bed was creaking, the pace was inhuman, your mouth left open but no sound could be heard. " So fuckin tigh-t bab-y. Fuck" He moaned and leaned down to capture your lips between his. You were moaning as he kept thrusting inside you. You loved getting filled by the man you loved. It was euphoric, the pain, the pleasure it all felt too much.

Hoseok leaned down to kiss your lips, distracting you from the pain. You quickly wrapped your hands around his neck pulling him more close. His warmth felt right. Hoseok kept drilling himself inside you and re arranging your organs. Your throat was sore, he moved towards your neck and started devouring the flesh. He started giving you purple bruises which would be the proof of your ownership.

You let out a shaky breath as you felt yourself cuming around his dick. Hoseok hissed because of how tight you were clenching him. He fucked you so many times and still he left amazed by your tightness. Everytime he make sure to open you up till you gap but nothing remains permanent.

" Look in my eyes while I fuck your brains out darling. " Hoseok ordered you and you quickly obeyed opening your eyes and directly looking at his. His eyes we're the prettiest, he looked angel, naked, all above you, fucking you into a mess. How can someone look angelic while doing these utterly sinful things?

"Da-ddyy to-o much... m'not... Aghh. " You cried and hoseok just shushed you. Not listening to your pleas. He did not stopped only increased his thrust making your eyes roll back and scream his name.

Hoseok halted his movements and pulled himself out of her then roughly turning you around and raising your ass up. Your mind was blank till now,before you could even register the movements he thrusted again making you choke on your sobs."Too much? My dumb little whore thinks it too much. I haven't finished baby... You gotta take what daddy gives you. Got it? " Hoseok hissed and slapped your ass roughly. You were only able to nod your head nothing more.

" Will ya let me break your back if I want to baby? " Hoseok asked through clenched teeth, collecting your scattered hairs in his palm and tightening the grip, making your raise your neck higher. " Y-yes " You breathed out, a little moan leaving from your lips.

" Good, that's what I expect from you baby. That's what you should do yeah? " Hoseok kept thrusting harder making your eyes roll in the back of your head. The pleasure was too much, the heat in the pit of your stomach was turning your mind into a mushy little thing.

Hoseokg gripped your flesh near your waist roughly making you whimper, he can not just do that can he? It was making you loose all of your senses. The grip on your hair was only getting tighter , the thrusts were getting rougher, sloppier making hoseok loose his mind too.

His emotions were all over the place, but fucking your pussy made him loose all. He forgot he was even feeling insecure that you might leave him. No way you would leave him noticing the way how you're enjoying his strokes, pussy clenching around his dick even harder than before. He would never let you go, tho.

" You're mine baby, fucking mine. " His rasped voice sending shivers directly at your core. His voice was strained, like he was speaking from the back of his throat making you all giddy and aroused at the same time. You loved this hoseok, angry hoseok definitely hits your spot better.

"yeah baby? my cock that fuckin' good? fucking you so stupid your don't even have anything to say? such a needy little slut for daddy." you moaned in response, and the sound of the growl that came from hoseok's throat made you clench around his cock and he noticed. "god fucking dammit, y/n. gonna make me fuckin' cum. gotta have you soak my cock first before me, understand?" you nodded, gripping the bed sheets as he pounded into you. his pelvis brushing over your clit, and he moved his hand from your hip straight to your swollen clit, brushing circles into the bud. your hips jolted at the contact and he let out a groan as he pushed your face into the mattress.

"hob-ii....too much.. fuck.." he shook his head, grabbing your wrists and held them together at your back. he thrusted into you, his mouth a few inches from your ear as he whispered.

"you're gonna lay here and take my fucking dick, you hear me? gonna cum so deep inside you, you'll feel me for days. wanna fill you to full with my fuckin' cum you'll be leakin' me for the rest of the week." you whimpered in response, clenching around his cock as he spoke and making it harder for you to breath.

" Fuc....k... Ba..by ple..ase... I can't any..more.. Please.... " You cries were muffled but hoseok heard you perfectly. " shush, you can handle it baby don't ya? You're my good, girl aren't you? " Hoseok cooed at you, making you whimper. How can you disobey your hoseok? If says, then you're going to take it.

He stopped all together, earning a groan of displeasure from your mouth and turning you around, on your back. " Look at me while I cum deep inside you. Yeah? Will ya baby? " He mumbled, too lost in the pleasure.

Not even after a second he quickly entered you again thrusting sloppily and still hitting your spots perfectly. Your brows were knitted together feeling the pressure he was building in your stomach. Hoseok leaned down kissing you messily, groping your breasts.

" See babygirl. feel you milkin' my cock already. you want it that bad? wanna be my little cum slut that bad? fuck.." he moaned out in between kissing you, quickening his thrusts as he pounded into you, the headboard started to hit the wall with each movements and his eyes never left yours."p-please.. Hob..ii...." you moaned out from under hand hand, and you felt him push his hips against you hard, his cock twitching in your cunt. he bellowed out the most pornographic moan you had heard the man make, triggering your own orgasm with him as he came inside you.

you felt the mixture of yours and his cum spill out of your swollen cunt and down your ass cheeks, onto the sheets. he couldn't help but groan as he let go of your throat and wrists as he pulled out, his overstimulated cock throbbing in your sopping cunt.

" I love you. " He said as he collapsed over you.

" I love you too hoseok. " You replied ingulfing him in a hug.

" Hobii I'm sorry i made you feel unwanted by the way. I'll never do it again. " You mumbled on his neck.

" It's fine baby" Hoseok mumbled, forgiving you long ago.

" Besides, it won't be a much hassle to remind you again. " He pecked your lips and chuckled lightly, earning a swat on his back from your small hands.

____

@yellabella77 @vvh0adie @sweetwolfcupcake @taeluv13 @screamertannie @bbyorchid @sabiluna00113 @favfanfictsbts @jwirecs @thew-recroom @aka-fic-reqs @miyaohyeahh @mintsugarmy

[kthyg]

ghoul. — (consign)

[SIXTH INSTALMENT OF GHOUL SERIES : CONSIGN]

"Kiss your clean record goodbye." Provocation or prediction.

or

S2 squad went to the 13th ward for a Wipe Out Operation but didn't expect to encounter an Owl in the midst of the operation.

pairing. jungkook x reader, hoseok x reader, jin x reader (ft. myg & pjm)

rating. M

genre. tokyo ghoul au, soulmate au, gore, violence, mass attack

disclaimer. this story is a work of fiction. descriptions of the BTS members in this story does not reflect nor portray them in real life. everything in this story only fits in imagination and does not apply outside of imagination.

warning. lots of bloodshed (mostly spilled from the ghouls :/), depiction of people (doves) getting killed ruthlessly by the Owl and killing methodology was described.

word count. 5k+

lexicon & profiles . masterpost . masterlist . navigation

note from winter 💌

sorry for the long disappearance </3 but er hey, a brand new banner for ghoul!! beta read by loyal beta reader @zyphqr <3 this is just a short one maybe can be counted as a filler chapter too, but it will make do. hope you guys enjoy this <33 and u lots might not notice, but i kind of changed my writing style a bit? I think consign has got to be the most elaborated fic I've ever written cause those detailed words? idk how my brain came up with that but I'm proud of this one

💌 what is winter listening to? in sequence; D-DAY, Interlude: Dawn, HUH?!, AMYGDALA. (All by Agust-D)

📑 if you want to know more about this au, you can refer to lexicon & profiles. any other questions you can refer to me !!

dedication. a gift to all of my readers.

The urban avenue of Seoul tonight was oddly still, with only sporadic leaf rustling in the soft breeze breaking the silence. The streetlights emitted a pale light illuminating the desolate pathway and generating a creepy ambience that felt unsettling. The towering edifices on both sides of the street looked imposing and austere, with dark windows and walls stained by the wear of time. In Seoul, quiet streets like this one often serve as a warning sign, hinting at the stillness that precedes a night of horror and violence.

This only served as a warning that hazards could present in any situation, even in the calmest and most tranquil circumstances.

The only sounds that interrupted the quietness were the faraway noise of cars and the faint footsteps’ echoes. A stray feline would occasionally scuttle across the street, eyes gleaming, barely visible in the low light. Despite the peacefulness of the evening, the street’s stillness felt unusual and peculiar. A strong odour of rot and other, more ominous scents, detectable only by those with heightened senses, hung heavily in the air. An enduring sensation of peril seemed to permeate the surroundings, giving the impression of being under surveillance by something lurking in the shadows. The silence was broken by the occasional sound of shattering glass or the screech of metal against metal. A car alarm would blare for a few moments before falling silent once more.

These sounds, too, added to the unease that hung in the air, hinting at the possibility of danger lurking in the darkness.

For those who knew of the existence of ghouls, quiet streets would be even more unsettling. People would be acutely aware that a ghoul could lurk somewhere in the shadows, watching, waiting for its next victim. The silence of the street, combined with the faint scent of blood in the air, would make them feel like they were walking on thin ice, with danger lurking around every corner.

The 13th ward, Seochu-gu.

The pale moonlight bathed the ward where ghouls were recently reported to be lurking in the shadows. The usually bustling streets were now empty, only to be filled in by a large group of doves - some dressed in formal KCCG attire while others were heavily armed. Operating vehicles and drones were also present, adding to the sense of preparation and anticipation in the air. As Jung Hoseok, the Chief Director of Division II, approached, the sound of footsteps echoed through the night, accompanied by the presence of bureaus.

“Alright, good evening, doves,” Hoseok spoke, his voice firm and commanding. “I, Jung Hoseok, Chief Director of Division II, will be leading today’s Wipe Out Operation that is to be conducted here in the 13th ward.”

You and another four supreme investigators stood at attention, listening to Hoseok’s every word. “Operating squad involved in this operation will only be the Supreme Squad S2 and 75 Bureaus. Other than S2 and Bureau Investigators are required to leave the scene. Failed to do so and get caught by S2 squad members, the bureaus, or me, will receive disciplinary action.” Everyone present at the scene nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. Hoseok continued, “Commencing roll call on S2 squad. Please present your weapon.”

Each member stood tall and proud, eyes scanning the surrounding area for any signs of danger. The atmosphere was tense, and they knew they were about to embark on a dangerous mission. Finally, Hoseok began calling out names; each member stepped forward to present their weapon.

“Present as always.” A soulful voice spoke with confidence.

The roll call started with Jeon Jungkook, the Branch Director of 2nd Ward, as he confidently presented his weapon, the Angel Beat, an SS-rated Ukaku type known for its incredible speed and accuracy. Min Yoongi stepped forward with a bored, unbothered expression and presented his weapon, the 13’s Jason, a Rinkaku type rated S+. 13’s Jason was one of the most potent weapons in their arsenal, and Min Yoongi knew how to use it to devastating effect.

As the roll call continued, Park Jimin, another Special Class member, stepped forward proudly with his charming smile, “Never not present,” and presented his weapon, the IXA, a Koukaku type that was rated S+.

Kim Seokjin, your fellow Associate Special Class, followed suit, responded upon his name being called and presented his weapon, the Narukami, an S+-rated Ukaku type known for its incredible range and power.

Finally, your name was called out. Your grip tightened on your quinque as you presented your weapon, the Aus, a Rinkaku-type rated S+. The Aus was a fearsome weapon known for its speed and agility, and you had spent countless hours training with it to hone your skills. As the roll call came to a close, you stood steady, weapon at the ready.

Hoseok looked around at his team, impressed by their impressive arsenal. “Total of five members. Weapon rating from SS to S+.”

He then briefed the investigators on the operation. “This operation aims to cleanse the 13th ward off ghouls. It was brought to our attention that quite a number of ghouls have been roaming in this ward. Expect every worst possibility as the data collected by the bureaus have shown that several S+ rated ghouls are hiding in this ward.”

“Movement will be in personal formation with 15 Bureaus as back-ups. I will be assisting each one of you through the earpiece and monitoring through the drones.”

The investigators nodded, preparing themselves for the dangerous mission ahead. Hoseok gave them a nod of approval. “Doves, fight with your all. Best of luck,” he said before giving the signal.

“Operation commences.”

With a nod from your leader, the five of you set out into the dark night, ready to fight for justice and protect the citizens of the 13th ward from the threat of ghouls. You moved out, determined to eliminate the ghouls that lurked in the darkness. As all of you moved through the eerie streets of the 13th ward, the tension in the air was felt by everyone. The sound of footsteps echoed loudly as if warning any lurking ghouls of the doves’ presence. Jungkook took point, his Angel Beat quinque ready in his grip. He scanned the area, searching for any signs of movement.

“Clear,” he informed Hoseok, his voice crackling through your earpiece too.

As Jungkook ventured to his chosen route, the rest of the team moved forward, staying in formation before breaking into personal formation. Your squad moved deeper into the ward, searching every nook and cranny for any sign of ghoul activity. The tension was palpable, as all of you knew that any misstep could mean certain death or injury.

To describe Wipe-Out Operation with one word would be unpredictable. This operation was assigned to the Supreme Squad for a reason. Given the unpredictability, KCCG only sent out Associates Special Class and above to prevent any unwarranted damages, and it was usually conducted and supervised by Division Chief Director, Hoseok or Namjoon, according to the wards involved. KCCG strictly prohibited any ranks lower than Associate Special and Special from participating in the operation, no matter how great and exceptional one’s skills were.

It was the experience that counted, at least according to the KCCG’s higher-ups.

“Remaining doves, split into pairs,” Hoseok commanded. “The headquarters sent a newly found vision radar of the 13th ward, and the Rc levels are increasing. Jungkook, be informed. I will send out more bureaus to your side.”

“Very well.” His voice echoed in your earpiece following Hoseok.

“Bureaus, load your Q-bullets,” he ordered, stern and commanding.

The bureaus sprang into action, their movements quick and efficient. They reached for their bullet cases, deftly loading their Q-bullets into their quinques. The sound of the bullets clicking into place was the only noise in the silent night as they prepared themselves for the upcoming operation. They stood in line as they finished loading, waiting for the following order. Each one was ready for whatever lay ahead, their minds focused and their hearts beating with anticipation.

“Weapons are to be fired upon the orders of your respective formation leaders,” Hoseok instructed one last time before going off the communication system.

Suddenly, Yoongi urged you to follow him, “Let’s go (Y/N).”

Noticing the confusion on Jimin’s face, he clarified the situation by pointing out that it wouldn’t be a good idea to form a team with two associates and two special classes.

“In that case, you can take Jin,” Jimin countered, crossing his arms.

Yoongi scoffed, “Damn. Did I miss a notice stating that (Y/N) is your partner again?” He then grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the other side of the ward, leaving Jimin fuming with anger and Jin puzzled.

As you and Yoongi turned to a corner, a loud noise erupted. The two of you stopped any movements, weapons raised as a reflex. You knew better than to speak out loud, so you waited with bated breath. Suddenly, a figure leapt out from the shadows.

It was a ghoul.

Its Kagune gleamed in the dim light and moved at a thunder-like speed, but before the ghoul could even reach the two of you, Yoongi had already unsheathed his jagged quinque. His quinque sliced through the air with deadly accuracy as he pivoted on his heel and swung, slicing through its kagune. The ghoul stumbled backwards, blood gushing from the wound on its side. Yoongi didn’t give it a chance to recover, though. He pressed forward, striking blow after blow with his quinque.

The ghoul crumpled to the ground with a loud thud, lifeless.

You stood back, watching as Yoongi wrenched the blood off his weapon and rested it on his shoulder. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that Yoongi was the most ruthless, quick-witted investigator ever to be born in KCCG. But at that moment, you wished he was anything but those. The ghoul you and Yoongi had encountered was a lone male ghoul. But it wasn’t that fact that made you hesitant.

He looked terrified. Eyes wide with fear.

It wasn’t the fear of being found by doves.

The fear in his eyes was present even before the pair of you arrived. He was about to say something before Yoongi killed him. You didn’t miss the tremble of his lips. “He was trying to tell something.” You approached the dead body.

Yoongi crouched down beside you and examined the ghoul’s face. “It doesn’t matter now.”

You frowned; you couldn’t shake the feeling that you might have missed something important. You scanned the area to see if there were other ghouls nearby, but there weren’t any. You and Yoongi moved forward cautiously. The streets of the 13th ward were silent. The moon shone down the deserted road, casting an eerie glow on the surroundings. As you and your partner walked further into the area, Yoongi suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing you to do the same.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the distance, approaching you rapidly.

Yoongi swung his quinque, ready for use, a menacing look on his face. You followed suit, grip on your weapon tightening. The footsteps grew closer, and you could see the silhouette of three figures approaching your direction with crazed expressions on their faces, ready to attack.

Without hesitation, Yoongi charged forward, striking one of the ghouls with a swift blow from his quinque. They clashed back and forth, Yoongi using his agility to dodge the ghoul’s attacks and strike back with his 13’s Jason. Each time he landed a hit, the ghoul would let out a pained growl, but it only seemed to make it more aggressive.

But it made Yoongi scoff.

He found it funny how the ghoul tried to act mighty and strong when he could easily detach the head from the neck with bare hands. Yoongi fought the creature with a clear stance and graceful movements as if he was performing a dance.

A deadly dance.

He was, after all, a killing machine masking as a delicate doll.

The remaining two turned their attention to you. The male ghoul was massive, towering over you with impressive height and a menacing expression. His kagune, a long tentacle-like appendage, whipped through the air as it prepared to attack. He lunged forward, forming his kagune into a claw; he aimed at your chest. But you quickly dodged the attack, stepping to the side and bringing your Aus up in a defensive stance. He snarled and attacked again.

Yoongi launched a powerful attack with his kagune, slicing through the ghoul’s torso and causing him to fall to the ground with a thud. He dragged his quinque painfully slow through the ghoul’s body as more blood flowed out. He lazily turned his head toward your direction. You were fighting two ghouls, but he didn’t have any intention of helping you, so he continued playing with the dead body.

You can handle them…

Probably, he shrugged.

With a swift movement of your wrist, you sliced through the ghoul’s arm, causing him to screech in pain and recoil. The second one finally jumped into the fight. She was relentless, her kagune striking out again and again, but you were unyielding, dodging, blocking, and attacking with unflinching determination. She charged at you upon seeing her friend being taken down, but again, you instinctively dodged to the side, swinging your quinque in a wide arc. She was fast, but you were quicker as you blocked and deflected her attacks while landing blows of your own. Your weapon finally made heavy contact with the ghoul’s flesh, spraying a shower of blood into the air. She howled in pain, but you couldn’t feel any sympathy; instead, you could feel a rush of adrenaline.

Suddenly, the injured male lunged forward with lightning speed, his kagune striking at you with deadly force. You looked at him with a condescending smirk, “A strong one, aren’t you?”

It was almost psychotic how your tone sounded because nothing could’ve prepared your opponents for your sudden move. Your quinque pierced through the ghoul’s flesh in a blink of an eye, and he let out a final howl before collapsing to the ground, dead.

It took the female one off guard, but you didn’t give her time to recover as you jumped over her head and delivered a powerful kick to its back. She was sent flying with great force; probably broke a few bones and damaged some areas of skin. You looked down at her spasming figure with malice and plunged your Aus into her back, ending her life immediately.

The bureaus under your command had shocking looks on their faces. They exchanged glances with each other as if realising that you were not to be underestimated. Of course, they had always heard the praises that fell from the lips of the higher-ups that you were a skilled investigator, but seeing you in action was entirely another thing.

“New recruits?” Yoongi’s voice was calm and collected, betraying no hint of emotion as he finished off the ghoul he was handling just now.

He did detach the head from the neck.

The bureaus’ complexion paled, every colour drained at the horrendous sight before them.

“Right, I forgot bureaus don’t kill all the time,” because it was clear that killing ghouls was just another day in the life of a KCCG investigator.

Suddenly, a shiver ran down your spine as you caught a glimpse of a figure moving in the corner of your eye. It has to be a mistake. A low growl echoed through the hallway, causing the team to freeze. They knew that sound all too well - it was the sound of a ghoul.

Not just an ordinary ghoul.

“It’s the Owl.”

Yoongi’s voice was the last thing you heard before the explosive sound of the Owl crashing on the ground, announcing its presence and causing debris to rain down on everyone. The heavy feelings that have been crawling on your back. The first ghoul you had encountered, the terror and fear in his eyes.

The three ghouls that were killed.

They died in the hands of doves instead of the Owl.

It was unintentional that they encountered us.

They were running away from the grim reaper but still stumbled on death’s door.

“Take cover!” You commanded the bureaus, grabbing the nearest to you by the arm and pulling them towards the most immediate cover. You and Yoongi were split as he jumped toward the right side. You positioned yourself in front of the female bureau you had pulled with you, shielding her from any potential danger.

The Owl planned all of this. None of these were coincidences.

Reaching for your ear device, you contacted Hoseok, “Emergency code red-O, triple S; Yong. Location, North–”

“Bureaus, fire!”

Upon Yoongi’s command, the bureaus opened fire on the Owl. The air was filled with the sound of gunfire and the whistling of projectiles. But the bullets seemed to have no effect on it. The Owl grew even more enraged and began to thrash about wildly. Its tentacles flailed out in every direction, knocking over walls and sending debris flying through the air.

What the fuck?

Why is he provoking Yong?!

Owls were immune to Q-bullets; sometimes, even quinque does no damage. He should know that.

“Fall back!” You shouted through the chaos, but your command fell on deaf ears. The sound of the continuous firing prevented your voice from reaching your comrades. You scrambled to dodge the tentacles and find another safe cover. You could feel the ground shaking beneath you as Owl continued to wreak havoc on the ward. The dangerous creature let out a deafening screech. Its eyes glowed red as it turned its attention toward the bureaus. It flapped its kagune and leapt into the air, swooping down towards them with incredible speed. The armed investigators scattered desperately, trying to avoid the creature’s deadly tentacles.

“Investigator Min, we need to–”

Yong pounced on a group of bureaus, slashing and tearing with its razor-sharp appendages. They screamed in terror as the beast’s relentless assault tore them apart. Some were still shooting and firing in hopes of distracting or even injuring – just a minor wound on the Owl, but despite their best efforts, the attacks seemed only to enrage the Owl further. It seemed almost invincible, unstoppable in its rage. Its attacks became increasingly ferocious, and the investigators found themselves quickly losing ground.

You turned to your partner in terror, hoping he would just look you in the eyes and bellow a command. “Min Yoongi – !” Except he was not in his spot.

The Owl turned around just in time to block your superior’s attack with its own kagune. It countered with a devastating strike that nearly took Yoongi off his feet.

“Yoongi, Hoseok is on the way. We need to retreat first!” You tried to reach him again while trying to gather the bureaus. The situation was already chaos at its finest; Yoongi definitely didn’t need to add up to it.

With a violent swing of his 13’s Jason, Yoongi charged forward once more, his quinque gleaming in the dim light of the ward. The two engaged in an intense battle, their weapons clashing with each other in a violent symphony. He lunged at the Owl, his quinque slashing through the air toward the ghoul’s head. But no matter how skilled Yoongi was, Owl was no easy opponent, and it had yet to unleash its full power.

Yoongi was not Namjoon.

Not even Hoseok.

Skills unmatched.

Yong’s eyes glowed with malice. Sidestepping the attack, it launched itself towards Yoongi; massive kagune extended, robust scale-red slashed through the air and to his abdomen. Yoongi stumbled back as blood seeped through his shirt.

He cursed under his breath, looking down at his open wound. His stamina was decreasing significantly from all those attacks and defences. But his body had long entered survival mode; he was far from exhausted. The Owl that stood in front of him, he knew very well.

The same Owl that caused a riot and havoc back in his hometown.

The very same Owl that became the reason why he was in KCCG instead of living happily with his family.

The one and only Owl that was responsible for his first ever traumatic event.

The fucking Owl that–

“Yoongi, dodge!” You slammed your body toward Yoongi without thinking twice the moment you saw his eyes go blank. You’ve seen that Yoongi way too many times. The Yoongi that would be deep in thought and stare into nothingness when you passed by his office. The only moment where he would show vulnerability unconsciously, and you knew how much he hated it– because you hated it too– but that always happened in the KCCG building and never, ever during a mission.

The collision between your body and Yoongi’s was extremely powerful that it sent him flying to the other side, to a safer side. His eyes finally met yours as his train of thought was interrupted. The worried expression on his face was the first you ever saw in your time working with him as he screamed your name with great desperation. You could swear you saw his eyes turn glossy before you were sent flying.

You pushed him just in time but were a second late to dodge the Owl’s full-force attack. Your Aus managed only to cover your torso as the Owl’s movement was too quick for your reflex. Your whole body met with the Owl’s heavy blow.

Since when does getting hit by your own quinque hurt like bitch? “S-shit…”

Your body was numb.

Hey, at least you’re not feeling pain.

Better than feeling the pain like someone was taking away your soul.

“Oh, my lady,” A voice reached your ears, although it was very faint due to the impact your body had experienced. You knew whose voice it was. “Do you recognise me?”

It was Hoseok.

You blinked twice as a yes.

“Good girl.” Weirdly you could feel his gentle stroke on your hair. His warmth reached your cold, numbing body. You wanted to close your eyes. “I need you to stay with us until you reach the hospital. Can you do that for me?”

You were tired. You didn’t think you could comply with this order.

“I know you’re tired and hurt, (Y/N), but I need you to just stay conscious. Jin will keep you company. I will take over everything from here. Take a rest, but please stay alive.”

The next thing you know, Jin was already on your side with a worried expression. “(Y/N), hang on there. The ambulance is on the way.” He stroked your hair with his rough, calloused hand – probably due to handling those heavy killing weapons. Your hands were no different. In fact, all ghoul investigators were bound to roughen their hands.

With the quinques.

And with blood.

Oh, are you regretting your decision, (Y/N)?

Never.

“Stay with us, (Y/N),” you heard Jungkook’s voice. Quinque was thrown to the side as he kneeled next to you. You swore his force could’ve injured his knees, but he didn’t seem to care at all by the looks of it. His eyes were only on you. Pupils dilated in fear. Hands and lips trembled as he spoke. “It must’ve hurt a lot, Sakura.”

Sakura.

“Yeah,” you said with minimal energy. “It hurts a lot, Koo.”

Jimin arrived last at the scene. He was out of breath from the sprinting he did when he received Hoseok’s assembly order. His eyes first landed on your half-alive body before the sight of the hideous monster caught his eyes.

Yoongi and (Y/N) couldn’t be that stupid to try and take the Owl down.

One was a half-ghoul, and another one was pure human.

“Oh, Yong Owl,” Hoseok had left your side, hands stuffed in his pockets and walked towards Yoongi, ordering the other fellow Supreme Squad members to follow him with bureaus at the ready. “It’s been a while, don’t you think?”

Yong Owl.

That name caught Jimin’s attention. When Hoseok commanded him to come here, he wasn’t informed which Owl was at the scene; only his rate was told. Jimin pushed back his hair from his forehead. He so badly wanted to burst into a loud laugh. He let his hand stay on his face longer but couldn’t contain the vicious smirk tugging on his lips at the realisation. Of course, it wasn’t you that could be so stupid in this situation.

You were the result of Yoongi’s stupidity.

Yong wasn’t some random Owl. Of course, he wasn’t, even for KCCG. But Yong was especially not some random Owl for Yoongi.

Jungkook hesitated to walk away from you but got on his feet and stood next to Jin with a concerned face for a few seconds. You were, after all, a Jeon. He couldn’t bear to see his family in pain and let the assaulter run away. He was torn between staying by your side or taking down Yong Owl. Jimin slung his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, pulling the younger with him heading towards the Owl.

Yong was the murderer of Yoongi’s family.

“We’ll be right back, (Y/N),” Jimin sent you a wink. A smirk followed shortly after as he continued. “After this, no more danger you can’t take on will come your way.”

Silly Yoongi, but thank you for the opportunity, soulmate.

“Didn’t expect to see me?” Hoseok smiled. “I know you wish to have encountered Namjoon instead because he always lets you go unscathed, worried for his teammates.”

Yong took a step back as the Chief Director took a step forward. Hoseok was known for his ruthlessness, and that fact was well-learned even for ghouls, even for Owls. While he seemed like the most gentle and caring person, the fact was that he was still a ghoul investigator. His motto in KCCG was to kill with passion. He has worked for KCCG for the longest among everyone. His entire bloodline was born only to serve KCCG for the betterment of the world.

Most Owls have their own hideouts that were undetectable by KCCG; hence it was unlikely for Owls to bump into the doves. Moreover, Owls always stayed lowkey.

“But things work differently for me. You bark, I bite.”

A bureau walked towards Hoseok to hand him a quinque suitcase. Jimin whistled at the sight. He knew what was in that. Heck, it even looked different than any other quinque suitcase.

It was the legendary quinque.

It was the quinque imported from CCG, Japan. Previously wielded by Kishou Arima, the legendary ghoul investigator before he died, since then, the quinque has been stored in CCG’s top secret room. It was only recently an evaluation was done to hand over the quinque to worthy hands and make use of it. Hoseok was invited to take part in the evaluation and easily scored the highest. The quinque was named Owl, created from a kakuhou torn out of the Non-Killing Owl during the battle against Arima. Crafted with precision and designed for devastating efficiency, it possessed an air of elegance despite its deadly purpose. It was the only known SSS-rated quinque and the only one known to be created from a living ghoul. 

“Unlucky for you; you hurt my favourite person.” Hoseok shook his head in disappointment as he was just scolding a child for his wrongdoing. He activated the suitcase, and immediately, it transformed into the Owl.

The Owl quinque was a masterpiece of engineering, combining intricate craftsmanship with advanced technology. Its appearance was both captivating and haunting, resembling a pair of oversized metallic wings. The wings were adorned with intricate patterns and etchings, reflecting the meticulous attention to detail put into its creation. The surface of the quinque gleamed with a metallic sheen, hinting at its superior strength and durability. The blade of the quinque was razor-sharp, capable of easily slicing through flesh and exoskeleton. Its edges were finely honed and meticulously maintained, ensuring maximum combat-cutting efficiency.

But it was not just its physical attributes that made the Owl quinque so formidable. Within its core lay a unique and deadly mechanism. With a simple flick of a switch, the quinque would unleash its true power. The wings would unfold, revealing hidden compartments and mechanisms, each serving a specific purpose in enhancing combat capabilities. The Owl quinque was known for its incredible speed and agility. It allowed its wielder to move with astonishing swiftness, striking down enemies in a flurry of precise and lethal attacks. Its versatility was unmatched, enabling the wielder to seamlessly transition between offensive and defensive maneuvers, easily adapting to any situation.

Moreover, the quinque possessed a unique ability to absorb and manipulate the kagune, the potent weapon of the ghouls. It could absorb the kagune’s energy and redirect it with devastating force, turning the enemy’s own power against them. This ability allowed the wielder to effectively counter even the most formidable opponents, turning their strength into their downfall.

The sheer power and elegance of the Owl quinque made it a symbol of Arima’s skill and prowess as a CCG investigator. Its reputation preceded it, striking fear into the hearts of ghouls and admiration in the minds of fellow investigators.

It was a weapon of legend, capable of rewriting the course of battles and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

Weapon at ready, Hoseok began again, “I don’t want your death.”

In the hands of Arima, the Owl quinque became an extension of his own being. It embodied his relentless determination and unwavering resolve in the face of darkness. With each swing and strike, he delivered justice with chilling precision, carving a path through the ghouls that dared to challenge him, and it was about to be the same for Hoseok.

The legend of the Owl quinque would be relived in his hands.

“Your scream when I extract fragments of you in Cochlea sounds more satisfying.”

And he would start by painting the blood of Yong on the quinque.

All rights reserved © 2023 kthyg. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost without permission. Feedback is very much appreciated. It keeps me motivated! Send me an ask!

[chaoticpuff17]

When the Chips Are Down

part 26

masterlist

hello my darlings! I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted. Life has been crazy. Students have been crazy. I might be losing my mind. We’re defiinitley looking for a new job, but I have a chapter for you at long last. Enjoy!-- Chaotic Puff 

“Is the bride coming down?” Namjoon asked, eyes fixed on his wife as he bounced their daughter in his arms. They had a room full of guests waiting for a wedding, and the bride was refusing to come out. She had locked herself in the room she was getting ready in and wouldn’t see anyone but her sister. 

“If you want her to come out, you’ll have to go and fetch her yourself. She’s not moving.” she quirked a brow, daring him to do it. They both knew that Iyla was going to stay in that room until the last possible moment, and even then someone would more than likely have to drag the bride out. 

“There are guests waiting.” 

“They’ll wait.” 

A bright smile lit up her face as she switched her attention to the baby in his arms whose eyes were in turn fixed on her mother, smiling the little urchin grin that she seemed only to smile for her mother. She laughed as her mother made a face and dove in to place a volley of little kisses on her cheeks. Much to Namjoon’s annoyance, Nara only laughed like that for her mother. The laughter was a new development within the past week or so, but no matter what he tried, she would only laugh, really laugh, for Y/N.

“Why doesn’t she ever do that for me?” 

“Because she likes me better.” she shot back not even looking up as she let their daughter grab hold of her fingers, smiling brightly as Nara played with the appendages. 

A small smile flitted across his features, but quickly disappeared as his gaze wandered down the hall towards where Iyla had barricaded herself into the room she was meant to be getting ready in. They were already running more than an hour behind schedule. Iyla should have been taking pictures with Hoseok by now, but there had been no pictures taken, and he doubted very much that there would be any taken before the ceremony itself. 

“She’ll have to come out one way or another.” 

“I doubt she’ll pick the easy way. This isn’t what she wanted.” The smile fell from her face as she finally met Namjoon’s eyes. “No one wants to walk down the aisle under duress let alone to marry someone they don’t even like.” 

“Speaking from personal experience?” 

“I had an escort of Jimin and Taehyung while I was getting ready.” 

The reminder was pointed, both her voice and her features tight though she was doing an admirable job of remaining neutral. 

Her wedding was a day she remembered very little of. She’d been numb to it, but there were certain parts of the day she did remember. She remembered Jimin and Taehyung plying her with mimosas as she got ready- not enough to get her drunk but enough to keep her calm and pliant throughout the ordeal. She remembered Jackson barging into her dressing room. She remembered Namjoon nearly choking the life out of him during the reception, but for the most part the day was a blur, the memories shrouded in a haze she didn’t really want to clear away. 

She hoped that Iyla would experience her wedding in a similar blur. This wasn’t a day she was going to want to remember. It wasn’t a day that Y/N was going to want to remember either. 

“You look lovely, Jagiya.” 

There was a soft look in his eyes as he looked at his wife and daughter. They made a pretty picture, all done up for the wedding. 

The last time that Namjoon had seen her so dolled up was for the gala. She was softer now, physically and emotionally. Her barbs weren’t quite so sharp. Pregnancy had softened the sharp edges of her body, but motherhood had softened her tongue. She could still level him with a few choice words, but she wasn’t as quick to spit venom anymore. Her glare was just as powerful as always though, potent enough to have grown men quaking in their boots. 

“I should get back to my sister.” she shrugged past his comment and the look in his eyes, uncomfortable with the softness of the moment. They weren’t meant to be soft with each other. 

Namjoon arched his brow. 

“I thought you said nothing would convince her to come out?”

“I’m not going to convince her. I’m going to keep her company.” 

He reached out, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her and Nara back in. “Or you could stay with me, and enjoy the festivities.” he suggested, looking at her appreciatively. 

She arched a brow in turn, delicately extricating herself from his hold. “I’d rather not. If you’re going to force my baby sister to get married, I think I should be with her.” 

“She will be walking down that aisle, jagi. Whether either of you wants it or not, she will be getting married today.” 

Within a moment the same glare he had been reminiscing about was turned on him in full force. 

“I may be stuck with you, and that was my choice, but Iyla has made no such promises. Maybe she can succeed where I couldn’t.” 

Namjoon stiffened at her words, tensing at the reminder of the disdain of her own situation, a mirror of her sister’s. The past few weeks had been calmer. They had seemingly been doing better since their talk after Iyla’s fitting, but it was easy to lull himself into a false sense of security. It was easy to hope that she was finally coming around, but it was, as always, one step forward and two steps back even if she was teetering closer and closer to the edge. 

“Be careful, jagi.” He scolded, his narrowed eyes the only outward sign of his simmering displeasure. “Someone might think you were unhappy.” 

“Do any of you really think that coercion and kidnapping are a solid basis for a relationship let alone marriage?” She asked, head slightly tilted to the side, genuine curiosity coloring her tone, though there was something deep set and weary underneath it, the same exhaustion she’d been experiencing for some time now. “And Stockholm Syndrome really doesn’t count.” 

With that she turned away, making her way back to the bride and leaving Namjoon speechless behind her. 

“Iya.” she called, knocking softly on the door. “Iya, my love, it’s me. Can you open the door?”

There was a hint of movement behind the door before it cracked open just a smidge to reveal the barest hint of Iyla’s face peering out at her suspiciously. 

“No one’s with you right?”

“Not yet, but they’re getting antsy.”  she admitted as Iyla let her into the room, quickly shutting the door behind her.

Crouching down, Y/N set Nara play on the floor with the toys that were still out from earlier when they were all getting ready. Iyla has since kicked out the stylist and make-up artist and the hairdresser, but the mess was still there. Everything had been left behind in their haste to escape Iyla’s ire. 

“They’re not going to let us hide here forever.” 

“I know.” Iyla admitted throwing a baleful look down at herself, her fists clenched around the fabric of her dress. “I hate this.” 

“I know, and I’m sorry. I wish that there was more that I could do.” 

Iyla shrugged, unclenching her fists. “I don’t think there’s anything either of us could have done. It’s been a series of shitty events that none of us saw coming.” 

The knock on the door pulled both of their attention back to the events at hand. Unfortunately for both of them, there was no way that they could stay insulated in their personal bubble. Namjoon was outside at that very moment, knocking on the door and ushering in the reality of what was waiting for them on the other side. 

Y/N peaked her head out of the door, looking at him expectantly. “What do you want?” 

“It’s time, jagiya.” she sighed heavily, a deep line etched between her brows as he said the words. She knew what he was going to say, but she had still hoped that they might have some more time. “We can’t postpone any longer.” 

To his credit, he kept his tone soft and without demand. He was simply informing her of what was happening only this time he was using all the tact that he so regularly lacked when it came to these sort of interactions. But today he was mercifully soft, possibly even sympathetic. Even if he wasn’t going to stop the wedding, he was going to allow them to grieve for what was about to happen. 

He was more than aware that Y/N was on her breaking point. One wrong move on his part could shatter her entirely. But the right move could tip her over the edge and give him everything he wanted. It was all a precarious balancing act, and in the name of his own self-interest, he could be kind especially after their earlier disagreement. 

“I was under the assumption we had more time.” 

“You knew this was coming, jagiya. The guests have been waiting long enough.” 

“Can we have a few more minutes?” she asked, her own tone just as gentle if not slightly defeated.

“Only a few, and then the ceremony has to begin.” He acquiesced with a nod. 

“Thank you.”

Before he could say anything else, Y/N retreated into the room, closing the door behind her.

Iyla stood frozen in the middle of the room, looking far too young and far too out of place in her wedding dress. 

“Do we have to go?”

It was such a small question, spoken in such a small voice. By all logic it shouldn't have affected her the way it did, but her stomach dropped, clenching almost painfully at the thought of the answer she was going to have to give. 

“I’m afraid so. Namjoon is giving us another minute, and then it’s time.”

As much as she wished she could scoop up her sister and child and take them both far away, she knew that wasn’t going to be possible. Security was too tight, and even if they could slip away, Namjoon would never let them get far, and the consequences of the attempt would be devastating for them both. 

“I’m sorry.”

Iyla flashed a watery smile. “It’s not your fault. You and Jackson both told me to stay put. I’m the one that didn’t listen. I probably should have gone home once I learned that Jackson was dead and you were missing, but I didn’t.”

“I never should have come here in the first place.”

“Well,” she started, wiping her eyes, careful of the lashes that had been placed and the rest of her makeup. “It’s too late for that now, and I guess it’s time to go.” 

Y/N walked over and scooped up the baby from where she had been playing on the floor, settling her into her arms. 

“I suppose we should head out then.”

“This is really happening isn't it?”

Y/N couldn’t say anything. Instead she gathered her sister into her free arm and squeezed her as tightly as she could.

They stayed like that for a moment before Iyla pulled away. 

“Stop. You’re going to make me cry, and I want to walk down the aisle sticking up my middle finger, not a blubbering mess.”

“For what it’s worth, you look beautiful.” Too young. Too out of place, but beautiful nonetheless.

“I’m going to hack this dress to pieces later.”

“I’ll bring the scissors.” 

When they stepped out the door, Namjoon was waiting for them.

“Jagiya.” he greeted. “Iyla. You look lovely.”

“Eat shit and die, you rat bastard.” Iyla smiled sweetly as she returned his greeting as she strode out the door and towards the inevitable.

part 27

[bts-0t-7]

BTS | JHS | FIC RECS

Hoseokie's ball of sunshine is floating in!! I hope you'll enjoy the fics as much as I have loved reading them. Don't forget to tell the authors how much you have loved their work as well - whether it is a like, a comment, or a follow - they'll be glad to hear from you. Heheee

Shadows, @borathae (Angst, Exes!AU, suggestive themes, nudity, allusions to sex)

Love Quarrels, @mirahuyooo (Angst, fluff, romance, established relationship, mention of arranged marriage)

Blue Side, @liveyun (angst , mentions of smoking)

Oh, Angel!, @yoongiofmine (fluff, pwp, age gap)

The Apprentice, @borathae (Fantasy!AU, Magic School!AU, s2f2potential lovers!AU, Romance)

Flower, @readyplayerhobi (Fluff, future angst, future smut)

A Taste of Paradise, @theharrowing (strangers to lovers, angst, smut)

Two in One, @here2bbtstrash (threesome, smut, pwp, f2l, feat. Jimin)

Keeping a secret, @kpopfanfictrash (new relationship au, smut, oral (male receiving), see-rough sex?)

Studio, @joonbird (smut, fluff)

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

Where there's Sunshine, there's Midnight Rain

Pairing: Idol!Hoseok x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of struggle, fluff, established relationship, no mentions of reader's gender.

Summary: J-hope is sunshine in human form, but that makes him the midnight rain too. A short imagine of the reader helping Hoseok understand this.

masterlist

Another night, tossing and turning alone in a big bed. Waiting.. hoping, for the one who is the hope for a million people around the world. Another night spent reaching the cold side of the empty bed, staring at the sky counting down the minutes till daylight, sighing endlessly. Another night hoping hobi would return to you.

He's been home for a week since the tour but he hasn't been home since then. Even the bags were dropped off by his manager, who has visited three times since to collect the things he needed. As far as you knew there was no comeback anytime soon. There was effectively no requirement for him to stay over at the dorms at least for the next two weeks. Especially when he has a home studio set up in the house you both had bought together and decorated.

His not being home has become a routine, a habit even- albeit an excruciating one. What hurts more is the silence, even when on tour he texts or calls at least once a day. Sighing you open the same old chat to see the latest message from a week ago, the same text you have seen a million times till now.

Boarding the plan home. See you soon.

You scroll up the familiar chat screen and see that the messages become less expressive as the tour progresses. You also remember how the news articles and fan tweets raved more about J-hope the idol’s brilliance on stage at the exact same time. Another pattern you are used to, for every emoji his messages as j-hope had, Hoseok's messages became curt and to the point.

Once again, this isn’t new to you or him. In fact, you both met at the peak of j-hope and the absolute low of Hoseok. You might not have been a die-hard fan of the group but you knew enough to know j-hope was not the same shy, anxious and silent Hosoek you’d met by chance in that café. The contrast between who he has on stage and the person you grew to love were stark opposites. Not that you never saw the sunshine hobi, but he was present almost in equal parts as the Hoseok who walks around with a cloud on his head.

But Hoseok never went silent on you in this way. He might be verbally silent for days or weeks together but expressed his feelings in other ways. This time he was completely absent and that simply wouldn’t do. You gave him a week to himself and he still hasn’t returned home. This will simply not do.

And that’s how you find yourself at the door of his studio, at 2 AM, covered in layers of jackets and holding a bag of the dinner you’d made him today- just like you have done every day the past week.

You hesitate outside the studio, looking intently at the door as you contemplate knocking. You know he’s there, instinctively and also because you asked his manager. Huffing out another deep breath you knock on the door.

Silence.

That’s all there is for a minute before you try to open the door yourself, surprised to find it unlocked. You enter the room which reeks of the familiar scent that screams everything hobi- sunshine, flowers and carefree happiness, only to find your boyfriend curled up on the couch hugging his knees with his head down. You close the door slowly and go near him, he's shivering. The sight of him shatters your heavy heart and you reach out to caress him.

"hobi...", your voice comes out as a meek plea.

He shudders for a second and lifts his head up to look at you. His eyes are bloodshot, his usually plump cheeks stained with tears and his heart-shaped mouth in a frown. You drop to your knees and hold his face in your hands, helping him look at you eye to eye. His eyes immediately dart down and he lowers his knees. Just as he can try to push you away you sit next to him on the couch and turn him towards you. You hold his hand with a grip that tells him that he cannot run anymore.

"Please leave me alone." He begs, more tears streaming down his exhausted and ashamed face. You offer him a smile, not one of pity or empathy, just a smile of love.

"You had enough time. I won't let you hurt on your own."

Your voice comes out harsher than you intended but it works as he looks up, eyes now curious. In that second of pure vulnerability, he looks like a child. You reach out and wipe those damned tears away from his face and he leans into your touch.

When he talks again his voice cracks, "I knew I would end up hurting you eventually."

"You didn't hurt me hoba." He looks at me pointedly, "Of course, I did... look at us. I spent a week in the studio because I am too fucked in the head to be with you. All the other guys went home and are happily resting with their partners and I left you alone after months of being away... all because I feel like a fraud. Because I can't figure out why I am this way and why I never have any of me to give you. When I should be giving all of me to the one I love with my whole heart."

By this time he is on your lap, your fingers running through his hair, his hands holding your other hand for dear life.

"Everyone is a little messed up in the head. But it is even harder for someone like you who spends all his time giving every bit of happiness and kindness to everyone around you." You hear him sigh and he starts drawing patterns on your palm as you do the same with his scalp. "I don't really do all that you know..", he sounds unsure and you sense the venom of self-hate dripping in his tone.

"They call you human sunshine for a reason hobi."

He freezes in place for a second and nods slightly. You pause for a minute to look at him, really look at this exhausted, loving human who does so much for everyone around him and so little for himself. He notices the long pause and starts with his patterns again on your palm and settles on your lap. You realise that he needs to see himself for all he is and accept all that as it comes. And you hope he will let you stand with him the whole way.

"Hobi, you are human sunshine. I know it makes you happy to make everyone smile, to take care of your brothers and friends. I know you love being the reason to light up someone's day and being their hope. I also know that you do that because it's what gives you hope for yourself. But...". You pause to gauge his reactions but he shows none and taking that as a good sign you continue.

"But the thing is you are not sunshine... you are human. To be human is to understand that where there is sunshine there is also midnight rain. The more you give, the more you need to. To be sunshine is to burn yourself for others and that is not good for you. So it is okay for you to take your time. To soak in your rain, to be silent and just receive. It's okay for you to rest and pause... Hobi, it's okay for you to receive my love and happiness so that you can give it back tenfolds. You are human and you need your own dose of sunshine too."

He looks up at me with wet big eyes, this time the heart-shaped mouth turned upwards. He slowly gets up, never letting your hand go and moves closer and pulls you in a hug. He holds on to you until there is no space between both of you and rests his head on your shoulder. You reach out one hand to caress the back of his head and hold him by the waist in the other hand.

Time ceases to move as you both sit there, him slightly whimpering into your shoulders and you trying to ease all the pain from him. Hoping that the personification of hope himself will learn to accept himself- one deep breath and a tear at a time. Hoping that he can learn to embrace the rain that follows Hoseok by being the sunshine that j-hope is.

[i-am-baechu]

That Irish Barista (M) | ♞ | | ♚ | | ♛ | | ♜ | (On Hold)

Summary: “Did you just ask me if I sell coffee in a fucking coffee shop?” And with that, Taehyung was smitten by the Barista in the crazy flower sweater vest. Friendships will form but most importantly Taehyung will finally meet his soulmate. 

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•°•✿•°•———•

Genre: Idol au, strangers to lovers au, barista reader!, slow burn (friends with benefits to lovers kind of), semi-short storyish format, friendships, romance, angst, comedy, and smut

Main pairing: Idol! Taehyung x Barista! Reader 

Side ships: Hoseok x OC 

Warnings: Explicit language, smut, mature themes, homophobia, smoking cigarettes, drugs and alcohol usage 

( All characters are adults and this is mostly based on true events…not in my life but I’m sure in someone’s life. Don’t do some of the events in this story, I will not bail you out. )

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•°•✿•°•———•

Chapters:

Introduction: Characters

Chapter one: The One About First Meetings

Chapter two: The One About K-pop

Chapter three: The One About The First Kiss

Chapter four: The One About The Wedding

Chapter five: The One About First Dates ( Kind Of )

Drabble: Tease

Chapter six: The One About Breaking In

Chapter seven: The One About The Party

Chapter eight: The One About The "Hangout"

Drabble: Midnight Swim

Chapter nine: The One About Long Distance

Chapter ten: The One About Visiting

Chapter eleven: The One About Trouble

Chapter twelve: The One About Exes

Chapter thirteen: The one about exes part two

[hoseoksluna]

BERRIES | jjk ft. jhs

pairing: ex-boyfriend!jungkook x oc (feat. hobi)

genre: angst, tiny fluff, itty bitty smut

word count: 6.0k

summary: your ex-boyfriend shouldn't have this much influence over you when you have a new man, should he?

playlist: berries / pinterest board: berries

warnings: depression, daddy issues, use of titles, oc has dirty thoughts about hobi (do we blame her? no, we do not), slowburn, implied sex, dd/lg, soft argument

note: this took every last bit of my strength, so i had to split it up. i'm sorry if this is a piece of absolute shit, but as you all know work this week squeezed everything out of me and i'm so exhausted that i'm not even sure if this is worth posting. i struggled a lot with this fic, rewrote it multiple times, and i'm so very happy that it's finished. i hope you all enjoy the start of a new series, this time a slowburn that will have more parts, more depth and everything. and surprise! it features hobi, my beautiful husband. it was my first time writing about him and he's missing so terribly from my soul that it was one of the reasons why i struggled so much. i wish it weren't like this for my first time with him, but oh well. i hope you, guys, enjoy. please, let me know what you think. <3

The satiny material of your cream-colored dress must be the one and the same that these sculptures had worn centuries ago. You can almost imagine the softness kissing your fingerprint instead of the cool stone as you graze your touch against each and every immortalized angel of loveliness. You’re stirred by a sense of poignancy—that you’re alive and they’re not and yet you believe that as you stare at them, feel what they’ve been through the more you study their eternal expressions, they stare right back with their eternally tender eyes, see right through you, through your heart, know its contents. You wish you were in their place instead; you’re sure they would’ve handled your cursed life better than you can. 

Or you wish you were as stony as them. 

But you’re an opulent fountain of emotions that are anything but gentle. 

This thought distracts your attention from the way your feet ache in the boots you chose to wear to impress your date. Thigh high, with black knee socks underneath to keep you warm from the cruel breath of autumn. Hoseok is carrying your trenchcoat as you’re adventuring on your own in this art museum and that’s the only sliver of kindness he’s shown you this very morning. 

The only compliment you’ve received from him was a nonverbal one. An up and down look with a smirk creeping in when he picked you up at your apartment. No hug, no caress. You felt so small—and awkward a little bit, comparison rushing in. Not in the form of a wave of the sea, but in the form of a snake, its thick body tightening around your throat. An ouroboros, which made you regret going out on a date so soon. 

It hasn’t even been a month since you’ve become a single girl again, learning how to walk in this new, harsh reality, your legs wobbly, weak and too, too heavy. And the lack of comfortable physical contact made you see your ex-boyfriend before your own eyes, the memory of how he acted at the beginning of your first date. The way he picked you up into his arms due to his excitement of being with you and carried you inside his car. He put on your seatbelt for you. Drove carefully. Held your hand as he led you to the restaurant he picked for you. Even during the walk after while you talked about the stars and you couldn’t help but tell him that his eyes were filled with them. 

Hoseok did neither of those things. He had asked you where you wanted to go and you’ve wanted to visit the museum for quite a while, so you suggested it. He had agreed, no sort of enthusiasm evident in his voice muffled by the phone call. And you’ve barely exchanged a few words during the half an hour of your time spent here, let alone led an entire conversation. You should’ve heeded the warning when it was right in front of you.

Hoseok is certainly not of the artistic kind. 

Looks quite bored as you turn your head to look at him, your coat dangling from his arm so terribly devastatingly. And when you focus your gaze to your right, where a dark wine-tinged room, with golden frames of paintings, awaits you and where you’ve longed to go the moment you stepped a foot inside this grand building, a distaste pools on your tongue, your former aesthetic elation ruined. 

You’re surprised he didn’t stand you up. 

You don’t even want to take pictures. As a matter of fact, you want to go home. But you can’t. Can’t ravage your only possibility and means of forgetting the person you still love. Can’t really encourage Hoseok to leave your life, not when you’re the type of person that doesn’t find love upon every corner you turn to. 

This is your only chance. And he’s the only man you’ll conceivably have in your life for quite some time. 

You walk up to him and take your coat from his arm. His eyes deepen on you, in fact they haven’t strayed from you during the entire half an hour—and that bothers you. If your ex-boyfriend were here, he’d share the beauty with you. Make you laugh so hard that the sound would echo around the vast room. Perhaps give life to the sculptures and they would laugh along, too. 

Your heart hangs heavy in your chest, sinks ever so slowly and you can’t bear it. You need to leave. Take this date elsewhere, hope for betterment to grace you—to have but a fragment of pity for you. 

“You hungry?” you ask, softly, willing your voice to be smooth and not divulge the brassy storm of your emotions to him. Hoseok doesn’t know anything about you. Doesn’t know that you yearn for another person to be standing in his place. “Did you have breakfast?” 

Hoseok needed the date to be in the early hours. Said he had a meeting in the afternoon. Would be working on a project with his colleagues until the late hours. You didn’t mind, not really, in fact it animated you—brought briskness into the sadness of your headspace, knowing it was rainy and cloudy outside. Perfect weather for the influence of the arts. That is, until you realized that it was a grave mistake to take a businessman to a museum; that you dragged a heathen to a church.

Hoseok shifts his weight on each foot, his shoulders swaying with the movement, and he licks his lip, bringing your attention to them. Small, but full—you wonder what they would feel like against yours. Wonder if he’d be gentle with you or violent. If he’d stroke your hair or grip it; fondle the ribbon you’re wearing in a half up do or untie it, entirely. Use it for another means like your ex-boyfriend invariably did. 

Your distaste grows, but not for Hoseok. It grows like poison ivy for yourself and your tendency to compare him with someone he doesn’t deserve to be juxtaposed with. 

Guilt blossoms in your sternum, the leaves of that poison ivy. Pretty to the eye, but deadly for the body. Just like you. You’re too baneful for such a pretty man like Hoseok. You’d do well to respect his boundaries and abstain from physical contact, prevent red rashes from marring his skin.

“I haven’t eaten yet,” Hoseok says, just as softly, rubbing the nape of his neck, the black cloth of his dress shirt taut over his arms—a pretty sight, one that could be hanging in the wine-tinged room for generations to gawk upon. “Truth be told, I was too nervous.” 

A brief smile adorns his slender face and you melt, the poison ivy scratching you raw. Your heart picks up its rhythm, flattery clothing it in a protective layer and you pout, your hand itching to graze his forearm. But a hidden fight rises in you, an army of darkness ready with their bows, their arrows shooting thoughts into your brain about how little you’re worthy of such kindness and favor. 

Though when Hoseok blushes upon seeing your tender expression, it gives you some sort of strength to stand tall against those demons. Despite the fact you don’t understand it, you don’t question it either and you cling to it, sensing its freedom speaking to you in a foreign language. A yearning forms in you, one you haven’t yet had the possibility of meeting. A yearning to learn its syntax and vocabulary. And when you give in to it, the poison ivy in you lessens. 

This is good. 

You reciprocate his smile and you coo. Find it the easiest thing in the world. And because you’re so grateful for what he’s unwittingly done for you, you decide to share your truth with him as well. 

“Let’s go eat, then.” Your eyes crinkle and you’d bet light flickers in them, for your whole body does, you sense it. A warm light enlarges on its axis, taking a hold of the heaviness you felt. “There’s no need to be nervous. It’s what I told myself when I was getting ready. My stomach hurt and believe it or not when I told myself these words, it stopped.” 

Hoseok chuckles, his arm slapping back to his side, but you notice that it trembles. You’re so touched by it that you become angry at yourself, self-hatred clashing with that warmth. You misinterpreted him so unfairly and what’s more, you wallowed in your brokenness and your heartbreak, when Hoseok had been nervous and timid the whole time, which now sheds light on his lack of closeness with you. 

You’re despicable. And the awareness of it transforms into that snake tightening around your throat again. Only this time, you welcome it. Long for it to take your life. It’s the least you deserve. 

But you’re not letting yourself loll in the bed of your horrendous emotions. No, you lift your hand and you caress his arm, the one that quakes. And amidst the sepulchral attention of the sculptures, you’re a witness to that trembling’s halt, to Hoseok’s visible tranquility, and you want to weep. 

You know if you were to gaze at the eternal angels of beauty, you’d see stony tears appear on their ivory cheeks, too. 

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok mumbles and you curl your brows in confusion, not knowing what he’s apologizing for. Hoseok opens his mouth again to speak, but he pauses, sloshing the words in his mouth. You feel so bad that a craving to better yourself overcomes your entire being. “I’m sorry for being such a buzzkill. If you wanna explore this place more, we can. I saw you looking at the room with the paintings.” 

He tilts his head in the direction of the aforementioned room, but you care very little about it as of now. You’d much rather take this elsewhere and get to know him better, so you don’t make the mistake of distorting him again. You’re not very keen on forcing a heathen to pray, either, however you do appreciate his willingness and attentiveness. Carry those things into your jarred heart, fold them inside its chambers, the edge pieces to the puzzle of his personality. 

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, taking it one step further and hooking your arm around his. Hoseok sighs, his shyness slowly breaking apart as he clasps his hand over yours and if you could dissolve any more, now would be the perfect time for it. His hold is strong and steady—and it creates something stable within you, an orchard of fruit trees, pink and green, and bushes of berries, a safe place you want to rest in; lay down your brokenness and woes in. “You’re good. No need to apologize.”

His blush deepens at the reassurance and he smiles, softly, running his thumb over your knuckles. And the gratefulness you feel due to the fact he’s touching you, it is the rain that freshens up the apples and cherries hanging on the twigs of those trees, guiding it into full bloom. You focus on it—focus on the thick, cottony material of his dress shirt as you rub his forearm in response. You want to acknowledge yourself with the unspoken parts of him like these, remember them, allow them to heal you and crack the plaster over your heart. 

And there you hear it. The crumble as Hoseok leans in and presses a chaste peck onto your cheek, lingering there for a second more, inhaling your sandalwood scent. And his smile widens as he looks down on you at such close proximity, erasing your touch-starvation once and for all. It’s your turn to blush now and you feel an inkling to shy away from his gaze, but you stifle it back. Curl your mouth in a smile—your heart thumping louder amidst the orchard now that it has more space to function in. 

“No, I really want to apologize. It’s been too long since I’ve been on a date and you’re so stunning that I’ve forgotten my game, so I can’t help but to be nervous. I don’t know how to act around you,” he says, mutedly, punctuating his sentence with a breathy laugh, glimmering eyes flicking to the lining of your silky neckline just below your collarbones, tracing the miniature cherub hung up on your dainty necklace plated in gold, motionless against your dress. Your own heart grows wings and momentum in its place, fluttering in haste to move closer to him. He bores his gaze back into yours, letting it stay there. “Art isn’t really my thing, but you look like you belong here. Look like all those angels around.” He nods at your necklace. “And like that angel, too. Can I take a picture of you?”

You’re so taken aback that you don’t have time to respond. Pulling out his phone from the pocket of his dress pants, he withdraws from you and gently ushers you in the direction of the closest angel, your trenchcoat slung over his arm again, vibrating with life. He positions you how he likes—right in front of the immense sculpture, your head turned slightly to the side so the wisps of your white ribbon in your hair can be seen. His touch grounds you, tells your bloodstream, your organs that everything is okay, repeats it a little louder to your headspace—all before war could be declared with you. 

Hoseok, the prince of peace. 

The prince that crouches to the dirty floor so the vastness of the angel’s wings can fit in the shot. Yours, too. You think you’ve grown a pair of your own, alongside your heart, now that your shared honesty brought you closer.

You struggle to hold back your sob, to stop the corners of your mouth from rounding, your chin from quivering—all because the lightness that you sense wrapping over your heart is one you haven’t felt in a really long time. You feel taken care of, feel like you can depend on him, and while you can’t explain why you feel that way, you consider that such an immense blessing, regardless. So much that your eyes wet for the camera, but you don’t mind. Let that be captured in the memory—the mending that occurred. And let that be safe with him. 

You smile and the flash goes off, which causes you to burst into giggles, your liquid softness forgotten, and run to him, your palm covering his phone camera so nobody sees his defiance. You look around to make sure no employee is in sight before you face him, cheeks warm, heart warm, wings warm, body warm. Hoseok quirks a brow, confused, gaping up at you from his position, and you take a deep breath to halt another inrush of laughter.

“You can’t take pictures with flash here. They’ll throw us out,” you whisper-shout, your giggles escaping your tightened mouth. His own forms into an ‘O’, fingers clicking on his screen, presumably turning off the automatic flash.

“I didn’t know,” he whisper-shouts back, mouth stretched in a lopsided grin. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid.” You shake your head, shoulders still shaking with the last of your giggles. He probably didn’t have a phone back then, which makes it even funnier. He inspects his settings again to make sure it’s all good before his hand finds your thigh and pushes you back. “Okay, I turned it off. Go back to the angel.” 

It’s your whole body that flutters now, not just your heart, both pairs of wings unfurling, and when you retrace your steps, you still feel the heat of his touch—half on the fabric of your dress, half on your bare skin. And as you smile more naturally for the picture this time, greed kisses your core. A greed for more of his touch; on the same place as well as elsewhere. 

A twinkle of where he could possibly touch you flashes before your eyes and it’s all your focal point consists of when you turn your head to your former position the way he wanted it and he praises you for it: “Good, good.” 

Your muscles clench as you imagine his hand going underneath the fabric, exploring what’s hidden in there for him. The words of praise he would utter at the discovery of your private flesh. Your ears must be red. Such a twist of events you didn’t expect. A meek form of demureness creeps in, enveloping you in a feminine sensuality and you’ve missed feeling this way. Missed feeling pretty and alluring for yourself first, then for a man second. Missed being the center of your attention like this, of someone else’s as well. 

You’ve always loved it. Perhaps due to the fact that you very seldom have it—so when it does come, it changes your life and you attach your being to it. 

You didn’t anticipate going home with Hoseok, especially not on the first date. But because you’re being fed, you don’t really care about being proper. You want to go home with him and so you simply shall. 

Can’t let the opportunity run away from you. 

And so you arch your back a little bit more, look up at the angel and give her your silent thanks, your hair flowing around your form when you flick your gaze back to Hoseok to see him concentrated on the task, his smooth features gravely serious. Your stomach flips. 

“Now from the back,” he instructs without lifting his eyes off of the screen of his phone. “Just like you were.” 

A breath lodges in your throat, the double meaning burning the poison ivy down to ashes and you swallow it, let your stomach acid consume it until there’s nothing left of it, until all that your body carries is nothing but the lightness and the seductiveness that Hoseok gracefully gave you, the comfortable heft of the wings that grew because of him. 

It’s those things that drive forth your following words with the world’s ease, unabashedly. 

“You want it from the back?” 

Hoseok’s mouth parts and the look he exchanges with you should chill your blood, but it doesn’t. If anything, it boils it. The heat that wafts off it pools in your core before ascending to your imaginary wings, leaving them dripping with sweat and the dew of titillation. Hoseok’s eyes narrow, shadowed by the furrow of his brows, encouraging it all the more. 

There is it—the heady energy shift, permeated with the sweetest of berry juices, stemming from lust, from the orchard he planted in you. Strengthening your allure, steeling you from head to toe. You submit to it; kneel into it, notionally. Your elation raises from the dead—and you grin. 

“Behave.”

A pulse in your private parts. The lengthening of your expression of delight. Your wings, your muscles clench and the same winged creatures soar to your heart from your stomach, squeezing the beating flesh. You swivel on your heels, the hem of your dress rippling, exposing more of your tender skin, the ribbon in your hair following suit. 

Hoseok sucks in a breath. Your cheeks ache from the joy’s strain and it is utterly exhilarating to you. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Hoseok coos his approval and you can’t take it anymore. You let him take a few more pictures as you move around, dancing in your own way, running your fingers through your hair, trying to distract yourself from the throbbing between your legs, but to no avail. And when you sigh and face him head-on, Hoseok is already on his feet, walking towards you with a reappearing lopsided grin that forces the butterflies gnawing at your heart to go absolutely rampant. 

You’re done for. You need to take him home. You’re not even curious about how the pictures came out—you can always look at them later. 

Hoseok seems to know about your neediness because when he crosses the distance, he cups your chin. Makes you look up at him. And his smirk deepens while your heart increases in size, wings flitting at the special attention. 

“Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs, caressing your skin with his thumb. Your eyes round and the heat you feel is sweltering underneath your clothes. All the more reason for him to take them off. “The pictures are great. Wanna see?” 

Biting your lip, you shake your head, briefly. “What I want is to make you breakfast,” you say, mirroring his tone, hoping he gets the hint. 

Hoseok waggles your chin, humming. “Oh, yeah?” 

Fuck. If his scolding already didn’t make you submissive, then his response and his actions have. You wet your mouth, teeth instinctively sinking back in, and only nod. Hoseok opens your coat and covers your shoulders in its warmth, pressing the cotton twill fabric against your sternum. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

A fond sound pours out of him and the fact that he likes to be called by that title heightens the pulse between your legs. “Let’s go.” 

He leads you towards the exit with a hand on the small of your back and you’re so happy to be touched at last that with a final look at the angels, you send out your silent love and goodbye to them, thank them one last time for the kindness you received because of them, one that you so ferociously sought after and longed for. 

They seem to bow to you, happy to be of service, and you smile so profoundly that you feel as though nothing could stain your joy and mar it all over again. They wouldn’t allow that to happen—and a tendril of hope burst open within you like sunlight tearing through clouds, one that is suffused with the notion that Hoseok would stand in the way, side by side with those sculptures, too.

And he does when you swivel your head back and catch a glance of someone you know. 

A piercing on the side of his brow, unchanged from the last time you saw him. Round eyes, murky. Ashen complexion that used to bloom with vibrant tints. Full, soft-toned mouth, ever so stuck in that pout, one you used to kiss until it bruised. 

Your bloodstream doesn’t cease its flow. Not until you notice the person beside him. 

A girl with an aura so cataclysmic that it forces you to stop dead in your tracks. An August night storm personified, obnoxiously sweet-smelling of the past summer that you spent with her companion. The hollow, funereal scent of a meadow doused in petrichor—she walks with it, her hands intertwined before her in a clasp. 

You wished for him to be in Hoseok’s place so ardently that he appeared. And now that you contemplate him, the lack of distance between him and the girl, it makes you regret that you ever did. 

Because, unknowingly, it drenched you in gasoline and his presence is a lighter, hers the hand that has flicked it to life and now serenely holds it against your skin, waiting until the flames, little by little, devour you whole. 

And the job is finished when both of their heads whirl, meeting your livid stare. 

And Jungkook, too, stops dead in his tracks. 

“Do you know him?” Hoseok asks and you find it strange that you can hear him when all you can see is red. 

And the red fades into the matching black shirt that Jungkook is wearing, into his bluntly pained mien; into the strands of his date’s short hair and her scrunched up brows as she regards you with a strong aversion that makes you scoff. And the same red weakens when Hoseok turns your attention to him by playing with the ends of your ribbon, grazing them before twirling them around his finger. 

A breath of fresh air, he is. 

You don’t know what to say. Don’t know whether to tell him the truth or come up with something that won’t devastate what you have currently going on with him. But if you lie to him, you’ll stumble into a dead end you’d much rather stay clear of. You’d see it before your eyes once you do take him home and it would ruin the newness he brought up with you, preventing it from taking root in you. 

Devastation awaits you in either case. Both you and Hoseok. 

Cursed, your life is. Doomed, absolutely fucking doomed. 

What would the angels do in your place? 

Seeking their wisdom behind you, it is not in them that you find your answer, but in the passing pair dressed in black, making their way over to the dark-wined room. He’s pretending he didn’t see you at all, walking away from you without saying a word, despite the fact you broke up on good terms. 

You worshiped him in this very building almost on your knees and he dismissed you as if you meant nothing to him, caring for the feelings of his date, instead. 

Peculiarly, the sentiments Hoseok installed in you, both of the passionate and the soft kind, turn that fire blue and it becomes the driving force that guides you to act without a single thought spared. 

“Yeah, I do know him. Do you mind if I quickly say hi to him?”

The corner of Hoseok’s mouth curls and he caresses your hair down your back one last time.  “Go, I’ll get the car ready.” 

Such a confident, strong man, broken out of the confines of his former timidness. Not possessive, nor insecure—letting you do what you want. Respectful of your personal life that doesn’t include him just yet. And for that very reason it will—as soon as you’re done putting out that fire in you. 

It’s not only you that has gone through a change upon this hour and it strikes your awe, enough for you to lean in and peck his cheek, just like he did to you. 

Hoseok makes a sound of endearment, pivots on his feet to leave you to it, but you grab a hold of his hand. Have a need to say something to him. 

His brows rise at the attention and you brush your hand across his knuckles, mimicking his previous actions, having learned them, intimately. 

“Thank you, Hoseok. Really,” you say with a smile that could magnetically pull the sunlight out of its hiding place behind the clouds and bathe this bizarre room in light. You squeeze his hand. 

A swirl of shyness flushes his face in rose pink and he shakes his head. “No need to thank me,” he assures, reciprocating the smile. “And call me Hobi. You can save Hoseok for later.” 

Your jaw falls open and Hoseok chuckles, warmly, deepening the pulse between your legs until a wet spot adorns your panties beneath your dress, one that you look forward to showing him at the aforementioned time. 

He pivots again and you watch his tall, lean figure leave. Back muscles clothed in black, straining against the fabric. He must’ve undergone his military service. 

A beautiful man. You can’t wait to taste him. Taste that manliness. 

Loosening a breath, you turn around to search for your ex-boyfriend. And much to your dismay, he’s appreciating the angel sculpture—the very one and only Hoseok took your pictures with. Fire licks at your every nerve ending, but then you notice that his date is nowhere in sight. 

A perfect opportunity to do what you want to do. 

Pulling out your phone out of your little purse, you look for his name in the history of your calls and tap on it, placing the device against your ear, your hoop earrings clashing against the screen. You watch him palm his pocket as the vibration disturbs his aesthetic pleasure and he casts a long glance at your name filling up his screen. Doesn’t comb his gaze through his surroundings. No, he seems to be transfixed by the twist of events and when he swipes his finger to accept the call, his stare begins to dig a hole into the dirty, marble floor. 

Doesn’t say anything. 

You scoff, fury grazing your fire. “You’re pretending not to know me? That’s low.” His pout rounds and the tip of his shoe traces the edges of the ruination he’s caused. Remains silent. “Who’s your little girlfriend? I thought you’d introduce me. Where is she, anyways?” 

It’s him who scoffs now and he flicks his gaze towards the face of the angel. It’s like he’s staring right at you. “You shouldn’t be doing this, little one.” 

The too familiar pet name brings agony to your heart and you would break had Hoseok not given you his strength, if the dependability of him waiting for you outside wasn’t real. And the allure and the lightness in you, perhaps the very love of the sculptures encompassing you—all of those things only vivify your solidity. You have no reason to break, you’re safe. 

“Well, I think you should be a good Daddy and meet me right there in the red room,” you seethe, glad for the anger to be lingering in you, for the utterance of the title leaving you unscathed. You’re just giving him a taste of his own poison, nothing else. 

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair and sighs, clenching his jaw. “Don’t call me that.” 

You chuckle, enlivened by the provocation. “I can do whatever I want. Besides, you started it.” 

He grits his teeth. “Not when you’re talking to me, you can’t.” 

Your fire rises in overwhelming waves, your curt response ready on your tongue, but Jungkook hangs up, making you shut your mouth, instantly. 

You hate him for that; hate him with the entirety of your being. 

What has happened to your friendship? To the sweet, weeping Jungkook who broke up with you because he didn’t want to cause you any more pain with the state of his mental health, who has been dealing with depression for so long that he’s reached a point of no return, a lightless room with no windows, where all he saw was you, and he didn’t want you to be a victim of such unhealthy attachment. So he bid you goodbye, hugged you until you couldn’t breathe and let you go. 

Three weeks ago. 

You haven’t seen him or heard from him since until now. Until you’ve found someone else and moved on with your life. That’s just your luck. 

And now the person you’re gazing at, it’s not the same one that wept against your chest. Yes, he might have been strict with you during intimate times, teased you with his fatherliness during the day even—but that invariably was imbued with the mellowness of love. 

Try as you may while his words ring in your headspace, you cannot unearth any trace of that same mellowness in it. Only bitterness, coldness and a profound darkness. 

Jungkook pockets his phone and, leaving both of his hands there, sunk deeply, he walks over to the wine-tinged room, his frown obscuring the place in gloom. Murky clouds, personified. A perfect match to the storm of his companion. Bile lodges inside your throat. 

You follow after him, your feet aching terribly in your boots, but it serves as some kind of alleviation to the tautness of your emotions, of your confusion, disgust and offence. Makes you feel better—because once you see Jungkook ogling a certain painting of a woman beaming at him softly, dressed in flowers, blues and greens as the redness akin to your fire burns in her background, the agony tries to slither its way inside your heart, but fails.

You’re a locked orchard. 

Jungkook senses your presence and he swivels, biting the inside of his cheek, pierced brow quirking. There’s a strain to his shoulders and his Adam’s apple bobbles as he takes in your appearance. The creaminess of your short, silky dress, the darker shade of the same color of your trenchcoat slung loosely over your shoulders, exposing your brown, leather, high-heeled boots, your matching purse clutched in both of your hands as you strut towards him. Calm, all of a sudden. It does nothing to you, nothing whatsoever—your heart momentarily attached to Hoseok.

“I thought you’d already left,” he murmurs, tipping up his chin. Begins to sway back and forth on the balls of his feet, the carmine hues of the room swathing him in a deeper shade of darkness. “Isn’t your boyfriend waiting for you?” 

You don’t bother to correct him. It’s none of his business who Hobi is to you, not when he treated you like a stranger.

“We were about to leave, but then I saw your actions,” you say, quite monotonously, your calmness as disturbing as it is triumphant. You yourself even wonder at it. “What the fuck was that?” 

A smirk. “Glad to know I still have some kind of effect on you.” 

You scrunch up your brows, distaste once again pooling in your mouth. “Trust me, I would’ve done this with anyone I know. You’re not special.” 

His smirk widens. “So, you’re not jealous?” He rubs the side of his jaw, staring at you, intently, and disgust comes over you like a splash of a wave, soaking you in cold sweat. 

He did it for that very reason—to make you jealous. Walked right past you, just to get a rise out of you. As much as you loved him half an hour ago, that affection turns into dust within you, sprinkling the fruit trees and the berry brushes with its gray smithereens, poisoning them. 

Ouroboros, all over again. Full circle. Anger covers your disgust. 

A voice echoes within the room. Airy and light, as feminine as it is otherworldly, and you know, without a doubt, who it belongs to. It doesn’t suit her, not in the slightest. 

“There you are,” your ex-boyfriend’s companion trails off, the clapping of her flat shoes halting. “Who are you?” 

You only turn your head to the side, signaling to her that you’ve heard her question, because you fix your stare back at Jungkook as you answer it. “It’s not something you should trouble yourself with. Can you give us a minute?” 

You don’t hear any movement, so she must be stubbornly staying where she is. All right, she can join the conversation for all you care. 

When you turn your head back around, you catch stars oozing from Jungkook’s eyes, a conveyance of adornment painting his face in gentle colors that could never be associated with this room. There it is, the face you know, so resplendent of the one you last saw. And it grazes your anger, whispers to it that it was a mistake, a game of pretense, because you’re reverently acknowledged with his soul—you know who he is. While it may explain his fucked-up behavior, you don’t soften. Not at the hint of familiarity. Not even at the hushed hint of your deduction telling you that the reason why he unmasked himself was because you chose him and didn’t run away when his companion spoiled your short time together. 

You don’t soften because you simply don’t want to. 

You don’t want to give in to any means of getting close to him. 

The chapter is finished. You shouldn’t have called him. You should’ve left with Hobi. 

You don’t wish to keep him waiting long, nor do you wish to keep sprawling in your mistake. You pivot, ready to leave, but Jungkook captures your hand. Desirousness palpitates in his eyes as if he, too, needed to tell you something of urgency. 

You’ll hear him out, but that’s the end of it. 

“Can I see you later?” he asks, pupils growing in size until they absorb his chocolate irises, his grip over your hand tight and heated. A wind blows in your orchard, sweeping away all the darkened smithereens left by the bane, freshening you up. 

You don’t really think that’s a good idea. 

“I won’t have time for you later, I’ll be with Hoseok.” 

To Hobi, you won’t lie, but the same can’t be applied to Jungkook. 

His breath hitches in his throat, disappointment weighing him down, the thought of you being intimate with someone who is not him causing his posture to slouch even more. 

But he surprises you with the words he says next. 

“I’ll wait, then. Let me know when you’re alone.” 

And you surprise yourself even more when you nod, turning on your heel and scurrying off to meet Hobi outside. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[livingformintyoongi]

Cruel Summer | Hyung Line

I've been working on this for quite some time because I've been busy making the requests. Even though I still have a few more to go, I wanted to post it because it's really something I'm very excited about ^^

Taglist: @thunderg @drpepperobsessed @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @zent9 @superbbananananana

Jin: “It’s cool, that’s what I tell ‘em/No rules, in breakable heaven/It’s a cruel summer/With you”.

You checked your phone for the third time tonight. There were no messages or missed calls. You were starting to get anxious.

"Is everything okay, Y/N?" the soft voice of Soomin interrupted the mess that was starting to form in your head. Nothing was fine, quite the opposite. Jin had ignored all your messages and calls, you knew he was busy, but you were starting to worry, what if something bad had happened to him?

"I'm sure it's because of Seokjin" Chaeyoung said, absentmindedly eating a piece of fried chicken. She didn't look perturbed at all. You envied that about her. "Y/N, you know that what you're doing won't get you anywhere, why do you keep going?"

"It has nothing to do with that, and just so you know, we're getting along just fine" you replied quietly, taking your fruit smoothie and drinking it. "We don't need a name for our relationship, and we don't have to dedicate time to each other 24/7 either, it's like having a boyfriend, but with a lot less work", yeah, well, you didn't believe what you just said either, but neither of them need to know that.

"I thought you liked the idea of having a boyfriend" Sooah, who was at the other corner of the table, looked up from her book and studied you with that scary look she gave every time the gears in her head started turning. She seriously scared you when she made that face, "or are you just saying that to try to fool yourself just because you got used to his company and don't want to lose him anymore?".

It scared you how accurate her prediction was.

"Sooah, calm down" Yoori, one of your closest friends, rested her hand on your shoulder and gently rubbed it. A sympathetic smile appeared on her face and as soon as you saw her, you started to feel ashamed of yourself. Shit, did you look that bad for Yoori to see you that way? "Human relationships are complicated, don't be anxious about going through problems like that, it happens to everyone sometime."

"If you're so worried about him not answering, why don't you pay him a visit? Maybe he'll be glad to see you, after all he's the one who always comes looking for you."

The idea of going to his house on your own made you too nervous, especially since he had made it quite clear that he didn't like people showing up out of the blue there. He had mentioned something about how he was afraid the place would leak and some obsessed person would break into his house. That was one of the reasons he always went to your house, no one followed you to your front door.

"What if he gets upset?" you muttered with a slight frown.

"Tell him the reason you wanted to look for him" Soomin directed a smile so bright you almost smiled back, "If everything you've told us about him is true, he'll probably be very excited to see you."

You smiled helplessly. Jin was so much more than someone to hang out with and just have sex with. He was sweet, he loved to cook for you, to massage your back when you were too tense, or to kiss your face every time you saw him for a long time. He was the man of your dreams, everything you ever wanted in your life, so why did you have this feeling in your chest that there was something you still didn't see? Nothing could be completely perfect, you repeated to yourself every time you saw him, he couldn't be the exception.

"I'll walk you" Sooah stood up from her seat, taking her car keys and staring at you. Her blue eyes were such a contrast to the somber look she had.

"Thanks" you mumbled, taking your purse and dropping some money to pay your share.

The trip was too quiet. You loved Sooah, and you knew she loved you too. You've known her for as long as you can remember, so you understood that she wasn't cold, just distrustful. At some point in your friendship you ended up deciphering the kind of silences she gave. This one definitely gave you a bad feeling.

"You shouldn't write to him so much" she said in a raspy voice. It took you a while to figure out what she meant, "If he doesn't respond to the first message, indeed, if he deliberately ignores your call, why even make an effort to get him...whatever they have, to move on?"

"Why do you say he ignored my call?" You felt a tightness in your chest as you noticed how Sooah's hands squeezed the handlebars of the car until her knuckles went pale. She knew something. 

"Why don't you better find out for yourself?" she replied after a few minutes of silence. She parked the car in front of the house and turned to look at you. 

"You know something, don't you?" your lips tightened tightly as you noticed that no words were going to come out of her. You were afraid of her answer, obviously, but you didn't want to be left wondering.

A sob, too loud and high-pitched to belong to a man, pulled you out of the staring war you began to have with Sooah. You both turned to see where the noise was coming from. You immediately wished you hadn't.

You could feel Sooah's gaze on the back of your head, but she didn't say a word. You only had eyes for Jin right now, to be more specific, you only had eyes for Jin and the girl who was clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

You wanted an explanation. Now.

"I saw her out with him this morning" you heard from the driver's side, "At first I thought she was a friend, but Namjoon told me she was Jin's ex-girlfriend. From what he told me, they've known each other since high school."

You understood her point. His ex-girlfriend from a few years ago shows up in a place as private as this, right in the middle of Jin's vacation, wearing a dress too fancy to be on the beach, and crying her eyes out on Jin's chest. The same chest you fell asleep on all night.

"I trust Jin" you whispered, not sure if you were saying it to Sooah or to yourself. Yes, you two weren't an official couple, but you had sworn exclusivity to each other until whatever it was you had was over. He promised you, face to face, it was the first time you saw him so serious.

You could hear Sooah's sigh. She didn't trust his word as much as you did.

You started nibbling on your lip with each passing second. The girl didn't seem to want to pull away, but Jin didn't seem to want to push her away either. 

"Y/N" Sooah gently took your elbow. You didn't look away from the couple in front of you. "I'm just trying to show you what kept him busy enough to ignore you..."

"I don't know if he did it on purpose," you said, raising your voice and turning to look at her. You felt terrible to see Sooah's hurt look at your shout. You had never raised your voice to her before. "She's just a friend and..."

You frowned as you saw Sooah's eyes widen in surprise. She was looking behind you. It was only at that moment that you realized that irritating sobs were no longer audible.

You turned around fast enough that your neck hurt like hell itself. And then you saw it. The idiot was kissing her. He was grabbing her waist just like he did with you when he greeted you or said goodbye. 

"I..."

"Start the car, please" you mumbled, looking away from Jin and fixing your eyes on the street, it looked much more interesting now.

"Yes" she moved the key and the engine started to sound. You thought you heard Jin's voice behind you, but you preferred to think it was just your imagination.

A strong urge to get home and brush your teeth and body flooded you. You felt dirty, stupid and very, very upset. You took a long sigh, trying to get your rational side over the urge you had to hit him.

It wasn't until Sooah held out some tissues she pulled out of her trunk that you realized tears were streaming down your face.

"I'm fine" you whispered, wiping your face and keeping your expression as neutral as possible.

"I know" Sooah replied, taking your hand on the dashboard, "I just wanted to make sure you noticed too."

Yoongi: “"I love you, " ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? He looks up grinning like a devil”.

"Need help with that?" said Yoongi mockingly, pointing at your fumbling hands trying to fix the shorts you were wearing that night. It was hard to do in such a confined space.

"No thanks, I've got it under control" you grunted, pulling your feet up onto the trunk so you could give yourself a boost and pull your clothes up until they were around your waist. "And I'm sure you're much better at taking them off than putting them on." 

You tried to ignore his annoyed chuckle, looking at yourself in the rearview mirror and fixing your hair just enough so it didn't look like you'd just had the best night of sex of your life. 

"Do you need me to drop you off in your room?" Yoongi rested his palm on your thigh, caressing the soft skin with his fingertips. You had a hard time holding back the urge to laugh at the tickle he was giving you.

 "I'd love to let you come into my room and do whatever shit couples of friends with benefits would do, but unfortunately I have a tick named Jiah tonight, and I definitely don't want her to see or hear me having sex with you, so, thanks, but no" you removed his hand from your thigh and moved closer to him, kissing him deeply.

His hand stopped at your waist and caressed the exposed skin, sending shivers up and down your spine. It felt so good to be touched by Min Yoongi. You would never admit it in front of him.

"Go back carefully" you said between kisses and giggles. You wanted to go inside soon, before your lustful side won out over your rational side and you decided to leave your friend alone and sneak into Yoongi's house. You hated how he knew you well enough to know that if he kept kissing you like that you would end up giving in. 

"There, that's enough, I have to go" you whispered, grabbing Yoongi's cheeks and pulling him away just enough so that your lips didn't brush against each other. 

"Fine" he growled through his teeth, letting go of your waist and allowing you to open the door.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek before quickly stepping down and entering your colorful two-story house. You smiled as you noticed that Yoongi wasn't going to leave until you were inside the house. It took you a while trying to find your keys, decorated with too many cat key chains and desserts. When you opened the door, you turned around and blew him a kiss with laughter. You could see through the window as Yoongi's rubbery smile. God, you still didn't understand how that gorgeous man had agreed to go out with you.

You walked into the house, leaning your back against the door and sighing heavily. You were sure you had a stupid smile on your face, you hoped he hadn't seen it before you walked in.

"I see you did a lot better than me," you looked towards the kitchen, smiling as you saw Jiah walking towards you with a cup of coffee. You loved that mug, it had lots of baby kittens frolicking on top of some flower pots; between cursive letters it said 'for the best friend in the world'.

"You think?" you grabbed the mug she was offering you and took a small sip. It tasted very sweet, just the way you liked it. You couldn't help but groan in satisfaction. "Why don't you tell me about it after I take a shower? I feel too dirty, did you know riding a horse could leave you sweating so much?". You mentally crossed your fingers that I wouldn't dig into that any further.

"Don't worry, go" Jiah sent you a soft smile. Too bad it didn't reach her eyes. You wanted to kill whoever it was that had left her so down. "I'm tired anyway."

Before you could answer her, she went to the kitchen and turned on the water, starting to wash the dishes. You preferred to leave her alone, she seemed to want some time alone.

You went upstairs to your room, rummaging through your pillows for your pajamas. As you were trying to get a towel out of the bathroom cabinet, the notification sound of your cell phone alerted you, causing three towels to fall on you. You walked awkwardly to your phone, unlocking the screen and pursing your lips to keep from smiling like a maniac. 

You ran to your window, opening it as quietly as you could. You covered your mouth so the laughter that wanted to escape wouldn't come out and give you away. Your laughter is very loud.

Yoongi raised his hand and pointed his finger at his own phone. You frowned, cocking your head to the side and trying to figure out what he meant. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, your phone rang again. You saw the screen, still with Yoongi's chat on it.

The message was short and to the point ‘Tomorrow at 3 PM, reservation at Piccolino, don't be late’.

You almost dropped your cell phone as you read the message. Tomorrow was your birthday, and that restaurant was your favorite place. You didn't even remember mentioning any of those things to him.

You turned to look at him, your mouth was wide open, you had no idea what to say or do, so you opted for the first thing that popped into your head. You raised your arms above your head, forming a circle. 

You felt your cheeks blush at the sight of Yoongi's smug smile.

You lowered your arms, watching as he looked down at his phone and moved his fingers rapidly over the keypad. Seconds later, your phone rang again.

‘Rest.’

You stared at the screen, specifically the three little dots that indicated he was still typing. 

You stifled a squeak as you read the last message. You turned to look at him, catching his slightly pink cheeks and his awkward movement as he put the phone back in his pocket. He gave you one last smile, this one a little more shy, and shook his head goodbye.

It took you a while to react, but by the time you did, Yoongi was no longer in your backyard. 

You grabbed your phone and logged into Yoongi's chat, rereading his last message.

With a beaming smile, you began typing your reply.

‘I love you too.’

And you sent it.

Hoseok: “I'm drunk in the back of the car/And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar”.

You took a big breath of air, dropping your head against the back of the cab chair you had just taken. Your stomach seemed to be on fire and every breath you took made you feel immensely nauseous. You knew it was a bad idea to drink a vulgar amount of alcohol and, worse, to mix drinks, but what else could you do? You didn't feel able to talk about this with anyone. Your friends were in a rather similar situation, how could you ask them for advice? And you'd better not even think about telling your mother, she'd kill you if she found out that you had a purely sexual relationship with Hoseok. Now that you thought about it, it didn't seem like such a bad idea.

A soft vibration in your bag caught your attention. You opened your bag slowly, not because you didn't want to check your cell phone, but because you couldn't move properly due to the ridiculous amount of alcohol in your system. 

After several embarrassing attempts you managed to take out your cell phone, and the first thing that greeted you was a huge line of messages from Hoseok, most of them asking where you were, if you were well, asking if you had a problem or something like that. You pursed your lips, licking them with the tip of your tongue. 

You hated Hoseok. You hated that he was so sweet, that he was always worried about you, that he knew how you like to eat your meals, that he always lay on the left side of the bed because he knows you love to sleep on the right side, that he's always ready to run to you if you feel bad. You hated that he was so damn perfect, because that certainly didn't help the turmoil it generated in your feelings for him.

Before you knew it, a drop of salty water fell onto the lit screen of your cell phone, rolling slowly along all the messages that were reflected. You closed your eyes tightly and leaned your forehead against the edge of the pink glitter case you were holding, letting out all the tears you had been holding back since the beginning of the night.

You hated that you had noticed that you had feelings for him, and you hated yourself even more for not being able to face him and tell him how you felt, for having to resort to something as low as getting drunk to the point of no longer being able to take courage and tell him the truth. 

Take On Me by A-ha forced you to break away from your cell phone and look at the screen. By this point you didn't even feel surprised that he was the one calling you. He always did, to say goodnight, to wish you a good day, to remind you to eat all your meals, god, you weren't even sure if that was normal in a solely sexual relationship.

With your hands shaking slightly you hit the answer, bringing the phone to your ear, "Yes?" you practically whispered, burying your nails in the skin of your hands.

"Y/N?" you heard a long sigh from the other line, followed by a nervous sounding laugh, "I was so worried, I thought something had happened to you, you never leave messages on hold."

"I'm sorry" you wiped away your tears, ducking your head unconsciously. Hearing his voice calms you down a bit at first, but almost instantly you were upset again at the fact that he was calming you down. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Don't apologize, I guess I overreacted a bit" he laughed softly again, and you were sure he was most likely scratching the back of his head. "Hey...I was thinking about, you know, this weekend."

You bit your bottom lip, closing your eyes until you saw white spots. You didn't want to talk about this.

"I know we were supposed to get together at my place, but I'm afraid I won't be able to make it, apparently my plumbing has a problem and I think it'll take them a while to fix it, but we could get together at your place!"

"No" you whispered, pressing your free arm against your stomach, the one that had decided to give you a painful pang just at this moment. "I don't want us to see each other again."

You were both silent for a few seconds, waiting to see the other's response. You honestly expected him to stop you, you waited for him to tell you not to leave, to insist on seeing you again. You wanted, no, you needed to hear those three words come out of his mouth, even if it was over the phone.

But Hoseok wasn't like that. He might be the sweetest guy in the world, but he would never say that thing you wanted to hear so badly. He would never fight for you or whatever it was you had. He wasn't brave.

"It's okay," he muttered. You listened as he took a long breath, only to then let it go in an equally long sigh, "Take care of yourself."

"I will."

And you cut.

You lifted your head, wiped away your tears and looked out the window, gazing out at the beautiful beach you thought you'd be on your entire vacation.

Namjoon: “It's new, the shape of your body/It's blue, the feeling I've got”.

"Why do you always leave so quickly?" you muttered, settling down on Namjoon's bed and directing your gaze to his nearly naked body.

"What do you mean?" he pulled his shirt over his head, ruffling his hair with his hand and picking up what appeared to be a rather worn notebook and a pencil with bites on the end.

"Whenever we're done you leave" you took his pillow between your arms, resting your chin on it, "Are you afraid of me or something?". 

Namjoon chuckled softly, looking up at you from his post next to the desk, "Why would you scare me away?"

"I don't know, maybe it's because I'm so serious" you kept your gaze fixed on him, his expressions, his body language, absolutely everything. You wanted to understand why he seemed to be so cold and warm with you at the same time, "or maybe you are intimidated by people who look you so much in the eyes, there are many reasons, I could give you quite a long list if you wanted".

"It'll be useless, you'll never find a reason why I'd freak out on you" he broke away from his desk, moving closer to the bed and sitting down next to you. You couldn't help but close your eyes as you felt his hand fall on your head.

"Why?" you whispered, taking his wrist and stroking it gently.

"Because the last thing I feel for you is fear," he said as he tangled his fingers in your hair. Rarely did you have it as messy as you did now, rarely did you look as calm as you did now. Namjoon had to endure the constant tingling he felt in his fingers.

"Then why did you seem to be running away from me? It makes me feel... strange" you sighed heavily, shifting your position. The ceiling seemed much more interesting right now.

"I'm sorry it looked like that" Namjoon bent down slightly, leaving a soft but lingering kiss on your forehead, "but I promise it's not what it looks like."

"Then what is it?"

"Do you think you could give me about... three days to answer you? Just three." 

You turned to look at Namjoon, frowning slightly. You didn't quite understand why he needed so much time, but you also didn't feel like you could deny him that when he saw you with that beautiful, mesmerizing look he had.

"Okay" you nodded slowly, feeling a tightness in your chest as you watched him get up and head back towards the exit of the room.

"I promise I won't let you down, babe," he said with a big smile before leaving. 

And, again, you were beginning to feel a deep emptiness in your chest and a sense of loneliness that gave you a sort of claustrophobic feeling. 

Just three more days, you told yourself, just that.

Masterlist

[magicshopaholic]

Caterpillar (Hoseok x OC)

Summary: Hoseok starts coming to terms with his feelings.

Pairing: Hoseok x OC

Genre: Some angst, some humour, some fluff

Word count: 5.6 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mentions of parental death, mentions of unhealthy eating habits

A/N: Highly recommended to read Double Take for context, but can be read without as well. Begins about a month after Helping Hands.

Also - I've taken a leap of faith and started the 👾 Discord channel 👾 Here's to a social experiment that can turn out any way you want 🍻

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive  @faearchives @margopinkerton  @dreaming-with-happiness  @confessionsofamarshlily  @purpleseoul7 @sumzysworld @xjoonchildx @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids

Listen to: "100 words" by prateek kuhad

hoseok masterlist | main masterlist

Hoseok taps his foot and checks his watch. It’s almost five past seven, meaning it’s almost five minutes late. Turning slightly, he peers into the small doorway of the building, trying to see anything that would indicate how much longer this would take. Then, mercifully, the stained glass door is pushed open and people start filing out one by one.

Sighing in relief, he waits to spot Chaeyoung but as more and more people leave, some walking down the street and some getting into parked cars, his frown deepens when she isn’t one of them. He checks his messages, wondering if his information is incorrect, for nearly the entire yoga class has exited now. He contemplates calling her again but before he can decide, he finally sees her step out, a tote bag hitched on one shoulder and her long hair in a ponytail.

“Chae!” He calls, cringing when a couple of people turn to look. Ducking his head and pulling his cap lower down, he jogs over to where she’s continuing down the pavement, apparently not having heard him. “Chaeyoung,” he repeats at a normal volume, frowning when she still doesn’t turn. “Hey, I’m calling your name,” he tries to say, reaching out and grabbing her arm, when a blinding pain shoots up his face.

“Oh, my God!”

“Oh, my God!” he cries, holding his hands up to his face where his nose feels like it’s been crushed.

“Hoseok?”

He nods and doubles over, his eyes watering slightly, when he feels a pair of small hands steering him by the shoulders and back onto what feels like a bench.

“Oh, God, what are you -” She sounds winded - and terribly confused. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Oh, my God,” he mutters, his voice muffled. He drops his hands to his sides, his eyes squeezed shut. “What did you do? I can’t - I can’t feel -” He groans dramatically. “Is my face broken? Is it my nose? Is there blood?”

“Your face…” Soft fingers gingerly touch the bridge of his nose and Hoseok flinches. “It seems okay.”

“Really? There’s no blood?”

“There’s no blood,” she confirms. “I think you’re okay. Jesus… oppa, what are you doing here? And why would you grab me like that?”

Hoseok opens his eyes tentatively, the initial pain and shock already subsiding, to see Chaeyoung take a seat beside him. “I didn’t grab you. I was just trying to get your attention without being seen,” he explains, lightly touching his nose. “Why did you punch me?”

“Because I thought you were trying to grab me!” she exclaims. “Besides, we just learned it in class so I was already kind of in the zone.”

“You -” He frowns incredulously. “What the hell kind of yoga class was this?”

“I didn’t do yoga. I took a self-defense class,” she explains. “Yoga… wasn’t what I needed today.” She bites her lip apologetically. “But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“No,” he sighs, sitting up straighter and trying to move his face, relieved when it doesn’t hurt too much. “I’m glad you know what to do when someone grabs you, I guess.”

Chaeyoung gives him a small smile before frowning. “Um… so, what are you… I mean…” She shakes her head. “Why didn’t you call?”

Hoseok glances at her out of the corner of his eye. She looks flushed, although whether it’s from her class or accidentally having punched him, he can’t tell. “I did, about two hours ago. You didn’t answer.”

She nods slowly. “Right. My phone’s been on silent for most of the day.” When he doesn’t respond, she continues. “How did you even know I was here?”

“Jimin.”

“So, Sooah.”

“They’re kind of a package deal now.”

“Right.” She gives him the same small smile, almost amused, before it fades. “So… what’s going on?”

“Well…” Hoseok takes off his cap and runs a hand through his hair, suddenly awkward. “I was in the neighbourhood and I wanted to see if… you maybe wanted to get a coffee… or a frozen yoghurt or… something. It’s pretty warm out.”

She looks at him a little skeptically and Hoseok wonders if she’s mentally calculating how far both his house and the Big Hit building are from here. For a moment, he’s afraid she’s going to decline but then she nods slowly. “Sure. I could get some frozen yoghurt. In fact, I think I owe you one now,” she adds, and they both chuckle.

Hoseok hesitates, hoping he hasn’t pressured her into this, but when she stands up and holds out a hand for him to take, he sighs inwardly in relief. He takes her hand and stands up as well, feeling his nose throb dully again.

“Oppa,” she says as they begin walking and their hands separate, “why are you limping?”

“Limping?” He straightens up self-consciously. “I’m not limping…”

“Yeah, you were, just now…”

“No, I wasn’t…”

“You know, the nerves in your face don’t affect your ability to walk…”

“Oh, I must have missed the email where you became a doctor…”

—

An hour later, they walk down the street leading up to Chaeyoung’s apartment building, a small tub of frozen yoghurt in each of their hands.

“You know,” says Hoseok, taking a spoonful of his banana yoghurt, “I owe you a bit of an apology.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. Growing up, I didn’t take you very seriously,” he begins, rolling his eyes when she nods in agreement. “I don’t know what it was but I just didn’t… I don’t know, I always thought you were just a kid. Like, what did you know? You know?”

“Sure.”

“But,” he continues, “I feel like I misjudged you. Because you told me, back when we all went to Jeju for my parents’ anniversary weekend, that apricots were a good topping on a dessert and I didn’t believe you, but now…” He simply sighs and spoons out a shredded apricot from his yoghurt. “I can’t believe how well these flavours go. I mean, you were really onto something.”

Chaeyoung suppresses a smile and nods. “I really was. You should’ve listened to me.”

“I know,” he agrees. “I can’t believe I wasted fourteen years not knowing how good of a topping apricots are.”

“You know what’s ironic?” she asks, popping a strawberry into her mouth. “After that day, I stopped eating apricots. It was like they sucked all of a sudden. And then when I was, like… seventeen or something, I made this dessert that we used to eat when we were kids that had apricots in it, and I realised what an idiot I’d been.”

“If you listened to thirteen-year-old me’s advice, then, yeah, you were.” He finishes the last of his yoghurt and holds his hand out for her empty cup as well, depositing them both in a passing garbage bin. “But tell me more about this dessert with apricots in it.”

But she shrugs and waves a hand dismissively. “My dad lost the recipe years ago. It was kind of like a mix of a pie and a pudding… the only thing I got right in it were the apricots.” She falls silent.

Hoseok nods but doesn’t prod. He glances at her furtively again, letting her walk a couple of steps ahead of him, observing her general demeanour. Neither Sooah nor Jimin had mentioned anything about a self-defense class; in fact, to Hoseok’s knowledge, she had left behind all high intensity sports and workouts in middle school, joining the dance club in college and taking up yoga after that. He thinks of her flushed cheeks and heavy breathing when she’d exited the class, along with her phone being on silent all day.

It’s always a hard day for her.

“By the way,” says Chaeyoung, turning around and waiting for Hoseok to catch up. “Thanks for this.”

“For what?”

“This. The yoghurt, the walk.” She pauses. “The company.”

Hoseok nods nonchalantly. “Of course. No need to thank me. I had fun. And made a life-changing discovery about apricots,” he adds.

She cracks half a smile before giving him a look. “Hoseok.”

“What?”

“I know you know.”

“Know what?”

She sighs hugely, but doesn’t sound annoyed. “You showed up out of nowhere. Took me out for fro-yo, even after I sort of avoided you all day. So, I know you know. I’m guessing my brother told you?” she asks, looking up at him.

“Told me what?” he asks weakly, but he can tell the game is up. “Alright, fine. Yeah, he - he may have mentioned something,” he admits, looking at his shoes.

“And?” Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows. “What did he say?”

Hoseok bites his lip uneasily; her expression is too neutral for him to predict what her reaction will be to his conversation with Chanyeol this morning.

Are you talking to my sister these days?

What? I mean - yeah, I guess. Like, a normal amount? Why - why would you ask if -

Have you talked to her today?

Uh, no. Actually, I texted her this morning but I never heard back.

Yeah, I thought so. She kind of keeps to herself every year around my mom’s birthday. It’s always a hard day for her.

Oh. I’m sorry, man. Are you okay?

Yeah, I’m fine. And so is she, most likely. But if you do happen to talk to her or run into her… I don’t know, just check in on her. If you can. 

“He, uh…” He sighs softly. “He said it’s your mom’s birthday. And that I should check in, if I could.”

Chaeyoung nods. “Well, you didn’t need to do that. But, thank you, anyway.”

There’s something odd about the way she says it, and it takes a moment for Hoseok’s wording to click in his mind. “Wait, that’s not why I’m here.”

She raises her eyebrows. “It’s not? You just… wanted to hang out with me?”

He pauses for a fraction of a second. “Yeah, I did,” he answers honestly. “I’ve been away for almost a month. I was hoping we could hang out in person instead of just on text, like we’ve been doing.”

Chaeyoung stops near her building. The corner of her mouth looks like she’s suppressing a smile, but the moment passes and Hoseok isn’t sure if he imagined it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know if you’d want to talk about it.”

She nods slowly and taps the toe of her shoe into the road, her fingers wrapped around the strap of her gym bag. “I don’t really talk about it.”

“That’s fine,” he says. “You don’t have to. But you can… if you want. Whenever you want,” he adds.

“I don’t talk about it… because I don’t have anything to talk about. I don’t remember her at all,” she says after a moment, and her voice wobbles ever so slightly. “Not even her face. Not her voice. Just a stupid dessert with apricots,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “But I still miss her,” she admits, sniffling.

A pang goes through Hoseok’s heart all the way down to his stomach and he presses his toes into the ground to keep from stepping towards her. “You can talk to Chan,” he suggests gently. “He actually does remember her. I know he wouldn’t mind talking to you about her.”

Chaeyoung bites her lip and sniffs, her face contorting. “My dad doesn’t even remember,” she whispers before her voice breaks, and Hoseok wraps his arms around her in a hug.

Hoseok is a crier; it’s no surprise to anyone who knows him well enough, his tendency to cry at anything remotely emotional. This is different, though, he feels, as he tries to silently blink away his tears at the sound of Chaeyoung’s soft, muffled cries against his shoulder. She isn’t sobbing; in fact, he can barely hear her. But he can feel it, her shoulders shaking, her hair brushing against his collarbone, and her arms coming around his waist.

He wishes he could fix it for her, knowing at the same time that he can’t. It’s beyond him, predates him, and the only thing he feels he has any control over right now is rubbing holding Chaeyoung, rubbing her shoulders and letting her cry for as long as she needs.

As it turns out, it doesn’t last much longer. Chaeyoung sniffles one last time and drops her arms from around his waist, gently pulling away.

“M’kay,” she mumbles, wiping her face on her sleeve and stepping back. “I think I ruined your hoodie, though,” she adds, giving him a watery smile.

“Don’t worry about it.” He brushes his thumb across her cheek, feeling wetness on it, no longer nervous about touching her. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. It’s okay. I look really pretty when I cry. Especially right after.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” She nods seriously. “My face gets all flushed and red. Sometimes when I cry and catch my reflection in the mirror, I really think I could be in a music video or something. After whatever crisis I’m going through ends, of course.”

“In a music video? Just crying really prettily?”

“Yeah. So, you know, if you ever need anyone…” She shrugs exaggeratedly.

Hoseok chuckles, his heart feeling so big and so warm. “I’ll keep that in mind. And you’re pretty even when you don’t cry,” he adds, touching her chin.

She sniffs but smiles, a little knowingly, her eyes still a little red. “Thanks, oppa.” She nudges his hand away in mock-annoyance and their hands fall to their sides, fingers loosely interlinked. In the dark street with only street lamps lighting it, her cheeks darken slightly.

“I should go,” he says. 

“Yeah. Me, too.”

He nods. “Say hi to Chan for me.”

Chaeyoung chuckles, looking a little sheepish. “Will do.” After a moment, she licks her lips and Hoseok decides she’s right: she looks radiant. “You can let go of my hand now, oppa,” she adds softly.

Despite the heat that creeps up his neck, he doesn’t feel embarrassed. Slowly dropping her fingers, he nods and steps back. “Goodnight, Chae.”

“Night. Thanks, again.”

“You got it.” He reaches forward and kisses her on the cheek. “Call me if you need anything,” he says, smiling and placing his hands into his pockets.

Chaeyoung nods. “Bye.” She hesitates for a moment but then turns to leave, turning her head every now and then on the way into her apartment building. Hoseok waits until she’s inside, waving at her just as she disappears for the night.

—

Hoseok [12:59] It was Godzilla. I just remembered.

Chaeyoung [13:01] What was Godzilla? Oh wait, yes! How did you remember?

Hoseok [13:03] My first sleepover at your house. I went through my Facebook. Actually, Chan’s Facebook.

Chaeyoung [13:04] You must have gone REALLY far back for that.

Hoseok [13:05] I did. You don’t want to know the horrors I’ve seen. I don’t know why your brother hasn’t deleted any of these old pictures like a normal person.

Chaeyoung [13:06] He’s kind of sentimental that way. Find anything interesting?

Hoseok [13:06] Nothing I’m showing YOU. 

Chaeyoung [13:06] Aww, come on!

Hoseok [13:07] There are enough incriminating pictures of me mid-puberty on the internet.

Chaeyoung [13:07] But those are public! This one will be our little secret, I promise. I’ll only tease you about it privately.

Hoseok [13:08] That doesn’t give me a lot of comfort. And besides, who said this picture is of me?

Chaeyoung [13:09] You did?

Hoseok [13:09] Ha. You can’t even begin to imagine what this picture is of.

Chaeyoung [13:10] … I’m wearing braces in it, aren’t I?

Hoseok [13:10] Actually, yeah. But that’s not what I’m talking about.

Chaeyoung [13:11] Ugh. At least tell me, even if you aren;t going to show it to me.

Hoseok [13:12] I should sleep actually. It’s after 3 in the morning.

Chaeyoung [13:12] Don’t you dare. Oppa!

Hoseok [13:13] Goodnight, kiddo. 

Chaeyoung [13:13] I hate youuuu.

Hoseok [13:14] Lies. Talk to you tomorrow.

Chaeyoung [13:14] You wish.

Chaeyoung [13:17] Goodnight, Hobi. 

—

Something changes after their night of impromptu fro-yo. Talking becomes more frequent, texting becomes like breathing, and goodnights become fonder and more meaningful every day. Chaeyoung finds herself expecting a message from him every time she picks up her phone; when he’s asleep or working or flying, she ends up scrolling through their conversations, feeling involuntary smiles creep onto her face.

She misses Hoseok, she realises eventually, her stomach often churning with the uncertainty and borderline exasperation at herself for feeling ancient, repressed emotions that she thought she’d done away with years ago. Unlike the last time, however, the acts of missing him and thinking about him are coupled with flutters in her stomach, her heart skipping beats and small smiles in the dark - all cemented with the knowledge that this time, he’s missing her, too.

But it won’t do well to be delusional. She’s been down that path before and despite Hoseok’s clearly reciprocated signals, she attempts to keep her speculations at bay. He’s on tour; there’s no telling what it will be like once it’s over and he’s back home. 

Except, she can tell, somewhat. Four hours of a Harry Potter marathon where they laughed at the most unfunny jokes, walking around Seoul on a day they both knew was difficult for her, the endless threads of conversation that filled the void when they were apart - these things mattered. They had to.

Chaeyoung lightly bites the edge of her S-pen as her tablet screen goes dark, a new gift from her father and stepmother. She needs to clean her room soon, she notes, when her eyes fall on the plant sitting at the top of her desk. Hoseok had brought it to her almost hesitantly - after walking in on her half-naked, of course. The memory makes her cheeks go hot and she taps her phone to see the last message he’d sent her, about half an hour ago. 

Are you home?

A blasé yes was all she’d sent, but the wait was starting to render her incapable of concentrating on anything else. He hasn’t responded to her message but it’s no matter; chances are he’s on his way over.

Hardly a minute later, the doorbell rings. Chaeyoung’s heart leaps as she scrambles off the bed, grabbing a pair of track pants from the edge of her bed before pausing. Turning to the full length mirror, she zeroes in on the barely visible strip of shorts visible from under her oversized T-shirt, followed by bare thighs and legs from there on. 

A moment later, she chucks the track pants back onto the bed and skips out of her room, opening the front door.

“Hey,” she says, sounding nonchalant as ever. “What are you doing here?”

Hoseok frowns. “What do you mean? I texted you.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry.”

He narrows his eyes at her, clearly not buying her reaction. Chaeyoung purses her lips together to hide her growing smile when he shakes his head and produces a shopping bag from behind his back about the size of a small laptop.

“Happy birthday, kiddo,” he says, tilting his head and giving her the bag.

Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows. “Wow. Thanks,” she says, frowning, “but is this really why you’re here?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because my birthday was three days ago.”

Hoseok exhales. “Well, three days ago I was in Australia,” he reminds her, “and coming here is the first - no, second thing I’ve done since I landed in Seoul.”

“What was the first?”

“Getting your gift.”

Chaeyoung struggles to suppress her smile and eventually gives up. “Alright, you may enter,” she allows, stepping aside and grinning when he gently flicks her forehead. “What did you get me?”

“I mean, you can open it. But after I leave,” he adds quickly, grabbing her hand as she starts opening the bag.

“What? Why?”

“Just. If you don’t like it, I prefer to not be here when you find out.”

She scoffs as they go into her room. “Shut up, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“Okay, but only the first box.”

“There’s a first box?” Chaeyoung places the bag on her bed and retrieves the item on top, a red box with a lot of fancy design. “Ooh, cupcakes!”

“And not a single one is chocolate,” he says proudly as she opens the box to see three large cupcakes with animated animals painted on them. “This place is great, by the way. Less than twenty-four hours notice but they custom-made it all in time.”

“For J-Hope, I’m sure they did,” she teases, checking a little pink paper inside listing all the ingredients in a loopy font. “Wow, low sugar, gluten-free -“

“And the frosting is yoghurt, not buttercream.”

“… and they all have apricots,” she finishes, biting her lip.

“That’s a coincidence.” But he gives her a bashful smile anyway, which widens when she reaches up and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Do you want to share?” she asks, taking out the first one with the Kung Fu Panda on it in icing. 

“Share? No, they’re for you,” he argues, sitting at the small bay window and waving his hand encouragingly. “Go on.”

“I -“ She hesitates, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “I’ll end up exceeding my calories for the day.”

Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “You’re counting calories? You?” he prods, poking her side playfully. But there’s a note of sternness in his voice.

“Not strictly,” she amends quickly. “Just… they like a certain… aesthetic, at Conde Nast.”

“Aesthetic?”

“Yeah. And they remind you of it if they so much as spot you eating a sandwich at lunch,” she informs him. “Apparently the carbs are not on brand.”

“Who said that to you?” he asks sharply.

“Not to me, to my desk mate. But, come on, you know how it is,” she argues, feeling a little defensive. “You work in entertainment and they don’t let you eat either.”

“Yeah, doesn’t mean I agree with it.”

Chaeyoung sighs at the impasse and falls silent, staring at the cupcakes. They really do look cute; without warning, her stomach rumbles.

“Hey.” He nudges her leg with his foot. “Come on. I’ll share.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You’re on tour,” she reminds him. “Aren’t you on a fifty calorie a day kind of diet?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “I don’t care. It’s your birthday. Kind of.” He gives her a small smile and a wink. “I can indulge. If you will.”

“Are you bribing me?”

“I’m making you a deal. Plus, I really can’t resist apricots now,” he says in a matter-of-fact way. “Come on, caterpillar, it’s melting.”

She grins and nods. “Alright, fine,” she agrees, secretly thrilled, sitting at the other end of the bay window. It’s a small space, just short of being cramped; in the quiet of the night, it’s almost cosy.

They share the cupcake as they talk about nothing and everything in particular. Hoseok’s tiredness and jet lag is apparent; his eyelids look heavy and there are hints of bags under his eyes. Despite that, he’s as chirpy as ever, telling her all about his tour and asking her about everything she’s done during the last month.

“By the way,” she says after a while, once the cupcake is demolished in a surprisingly short amount of time, “did you just call me caterpillar?”

“Did I?” He frowns for a moment before his forehead clears. “Huh. I guess I did.”

“Yeah. You called me that the other night, too, when you were wasted.”

“Wow, really?” He looks deep in thought. “Why? I don’t remember ever calling you that before.”

“Really?” Chaeyoung asks skeptically. “You don’t remember calling me that every single time you ever saw me for all of third grade? You don’t remember,” she continues as he gasps, evidently just recalling, “saying that I reminded you of a caterpillar appearing out of nowhere?”

“Holy shit,” he chuckles. “I actually did forget that. It kind of did feel like that, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s just great,” she mutters, rolling her eyes and turning away, even when he squeezes her knee. “So glad I brought it up.”

“Hey, no. Come on. I swear I wasn’t thinking about that when I called you caterpillar just now,” he promises. “It just felt like a habit. Honest.”

“Mhm,” she hums, saying no more but turning back to face him. Truth be told, she doesn’t need him to defend himself. He may not remember, but she does. Mostly, she remembers his tone when he used to say it, with derision and irritation at once. It was nothing like it is now, full of affection and humour and fondness.

“I was a jerk. Back then.”

“Yeah, but you’re not anymore,” she admits, resting her head on the window by her side. He smiles in relief and something else, and Chaeyoung’s heart skips a beat. “But to make things even, I’m opening your gift.”

“Ooh, you got me,” he says sarcastically as she climbs off and reaches for the bag on her bed. “Just remember, most places were closing down by the time I went out,” he adds, a hint of nervousness in his voice anyway.

“No way, my standards are going to be super high for this gift now.” She reaches in and pulls out an envelope made of card stock, in a very familiar rose gold colour. “What is… oh, my God!”

“What? Ow!” he exclaims unnecessarily when she slaps his shoulder with the envelope.

“You got me a Sephora gift card?”

“Well, yeah… I didn’t want to buy you something and have you whine over it not being the exact variation you wanted,” he explains feebly, hugging her back when she bends and throws her arms around his neck. “You’re pretty fussy about your skincare and make-up.”

“I am,” she agrees happily, sitting back down in her previous spot and gazing at the gift card. “Wow. This is perfect. Really.”

“I’m glad,” he replies, the relief and amusement apparent on his face. “It’s valid for six months so you and Sooah can make a whole day of it, shopping and stuff.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that will happen,” she says, shaking her head. “Shopping isn’t really Sooah’s thing and ever since she and Jimin got back together, I’ve barely seen her.”

“Yeah, well, they’re making up for about five years of being apart,” he reasons. “It’s going to be a couple months of honeymooning before the drama starts again.”

“Looking forward to that. But I’m not waiting until then,” she says, holding up the gift card. “Even if it means I go solo.”

Hoseok is quiet for a moment. “I can go with you.”

She snorts. “To buy make-up and skincare?”

“Yes. I take very good care of my skin - I could be of some help.”

Something warm and fuzzy spreads through Chaeyoung’s chest. “I’m a very slow shopper.”

“Lucky for you, I have four days before I need to travel again. Including a weekend.”

She bites her lip, wishing her heart would calm down. “Alright. It’s your funeral.”

“I have a lot of opinions when it comes to shopping. It’s your funeral.”

Chaeyoung laughs. “I’ll take that risk,” she says, standing up and walking towards her desk. “Someday you’re going to make some girl super lucky, oppa,” she adds, placing the gift card to stand carefully on top of a neat stack of books, in the position of honour. She nods in satisfaction and turns around to see his smile slightly fading. “What?” she asks, watching him carefully for his reaction.

He takes a deep breath as though about to say something, but at the last second shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m glad you like the gift.”

“I love it,” she says honestly, sitting back down. “In fact, I love it so much that I don’t think I can ask you for the other thing I wanted.”

“Which is?”

She grins. “The super incriminating picture you found on Chanyeol’s Facebook? The one we were talking about last week.”

Hoseok laughs and groans. “That is never seeing the light of day.”

“That’s preteen Hoseok talking,” she insists. “Preteen Hoseok would hate it.”

“Oh, he would.”

She smiles and shrugs. “I was going to use my birthday to see it. But you played it really well.”

“Thank God.” He stifles a yawn and rubs his eyes.

“You look exhausted,” she murmurs. “Do you want to sleep here?”

“I… shouldn’t.” He gives her an apologetic sort of smile. “I need to unpack, and everything. You should get to bed, too,” he adds, standing up and running a hand through his hair.

“Okay.” Chaeyoung stands up as well and follows him out of her room, not really expecting him to take her up on her offer. “Thanks for coming, oppa. And for… everything,” she says, once he’s slipped on his shoes and is about to leave.

“You’re welcome.” He turns around and leans against the doorway, giving her a wide smile. “Did you have fun at your birthday dinner, though?”

She shrugs. “Could’ve been more fun. Promise me you’ll make it next time.”

“Uh-huh, absolutely,” he promises, nodding seriously. “Even if I have to take a private jet just for that.”

“Good.” She reaches up the same time that he steps forward and they hug, more comfortably than she once could’ve ever imagined. “Thank you. Really,” she mumbles into his shoulder.

“Of course, caterpillar,” he answers as they pull away, but stay in the same spot.

Chaeyoung feels the same slight skip in her chest at the new-old nickname. She doesn’t know if she’s imagining it, Hoseok’s hesitation in taking a step back, or his eyes flickering towards her mouth.

You’re Chan’s sister. You’re the one girl on earth I can’t mess with.

He’d said that months ago, also during a visit to her room. But she can’t imagine his feelings are the same as they were then. 

His cologne is faint, as though he’d last worn it a while ago, probably before flying out of Australia. The flight from another timezone, mid-tour, after which he’d come home, gone straight to the mall and come over to her place. 

His face is definitely closer now, the slight frown on his forehead surely indicating that there’s something he’s wrestling with. Chaeyoung’s toes curl on the bare floor; deciding to help him out, she tilts her head up and kisses her big brother’s best friend.

Challenge accepted. 

It’s only for a moment; Chaeyoung pulls away immediately but before she can move more than an inch away, Hoseok steps forward and kisses her again, his lips firmly on hers this time.

Chaeyoung’s eyes flutter shut as everything else disappears. It’s just Hoseok, soft lips, gentle movements, his hand in her hair and his lean, slender frame under her palms. He opens his mouth slowly against hers, as though he has all the time in the world, and she sighs silently.

Super lucky.

They break apart after what feels like minutes, or hours or several days. Hoseok doesn’t move his hand or step back, and Chaeyoung looks up uncertainly to see his eyes squeezed shut.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Chaeyoung tries for a moment, again, to suppress her smile but then gives up. It widens when Hoseok slowly meets her eyes, several emotions on his face that she knows they’ll have to deal with later, but regret nowhere visible.

“Goodnight, Hobi,” she murmurs.

He sighs. “Happy birthday, caterpillar,” he replies softly, tilting his head and pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her cheek. “Sweet dreams.”

It takes him a moment to step away but he does, his face mildly flushed and his cheeks lifted, despite him not exactly smiling. He gives her a small, meaningful wave before turning around and leaving.

Chaeyoung watches him until he leaves her floor before letting herself smile as wide as her heart wants, exhaling hugely and stepping back into her house. Her phone pings as soon as she enters a room, and the screen glows with a notification from Hoseok.

Heart fluttering embarrassingly fast, she clicks on it.

Hoseok [00:24] [photo] Preteen Hoseok was an idiot. Twenty-six year old Hoseok actually kind of likes it.

The picture loads and Chaeyoung tries to swallow the lump in her throat. A screenshot of a Facebook post, old and grainy, like something taken on a digital camera, three kids sat on a sofa in her parents’ house. Chanyeol was on one side and Chaeyoung on the other, and in between them sat Hoseok, scrawny and skinny with a smile like the sun, one arm around each of the siblings.

She was smiling, too, in the picture, extremely widely despite the braces she always hated. There’s surprise and delight and a myriad of other feelings but the one that stands out to her is the one on Hoseok’s face, for once devoid of annoyance around her.

He didn’t hate her. Not always. Not as much as she thought. Lost in a sea of heartfelt nostalgia, her gaze drops to the caption.

Kang Chanyeol: My two favourite idiots in the world!

A seed of doubt settles into her heart. But a moment later she shakes her head, cropping out the caption and saving the picture to her phone. She crawls into bed and shafts Chanyeol to the recesses of her mind, choosing to keep one night to herself where she thinks about nothing but her first real kiss with Jung Hoseok.

—

Thanks for reading. Don’t forget to drop a review :)

[evillemons]

HOSEOK’S IDEAL TYPE (j-hope pt. 1)

~ a manifestation of his ideal girlfriend. Continuation into part 2 and part 3. Masterlist here.

Key words: Warm, dependable, upbeat, altruistic, agreeable, nurturing.

Her personality:

• Unlike Yoongi, I see Hoseok vibing best with a partner who is energetically similar to him. He is so vibrant that I think someone moody or angsty would bring him down.

• They say he is the “celebrity” of BTS, but I don’t see him with another celebrity at all. I imagine her as someone completely “normal”, grounded, and averse to the spotlight.

• She wouldn’t need to be particularly extroverted, either, as long as she is generally happy and high-spirited.

• Elementary school or art teacher vibes, for sure. Maybe also a nurse, librarian, counselor, or interior designer.

• A little quirky and possibly crafty.

• Incredibly kind, especially towards children and animals. Is the type of person to take someone into her home regardless of the circumstances.

• Nurturing and caring.

• Hoseok is so neat tidy (and I love him for that), and I think someone messy or cluttered would get on his nerves.

• MBTI: ISFJ or INFP. Warm, dependable, altruistic, and loyal.

• Easy-going and easy to get along with. Maybe a little shy and mousy around his celebrity friends.

• Probably a homebody that loves to spend her free time in a reading nook with a warm cup of tea inside her well-decorated apartment.

• Would look for a partner who values quality time and takes care of her just as much as she takes care of him.

Her looks and sexuality:

• Cute, pretty, and feminine; although her looks wouldn’t be dramatic or striking.

• Her outfits would be colorful, whimsical, and maybe a little eccentric (but definitely not as bougie as Hoseok’s).

• Maybe a bit bohemian, with a lot of long skirts and flowing blouses. Her clothing style would be relatively modest and loose-fitting.

• Sparkly eyeshadow and nail polish.

• I imagine her with short hair that is dyed a slightly unnatural color, like pastel pink or orange-red.

• Like Jin, she is most likely to be Asian; maybe mixed if she was born/raised in Korea.

• I see her being tall (5’8-5’9 or 174ish) and slim like him, mirroring each other’s bodies. Small breasts and narrow hips like a ballet dancer (maybe she grew up taking ballet lessons, who knows).

• Close to his age. Maybe +/- 1-3 years.

• I also see her as straight.

• Possibly inexperienced in terms of sex and relationships due to her introverted nature. May come across as a little innocent.

[aamalaaa]

cold days/warm embraces

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: established relationship au, comfort, fluff, romance, oc has a cold and hobi takes care of them

warnings: well, oc is sick and dramatic

word count: 1.5k

a/n: ok so I’ve been very very sick these past few days and imagined the million ways Hobi would take care of his partner if they we’re sick, enjoy this fever induced drabble kekeke

-

-

This fucking sucks.

You’re lying in bed in a fetal position, hair in a tousled bun that’s barely hanging on while you clutch the soft satin covers in your tiny feeble hands.

You’ve been here for two days, barely managing to get out of bed to shower and brush your teeth. They said the cold season was harsh this year, they were right. If you were a little skeptical before, well you’re not anymore.

You feel like the pressure in your sinuses is so intense your head might explode at any moment.

But that’s not the worst. No, oh no.

The worst is the fact that you cannot. Stop. Sniffling.

So you lay in bed, whining and moaning about life and the harsh reality you find yourself in, sniffling harshly as you let a few drops of salty water slip past your tear ducts.

You may be a tad bit dramatic. You’re allowed to, this fucking sucks.

You throw another tissue in the garbage bin and lament weakly as you do so, bringing the covers up to your ears in a barely logical attempt to hide from the world.

That’s when you hear the front door open, the familiar creaking sound bringing you instant comfort.

“Kitten?”

You can make out the sound of a bag hitting the hardwood floor and the shuffling of winter clothes.

You reply with a quite frankly pitiful moan, that’s really the best you can do considering your current state.

There’s footsteps coming closer to the bedroom and you curl onto yourself even more, peeking out of the warm covers to glance at your boyfriend.

“Oh baby,” He coos, dropping onto the bed and sliding under the covers. He brings you flush against his chest and drops a soft peck onto your head of messy hair.

“Hobi,” You whine feebly.

He squeezes your delicate frame. “You’re not feeling any better than this morning are you?”

You pleadingly look into his dark brown orbs.

“No-“ You break out into a tiny cough.

He shushes you. “My poor kitten,” Another kiss is laid upon your head. “Don’t try to talk ok?”

You nod, curling into his loving embrace. It’s warm and comforting, just like him.

“Did you eat today? Have you showered?”

You shake your head no, intent on following his advice. You don’t need another fit of cough, you’re not sure your poor head could handle it.

“Can you get up and shower for me baby? You’ll feel better. I’ll make soup for you, your favorite.”

You clutch the front of his shirt, you don’t want to get out of his strong embrace. It’s bearable like this, as long as you’re in the hold of the strongest arms in the whole world.

But reality kicks in and your nose starts dripping against Hoseok’s shirt, much to your horror.

You push against his chest to the best of your abilities which earns you a cock of his eyebrows.

“Tissues,”

Hoseok breaks out into a fit of laughter and gives you a tissue while you glare menacingly at him.

Well you try to, because damn if that laugh isn’t the most beautiful sound in the entire world. Even your favorite songs cannot begin to compare to the melodious yet unhinged sound.

You dump the used material in the bin and turn towards your lover again, making grabby hands as you look into his laugh-crinkled eyes.

Hoseok coos softly before enveloping you once again in his tender embrace and you settle there.

It feels like a warm summer day, when you’ve stayed in the sun for hours and your skin feels hot and pliant. You can almost smell the warm air and coconut sunscreen if you close your eyes and inhale deeply.

But you can’t inhale deeply because your nose is stuffed and you let out a plaintive whine.

“Kitten..” Hoseok presses his tender lips on your rosy cheek. “Can you get up?”

“Maybe,” You croak out.

He caresses your tousled hair with his long slender fingers. “I’ll help you.”

And that’s how you find yourself in the shower for at least half an hour if not more, sitting on a little built-in bench as warm water soothingly trickles down your body. Your nose even manages to clear for a few minutes, and god, you really took inhaling through both nostrils for granted.

Never again.

You leisurely get out and Hoseok enters the bathroom with a fond smile on his face as he hears the sound of water stop.

You make to grab a towel but a dainty hand stops you halfway there.

“Let me,”

Your boyfriend thoroughly but gently dries you off, and you can’t help but blush. Yes, he’s seen you naked more times than you can count, and yes he’s seen you worse off, even held your hair a few times as you threw up after nights out.

This feels different though.

You don’t mind one bit.

He dries the excess water from your hair with a towel and wraps a soft cotton robe around you, helping you with both sleeves and tying it around your waist.

Then, he delicately brushes your hair, making sure not to hurt you in the process, and proceeds to blow dry it carefully, tickling you here and there as he does so to distract you.

And it works, you try to wriggle out of his embrace but he continues his merciless attack, dropping kisses on each side of your neck as he tickles your weakest spots.

You know the perfect remedy to a cold now, it's Jung Hoseok.

“Thank you..” Your voice comes out as a hoarse squeak.

The smile you get is absolutely blinding, so much so that you fear losing balance and tumbling down on the floor considering your weakened state. But the strong arm around your waist steadies you and you take a few tentative steps all the way up to your bedroom, Hoseok not leaving your side, not even for a second.

You notice that the bed is clean and made when you throw the covers aside to slip in. And when you do, the fresh smell of clean sheets embraces you in a comforting wave of jasmine and lavender haze.

You cocoon yourself and inhale as much as you can, almost purring at the sensations enveloping your senses.

You try to protest when Hoseok leaves the room but are soon filled with love and tenderness when he comes back just as quickly with a hot bowl of soup that he drops on the nightstand closest to your still form.

He pats your now clean locks tenderly before sitting on the bed and bringing you up in a sitting position, your back against his firm chest. “Try to eat a little bit please,” He murmurs soothingly.

And how could you say no to that.

Also, since you’re out of your lethargic daze, you do feel quite a bit hungry.

So you slurp loudly on the homemade soup, basking in the feeling of warmth engulfing you as you do so. And Hoseok keeps caressing your hair in a soft manner, watching you eat without saying a word.

Even though you’re sick and very dramatic about it, you feel so fucking grateful. So grateful to have such a kind and caring soul with whom you share a life with. The most honest and beautiful man, who takes care of you when you’re sick or tired without complaining, not even once. Who changes the sheets and prepares you soup while you whine and moan about having to take a shower

Hoseok gently takes the bowl from your hand and places it nearby while you slump down against him, satiated and very sleepy.

Your next words are slurred and barely audible. “I don’t deserve you, thank you..”

Hoseoke chuckles fondly and shuffles the both of you so you lay down on the bed, his front still pressed against you in a perfect spoon-like embrace.

“I don’t deserve you, you little baby.”

You nuzzle his wrist and quietly purr. You haven’t felt this content since you woke up this morning.

“Nu-uh, I don’t.” You weakly protest.

You can almost feel your boyfriend rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

“Do you really wanna argue about this now?” He giggles quietly.

You ponder on it a bit, a pout slowly forming on your red slightly chapped lips. “No, I’m tired..”

You feel the soft press of lips against the back of your head and wiggle further into Hoseok’s warm embrace.

“Do you want to sleep?” He murmurs against you.

Your pout deepens.

“Do I really have to?”

Another fit of carillon-like chortles.

“You do baby.”

“Ok then.” You sigh dramatically. “But stay here, please?”

Hoseok nuzzles closer before whispering tenderly,

“Of course, big baby. I took tomorrow off too. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You slap his arm. “Who ‘you calling a big baby?”

“You, big baby,” He teases before swinging his leg above you and hooking it around your own pair of legs.

You huff out in feigned annoyance but still lay a delicate kiss on his inner wrist. “Big baby wants to sleep now.”

“Good, then sleep Kitten.”

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a/n: here’s the link for my general taglist<3

gen taglist: @bwormie @fragmentof-indifference