You yoongi husband headcanons were so good! Could you write one for jin aswell?💜
Husband Kim Seokjin! Headcannons
Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Gen! Reader
Genre: Fluff, slice of life, husband Kim Seokjin.
Word Count: 409
| Summary: The kind of life people dream of is a life with Kim Seokjin as your husband.
CONY’S note: Thank you for requesting i had a lot of fun with this!! Sorry for posting so late.^^
Masterlist
Husband Jin - Who insists on introducing you as my wife, my husband, my partner at every opportunity just to see your cheeks flush when he says it.
Husband Jin - Who gives you the bigger piece of meat during dinner and claims he’s “just not that hungry” even though you catch him sneaking a second serving later.
Husband Jin - Who sneaks back hugs while you’re brushing your teeth, cooking, or folding laundry because he can’t help himself.
Husband Jin - Who is loud with laughter and loud with love, filling every corner of your home with his presence so you never feel alone.
Husband Jin - Who always makes you laugh in the middle of arguments, not because he doesn’t take you seriously but because he can’t stand to see you upset.
Husband Jin - Who takes a hundred selfies with you in the most ordinary moments—at the grocery store, in the car, at the park—and says it’s for the memories.
Husband Jin - Who always sings about what you’re doing, whether you’re cooking, cleaning, or even just yawning, because he wants to make you smile.
Husband Jin - Who secretly watches your favorite dramas with you just so he can tease you about your reactions but ends up more invested in the story than you are.
Husband Jin - Who tells you every day how beautiful you are, in a tone so casual you almost don’t realize he means it with his whole heart.
Husband Jin - Who cries when he hears you laugh so hard you can’t breathe, because he realizes all over again that you’re his greatest joy.
Husband Jin - Who brushes your hair back gently and kisses your forehead like it’s second nature, as if that one touch is enough to ground him.
Husband Jin - Who puts your comfort above his own, carrying groceries, cooking meals, and making sure you drink water even when he’s tired himself.
Husband Jin - Who whispers I love you every night before bed, whether you’re awake to hear it or not.
Husband Jin - Who believes marriage isn’t about grand gestures but about the daily promise to love you in a thousand little ways.
Fic idea: Skz having a bad day, right, as one does, and reader texts then or something and is like being enthusiastic abt smtg cuz they didn’t know mister boyfriend is a lil unhappy. So he’s like, mad all of a sudden, and reader is like, oop, and kinda does that cute little thing that plenty of us do, where they go back to the old behaviour, and in this particular instance are like, quiet, kind, polite, basically perfect but the boys are like “smtg smells fishy” but reader is all self blaming and self deprecating and closed off so my guys are like “crap”
✧.* SKZ! Have a Bad Day ✧.*
Pairing: OT8 x Gen! Reader
Genre: Texting, angst with a happy ending, fluff.
| Summary: Everyone has bad days, it’s how you choose to end them that matters most.
You yoongi husband headcanons were so good! Could you write one for jin aswell?💜
Husband Kim Seokjin! Headcannons
Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Gen! Reader
Genre: Fluff, slice of life, husband Kim Seokjin.
Word Count: 409
| Summary: The kind of life people dream of is a life with Kim Seokjin as your husband.
CONY’S note: Thank you for requesting i had a lot of fun with this!! Sorry for posting so late.^^
Masterlist
Husband Jin - Who insists on introducing you as my wife, my husband, my partner at every opportunity just to see your cheeks flush when he says it.
Husband Jin - Who gives you the bigger piece of meat during dinner and claims he’s “just not that hungry” even though you catch him sneaking a second serving later.
Husband Jin - Who sneaks back hugs while you’re brushing your teeth, cooking, or folding laundry because he can’t help himself.
Husband Jin - Who is loud with laughter and loud with love, filling every corner of your home with his presence so you never feel alone.
Husband Jin - Who always makes you laugh in the middle of arguments, not because he doesn’t take you seriously but because he can’t stand to see you upset.
Husband Jin - Who takes a hundred selfies with you in the most ordinary moments—at the grocery store, in the car, at the park—and says it’s for the memories.
Husband Jin - Who always sings about what you’re doing, whether you’re cooking, cleaning, or even just yawning, because he wants to make you smile.
Husband Jin - Who secretly watches your favorite dramas with you just so he can tease you about your reactions but ends up more invested in the story than you are.
Husband Jin - Who tells you every day how beautiful you are, in a tone so casual you almost don’t realize he means it with his whole heart.
Husband Jin - Who cries when he hears you laugh so hard you can’t breathe, because he realizes all over again that you’re his greatest joy.
Husband Jin - Who brushes your hair back gently and kisses your forehead like it’s second nature, as if that one touch is enough to ground him.
Husband Jin - Who puts your comfort above his own, carrying groceries, cooking meals, and making sure you drink water even when he’s tired himself.
Husband Jin - Who whispers I love you every night before bed, whether you’re awake to hear it or not.
Husband Jin - Who believes marriage isn’t about grand gestures but about the daily promise to love you in a thousand little ways.
Genre: Mostly fluff there’s a slightly heavy makeout towards the end but it finishes off pretty fluffy.
Word Count: 2111
| Summary: There’s only a matter of time before boundaries shrivel and fall.
CONY’S note: There was so many things wrong with this fic. The countless hours hunched over my computer trying to get it exactly how I imagined it. The ungodly amount of energy drinks consumed and bought like a lifeline i was grasping for. I can’t say Im proud of this to be honest, but the requester has waited for so long that I put all my energy into trying to do their prompt justice even with my writers block so here it goes. @renassaincesblog .Until the Music Stops.
Masterlist
There was something in the silence you shared with him.
Not an emptiness, not the sort of silence that pressed down like weight, but something quieter, warmer—like the faint hum beneath a song you hadn’t realized you’d been hearing all along. It lived in the glances you both thought went unnoticed, in the tired half-smiles exchanged when the studio lights burned too late into the night.
It was in the way his voice gradually shed the careful edges of formality, how sunbaenim softened into your name whispered between counts, as though it belonged more easily on his tongue that way.
It was in the sound of breath, sharp and heavy after a hard run-through, mingling with the faint bite of sweat in the air. The song would cut off at its final beat, leaving you both suspended in that moment where music, exhaustion, and something unnamed all blurred together.
You never lingered too long after practice. The managers and stylists rarely said anything outright, but their eyes spoke well enough: Keep your distance. Don’t give anyone a reason to talk. It was a warning you heard even in silence.
But Hoseok had always been difficult to ignore.
He had a way of filling a room without meaning to. The way he’d call your name across the studio—bright, breathless, so eager it almost embarrassed you—made your chest tighten no matter how hard you tried to school your expression. He was always already there before you, already rehearsing until sweat darkened the back of his shirt, and still he greeted you like your arrival was the best part of his day.
He was tireless in practice, relentless in the way he picked apart a movement until he owned it completely. And yet, in the small pauses between songs, he always looked at you. When he hit a move right, when the rhythm landed exactly where he wanted it—his eyes would flick up to yours, searching. For what, you weren’t sure. Approval? Confirmation? Something else you didn’t want to name.
You gave him little more than a nod each time, keeping your hands busy, your voice neutral. But the heat of being seen lingered, even after he turned away again.
The gestures piled up quietly: coffees that appeared too often on the edge of the piano, his smile when you told him it wasn’t necessary, the way he’d laugh it off with a shy insistence that he wanted to. Small, ordinary things, yet they left a mark. And slowly, the lines blurred.
Now, as you walked across the lobby toward the elevators, you told yourself it was no different. But the sound of your name, bright and unguarded from behind you, said otherwise.
Hoseok was rushing to catch up, hair slightly mussed, grin wide even as he panted. You felt the eyes on you the moment his voice carried through the lobby, felt the burn of curiosity from every corner as he fell into step beside you.
“Where are you headed?” he asked, still catching his breath, though his tone was casual, almost boyish.
You turned to him out of politeness, weighing the risk of honesty. But against your better judgment, you gave in.
“The dance studio on the fifth floor,” you murmured. “Working on a small project.”
Even soft, your words seemed to echo in the wide, gleaming lobby. Hoseok hummed thoughtfully as the elevator doors slid open.
Inside, the silence pressed closer. His voice broke it, tentative at first: “Sorry if this is too forward, but… would you like any help?” He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Your hand faltered on the panel, almost missing the button for the fifth floor. He noticed the sudden tension in your shoulders and immediately rushed to backpedal.
“Ah—forget it. No pressure. I shouldn’t have asked.” His hands lifted in surrender, smile small and apologetic.
You should have let it end there. But his next words lodged somewhere you couldn’t ignore.
“It’s just—I’ve got a few free hours, and… it seemed like a good way to spend time together. Without you disappearing right after rehearsal.”
Heat rushed to your face. So he had noticed the way you always left too quickly, thinking yourself discreet. The realization stung with embarrassment and something else—something fragile, almost sweet.
“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice quieter than intended. “I’ve just been… busy.” The excuse felt thin, even as you offered it. “But… I wouldn’t mind a little help. The song’s been bugging me.”
You didn’t know why you agreed. Maybe it was the light in his face when you said yes, the way his grin returned in full force, brighter than the elevator lights above you.
The fifth-floor studio greeted you with its familiar brightness—the mirrored walls, the faint squeak of sneakers against polished wood, the soft hum of fluorescent lights. It was quieter here than the lobby, and somehow that silence felt safer, though you couldn’t ignore the thrum of awareness that followed you inside.
Hoseok was quick to make himself at home. He wandered the room with open curiosity, spinning lightly on his heels, eyes taking in the scrawled notes on your clipboard and the playlist cued up on the speaker.
“So this is your secret project?” he asked, the grin tugging at his lips already teasing. “I was half expecting some mysterious masterpiece hidden away.”
You rolled your eyes, though your mouth threatened a smile. “It’s nothing much. Just a draft.”
“Then I can’t wait to see what you call finished,” he said, too earnestly for you to brush off as another joke.
Against your better judgment, you set up the track and showed him the few bars you’d worked through. Your movements felt sharper under his gaze, like the reflection in the mirror wasn’t only your own but doubled, filled with something watchful and expectant. When you finished, Hoseok clapped enthusiastically, the sound echoing in the studio.
“Small project? Please. That already looks amazing.” His grin widened as he mimicked the first few steps, exaggerating them with playful energy.
You shook your head, fighting a laugh. “It’s not supposed to look like that.”
“Then teach me.” He dropped into stance, eyes alight, focus snapping instantly into place. The shift was always startling—the way his joking warmth funneled into razor-sharp concentration the moment he started learning.
So you guided him. Step by step, count by count. Sometimes he picked it up right away; other times he stumbled, brows furrowing, mouth pressing into a line of frustration. And each time he corrected himself, his eyes flicked back to yours, searching again.
It was endearing in a way you didn’t want to admit. The studio filled with the sound of breaths, the scuff of sneakers, the muted replay of the song as you worked through it again and again. Time slipped unnoticed, minutes collapsing into repetitions.
Then came the mistake.
You spun, misjudged your balance, and the floor tilted too fast beneath you. For a breathless half-second you braced for the fall—but Hoseok was there before you hit the ground, his arms catching you firmly against him.
The laugh that tumbled out of him was contagious, bubbling warm and unrestrained. Relief and something else spilled through your chest, and before you knew it, you were laughing too—shaken, breathless, but unwilling to move from the safety of his hold.
You both dropped to the floor together, collapsing in a heap. The coolness of the polished wood seeped into your back, a sharp contrast against the heat clinging to your skin. Your heart hammered louder than the music still faintly looping on the speaker.
Eyes closed, you hummed softly, trying to calm the rush in your veins. But even with your lids shut, the brightness of the overhead lights pressed through, reminding you of where you were—and of the boy lying too close beside you.
“Guess Miss Big Shot makes mistakes too, huh?” Hoseok teased between giggles, his voice lilting with affection more than mockery.
You huffed, feigning annoyance, though your lips threatened a smile. “Well, I wouldn’t have made any if you weren’t here. You’re distracting.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them.
And that was when he turned, eyes bright and sharp with something unreadable, his laughter softening into silence.
“You think I’m distracting?” he echoed, voice lower now, edged with curiosity.
The way he looked at you then made the air in your lungs falter. His tone was playful, yes, but there was something beneath it—something intent. You tried to laugh it off, tried to summon the same easy energy he always carried, but your throat felt dry.
“You are,” you said, quieter this time, as though lowering your voice might soften the truth.
Hoseok didn’t move at first. He just watched you, expression caught between amusement and something sharper, more tender. The silence stretched, filled only by the faint buzz of the lights and the slowing beat of your own heart.
Then, slowly, he leaned closer.
“Good,” he murmured, the word almost a whisper. “Because you distract me too.”
The confession hung between you for a moment, fragile as glass. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. You didn’t need them. The closeness was enough—the warmth of his breath brushing your cheek, the weight of his gaze flicking once to your lips before returning to your eyes.
You could have pulled away. You should have. But instead you stilled, heart thundering as Hoseok closed the distance.
The kiss was hesitant at first, soft as a question. His lips pressed to yours with the kind of care that made your chest ache, as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed. But when you didn’t pull back—when you tilted forward, answering with your own trembling urgency—his restraint melted.
The second kiss came deeper, surer. His hand slid carefully to your jaw, thumb brushing against your skin, holding you there as though he was afraid you’d vanish. The touch was warm, grounding, and you leaned into it helplessly.
The studio, the mirrors, the outside world—all of it fell away. There was only him, only the way his laugh still lingered faintly against your lips, the way he tasted faintly of the coffee he’d insisted on earlier, the way every breath you shared seemed to blur the line between caution and want.
You broke apart for air, but barely. Your foreheads touched, breaths mingling, and then you were drawn back together like magnets. This time the kiss deepened, more insistent, his fingers tangling lightly in your hair as your hands clutched at his shirt without thinking.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy. It was slow and aching, like you both wanted to memorize the shape of this moment, to hold it in your hands as long as possible.
Between kisses came laughter—quiet, breathless, the kind that tumbled out when your teeth clashed or when you shifted awkwardly on the studio floor. Each laugh dissolved into another kiss, into another lingering touch.
At one point, you pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes. They were shining, not with his usual bright stage energy but with something gentler, something unguarded. The sight unraveled you more than the kisses ever could.
“Maybe I really shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, guilt flickering at the edges.
But Hoseok only shook his head, smiling softly. “Then I don’t want you anywhere else.”
The words undid you. You leaned back in, lips finding his again, pouring into the kiss everything you couldn’t say aloud. His arms tightened around you, drawing you closer until there was no space left between.
Time blurred. You lost count of how many times you kissed, how many times you broke apart only to fall back together. The rhythm of it—press, breathe, return—was its own choreography, one you didn’t need to teach or learn. It existed only here, only between the two of you.
When you finally stilled, the studio felt different, as though the air itself had shifted. You lay beside him on the floor again, hearts still racing, skin still warm where his hands had touched. The song on the speaker had long since ended, leaving only the faint buzz of silence around you.
For a long moment neither of you spoke. You stared up at the ceiling lights, too bright, too revealing, and let your eyes close instead.
Then Hoseok’s voice, soft and low: “So… still think I’m distracting?”
The question pulled a reluctant laugh from your lips. You turned to face him, finding his grin softer now, a little sheepish, but still dazzling.
“More than ever,” you admitted.
And the smile he gave you in return was worth every risk.
Genre: Mostly fluff there’s a slightly heavy makeout towards the end but it finishes off pretty fluffy.
Word Count: 2111
| Summary: There’s only a matter of time before boundaries shrivel and fall.
CONY’S note: There was so many things wrong with this fic. The countless hours hunched over my computer trying to get it exactly how I imagined it. The ungodly amount of energy drinks consumed and bought like a lifeline i was grasping for. I can’t say Im proud of this to be honest, but the requester has waited for so long that I put all my energy into trying to do their prompt justice even with my writers block so here it goes. @renassaincesblog .Until the Music Stops.
Masterlist
There was something in the silence you shared with him.
Not an emptiness, not the sort of silence that pressed down like weight, but something quieter, warmer—like the faint hum beneath a song you hadn’t realized you’d been hearing all along. It lived in the glances you both thought went unnoticed, in the tired half-smiles exchanged when the studio lights burned too late into the night.
It was in the way his voice gradually shed the careful edges of formality, how sunbaenim softened into your name whispered between counts, as though it belonged more easily on his tongue that way.
It was in the sound of breath, sharp and heavy after a hard run-through, mingling with the faint bite of sweat in the air. The song would cut off at its final beat, leaving you both suspended in that moment where music, exhaustion, and something unnamed all blurred together.
You never lingered too long after practice. The managers and stylists rarely said anything outright, but their eyes spoke well enough: Keep your distance. Don’t give anyone a reason to talk. It was a warning you heard even in silence.
But Hoseok had always been difficult to ignore.
He had a way of filling a room without meaning to. The way he’d call your name across the studio—bright, breathless, so eager it almost embarrassed you—made your chest tighten no matter how hard you tried to school your expression. He was always already there before you, already rehearsing until sweat darkened the back of his shirt, and still he greeted you like your arrival was the best part of his day.
He was tireless in practice, relentless in the way he picked apart a movement until he owned it completely. And yet, in the small pauses between songs, he always looked at you. When he hit a move right, when the rhythm landed exactly where he wanted it—his eyes would flick up to yours, searching. For what, you weren’t sure. Approval? Confirmation? Something else you didn’t want to name.
You gave him little more than a nod each time, keeping your hands busy, your voice neutral. But the heat of being seen lingered, even after he turned away again.
The gestures piled up quietly: coffees that appeared too often on the edge of the piano, his smile when you told him it wasn’t necessary, the way he’d laugh it off with a shy insistence that he wanted to. Small, ordinary things, yet they left a mark. And slowly, the lines blurred.
Now, as you walked across the lobby toward the elevators, you told yourself it was no different. But the sound of your name, bright and unguarded from behind you, said otherwise.
Hoseok was rushing to catch up, hair slightly mussed, grin wide even as he panted. You felt the eyes on you the moment his voice carried through the lobby, felt the burn of curiosity from every corner as he fell into step beside you.
“Where are you headed?” he asked, still catching his breath, though his tone was casual, almost boyish.
You turned to him out of politeness, weighing the risk of honesty. But against your better judgment, you gave in.
“The dance studio on the fifth floor,” you murmured. “Working on a small project.”
Even soft, your words seemed to echo in the wide, gleaming lobby. Hoseok hummed thoughtfully as the elevator doors slid open.
Inside, the silence pressed closer. His voice broke it, tentative at first: “Sorry if this is too forward, but… would you like any help?” He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Your hand faltered on the panel, almost missing the button for the fifth floor. He noticed the sudden tension in your shoulders and immediately rushed to backpedal.
“Ah—forget it. No pressure. I shouldn’t have asked.” His hands lifted in surrender, smile small and apologetic.
You should have let it end there. But his next words lodged somewhere you couldn’t ignore.
“It’s just—I’ve got a few free hours, and… it seemed like a good way to spend time together. Without you disappearing right after rehearsal.”
Heat rushed to your face. So he had noticed the way you always left too quickly, thinking yourself discreet. The realization stung with embarrassment and something else—something fragile, almost sweet.
“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice quieter than intended. “I’ve just been… busy.” The excuse felt thin, even as you offered it. “But… I wouldn’t mind a little help. The song’s been bugging me.”
You didn’t know why you agreed. Maybe it was the light in his face when you said yes, the way his grin returned in full force, brighter than the elevator lights above you.
The fifth-floor studio greeted you with its familiar brightness—the mirrored walls, the faint squeak of sneakers against polished wood, the soft hum of fluorescent lights. It was quieter here than the lobby, and somehow that silence felt safer, though you couldn’t ignore the thrum of awareness that followed you inside.
Hoseok was quick to make himself at home. He wandered the room with open curiosity, spinning lightly on his heels, eyes taking in the scrawled notes on your clipboard and the playlist cued up on the speaker.
“So this is your secret project?” he asked, the grin tugging at his lips already teasing. “I was half expecting some mysterious masterpiece hidden away.”
You rolled your eyes, though your mouth threatened a smile. “It’s nothing much. Just a draft.”
“Then I can’t wait to see what you call finished,” he said, too earnestly for you to brush off as another joke.
Against your better judgment, you set up the track and showed him the few bars you’d worked through. Your movements felt sharper under his gaze, like the reflection in the mirror wasn’t only your own but doubled, filled with something watchful and expectant. When you finished, Hoseok clapped enthusiastically, the sound echoing in the studio.
“Small project? Please. That already looks amazing.” His grin widened as he mimicked the first few steps, exaggerating them with playful energy.
You shook your head, fighting a laugh. “It’s not supposed to look like that.”
“Then teach me.” He dropped into stance, eyes alight, focus snapping instantly into place. The shift was always startling—the way his joking warmth funneled into razor-sharp concentration the moment he started learning.
So you guided him. Step by step, count by count. Sometimes he picked it up right away; other times he stumbled, brows furrowing, mouth pressing into a line of frustration. And each time he corrected himself, his eyes flicked back to yours, searching again.
It was endearing in a way you didn’t want to admit. The studio filled with the sound of breaths, the scuff of sneakers, the muted replay of the song as you worked through it again and again. Time slipped unnoticed, minutes collapsing into repetitions.
Then came the mistake.
You spun, misjudged your balance, and the floor tilted too fast beneath you. For a breathless half-second you braced for the fall—but Hoseok was there before you hit the ground, his arms catching you firmly against him.
The laugh that tumbled out of him was contagious, bubbling warm and unrestrained. Relief and something else spilled through your chest, and before you knew it, you were laughing too—shaken, breathless, but unwilling to move from the safety of his hold.
You both dropped to the floor together, collapsing in a heap. The coolness of the polished wood seeped into your back, a sharp contrast against the heat clinging to your skin. Your heart hammered louder than the music still faintly looping on the speaker.
Eyes closed, you hummed softly, trying to calm the rush in your veins. But even with your lids shut, the brightness of the overhead lights pressed through, reminding you of where you were—and of the boy lying too close beside you.
“Guess Miss Big Shot makes mistakes too, huh?” Hoseok teased between giggles, his voice lilting with affection more than mockery.
You huffed, feigning annoyance, though your lips threatened a smile. “Well, I wouldn’t have made any if you weren’t here. You’re distracting.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them.
And that was when he turned, eyes bright and sharp with something unreadable, his laughter softening into silence.
“You think I’m distracting?” he echoed, voice lower now, edged with curiosity.
The way he looked at you then made the air in your lungs falter. His tone was playful, yes, but there was something beneath it—something intent. You tried to laugh it off, tried to summon the same easy energy he always carried, but your throat felt dry.
“You are,” you said, quieter this time, as though lowering your voice might soften the truth.
Hoseok didn’t move at first. He just watched you, expression caught between amusement and something sharper, more tender. The silence stretched, filled only by the faint buzz of the lights and the slowing beat of your own heart.
Then, slowly, he leaned closer.
“Good,” he murmured, the word almost a whisper. “Because you distract me too.”
The confession hung between you for a moment, fragile as glass. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. You didn’t need them. The closeness was enough—the warmth of his breath brushing your cheek, the weight of his gaze flicking once to your lips before returning to your eyes.
You could have pulled away. You should have. But instead you stilled, heart thundering as Hoseok closed the distance.
The kiss was hesitant at first, soft as a question. His lips pressed to yours with the kind of care that made your chest ache, as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed. But when you didn’t pull back—when you tilted forward, answering with your own trembling urgency—his restraint melted.
The second kiss came deeper, surer. His hand slid carefully to your jaw, thumb brushing against your skin, holding you there as though he was afraid you’d vanish. The touch was warm, grounding, and you leaned into it helplessly.
The studio, the mirrors, the outside world—all of it fell away. There was only him, only the way his laugh still lingered faintly against your lips, the way he tasted faintly of the coffee he’d insisted on earlier, the way every breath you shared seemed to blur the line between caution and want.
You broke apart for air, but barely. Your foreheads touched, breaths mingling, and then you were drawn back together like magnets. This time the kiss deepened, more insistent, his fingers tangling lightly in your hair as your hands clutched at his shirt without thinking.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy. It was slow and aching, like you both wanted to memorize the shape of this moment, to hold it in your hands as long as possible.
Between kisses came laughter—quiet, breathless, the kind that tumbled out when your teeth clashed or when you shifted awkwardly on the studio floor. Each laugh dissolved into another kiss, into another lingering touch.
At one point, you pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes. They were shining, not with his usual bright stage energy but with something gentler, something unguarded. The sight unraveled you more than the kisses ever could.
“Maybe I really shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, guilt flickering at the edges.
But Hoseok only shook his head, smiling softly. “Then I don’t want you anywhere else.”
The words undid you. You leaned back in, lips finding his again, pouring into the kiss everything you couldn’t say aloud. His arms tightened around you, drawing you closer until there was no space left between.
Time blurred. You lost count of how many times you kissed, how many times you broke apart only to fall back together. The rhythm of it—press, breathe, return—was its own choreography, one you didn’t need to teach or learn. It existed only here, only between the two of you.
When you finally stilled, the studio felt different, as though the air itself had shifted. You lay beside him on the floor again, hearts still racing, skin still warm where his hands had touched. The song on the speaker had long since ended, leaving only the faint buzz of silence around you.
For a long moment neither of you spoke. You stared up at the ceiling lights, too bright, too revealing, and let your eyes close instead.
Then Hoseok’s voice, soft and low: “So… still think I’m distracting?”
The question pulled a reluctant laugh from your lips. You turned to face him, finding his grin softer now, a little sheepish, but still dazzling.
“More than ever,” you admitted.
And the smile he gave you in return was worth every risk.
hey please DONT jump off the roof diva, i just found your page and i wanted to request something ^^ can i request a yoongi x female reader, either a oneshot or even headcanons, and its just husband yoongi, like he is the one and best husband material here ok we all know it. also i miss him...im happy we finally saw his face after ages but still😭
also i wanted to tell you that imo its great that you put your rules in your blog cuz i have been seeing certain things and requests lately....and like yes everybody has the right to like what they want but i believe there's a limit for everything, so yeah nothing, thank u in advance!!♡♡
Husband Min Yoongi! Headcanons
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem! Reader
Genre: Fluff, slice of life, husband material ahh Yoongi.
Word count: 403
| Summary: All the ways he loves you.
CONY’S note: Hi! Thank you for the sweet request and don’t worry we’re safe from the roof (for now.) Yeah lol I’ve seen some crazy things on this app too so I thought it would be safe to share my boundaries. I hope most fic authors will do the same more often! Anyway I hope you like these headcannons for yoongs! <3
Masterlist
- Husband Yoongi! Who always makes sure you get the last bite of every meal.
-Husband Yoongi! Who despite working unforgiving hours, always texts you good night when he knows you're about to fall asleep.
-Husband Yoongi! Who makes your comfort meals and tries to get them just the way you like.
-Husband Yoongi! Who hums along while you rant about something you want—or are even slightly interested in—and still ends up getting it for you, even when you thought he wasn’t really listening.
-Husband Yoongi! Who is a calming presence in every room you're in together.
-Husband Yoongi! Who is quiet with his words but loud with his love in all the ways that matter, like sending a well-timed, thoughtful message reminding you to take a break when you're stressed.
-Husband Yoongi! Who is secure in your marriage and never gets jealous. You love him, and he loves you—and that’s all that matters.
-Husband Yoongi! Who never minds watching your favorite movie or show, no matter how many times you've seen it together before.
-Husband Yoongi! Who smiles shyly every time you call him handsome, even though you say it all the time. (Don’t ever stop, even if he tells you to. He secretly loves it.)
-Husband Yoongi! Who cried when he told his mom on the phone that he couldn’t imagine loving anyone else but you—and that it scared him sometimes.
-Husband Yoongi! Who softly kisses your hands every time you brush his messy hair away from his face during early mornings.
-Husband Yoongi! Who takes candid photos of you and sets them as his lock screen, no matter how many times you beg him to change it because you don’t like how you look in them.
-Husband Yoongi! Who stays silent during arguments, waiting patiently for you to calm down so you can talk it out together.
-Husband Yoongi! Who still struggles with vulnerability but tries so hard to show you how deeply he loves you. He gently brushes away your tears—whether they're from laughter or sadness.
-Husband Yoongi! Who fell in love with your smile first, before he fell in love with anything else.
-Husband Yoongi! Who can’t imagine a life without your soft eyes and loving words.
hi love!! omg your message made me emotional fr 😭 thank you so much for taking the time to say that —you have no idea how much it means to me. i’m so honored to know anything i wrote inspired you to start your own stories... like?? what do i even say to that except thank you times a million. i’m genuinely so excited for you 𖹭𖹭
i took a look at your rules and i was wondering if you’d be up for writing a yoongi x reader one-shot where he lets them play with his hands while he’s rambling about something he loves—and he starts stumbling on his words or getting distracted bc of the physical affection GOD I’M SOFT RN
Track 03: You
Pairing: Idol Min Yoongi x gn! Reader
Genre: Fluff, slice of life, gentle intimacy.
Word count: 1,479
| Summary: Yoongi can’t help but fluster when you touch him so gently.
CONY’S note: I know my writings not there yet. I’m still learning and trying to find a style that fits for me. But I can’t deny the joy I felt writing this for my fav fic author so I really hope she enjoys this!
Masterlist
There’s a routine the universe complies to. One that we overlook daily, like the birds flying high in the sky or the mourning leaves crushed under our boots. When the sun rises in the morning, and the moon beckons us goodnight. A farewell meant to recognize the end of the day, a whisper of goodwill meant to help us slumber.
There’s a gentle routine to Yoongi's life too. One that escapes his notice when you appear before him. The stutter of his breath when you're close enough and he catches your scent. The way his eyes follow the curve of your lips when you smile. It’s a routine he follows unknowingly. One that his body accepts as if it was made personally to deliver such commands. Yoongi thinks his body was meant for loving you. Like how the moon was made to whisper us goodnight.
The early mornings stick in his head as he writes lyrics dedicated to the curve of your shoulder, hidden between sheets that hang off your curves. Yoongi makes music to the flutter of your eyes when you eventually wake up to the careful hand he lays on your back.
Yoongi does not solely exist for you.
But there are times when he feels that if you weren’t here on this earth, he would live the rest of his life in search of a piece of his soul that does not feed off his melodies alone.
Yoongi mumbles a curse of frustration as he stares at the monitor in front of him. The hook of the song he's writing feels weak — like it’s clutching its thin fingers to the edge of a seriously high mountain of stability. The beat is something he's proud of. Its simplicity feels deserved; it doesn't need much to sound appealing. He worries if he's overdoing it. What if the lyrics are too corny? What if metaphorical memories are too difficult to understand?
He sighs as he leans back into his chair. The cold coffee that sits on his desk is almost empty, and the ice has started to separate, creating an unpleasant sight. He was thirsty a second ago — now he's just trying to figure out how he’s ever going to fall asleep tonight.
The sound of a soft knock interrupts his thoughts, and he hums a low,
“Come in.”
before turning toward the door.
It’s you. A takeout bag in your hand and a sheepish smile on your face.
“Thought you’d be hungry by now. You’ve been in here for a while.”
Yoongi's small frown dissipates immediately at the sight of you coming closer to sit on the small couch a few feet away from his desk. The scent of his favorite lamb skewers fills the makeshift studio in his apartment.
“Thank you. Could actually use a break right now. I don't think I’m making any progress.”
You make a soft sound of acknowledgment before beckoning him over to sit next to you — and he does.
“I’m sure you're just overthinking it, like you always do, Yoongs,” you say before reaching over to grasp his hand, running your thumb over the back of it. Yoongi’s breath stutters slightly at the simple gesture of your affection.
“I know, but I feel like anything I write just doesn't feel real enough. I want people to understand where I’m coming from, you know?”
You smile at Yoongi softly, your hand still grasping his. You take care to massage his sore fingers from what must have been hours of running over a keyboard again and again.
“You’ll get there, honey. I know you will — you always do.”
Yoongi blushes slightly at your gentle reassurance, his hands warming under your careful attention to his palm. He exhales slightly before nodding at you, eyes fixed on the way your hand meets his.
“What are you working on that’s got you all cooped up in here, anyway?”
You question Yoongi, an eyebrow slightly raised in curiosity.
You rarely ask — out of respect for his privacy. Music is Yoongi's first love. He breathes life into lyrical messages that force people to listen to what he has to say. Some are meant to hide away after a particular stroke of genius, and others are meant to be shared with the world.
Yoongi's music is deeply shaped into his character. There are times when he leaves his studio with red-rimmed eyes and tears threatening to spill over. You always wonder what kind of music he makes in those moments, but you never dare to ask. Sometimes, music is made just to build an escape — and that escape can be just as temporary as any sandcastle. Even with all the love and care that goes into making it.
Yoongi takes a second to think before replying.
“It’s just some side thing I’m working on. Nothing concrete. I doubt the label will let me put it on an album or anything.
It’s just— I feel like I need to make it perfect. Like there's no going back after it’s done, and I need to keep pushing forward before the words escape me. I know it sounds stupid—”
“It doesn’t sound stupid, Yoongs.”
You cradle his other hand.
“I get what you mean. It means a lot to you, right? That you express yourself clearly.”
Yoongi blushes harder involuntarily before nodding.
“I promise you’ll get there. I’ll try to offer advice too, if you’re willing to let me hear it — even though I don’t really know what I’m doing. But I have ears, and I’m willing to help in any way I can.”
Maybe it’s the way you're gripping his hands slightly harder to show how willing you are to help him. Or maybe it’s because of that look in your eyes — that both gentle and stern look you give him when he expresses any doubt in himself.
But Yoongi can’t help but be flustered by you.
You’re still holding his other hand, but now you’re giving attention to the one you haven’t massaged yet — and Yoongi’s heart melts a little further into his chest. He’s sure that if someone peeked inside his chest cavity right now, all they’d see is the way his body has formed into an unattractive pile of goo, barely managing to keep him afloat and attentive in your presence.
You notice his sudden silence — and of course you do. You always notice the little things about Yoongi. Like the little nose scrunch he does when he’s trying not to laugh. Or the awkward way he stands when he’s not sure he’s welcome in a group setting. You always notice the things no one really seems to care to dissect about him. And maybe that’s part of why Yoongi loves you so much.
“You okay, Yoongs?”
You smile and giggle lightly as you question him, noticing the red tips of his ears that almost always appear whenever he’s flustered.
He grumbles stubbornly, averting his gaze to the window in his studio.
“I-I’m fine,” he mumbles.
You start to laugh — not unkindly, but unbearably fond of the way he tries to look at everything else but you in this moment. Your shoulders shake as you lean back into the couch, your eyes lined with tears of mirth as he dramatically pulls his hands away from your lap.
Yoongi eventually starts laughing with you when he sees you nearly fall off the seat in your haze of laughter. The loud screech you let out as you almost hit the floor. The studio soon fills with the sound of your embarrassed cough and his cackle of pure joy at seeing you in his shoes.
Eventually, the laughter dies down and you lean back into the sofa again — this time with the remnants of happiness across your face. Smiles painted across both of you.
“Are we going to eat those lamb skewers now?”
Yoongi questions with a raised brow.
You scoff, but you’re still fighting the smile off your face.
“Of course.”
Yoongi eventually forgets his troubles as you sit side by side on the old, worn couch he’s been meaning to replace for years now. The light sounds of chewing fill the room. He hums gently when he’s done eating. Words begin to work themselves into his head for that new hook.
This time, he thinks he knows what he’s going to say.
There’s a routine that Yoongi’s universe complies to. Like the way your eyes flutter open to the careful hand he lays on your back in the mornings. Or the way you never fail to spark creativity into the dark cloud that can be his mind if he’s not paying too much attention. Sometimes Yoongi can’t help but think his best music is written when it’s you that he has in mind.
And maybe the universe made it so.
Like how the sun rises in the morning, and the moon beckons us goodnight.
When you silently give me a light smile / Only then, I feel a little relieved
hi love!! omg your message made me emotional fr 😭 thank you so much for taking the time to say that —you have no idea how much it means to me. i’m so honored to know anything i wrote inspired you to start your own stories... like?? what do i even say to that except thank you times a million. i’m genuinely so excited for you 𖹭𖹭
i took a look at your rules and i was wondering if you’d be up for writing a yoongi x reader one-shot where he lets them play with his hands while he’s rambling about something he loves—and he starts stumbling on his words or getting distracted bc of the physical affection GOD I’M SOFT RN
Track 03: You
Pairing: Idol Min Yoongi x Gn! Reader
Genre: Fluff, slice of life, gentle intimacy.
Word count: 1,479
| Summary: Yoongi can’t help but fluster when you touch him so gently.
CONY’S note: I know my writings not there yet. I’m still learning and trying to find a style that fits for me. But I can’t deny the joy I felt writing this for my fav fic author so I really hope she enjoys this!
Masterlist
There’s a routine the universe complies to. One that we overlook daily, like the birds flying high in the sky or the mourning leaves crushed under our boots. When the sun rises in the morning, and the moon beckons us goodnight. A farewell meant to recognize the end of the day, a whisper of goodwill meant to help us slumber.
There’s a gentle routine to Yoongi's life too. One that escapes his notice when you appear before him. The stutter of his breath when you're close enough and he catches your scent. The way his eyes follow the curve of your lips when you smile. It’s a routine he follows unknowingly. One that his body accepts as if it was made personally to deliver such commands. Yoongi thinks his body was meant for loving you. Like how the moon was made to whisper us goodnight.
The early mornings stick in his head as he writes lyrics dedicated to the curve of your shoulder, hidden between sheets that hang off your curves. Yoongi makes music to the flutter of your eyes when you eventually wake up to the careful hand he lays on your back.
Yoongi does not solely exist for you.
But there are times when he feels that if you weren’t here on this earth, he would live the rest of his life in search of a piece of his soul that does not feed off his melodies alone.
Yoongi mumbles a curse of frustration as he stares at the monitor in front of him. The hook of the song he's writing feels weak — like it’s clutching its thin fingers to the edge of a seriously high mountain of stability. The beat is something he's proud of. Its simplicity feels deserved; it doesn't need much to sound appealing. He worries if he's overdoing it. What if the lyrics are too corny? What if metaphorical memories are too difficult to understand?
He sighs as he leans back into his chair. The cold coffee that sits on his desk is almost empty, and the ice has started to separate, creating an unpleasant sight. He was thirsty a second ago — now he's just trying to figure out how he’s ever going to fall asleep tonight.
The sound of a soft knock interrupts his thoughts, and he hums a low,
“Come in.”
before turning toward the door.
It’s you. A takeout bag in your hand and a sheepish smile on your face.
“Thought you’d be hungry by now. You’ve been in here for a while.”
Yoongi's small frown dissipates immediately at the sight of you coming closer to sit on the small couch a few feet away from his desk. The scent of his favorite lamb skewers fills the makeshift studio in his apartment.
“Thank you. Could actually use a break right now. I don't think I’m making any progress.”
You make a soft sound of acknowledgment before beckoning him over to sit next to you — and he does.
“I’m sure you're just overthinking it, like you always do, Yoongs,” you say before reaching over to grasp his hand, running your thumb over the back of it. Yoongi’s breath stutters slightly at the simple gesture of your affection.
“I know, but I feel like anything I write just doesn't feel real enough. I want people to understand where I’m coming from, you know?”
You smile at Yoongi softly, your hand still grasping his. You take care to massage his sore fingers from what must have been hours of running over a keyboard again and again.
“You’ll get there, honey. I know you will — you always do.”
Yoongi blushes slightly at your gentle reassurance, his hands warming under your careful attention to his palm. He exhales slightly before nodding at you, eyes fixed on the way your hand meets his.
“What are you working on that’s got you all cooped up in here, anyway?”
You question Yoongi, an eyebrow slightly raised in curiosity.
You rarely ask — out of respect for his privacy. Music is Yoongi's first love. He breathes life into lyrical messages that force people to listen to what he has to say. Some are meant to hide away after a particular stroke of genius, and others are meant to be shared with the world.
Yoongi's music is deeply shaped into his character. There are times when he leaves his studio with red-rimmed eyes and tears threatening to spill over. You always wonder what kind of music he makes in those moments, but you never dare to ask. Sometimes, music is made just to build an escape — and that escape can be just as temporary as any sandcastle. Even with all the love and care that goes into making it.
Yoongi takes a second to think before replying.
“It’s just some side thing I’m working on. Nothing concrete. I doubt the label will let me put it on an album or anything.
It’s just— I feel like I need to make it perfect. Like there's no going back after it’s done, and I need to keep pushing forward before the words escape me. I know it sounds stupid—”
“It doesn’t sound stupid, Yoongs.”
You cradle his other hand.
“I get what you mean. It means a lot to you, right? That you express yourself clearly.”
Yoongi blushes harder involuntarily before nodding.
“I promise you’ll get there. I’ll try to offer advice too, if you’re willing to let me hear it — even though I don’t really know what I’m doing. But I have ears, and I’m willing to help in any way I can.”
Maybe it’s the way you're gripping his hands slightly harder to show how willing you are to help him. Or maybe it’s because of that look in your eyes — that both gentle and stern look you give him when he expresses any doubt in himself.
But Yoongi can’t help but be flustered by you.
You’re still holding his other hand, but now you’re giving attention to the one you haven’t massaged yet — and Yoongi’s heart melts a little further into his chest. He’s sure that if someone peeked inside his chest cavity right now, all they’d see is the way his body has formed into an unattractive pile of goo, barely managing to keep him afloat and attentive in your presence.
You notice his sudden silence — and of course you do. You always notice the little things about Yoongi. Like the little nose scrunch he does when he’s trying not to laugh. Or the awkward way he stands when he’s not sure he’s welcome in a group setting. You always notice the things no one really seems to care to dissect about him. And maybe that’s part of why Yoongi loves you so much.
“You okay, Yoongs?”
You smile and giggle lightly as you question him, noticing the red tips of his ears that almost always appear whenever he’s flustered.
He grumbles stubbornly, averting his gaze to the window in his studio.
“I-I’m fine,” he mumbles.
You start to laugh — not unkindly, but unbearably fond of the way he tries to look at everything else but you in this moment. Your shoulders shake as you lean back into the couch, your eyes lined with tears of mirth as he dramatically pulls his hands away from your lap.
Yoongi eventually starts laughing with you when he sees you nearly fall off the seat in your haze of laughter. The loud screech you let out as you almost hit the floor. The studio soon fills with the sound of your embarrassed cough and his cackle of pure joy at seeing you in his shoes.
Eventually, the laughter dies down and you lean back into the sofa again — this time with the remnants of happiness across your face. Smiles painted across both of you.
“Are we going to eat those lamb skewers now?”
Yoongi questions with a raised brow.
You scoff, but you’re still fighting the smile off your face.
“Of course.”
Yoongi eventually forgets his troubles as you sit side by side on the old, worn couch he’s been meaning to replace for years now. The light sounds of chewing fill the room. He hums gently when he’s done eating. Words begin to work themselves into his head for that new hook.
This time, he thinks he knows what he’s going to say.
There’s a routine that Yoongi’s universe complies to. Like the way your eyes flutter open to the careful hand he lays on your back in the mornings. Or the way you never fail to spark creativity into the dark cloud that can be his mind if he’s not paying too much attention. Sometimes Yoongi can’t help but think his best music is written when it’s you that he has in mind.
And maybe the universe made it so.
Like how the sun rises in the morning, and the moon beckons us goodnight.
When you silently give me a light smile / Only then, I feel a little relieved
( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Curses, Soobin being a tease, blackmail, nothing more.
＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿
The first sign that something was wrong was the cold.
Not an unbearable cold, but that creeping sensation on your skin when something feels out of place. You shifted slightly, feeling the sheets slide over your body… too soft for your liking. That’s when the discomfort settled in your chest.
You opened your eyes sluggishly, blinking a few times before the room became familiar.
Fuck. Not again.
Your body tensed instantly. The space, the bed, the faint scent of expensive cologne mixed with fabric softener—everything confirmed what your brain was trying to deny. You were naked.
You bolted upright, yanking the sheets to cover yourself, and at that precise moment, you heard his voice.
“You woke up earlier today. Good morning, prince.”
A shiver ran down your spine.
Slowly, you turned your head, as if that could delay the inevitable. And there he was. Sitting in front of his computer, fingers moving with practiced precision over the keyboard, his eyes fixed on the screen, fully engrossed in his League of Legends match—as if you weren’t there, naked in his bed.
“Shut up,” you muttered through clenched teeth, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.
Soobin didn’t bother looking at you, but a smug smile crept onto his face before he answered in that relaxed, condescending tone.
“What? Still not used to this?” he teased, leaning back slightly in his chair without pausing his game. “We’ve been doing this for… what? Almost 6 months now?”
Your pulse pounded in your ears.
Of course, you weren’t used to it. Because this wasn’t supposed to keep happening. Because you were supposed to hate him.
And yet, there you were, naked in his bed again.
And worst of all? As if it wouldn’t happen again soon.
───────────────────────────────────
The class started like any other. The murmurs of your classmates faded the moment the professor began speaking, and you found yourself glued to your notes, trying to keep up with the lesson, but your mind kept betraying you.
The sound of his voice faded as your eyes nervously moved over your notes, seeking refuge in them, but your thoughts kept returning to one thing.
That damn bed. The way Soobin had looked at you the night before, his eyes shining in the dim light, his soft but determined voice whispering things that cut through to your bones.
Those damn memories kept coming back, and no matter how much you tried to ignore them, you couldn’t. The echo of the previous night replayed over and over in your head, like a movie you couldn’t stop.
“You know what you do to me, right?” The words still echoed in your mind as if you were hearing them in that very moment, his warm breath against your neck as his hands traced your skin, as if you were his in some way that made you want to hate him even more.
“You can’t resist. Neither can I... just look at you, I could fuck you on my desk or your favorite spot, my couch.”
The memory of his lips brushing yours, the moment when, despite everything you hated about him, you couldn’t help but respond. The faint taste of his mouth, that feeling of belonging in his world even though you swore you never would. You flushed just thinking about it, the heat rising to your cheeks.
Shit.
“Come on, [...]” his words rang in your mind as you saw him lean over you, his lips crashing onto yours with that irritating need.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it...”
His hands touched your skin, the same skin that now burned under the fabric of the shirt you hastily put on that morning.
You gripped the pen tightly as you tried to focus on something, anything, to shut out those thoughts. But Soobin wouldn’t let you. You wouldn’t let yourself.
“Are you nervous, my angel?” His voice had been soft, almost mocking, when, amidst everything, he pushed you onto the bed with that challenging look. There was something about his presence that drove you crazy.
Just remembering it... Shit. He was already tightening his pants.
“Fuck!” you thought, biting the inside of your cheek. It couldn’t be that, despite everything you did, you had let him touch you, let him kiss you, as if that was so easy for him.
You stole a quick glance in his direction. He was focused on the professor, completely ignoring you, as always, taking notes with that annoying perfection that made you furious. But that wasn’t what kept you tense.
It was the memory of the way he looked at you last night, how his eyes had glinted as he said:
“You say you hate me, but only I can have you like this.”
Your face burned, your cheeks and ears radiating heat. For a moment, you felt like everyone in the room could notice, that they could see what Soobin had made you feel.
What the hell was wrong with you? Why did you keep falling for his game?
But then.
“[...]” the professor called your name, pulling you out of your tangle of thoughts and snapping you back to reality with a mocking smile.
For a moment, you felt worse than dead, suddenly sweating cold. You were never a fan of being the center of attention, ironically, in class. But when everyone’s eyes turned to you, you felt the heat flood your face again, that damn embarrassment.
“What do you think of the narrative style of this author?” the professor asked, glancing at his watch impatiently.
You had gotten so lost in the memories of the previous night that you didn’t even know what he was talking about. As always, pretending didn’t even help anymore.
You shrugged with fake indifference, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
“Well, I don’t know... I guess it’s fine.” you murmured, trying to hide the discomfort you felt in every inch of your body.
The professor raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting more, but when it became obvious you weren’t going to say anything, he just clicked his tongue and moved on with the lesson.
A quiet sigh of relief escaped your lips as you slumped into your seat, avoiding the curious glances from a few classmates. But there was one in particular that you could feel more than all the others.
Soobin.
You didn’t need to turn around to know he was watching you. You could feel it—that damn weight of his gaze pressing into you, as if he were enjoying your obvious distraction.
Slowly, you shifted your gaze toward where he sat a few rows ahead, entirely focused on his notes, his pen gliding smoothly across the page with that usual calm expression—like nothing in the world could shake him.
Like he wasn’t thinking about what he did to you last night.
But then, just when you thought maybe it was all in your head, you saw it.
He smiled.
Not the polite smile he used with professors or his teammates. It was a smirk, barely noticeable, but it was there. Like he knew exactly what was on your mind. Like he knew you were watching him.
Your body tensed.
“Aren’t you going to look at me through the mirror?”
The memory of his voice hit you again, a persistent echo you couldn’t shake.
“Did I tell you I’m a fan of how tight you get? No matter how many times…”
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to shake those images from your head. His mouth tracing over your skin, his fingers pressing exactly where they knew you’d tremble. His low laugh when he watched you lose control.
“Say it. Say you need me.”
“Ugh…” you murmured, rubbing your face with both hands.
“Something to share with the class, [...]? You seem more distracted than usual,” the professor asked in a bored tone, prompting a few chuckles from the class.
“Uh…” Your mouth opened, but no words came out.
Soobin shifted in his seat, and for a moment, you thought he was going to ignore it. But instead, he raised his hand.
“Professor, I think [...] would much rather discuss… a different kind of narrative,” he said, not even looking at you, his voice laced with amusement.
The muffled laughter from your classmates made you want to disappear.
Soobin. Fucking Soobin.
If it weren’t for the fact that you knew you’d end up in his bed again, you would’ve sworn you were going to kill him.
Classes went on as usual, but you could barely focus. The way Soobin had made that comment without even looking at you was eating you alive. You knew he’d done it on purpose, just to watch you burn with embarrassment in front of everyone.
And the worst part? It had worked. You’d spent half the class making up a story on the spot.
The moment the bell rang, signaling the end of class, you grabbed your things in a hurry, trying to leave before anyone could stop you. But of course, luck was never on your side.
"Run faster next time, bunny."
Soobin’s voice came from right behind you, relaxed and teasing, that infuriatingly smug tone making you want to turn around and punch him in the face… or do something worse.
You spun on your heels, slamming your locker shut.
“Does ruining my life amuse you?”
Soobin shrugged with a grin.
“Not my fault you can’t stop thinking about me.”
Your jaw clenched. Of course he knew. Of course he’d noticed. Because no matter what, Soobin always found a way to get under your skin.
“Screw you, asshole,” you muttered, turning to leave.
“Oh yeah? You didn’t say that last night.”
Your step faltered for just a second, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you react. You kept walking, feeling his gaze burn into your back until you turned the corner.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ──────
During lunch, you sat with your friends, trying to distract yourself with any conversation that wasn’t about him. And for a moment, it almost worked.
Until he walked into the cafeteria.
You didn’t need to look to know he was there. It was automatic at this point.
As always, his uniform shirt was perfectly in place, the sleeves rolled up just enough to his elbows, his hair slightly tousled in a way that seemed effortless—but you knew better. Soobin never did anything without intent.
And, of course, the first thing he did was look at you.
A brief exchange of glances. A split second where your breath caught in your throat, until he smiled—that infuriatingly smug expression that drove you insane.
You forced yourself to look away, focusing on the food on your tray as if you actually cared about it. But you knew he was still there.
Talking with his friends. Laughing with that voice that, damn it, was already imprinted in your head. And worse? Ignoring you. Or at least, that’s what you thought.
Because that’s what he did. He got in your head, played with you, then acted like you were nothing.
Your fork stabbed into your food harder than necessary.
“You good?” one of your friends asked, noticing your attitude.
You forced a smile.
“Yeah, totally. Just… really hungry. I could eat a whole cow.”
A fake smile settled on your lips as you took a big bite of your chicken salad. Conversation flowed as usual within your group—some joking around, others gossiping.
“…So, what’s up with Soobin?” one of your friends asked out of nowhere, just as you were about to take another bite.
You nearly choked.
“What’s up? Nothing. That idiot is still the same egotistical asshole as always,” you replied with obvious indifference, poking at your food without interest.
“Still at war, or have you signed a peace treaty, Donald Duck?” another one joked, earning a few laughs from the table.
You scoffed.
“Peace? Please. You can’t reason with Soobin. He always has to prove he’s better. At everything. Literally.”
Your friends nodded in agreement, giving you the perfect motivation to continue.
“He always has to be the smartest, the tallest, the best at everything. But if we talk about how he was as a boyfriend… that ‘perfect guy’ reputation of his kinda falls apart.”
“Damn, that bad?” one of them asked, laughing.
“You guys have no idea,” you sighed dramatically, propping your elbow on the table. “Soobin loved bragging about all kinds of shit, but there was one thing that always killed the mood whenever he and I…”
You stopped yourself mid-sentence, realizing all eyes were now locked on you with curiosity.
“When you what?” one of them asked with a teasing grin.
“Nothing, nothing,” you rushed to say, stuffing food into your mouth to make it seem like you hadn’t almost revealed way more than necessary.
But your friends were already too invested.
“Oh, come on, you started it. How was he in… ‘everything’?” one of them teased, wiggling their eyebrows.
“Probably talking about how he wasn’t exactly 12 inch—” another left the sentence hanging, smirking mischievously.
“Hey!” you protested, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “Enough already. I don’t care to talk about Soobin like that. All I’m saying is that he was annoying, arrogant, and a total fucking asshole.”
“Oh, but you were all over him. Almost got his initial tattooed, even.”
You did. Lower back, to the left.
“Youthful mistake,” you said quickly, raising your hands in mock surrender.
“So you don’t miss him? Not even a little…?” one of them sang, though something about their tone felt off. They kept glancing over your shoulder.
“Please, I’d rather miss the shit I took this morning than him.”
You really should’ve shut up when you had the chance. Poor dumbass.
“I’m flattered.”
The voice behind you made time freeze for a second. It was like your entire body tensed at once.
Slowly, you turned, already feeling panic rising in your chest, only to find Soobin standing right next to the table, arms crossed, one brow raised.
His expression was neutral, but his eyes—his goddamn eyes—held that glint of amusement that told you he’d heard enough.
“Soobin…” you said, forcing a smile. “How… how long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.” His voice was calm.
Your friends exchanged looks—some entertained, others waiting for the inevitable drama.
Soobin tilted his head, scanning you with that infuriating gaze that always seemed to see more than you wanted to show. Up and down, completely shameless.
“So, I was a shitty boyfriend, huh?” he murmured, lips curling into that smirk that made your blood boil. “That’s… interesting… ’cause last night, you didn’t seem so regretful about scratching up my back for hours.”
Silence. Absolute silence.
Your mouth opened, but no words came out.
Soobin leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just for you.
“You should be more careful with what you say, [...]. Wouldn’t want certain pictures of us getting out,” he paused, chuckling under his breath, “—moaning my name like the desperate little bitch you are.”
And just like that, he straightened up with irritating ease, as if he hadn’t just sent your heart into overdrive and your cheeks into flames, before walking off with that same infuriating grace.
Your friends erupted into chaos—questions, shouts, disbelief.
And you? Well.
You wanted to fucking die.
You didn’t think. You just reacted.
Jumping to your feet, you ignored your friends’ stares and bolted after Soobin. You spotted him walking casually down the hallway, that damn relaxed posture of his making it seem like he hadn’t just ruined your entire existence.
“Soobin!” you shouted, picking up your pace.
He didn’t even flinch, just kept strolling toward his locker.
“Soobin, for fuck’s sake, I’m talking to you!”
When you caught up to him, you grabbed his arm forcefully, yanking him to a stop.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you snapped, chest rising and falling from the rush. “How the hell could you say that in front of everyone?”
Soobin let out a low grunt, rolling his eyes like he couldn’t be more annoyed.
“Are we really doing this here?” he muttered, not even looking at you.
“Yes, right fucking here! Because I need you to explain what the hell was going through your—”
You never finished your sentence.
Because in a move so fast you barely saw it coming, Soobin grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you forward, rough and unyielding.
A startled gasp left your lips as he shoved you into an empty classroom, locking the door behind him with a sharp click.
Your back hit the wall, and Soobin stood right in front of you, eyes burning with something dark, something dangerous.
“Do you have any idea how fucking irritating you are?” he murmured, voice low and almost raspy.
Your heart was pounding.
“I…” You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure. “T-That still doesn’t justify what you did!”
Soobin let out a dry laugh, placing a hand on the wall beside your head, effectively caging you in.
“Oh, come on,” he whispered, leaning in slightly. “Drop the act. You and I both know that no matter how much shit you talk about me, you’ll always end up on your knees for me.”
Your breath hitched.
“That’s a lie.”
Soobin arched a brow, clearly entertained.
“Oh yeah? Then tell me you don’t think about me all the damn time. Look me in the eyes and say you didn’t beg me last night to fuck you until you—”
Your hand flew up, slapping over his mouth before he could finish, heat flooding your face.
“Shut up,” you hissed through clenched teeth.
He stared at you for a second, then bit down lightly on your palm—just enough to make you pull away with a sharp inhale.
“You’re a fucking idiot. You never change,” you whispered.
Soobin smirked.
“And you still love me like that.”
The air between you turned heavy, thick with tension. His gaze dropped to your lips, and you—stupid, reckless, weak—did the same with his.
No. Not again.
You needed to get the hell out of here before this happened again.
But then, Soobin leaned in even closer…
The air between you grew thick, heavy with something both of you refused to acknowledge—but always ended up surrendering to.
And then, Soobin just snapped.
His lips crashed against yours, rough and unyielding, without warning, without hesitation. A wild, desperate kiss, like he was trying to consume you whole.
Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Your hands clung to his shirt, and the moment his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, you didn’t think twice before hooking your legs around his hips.
Soobin groaned into your mouth, pressing you against the wall as he deepened the kiss, his tongue claiming you with raw hunger. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard, the burn in your stomach growing unbearable.
You had no idea how long it lasted, but when you finally broke apart, both of you were gasping for air, lips swollen, eyes dark with want.
Soobin rested his forehead against yours, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.
“A quickie right here?” he murmured, still breathless. “Then I’ll take you out to a fancy dinner. My treat, I swear.”
It took your brain a second to register his words. And when it did, your face burned.
“A quickie here? Are you a caveman or what?” you managed to say, though your voice wavered.
Soobin chuckled, amused by your reaction.
“I’m just saying we could save some time.”
Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.
You knew you had two choices. Push him away and walk out before things spiraled even further… or give in, like you always did.
And, well, you both knew which one you’d choose.
“Fine,” you muttered, starting to slide off his waist. “But you better not squeeze my ass too hard—I’ll be sore for hours, and we still have class.”
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⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ I just had to do a story after and while listening to Love Hangover, even if they don't give off the same vibes.
+ All photo credits to: 📍︐⠀
⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒
. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <(￣︶￣)>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ
[ ⟡ ] ── NSFW, MDNI! ⭑fem!reader, dom!skz, kind of subby switch!jeongin, shower sex, sex videos/diy porn, public sex, car sex, sex in a park, backseat sex, doggy style, degradation/name calling, brat tamer!seungmin, unprotected sex (?)
skz's maknae line and their favorite places to fuck ! ♡ happy comeback announcement day everyone~~ HYUNG LINE VERS.
੭ ⭑ 𓂃⠀⠀⠀⠀[ ~1k ] ⭑ [ m. list ] ⭑ [ reblogs and feedback appreciated! ]
⟡ 지성 JISUNG -> in the shower.
the steady, thundering drone of the water down your backs drowned out yours and jisung’s moans— at least you hoped they did, as you both grew louder in desperation, chasing your climaxes with jisung’s warm, wet body pressing you flush against the shower wall. you weren’t the only ones home. “sungie, please, they’re going to hear—!” you whimpered, fingernails clawing for purchase on Jisung’s water-slick back— his dark little giggle in response quickly dissolved into a moan as you dug little crescents into his warm flesh. “d-don’t care,” he groaned into your neck, greedy hands grabbing generous handfuls of your ass and thighs. “let ‘em know how good i give it to you~” ,, his thrusts growing sloppy and uncoordinated, his desperate whines bouncing off of the tile as he thrusted up into your tight wet heat with reckless abandon— you tightened your legs around jisung’s tiny waist, unable to focus, unable to do anything except moan in euphoric, mindnumbing pleasure and beg jisung for more. “touch me, please,” you pleaded to him with a pathetic hiccup, head rolling back and puffy cunt and clit throbbing; jisung just laughed yet again, high and airy, condescending yet equally as desperate. “i am touching you, baby,” he hummed, one hand loosening it’s hold on your ass to give the flesh a quick gentle spank. “or does my dirty girl want something more?”
⟡ 필릭스 FELIX -> on camera.
“smile for the camera, sunshine~” felix cooed, deep voice soft like velvet. the low timbre of it ignited a delightful fever under your skin, made your belly hot with desire as you laid naked on top his bedsheets. the teasing ghosts his touch haunted you even with his fingers occupied, his hands shaking just enough to be noticeable as he held up his phone to take in your naked form. “so beautiful, love, so fucking pretty… c’mon, show me how badly you need me.” ,, you couldn’t help but feel so nervous and exposed as you opened your legs, exposed your dripping wet pussy to greedy eyes and an even greedier camera lens— despite the nerves your core throbbed for attention, wet gummy walls and slick swollen folds fluttering around nothing. you swung your neck to hide your blushing face in the pillows, dizzy and overwhelmed with the sight of a camera between your legs, the wolfish grin that tugs at felix’s lips as his pretty brown eyes raked over your figure… he tutted in gentle, patronizing disapproval from behind his phone screen, one of his warm hands sliding up to rub your knee. “aw, don’t be shy, angel, look how wet you are for me, so cute.. there you go, good girl, eyes on me.”
⟡ 승민 SEUNGMIN -> in the car.
you knew better than to try and tease seungmin, especially while he was driving, but you just couldn’t help yourself from giving into your bratty desires— your squirmed in the passenger seat, your cunt throbbing at seungmin’s deepening scowl, the way he gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned pale, the way his cock jumped in his jeans as you ran your palm over the sizable bulge growing bigger and bigger the more you played with it. yet his eyes never left the road, his jaw set tight to keep any noises in as you dipped your fingers beneath the waistband… even as he snatched your wrist and tore your hand away from his crotch, his grip bordering on painful as he admonished you with a warning growl of “behave.” but just as you knew better than to test your puppy, he knew better than to expect you to listen; you simply began to play with yourself instead, peel your panties down your thighs from underneath your skirt and trail teasing touches across your exposed pussy lips, soaking wet and quivering… and without a word seungmin quickly pulled off onto an empty side road, ignoring your whines for attention as he made easy work of flipping you ass-up in the backseat. “this what you wanted, huh?” he purrs into your ear as his fat cockhead teased your dripping little hole. “fucking brat, want me to put you back in your place, want me to whore you out right here where anyone could see.”
⟡ 정인 JEONGIN -> in public.
despite it being originally his idea, jeongin seemed even more nervous as you were; his pretty hands shook as he rested them on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he guided you to rut back gently against him. he kept his head buried in your neck to muffle any noises, but you could hear him just fine— the prettiest broken whimpers and cries as you rocked your hips, just slow and soft enough that any unsuspecting person who walked by the park bench would simply see two lovers in an embrace, the girl perched on the boys lap… they wouldn’t know that you weren’t wearing any panties under that cute little dress you were wearing, and that jeongin’s big fat cock was shoved deep inside your pussy all the way to the hilt~ you could feel jeongin’s thighs flex underneath you from the effort it took to keep himself still, the animalistic urge to buck up wildly into your tight wet heat clearly almost too much for him to bare. your poor baby, holding onto you for dear life as he shook with pleasure, “faster, harder,” he begged, shaky voice muffled against your skin, “‘m so fucking hard, need more, please,”,, and give him more you will, let him take control of the way your ass bounced on his cock as he gasped in pleasure, threw his head back against the back of the bench and screwed his eyes shut in euphoria. the park was mostly empty… but anyone walking by could see the two of you clearly. would they know how much of a slut the both of you were?
Husband Kim Seokjin! Headcannons Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Gen! Reader Genre: Fluff, slice of life, husband Kim Seokjin. Word Count: 409 | Summary: The kind of life people dream of is a life with Kim Seokjin as your husband.
민윤기 Min Yoongi
(The silent night whisked him away)
Track 03: You Pairing: Min Yoongi x Gn! Reader Genre: Fluff, slice of life, gentle intimacy. Word count: 1,479 | Summary: Yoongi can’t help but fluster when you touch him so gently.
Husband Min Yoongi! Headcannons Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem! Reader Genre: Fluff, slice of life, husband material Yoongi. Word count: 403 | Summary: All the ways he loves you.
정호석 Jung Hoseok
(That brightness you craved, that heat that destroyed you)
Until the Music Stops Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Choreographer Fem! Reader Genre: Mostly fluff there’s a slightly heavy makeout towards the end but it finishes off pretty fluffy. Word Count: 2111 | Summary: There’s only a matter of time before boundaries shrivel and fall.
박지민 Park Jimin
(A beautiful lie held dear)
Story yet to begin…
김태형 Kim Taehyung
(My victory weighs heavy on my chest)
Story yet to begin…
전정국 Jeon Jeongguk
(If only you could truly see me, not what you want to see)
Story yet to begin…
STRAYS
방찬 Bahng Chahn
(I wish you’d never see me cry)
Story yet to begin…
이민호 Lee Minho
(Sorry I took so long to say it back)
Story yet to begin…
서창빈 Seo Changbin
(I am made very little of my own influence and very much of my family)
Story yet to begin…
황현진 Hwang Hyunjin
(They look at me with want, you look at me with love)
Story yet to begin…
한지성 Han Jisung
(You wouldn’t trust me to pillar the world would you?)
Story yet to begin…
이용복 Lee Felix
(I try to hide it deep inside me, isn’t that unfair?)
Story yet to begin…
김승민 Kim Seungmin
(You never love me easy)
Story yet to begin…
양정인 Yang Jeongin
(Does the smile hide it good enough?)
Story yet to begin…
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