summary: hiding his secret crush on you was already hard enough for jungkook, and after getting bit by a spider, he'd now have the grueling task of hiding his brand-new superhero identity from you.
content: spiderman!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, based on mcu's spiderman and is supposed to take place during/after civil war but with an aged up spiderman, college-aged Jungkook and reader, picture tattoo-less 2019 jungkook, pining, slow burn-ish, afab reader, smut, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.
wc: 9.4k
a/n: despite the spiderman aspect of it, this is just a cute little love story between two besties there's no angst or action here lol sorry</3
masterlist | kofi/patreon
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"Oh my God, did you see what he did last night?", you excitedly shoved your phone in Jungkook's direction, showing him yet another news article detailing Spiderman's newest act of bravery.
"What, did he stop another bank robbery?", Jungkook showed disinterest in your interruption, continuing to pay attention to what was playing on the TV.
"Okay, booo! Why are you so lame about him? He's so cool," you complained, setting your back against the couch again with a frown.
"I dunno," he shrugged, "Just don't see what the big deal is about him. There's cooler superheroes out there."
With the light from the TV shinning on the two of you, you allowed the content from the movie to consume you for a bit before arguing back. You always argued back when it came to Spiderman. This was practically routine to Jungkook by now.
"Like Iron Man? Sure, Tony Stark's cool, but think about it — Spiderman's probably just a regular person like you and me. Can you imagine doing all he does while keeping it all undercover?", you rambled on, "Also his body's crazy," you added as an afterthought, almost whispering it to yourself.
Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle at this, inadvertently looking down at his own abdomen before responding, "How do you know he's got a nice body under that suit?"
"You can literally see his abs through the suit! Duh!", you tutted at him as if he were an idiot to question you.
"Ah, right. My bad," he chuckled, "Okay, whatever. Just pay attention to the movie. You can ramble about him all you want after we finish, okay?," he held up his pinky towards you in a childish fashion, grinning when you giggled at him and intertwined your pinky with him, grumbling a 'fine' in mock annoyance.
Now with you both putting your focus on the movie, — Jungkook's all-time favorite, Back to the Future — Jungkook had the opportunity to lose himself to his own head, thinking about your recent obsession with Spiderman — New York's newest hero.
After Spiderman's recent appearance at an encounter with the Avengers in Germany, followed by a more prominent presence in the streets of New York with a revamped suit, you had instantly formed an intense interest in the masked man. Prior to that, the hero was mostly a man hidden in the shadows — a myth to all those in Queens. Almost immediately upon his return to New York he became a sensation across the world, but specially around the area in which he'd serve the people and fight all evil around.
Among all those fans stood you, maybe the biggest of them all.
It didn't take you long to develop a liking to the masked man upon his sudden resurgence. Jungkook had known you to get overly invested in your interests (there had been a few instances throughout your friendship where you'd demonstrated as such), but he never thought you'd be the type to develop such a blatant crush on someone you virtually knew nothing about. Past the fact that he was the youngest addition to the Avengers, there was not much information about Spiderman out to the general public, yet you were quite loud about your crush on him to everyone you knew — especially to Jungkook, who just so happened to be your best friend.
Unfortunately to Jungkook, you were entirely unaware that the man you were actually crushing on was your best friend in disguise.
And even more unfortunate to him, you were even more unaware of Jungkook's own crush on you.
Did this count? Were you technically crushing on Jungkook?
He chose to go for the most pesimistic answer and assume that your interest in Spiderman would immediately die upon finding out his real identity. Throughout your many years of knowing each other — all through the ups and downs of middle school and high school all the way to university — you'd never once shown anything but platonic interest in him.
To be fair, Jungkook also never gave you any clear indication of his feelings for you. He liked to think that he was discrete about it; that you had no idea of the embarrassing crush he'd been cultivating since freshman year of high school. Fortunately, you appeared to be far too oblivious to it, leaving Jungkook to hold not one but two life-altering secrets, never once considering letting you in on either of them.
For now, all Jungkook could do was make up lame excuses for his sudden absences and to grumble any time Spiderman's name was brought up. Part of him held disdain for Spiderman due to having to keep him a secret from you, but most of his dislike was born out of jealousy over your interest in him. What did he have that Jungkook didn't? Nothing! But he could never tell you that, leading him to a never-ending dilema that he could entrust in no one.
The movie left his mind for the next of the night, much more so when you seemed to become disinterested again, cuddling against him as you prepared to let yourself fall asleep. This was common in your relationship, though it was always strictly platonic. It always left Jungkook wanting more, but still content at having you by his side.
The next time you brought up Spiderman was the morning after. That night, you'd fallen asleep soon before the Back to the Future marathon ended, which was coincidentally the same time in which he usually went out to patrol the city looking for crime nearby. Leaving you comfy on his couch and cuddled against some of his plushies, he made his way out to check in on the city. That night was particularly calm, as he only prevented two street burglaries before making his way back to a still-sleeping you.
Naturally, he fell asleep next to you, only waking up the following morning when you'd woken him up by shaking his side, exclaiming something about some news you'd just seen online. Before even coming to his senses, he could already tell what you were so excited about. It was a conflicting feeling really, consisting of half cockiness and half annoyance. He felt pride at how impressed you were at his actions (despite not having knowledge that they were his), though he also felt annoyed that it was his secret identity who took credit for it.
With a yawn, he finally turned to you in order to entertain your insistence on raving about the masked man who'd been spotted once again last night.
"Oh my God! Jungkook, look! He stopped some burglars just a few streets over! Do you think he passed by here? — What if he climbed on our walls? That's so crazy," you went a mile a minute, "Fuck, I can't believe I slept through it," you pouted by the end of your rambles, practically huffing and puffing.
Once more, he couldn't help but chuckle at your antics. Despite his internal annoyance at the mere existence of Spiderman, he was also thankful his presence gave him a first row seat to how adorably infatuated you could get.
"Not like you could've met him anyways," but then he burst your bubble anyways.
"Stop! I could never meet him, I'd embarrass myself too badly. He's too cool for me anyways," you laughed to yourself, beginning to get up and taking some clothes from one of the drawers nearby, — Jungkook's apartment housed some of your clothes specifically for nights like these — heading over to the bathroom and presumably beginning to get dressed as soon as you were outside of his line of sight, not even bothering to close the door.
"Really? He could just be a loser under that costume," he commented, knowing it'd get under your skin.
Leaning back against the couch with his arms behind his head in a relaxed manner, he didn't even need his spidey reflexes to predict the shirt you threw his way in defiance due to his comment. He simply let it land on his chest, chuckling at your cute childishness.
"C'mon! You don't have to defend him from every little comment I make. He's a superhero, right? He's got tough skin," he whined at you, crumpling the shirt into a ball and tossing it into the clothes bin nearby with an expert precision.
Finally coming out of the restroom fully dressed, you grumbled at him as you ransacked his living room in search for your makeup bag, "You're just jealous of him," you hummed, disinterested in his complaints.
"Jealous? Of what? Not having to risk my life on a daily basis?"
Oh, how he wished that was the case sometimes.
"Spiderman must have so much game. Meanwhile, when was the last time you had a girlfriend?", you mocked him, finally spotting your makeup and sitting on the floor in front of his full length mirror in order to do your makeup.
Getting up, he sat on a beanbag nearby, watching you through the reflection with a scowl.
"M-me? Without game? You're the one crushing on a nameless man who probably doesn't even have a place to live! At least I have my bachelor pad — which, by the way, you stay at free of charge!", he rebutted, somewhat offended but not really. He just really needed to win this fight against himself.
"Please, I could totally pull him if we were in the same room for five minutes," you smirked at him through the reflection, somehow grooming your eyebrows to absolute perfection despite the current argument going on.
"You literally just said he was too cool for you," he recalled back.
"Under that suit, he's just a man. And I could pull any man."
Pull me, please! a desperate gremlin in his head practically whined as soon as you said the words.
With a shake of his head, he cleared his mind of that thought, "Okay, valid. So, you mean to tell me that you're just waiting for the chance to catch him alone? Is that why you haven't dated in months?", he genuinely wondered.
"Maybe," you mumbled, now moving onto your blush, one of Jungkook's favorite touches in your makeup regimen, "How about you? How come you haven't seriously dated a girl in years? Any secret crush I need to know about? I'm very open about mine," you dug in, unknowingly making Jungkook break a sweat at the questioning glare you sent him through the mirror before refocusing your gaze on yourself.
Facing Captain America and the Winter Soldier had made him less nervous than this very moment.
He squirmed in his seat a bit before managing to let out a credible response, "Just- just not into anyone these days," he lamely responded.
"Boo," you boo'd him, "That's lame. Maybe if you wingman me with Spidey I could help you out with some girl," you suggested.
"Yeah, maybe," and that was that for that subject.
After that, the subject wasn't brought up again for the rest of the day. You and Jungkook followed your usual plans, walking over to uni side by side as soon as you finished getting ready and spending any of your down time together. Unlike last night, you opted to head back to your own apartment for the night, leaving Jungkook to freely roam the city in disguise while you probably daydreamed about the guy he wasn't. He kept you in his mind for the rest of the day, sighing any time he remembered how easy it was for you to want to pair him off to another girl, knowing his feelings surely would never be mutual.
Unfortunately for Jungkook, it was extremely difficult for him to ignore your intense interest in Spiderman. His supersonic hearing would not allow him to do so anyway.
He wasn't really in the habit of getting into your private business. Despite his superhuman abilities, he had sworn to himself that he would never spy on you or use any of his newfound skills to ever insert himself in places of your life where he wasn't openly invited.
However ...
Okay, it's not like he meant to be so quiet when he came into your apartment. And it's not like you hadn't invited him beforehand. It was very likely that you wouldn't have minded him hearing the conversation you were currently having with your friend on the phone since it technically did not concern him, but he still couldn't help but feel guilty at being made privy of the details of it.
And the details were harsh to listen to — but not in a bad way.
His nails dug into the edge of the wall as he began making sense of what you were saying — of who you were talking about. His eyebrows furrowed, not sure if in annoyance or if in frustration. Your commentary simply had an unexpected effect on him.
"Oh my God, don't ask me that!," you giggled, scandalized at your phone, "I can't think of him that way, I like him too much. It feels almost disrespectful," you whispered the last bit, as if ashamed yet still giddy.
Without any context, the hopeless romantic side of Jungkook's brain might've allowed him to think you were talking about him. His bionic hearing could make out your friend's words on the other side of the phone perfectly, however, which proved to him that you were in fact speaking of someone else — kind of.
"What, you're talking about him all the time but you tell me you've never had any thoughts of fucking him?", your friend teased on the other aide of the call, causing you to whine in response.
"Of course I have!," you argued back, making Jungkook mentally wince at the thought, "Everyone and their mom knows I'm into him, of course it's not just some elementary school crush, dude. I want him," you put extra emphasis on your last statement.
"Tell me more," your friend pushed.
Jungkook could hear you shuffling in the sheets, likely kicking your feet around due to the giddy emotions thinking about your crush caused within you.
"There's nothing to tell ..." you murmured, avoidant.
"There is, c'mon! It's not like you can talk about this with Jungkook. He hates him," she reminded you, causing Jungkook to nod to himself from the other side of the wall.
"He doesn't hate him. I think he just finds my crush ... dumb," you responded. You were right. Well, kind of.
"Okay, I don't care about that. I wanna hear more about him. You said you were going to try and see him. Have you?", your friend continued to push.
This made Jungkook pause.
Would you actually go as far as to try and seek out Spiderman? How would you even find him?
"Well," you started, dragging out the vowel, "I caught a peak of him the other day — don't say anything!," you interrupted yourself, "Jungkook doesn't know, it just happened the other day. And he'll call me reckless or something."
"What'd you see?", your friend was clearly excited at the news, ecstatic to heat more. Jungkook was more so anxious to hear more. How had he not spotted you?
"I caught him in the middle of changing out of his suit ..." you whispered, as if someone could possibly be listening in — if only you knew.
"What?!," if your friend was excited, she was over the moon now.
"I saw him making his way through the city with his little webs and he stopped by near me. It was total luck, but I recognized the alley where he stopped and ran there," you recounted, "All I could see by the time I got there was a guy speed walking away from the alley while adjusting a black sweatshirt — it was obviously him! Even speed walking he was too fast for me," you finished with an intake of breath.
"So you're saying you saw his abs, basically," was all your friend responded.
"Stop!," you whined, "But yeah ... I might've gotten to see his happy trail ... He had a mask and beanie on, so I didn't catch his face at all," he could hear the pout on your face, "Not that I wanted to! I'd never wanna find him out without his permission. I just wanted to see him up close."
Jungkook believed this. He knew that you'd respect anyone's privacy, specially someone who you had grown certain affection for.
He was still shocked by this information, though. You'd spotted him? How had he not noticed you? And on top of it all, you'd almost caught him suit-less. A tiny, and frankly stupid, part of him felt a little cocky at knowing you'd seen him in action — at knowing you'd seen part of his body and liked it. His regular self was quite modest around you, not wanting to cross any boundaries nor cause you to feel liberal enough to walk around bare near his vicinity (his brain would just not he able to handle that). It was already hard enough for him to see you in those tiny little shorts and tank tops you'd wear to sleep during the summer. He hoped he had a similar effect on you, and knowing he somewhat had it made him feel like he was on top of the world.
And then your conversation continued.
"You should've followed him, you dumbass! Don't you wanna know where that happy trail leads?," your friend encouraged.
"As much as I'd love to get him in bed, I can't just stalk him! Iron Man's secret identity didn't last too long, we'll probably know who Spidey is within a few years and I'll be first in line to get to him," you giggled.
"What are you gonna do once you get to him?"
"Not to get nasty, but the first thing I'd do would be–"
That's when Jungkook stomped his feet and made his presence to you known, acting as if he'd just arrived. There was no way he'd be able to hear your thoughts and still be able to look you in the eye afterward.
"Y/N? You home?", he stealthily made his way back to the front door before calling out to you, surely interrupting your conversation.
"Shit, never mind, Kook's here. Gotta go," you said a quick goodbye to your friend before making your way to the living room and welcoming Jungkook.
"Kookie! I forgot you were coming," you walked over to him to give him a quick hug; your usual greeting.
"You should just assume I'm coming at any time," he mumbled into the hug, pulling away and immediately finding his rightful place on your couch, soon joined by you.
"So, what's new?", he turned to you with interest.
You cocked your head to the side in a questioning manner, "Nothing? You just saw me yesterday," you scoff.
"Nothing new with your spider boy?", he feigned disinterest.
"You never wanna hear about him. Why do you ask?"
"Maybe I want to be more supportive," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.
From his peripheral he could tell you were looking at him with curiosity in your eyes, likely pondering about his change of heart. It took you a few seconds of silence before shrugging off his unusual interest and continuing the conversation.
"I might've spotted him the other day ...", now you were the one to mumble, looking down to avoid what you likely believed would be a judgmental reaction from him.
"R-really?", he scratched the back of his head, "Where? What'd you see?"
"Y'know, just him swinging around. Saw him heading home, I think. Then I lost track of him," you told him once you'd realized this wasn't some ruse to scold you for your interest again.
"What would you do if you actually met him someday?", he asked nonchalantly. Or at least as nonchalantly as he could manage while recalling the prior response he'd interrupted when you'd been talking to your friend.
Shrugging, you pressed your lips into a line as you pondered it for a bit, "I'd just tell him I'm his fan, I guess. I'd probably be too shy to even speak to him. It's like talking to your high school crush; you just avoid them as much as you can til it goes away," you chuckled to yourself.
He hummed, "Well, if the day ever comes, I think it'd be worth a try to talk to him. Maybe he'll like what he hears."
You nodded along, seemingly mulling over it inwardly, but saying nothing more regarding the matter. Jungkook joined you in dropping the subject, moving on to your usual movie night whilst also thinking over your sudden spotting of his masked self. It was odd to him how you'd somehow spotted him, but that was really the last thing on his mind. What concerned him the most was the sudden desire he felt to fulfill that need to see you while he was in his suit. He craved for you to return his feelings and there was a thoughtless side of him that wanted to get that reaction out of you, even if it meant you'd be reciprocating it to someone else.
Jungkook knew this was a stupid and reckless thing to do.
If Tony Stark were here in this moment, he'd probably take away the brand new suit he'd recently made for him. However, Jungkook was only 21, his hormones were still going crazy; crazy enough for him to make dumb and uncontrolled decisions just based off his feelings.
This was how he came to find himself pacing back and forth on the terrace of your apartment building whilst suited up. Muttering out loud to himself, he fought against himself as to whether or not he should go through with what had been bugging at him since speaking to you about your almost-encounter last week.
After mulling over it for a bit, he came to realize that there was no true harm to actually granting your wish of meeting Spiderman. He knew you to be a reasonable person (despite your claims of wanting to fuck Spiderman — who was a complete stranger to you) and felt reassured that you wouldn't put his identity at risk. On top of that, you had claimed that you probably wouldn't be able to even speak to him if you were to meet him.
The biggest issue was to come up with a reason as to why he'd be paying you a visit in particular. Maybe you were completely clueless as to your best friend's secret identity, but you weren't an idiot. His motives and identity would be immediately suspicious to you due to the strange nature of his apparition. Sure, he could hide his face and voice and even demeanor, but you'd be able to piece the pieces together too easily, anyone would.
Unluckily for him, this was not something he had to worry about for too long, as his plans did not go as smoothly as he had hoped. Just in between his nonsensical rambles to himself, there was an interruption orchestrated by you, with your sudden presence in the terrace throwing him completely off guard. Thank God he hadn't had a chance to take off his mask before you showed up.
"Oh my God," were your only words as you slowly made your way through the door leading to the terrace, choosing not to make your presence unknown.
"Shit," was his sole response, wincing from behind the mask.
"What- what are you doing here? Is it really you?", you asked, slowly making your way closer to his frozen self.
Attempting to switch over to his usual confident demeanor, Jungkook stood up straighter, hands on his hips as he waved over at you. The eyes displayed on his mask replicated his actual facial expression, squinting at you in a friendly manner as he tried to introduce himself in the least awkward way he could muster whilst deepening his voice in order to mask it.
"Hello! I- Yes, it's me! I- uh, was not expecting anyone to be here," he managed, walking over to you and giving you a handshake — something quite out of character for Spiderman, which he hoped you didn't pick up on.
Unfortunately, you did pick up on it, tilting your head to the side in curiosity before returning his handshake. From Jungkook's perspective, you seemed like a mixture of nerves, excitement and genuine curiosity. He couldn't blame you. Your idol/crush had suddenly showed up on the roof of your apartment and was nonchalantly trying to make acquaintances with you.
"I'm so sorry!," you suddenly chirped, letting go of his hand mid handshake, "I wasn't following you, I swear! I live downstairs and sometimes I come up here for air and I saw you and I thought it was you — and it is you! Wow, I- Fuck, hi. I'm Y/N, it's so nice to meet you," you rambled on and on, inflicting pain in Jungkook's heart at how adorable you were.
"Hi, again," he smiled under the mask, "It's fine, uh, this happens more than you may think," he lied, attempting to cover his tracks.
"Really? Do you get spotted a lot?", you wondered.
"It's not super rare, but it's usually while I'm on the run, not like, uh, like this. I was just resting for a bit," he went to casually lean against the railing next to him but pathetically slipping a bit and having to readjust his standing.
He cleared his throat, "So, I take it you're a fan?", he attempted to make conversation.
"I'm literally obsessed with you. I keep up with every article that comes out about you and any sighting of yours," you beamed before cringing to yourself, "Shit, I'm not playing it cool at all, am I?"
He couldn't help but chuckle, "No, you're good, trust me. Most people just scream and run away or ask me to do a backflip — which I can totally do, but it gets repetitive. Others attack me sometimes. It's rare to actually start conversation with me."
"Oh, so am I special, then?", you giggled, taking a few steps forward as you moved to lean on the railing next to him.
And just like that, you took the upper hand in the conversation. The mood shifted the moment you decided to start a flirtation with him, and Jungkook knew he was completely doomed.
Yes, you were absolutely special. Sure, he would occasionally interact with regular citizens of Queens, but he had never actually sought them out for conversation nor even entertained any fanatics of his. For you, however, he was willing to make an exception. God, he had been itching to do this from the moment he found out you had an infatuation with the superhero.
"Y- you- yeah," he cleared his throat, trying again, "You're the only person who hasn't alerted everyone around me of my presence," he regained his suave vibe by the end of the sentence.
"Why would I ever do that?", you pondered out loud, using a flirtatious tone Jungkook had never been on the receiving end of, "Then I wouldn't get to have you all for myself."
Were you closer? Had you moved closer in proximity? He could swear that the distance had lessened from just a few moments ago. This wasn't good, but it was also great.
"O-oh? That's ... Yes, hah, thank you for not exposing me," was all he managed to say. Fuck, his usual wit and ability to banter under the guise of being Spiderman seemingly dissipated when it came to interacting with you.
You giggled at him, likely taking note of how easy it was to fluster him. Jungkook knew you were aware of how attractive you were, also having the ability you turn up the charm whenever you so wished — except he had never dealt with it firsthand. It was both exhilarating and nerve wracking at the same time. He had truly not prepared for this.
"It's no problem," you smiled at him with a hint of something else in your eye, "Since you're such a good guy, y'know, maybe you'd like to return the favor?", you tilted your head at him, lifting your eyebrows suggestively.
"R-repay? How would you suggest?", he managed to regain some of his confidence, now leaning his body a bit more towards your own, smiling under his mask as he attempted to keep his heart rate normal.
"I'm sure you're super busy saving the world and all that, but maybe you'd like to visit again? No one ever comes up here, so it'd just be the two of us," you suggested, biting your lip in anticipation. Despite your confidence, Jungkook could still hear the rapid thumping of your heart — you were nervous about shooting your shot with a certain superhero; understandably so.
He decided to take advantage of the newfound realization that you might've been just as nervous as he was, clearing his throat and ensuring he didn't stutter this time around, "That'd be unfair, though, wouldn't it? To show you favoritism over all my other fans?", he said in flirtatious jest, hoping you caught on.
A pout far too enticing for Jungkook made its way to your lips, "But you just said I was special?", your hand went up to his chest, finger tracing the spider symbol on it.
"I never said that, you did," you couldn't see the teasing grin on his face, but it was there to stay.
"Oh?", you feigned offense, "So you don't think I'm special? Wow, now you really do owe me."
"You're right. Wouldn't want any unhappy citizens in Queens when I can help it," he agreed, taking hold of your wrist and tracing the back of it.
You smiled to yourself then, letting air out through your nose before looking back up at him, "I really do mean it. If you ever need a place to lay low, you can always come," you paused, "And ... If you ever want company, I'm just downstairs," you suggested.
Biting his lips from behind the mask, he nodded, letting go of your hand, "Yeah, I'll take that in mind," he checked his wrist despite there being no watch there, pulling a chuckle from you, "Unfortunately, I have to get back to patrolling now, but I'll see you around?", he asked as he climbed up the ledge of your building, ready to swing away.
"That's up to you, Spiderman," were the last words you said, though they were spoken with a confidence that told him you knew he'd be coming back.
Within just a month, Jungkook had lost count of the times he'd coincidentally found himself on your roof, always showing up at a similar time as that of your first encounter.
At first he played it off as a coincidence, cheekily claiming that he was just passing by and needed some rest. Other times, he'd show up due to legitimate exhaustion as he sought you out for comfort. It was very quick that you began a genuine friendship with one another, having an unspoken agreement of seeing each other there a few times a week late into the afternoon.
The flirtation was still present, but a friendship between you overtook that. This made Jungkook glad in a sense, as he knew he would've felt guilty if anything romantic ever came up without you knowing his real identity. He already felt badly about befriending you without your knowledge, but he felt like he was too late to back out now.
Today was yet another day in which he decided to show up, though this time a little later. Since you lived at the highest floor of your building, his mere presence on the roof was enough to alert you of his arrival, causing you to walk through the door leading to the staircase just moments later.
You were in your pajamas — just some small shorts and a tank top, but it was enough for his eyes to bug out of his head (figuratively, of course). Any time he'd stay over with you, you'd usually opt for a shirt long enough to cover halfway through your thighs, but since Jungkook wasn't present tonight it seemed like you'd chosen a tank top tight enough it'd give him the perfect view of your nipples peaking through the fabric. It bugged him to think you were doing this for Spiderman and not Jungkook, but he was too distracted by the sight of you to mind it too much.
"Hey," you greeted him as you headed his way, "A little late today, huh?"
"Yeah, uh, I was busy with a robbery," he explained, leaning against the veranda as you joined next to him.
"Oh? That sounds dangerous? Are you hurt? Maybe I should take a look?", your hand went up to his chest, pretending to check for injuries.
He laughed and you joined him, biting his lip under the mask, "You're even more dangerous than any bad guy out there, you know that?", he grabbed your wrist and took your hand off his chest, opting to shyly hold onto it instead.
"Me? I'm not the masked man showing up at an unsuspecting girl's apartment in the middle of the night," you teased, hand playing with his own.
"I thought I wouldn't be a stranger by now. We've been meeting for what, a month now? I'd say that's enough to get to know a person," he reasoned.
"Hmm," you pretended to mull over it, "Does that mean there's no chance you'll let me see what's under that mask?", you pouted at him.
This was not the first time you teased him about his secret identity, often bugging him (in a way far too entertaining for him to be actually bugged by it) to let you in on his secret. You swore up and down you'd never tell, offering up your pinky to intertwine with his. Jungkook liked you so much that there were various instances in which he had to catch himself before he ended up agreeing with your request.
"You know I can't do that, gorgeous," it was his turn to flirt. To be fair, as Spiderman, he did have a flirtatious streak to his personality. You weren't the only one on the receiving end of it, but you sure were the only one he meant it with. You also always giggled or blushed when he turned up the charm, which always instigated him into doing it more and more.
"But you said I was special," you reminded him with a smile, "And! We've been meeting for a while. Don't you wanna trust at least one person with your identity? Y'know, if something were to happen to you," even Jungkook could tell you were pulling your reasoning out of your ass, but he couldn't help but feel endeared by you.
Before he could fire back with an equally cheeky response, you interrupted him again, "How about you let me see you some other way?"
He cocked his head to the side with curiosity, unknowing of what you meant.
Hesitantly, your hand let go of his, now engulfing it with both of your hands. Your fingers traced his hands through his gloves, looking up at him for a moment to seek permission for what you were going to go next. Silently, he offered you a nod, allowing you to take off his gloves.
Jungkook couldn't help but feel slightly scared that you might recognize his hands, but finding no reaction in your eyes or heart rate (which he could hear perfectly any time he neared you), he felt calm. Your hands traced his own bare ones, eventually holding them in your own. The entirety of the interaction was soft and intimate in a way Jungkook had never experienced.
"Can I see more?", you asked after a while, voice almost a whisper.
"What- what would you like to see?", he whispered back, gulping at how close to you he suddenly felt.
Once more, your hand silently went up to touch him, but this time it reached his chest, laying flat against it before slowly finding the opening in the middle, allowing you to peek at a sliver of his bare chest. Without hesitation, Jungkook grabbed onto your hands on his chest and helped you open his body suit a little more, just enough to reveal his chest.
Your hands softly traced at a few cuts and bruises found there, pouting to yourself as you stared at the firm muscle under your hands. Silence engulfed you for a few moments as he enjoyed your affections.
"Well, this seems kinda unfair," he started with a quiet voice, "You're getting me naked, feeling me up. Making me feel like a piece of meat," he joked.
You stifled a chuckle, "Don't think I didn't notice you looking at my boobs when I got here, you perv. I'm just getting my payback," your hands went back to his hands, taking them in your own.
He gaped at you from under his mask, "I- I would never!", he rasped out, "The fact that you would even accuse me of that- I- I am appalled, Y/N Y/L/N," he gave you an exaggerated gasp.
"Okay, whatever," you rolled your eyes, "Can I keep going now?", you asked as you went back to tracing his suit with your hands, this time reaching up to his neck.
You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as you stared up at him. He knew that all you could see was the comically large eyes featured on his mask, but he was still affected by the look on your face. Your mouth was agape and your eyes kept going down to where you knew his lips would be. Without being able to help himself, his hands wrapped around your waist, feeling the sliver of skin between your shorts and your tank top. In all your years of friendship, Jungkook had never been able to hold you like this. It was exhilarating.
There was no need for any words as your hands found his mask, lifting it up to uncover his lips and lay right below his nose. Jungkook knew he should've been more careful in letting anyone — even you — even make contact with his mask, but his eyes had been trained on your lips from the moment you got your hands on him. His mind was in another planet at the moment.
There was, again, no reaction from you that could've led Jungkook to believe you had recognized him. Was the shape of his lips not obvious enough? Were you too distracted to notice? It truly made no sense to him, but the proximity of your lips had him too distracted to think about it too much.
That was when the moment Jungkook had been waiting for for years finally came to fruition. Your lips made contact with his own, very tentative and shy in their movements. Mere seconds happened until he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss as he held you against him.
It was a bit awkward due to the obstacle the mask proved itself to be, but Jungkook didn't care. He was far too drunk in you to consider anything around him, specially when the kiss grew heated within moments. Pressing you up against the veranda, Jungkook let out all pent up need against tour mouth, hoping in the back of his mind that you wouldn't realize it was him you were kissing.
Sadly, it all ended before Jungkook could really lose himself in it. You pulled away with a giggle at the way his body insisted on following yours, attempting to trap you in another kiss. He couldn't help but chuckle back, still not letting go of you.
"Hmm, ever let any of your other fans go that far?", you hummed when he buried his face on the crook of your neck, pressing shy kisses on the bare skin.
"N-no, just you," he muttered, pulling back to readjust his suit, now covering himself back up.
"Boo," you complained once he was completely covered up again, crossing your arms petulantly, "What, time for you to go?"
"Sadly, yes. I'm a busy man, pretty. Need to get back out there to ensure pretty girls like you remain safe," he coo'd at you jokingly, pinching your nose adoringly before beginning to climb the veranda in order to leave.
"You know this isn't a one-time thing, right?", you called from below him.
"Oh, I'll make sure it's not, baby," he chuckled before saluting you as he jumped down, disappearing from your view almost immediately.
He arrived home soon after that, too giddy to even consider patrolling that night. The smile wouldn't leave his face, and his skin was covered in goosebumps. He felt like such a teenager at the excitement cruising through him, but the remnants of the feeling of your mouth on his simply wouldn't leave him.
He knew that sooner or later he'd have to tell you about who he was, but he wanted to enjoy your newfound relationship as much as he could. So far, you hadn't told him about your frequent encounters with Spiderman, which led him to believe you felt the same way. Clearly you wanted to keep him as your own little secret, which only made him the giddier about it all.
There were occasions in which Jungkook simply didn't plan things out to well. Today was one of those days.
Having no one aware of his identity proved to be more bothersome than he had first assumed. Sure, he could lie about his location to his friends and family with ease, keep any troubling encounters with criminals to himself, but it was the aftermath of these encounters that sometimes came to be too much for him to handle.
He had been reckless tonight, somehow miscalculating every single one of his moves when taking down a crew of armed robbers. He hadn't even meant to come across them nor fight them on his own (Tony Stark had warned him about this before), but it's not like he could've walked away without at least attempting to deal with the situation.
In the end, he was victorious, and his current state proved as much. It was not a simple fight, resulting in his suit getting mangled all over, with many of the injuries penetrating into his actual skin.
Battered and covered in bruises and scratches all over, Jungkook had no idea where to go. This was one of the first times in which Jungkook found himself limping and unknowing of how to patch himself up before the sun rose. His plan had been poor, which only reminded him what a stupid decision it was to try and handle the situation on his own rather than to leave it up to the police.
But his terrible planning skills did not stop there. They evolved into finding himself standing on the fire escape that led directly to your apartment. With his arms holding onto his sides to try and alleviate the pain, he reached out to knock on your window, hoping 2AM wasn't too late for you to come find him.
It was only moments when you showed up in your pajamas, a shocked yet worried look on your face as you opened up your fire escape entrance to him.
"Oh my God, what happened?", you asked whilst ushering him in, providing him with support so he could make it over to your room and lay on your bed.
"You should see the other guy," he rasped, coughing out.
"Stop! Fuck, how can I help you? What do you need?", you frantically went over to your restroom, returning with a makeshift first aid kit.
You sat next to him on the bed, helping him sit up so you could check out his injuries. His suit had multiple scratches that revealed slivers of his skin, but there was nothing you hadn't seen the previous time he had been over.
"It was just a robbery gone wrong. Nothing to worry about," he finally said, wincing when you began to open up his suit to better check his injuries. Your hands immediately went to try and take care of the cuts on his stomach, moving anything out of the way in order to reach them.
"You idiot," you muttered, "This is gonna hurt, okay? Just breathe deep," you warned before moving on to dab on his injuries with some ointment. Hissing at the burn, his stomach hardened, causing him to recoil a bit.
"Jungkook, be still," you hissed back at him, scoffing when he suddenly stilled at the mention of his name.
"W-what? What did you just say?",
You paid him no mind, still putting all your focus in his injuries, "Do you think I'm dumb, Jungkook? You show up to hang out with me and let me feel you up and you think I won't recognize you? You really are an idiot," you chuckled by the end.
"You- you knew?! This whole time?", he gaped at you, throwing off his mask as he groaned at the way you blatantly laughed at his shock, "God, you suck."
"C'mon, Jungkook. You're a horrible liar. And I'm your best friend, you can't hide anything from me."
"Whatever," he huffs, followed by a wince from your manhandling of his injuries, "You could've told me," he muttered petulantly.
You finally looked back at him, with a stern look in your eyes Jungkook only ever saw whenever you were about to tell him off, "Oh, like you told me? Dude, you were more than fine pretending not to know me," you jabbed at him, "Dickhead," you muttered once you were done.
It was his time to chuckle, jabbing at your leg with his own and smirking when you pushed back.
"So, is this you admitting you've wanted to fuck me all this years?"
You scoffed, "Me? I wanted to fuck Spiderman. Not my fault it turned out to be you," you argued as you wrapped some bandages on the cuts found alonh his torso, "You're the one who came after me cause you wanted to fuck me."
"Okay, fine," he relented, patting at the wraps you'd just secured on him, "What's the verdict now? Still want to fuck me?", he leaned in with a smirk, smirk growing even bigger at your playful scowl.
"Shut up and come here," you practically growled at him, pulling him to you by his shoulders and catching him in a kiss.
It was almost effortless the way in which Jungkook pushed you back on the bed, easily climbing on top of you as he kissed you. His hand was on your back as he lowered your body to lay flat on the bed, ignoring any injury he may have had. Everything left his mind as he kissed you — the burglary, the secret he thought he had been keeping from you, the relief you now knew; everything.
"Kook," you sighed when his lips reached the length of your neck, softly nibbling at your skin every so often.
"You're so bad," he murmured, "Lying to me this whole time ... Making me look like an idiot while I tried to keep my secret from you," he reprimanded with a love bite.
"You're the idiot who- oh," your complaint was interrupted by the sudden presence of his hands on your breasts, feeling at your nipples through the thin barrier of your tank top.
"Shh, baby. You may have had the upper hand all these years, but now I'm in charge," he shushed you, "Never looked my way, but kept tryna get in my pants as Spidey? Bad, bad girl," he murmured as his lips came closer and closer to your chest, eventually reaching your nipples and wrapping his mouth around the clothed skin, engulfing the cloth with his saliva as he abused your nipple with his teeth.
You writhed under him, both frustrated at the barrier and affected by the stimulation, "Hmm, and you're good at dealing with the bad guys, right, Kookie?", you murmured, already delirious with his touch.
In the meantime, his hands went up to your breasts, lifting up the shirt and smoothly managing to throw it off before his hands went right back to playing with your tits.
"Oh, yeah. Gonna take care of you, baby. Gonna fuck all the bad out of you," he sighed at the sight of your nude torso, hips unable to help themselves in beginning to grind against you.
He trapped you under him, using you for his own pleasure. However, if your moans were anything to go by, he had a great idea of his current effect on you. Holding you down, he kissed you up and down, going from your breasts to your lips all while his hips danced with your own. At some point his hands snuck down to help you pull off your shorts and panties low enough to give him access to you. By now, you were basically completely nude while he remained in his scratched up suit. Seemed unfair, but it worked for Jungkook.
With curious hands, he reached down to your bare cunt, beginning to finger his way to your clit. His thumb found it with a swiftness you could only expect from a man like Jungkook. Synchronizing his hand and hips, he ground down on you while thumbing at the puffy pearl between your legs.
"Right there, huh?", he murmured at your increasingly high-pitched sighs, "That's where you need it, huh, baby?"
Warm eyes stared down at yours, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he worked you all the way to your peak. Not a single part of him was occupied with anything but you — his lips tended to your own, his hand to your clit, his hips to your cunt, he was consumed by you whilst consuming you himself.
All his senses were heightened. His superhuman hearing allowed him to take in every noise of wetness coming south and every cry coming north. He could smell you perfectly, which only added to the delirious feeling you always provoked in him.
"I- Kookie, I'm gonna cum ... Keep going, I'm almost there, fuck," you cried as his movements sped up. Unbeknownst to you, he let out a sigh of relief at realizing your orgasm would come before his own. He was bursting inside his suit, almost ready to pounce you.
"Yeah? Cum for me, pretty. Need you to cum for me, okay? Promise I'll ... I'll fuck the bad out of you right after," he swore, lips finding their way to your ear as he whispered words of encouragement to you.
With a desperate nod, you continued to cry out his name, hands finding his bicep for support as you let yourself go. Jungkook took in every sound, every move, every single reaction coming from you. He memorized every bit of your orgasm and let himself be ruined by it.
Upon the crescendo of your orgasm, wet sounds filled up the room once more as his lips made their rightful way to yours once again. He sighed praise into your lips, calling you his good girl and his dream, claiming you to be the greatest reward he could ever receive.
"Thought I was bad, Kook? What happened to that?", you teased him, beginning to slowly rip off his suit in order to get him equally as nude as yourself.
"Baby, shut up. Just let me fuck you," he scolded, annoyed your words were interrupting his kisses.
"Hmm, do superheroes need condoms, or are you going in raw?", you asked so casually it made Jungkook's grip on you tighten involuntarily.
"Don't talk like that, fuck, I'll cum," he winced before backtracking with wide eyes, "Shit, wait. You'd let me do it raw?", he gaped at you, interrupting the kiss.
You laughed at him, giving him a single peck, "Course, Kook. Trust you more than anyone," you said, sharing the first moment of pure softness of the night.
Jungkook loved how easy it was for you to share friendly banter and bug at each other even under this context, but he couldn't lie when he said he adored those moments of unadulterated adoration you'd share any time you looked up at him while he was Spiderman. This was reminiscent of those moments, but so much better — especially being now aware that every single one of those looks had been directed at Jungkook, not Spiderman.
"Yeah?," he smiled at you, intertwining your fingers above your head, "Trust you too, beautiful," he let go of one of your hands to line himself up, groaning as he traced his tip up and down your folds before finally entering you.
"God, Kook," you sighed, arching your back at the feeling.
"I know, fuck," he matched your tone, burying his face in your neck while he gave you some time to get used to him, "Let me know when I can move, okay, baby? Feel so fucking good already."
You nodded wordlessly, using your free hand to dig your nails on the skin of his back. After about a minute you gave him the green light to move, dragging your nails down his back when he began to thrust, slowly building up his speed snd intensity.
"That feel good, pretty?", he murmured into your ear.
"Mhm!", you practically whined, attempting to move your hips to his rhythm, "D-don't stop."
Unburying himself from the crook of your neck, his hands went to your face to make you look into his eyes. He looked at you silently for a few moments with softness in his eyes, proceeding to locking your lips in a kiss as he continued to fuck into you. It was all very intense yet it carried an air of intimacy Jungkook knew he would never be able to replicate.
"Tell me you're almost there, shit. 'm gonna cum soon, pretty," he warned, thrusts accelerating in both speed and intensity.
"Yes! Almost there, just- keep going," you whined, hands reaching his hips to further encourage his movements. Wrapping your legs tighter around him, your body took control and did its best to follow his movements, making Jungkook's orgasm even more imminent.
"Think I can count you down?" he grumbled, eyebrows furrowed and demonstrating the amount of restraint in him at the moment.
"Yes, c-count me down," you nodded aggressively.
"Kay, pretty. Cum with me, yeah? In three," his hand went to toy at your clit once more, making you hiss in pleasure, "two ..." his hips readjusted to hit at that one spongey spot he'd been ramming at, but now harder, "one," he groaned the last word, almost falling limp against you as his movements stilled.
He could feel himself emptying inside you, kissing at your skin endlessly at how intimate the act felt. Meanwhile, you mewled nonstop under him, not helping his situation at all. He felt as if life halted for a moment, with everything aligning perfectly as he enjoyed both his and your orgasm.
"God ... Fuck, I can't believe it took us this long to do that," he sighed when it was all said and done.
You pushed at him, making him remove his weight off you and lay beside you, staring up at the ceiling just like you, "You're the dumbass who wouldn't tell me you liked me," you huffed.
"Well, if I'm that much of a dumbass, why did you never tell me you knew who I was- Which, by the way! How long have you known?", he was still fairly breathless, but entirely too curious.
You took a pause to laugh at him for a moment, only stopping when he gave you a menacing stare, "Since the first day you came to see me," you started, "You moved and talked just like Jungkook, and it made no sense for you to come see me out of all people," you revealed.
His body turned to its side, arm reaching out to make you cuddle against him, "Why didn't you say anything?", he pouted.
"I don't know," you shrugged, "Wanted you to tell me about your identity on your own. Not my fault you're too dumb," you murmured that last part."
"Okay, whatever. You're my Spidey girlfriend now anyway, so it doesn't matter anymore," he huffed.
"Oh? I don't recall anyone asking me to be their 'Spidey girlfriend,' do you?"
"Fine," he groaned, "Give me ten minutes and I'll give you a full-on confession of love, okay?"
"Can't wait," you laughed.
to read short 1.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on kofi or patreon!
content: smut, afab reader, dry humping, teasing, penetrative sex, etc.
wc: 212 (teaser); 1308 (full drabble)
sneak peak:
"You're the vain of my existence, you know that, right?", you groaned at Jungkook's sudden presence on your fire escape.
"Is that how you talk to your boyfriend? I spend all day fighting evil and come back to nothing but disrespect," he complained jokingly, making his way into your room as if he owned the place.
"Boyfriend? Last I remember, I'm dating Spiderman, not Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook never asked me out," you trailed behind him, guiding him to take a seat in your couch.
"That joke's getting so old," he boo'd at you, "Plus, I literally have the suit on. Should I put on the mask? Is my face that ugly?" he continued his complaints, taking a seat on your couch and pulling you towards him, his inhuman strength managing to get you straddling him with minimal effort.
"No," you coo'd, "I like Jungkook's face just fine," your hands went to play with his hair, kissing at his cheek softly, "So, who were the bad guys today? Robbers? Bullies?"
"Nothing much today, just some guy stealing a bike and then a lost cat," he mumbled, "Still spent most of the day patrolling, though," he said as he buried his face in your chest, allowing you complete access to playing with his hair.
...
find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!
if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3
summary: there was a moment of consideration as you gnawed on the inside of your mouth. the weight of your secret was becoming unbearable.
part two!
warnings: angst! insecurity. probably a few grammar errors
word count: 950+
masterlist
a/n: i fear i couldn't resist writing for him. first work for him so there isn't others in the masterlist. i wrote this pretty quick so i apologize in case.
you always fought, but that night you didn't.
it was inevitable that when you and minho were around, some sort of bickering would ensue. it was as if the friendship you had relied on those sharp-tongued comments and eye rolls. there was some enjoyment in the banter; you could always rely on minho to be as quick-witted as you. most of the time, it was truly nonsense and comical to those around you, but sometimes he took it too far.
he would cross a boundary, known or unknown, and the aftermath was either venomous words spilling off your tongue or complete silence and avoidance.
it hurt, to ignore him. act like minho wasn't there. sure you would come around to him after a few days and pick right back up where you left off. and yes maybe it was unfair to ignore him after an argument, but that was you, that's what you did.
what you've really come to recognize is these silly little arguments hurt because you had feelings for minho. you hated the giddy feeling you had when he was around. the slight heat to your cheeks when he gave a real, genuine, compliment. the sizzling sensation that coursed through your skin when his hand brushed against you. or the way it felt like your chest was caving in on you and your lungs were screaming for help when minho confessed to q that he had a crush on someone, someone that isn't you.
so here you were avoiding him after he made an innocent remark about his crush. it shouldn't have, but it rubbed you the wrong way and perhaps it was because of the newfound knowledge of your feelings towards minho.
the evening was approaching and soon the sun would exchange places with the moon. the friday night would come alive and the sounds of eager students heading off campus would echo into the night, almost taunting you in your sadness. there was a nice footpath you've called home for the last week. after classes were finished you found yourself walking on the winding path away from school, taking in the fresh air and allowing yourself some peace. nestled a few feet away from the path was a small gazebo with a picnic table in the center. you sat down and allowed your eyes to close, soaking in the tranquility of nature away from the dizziness of life.
"hey..." a voice called out ripping you back to reality.
the voice. his voice. in this moment it made you feel sick. you swear you could feel the bile rising up and threatening to escape. your vision went white. heart beating so hard you could've sworn you saw its outline rising from your chest.
"hey minho," you exhaled as he sat across from you.
his throat bobbed, "how are you?"
you hummed in response, unsure what to say.
the silence between you stretches longer than it ever has. there was no space for quick-witted responses or light-hearted banter. minho didn't know what was the reason for your absence, but he missed you. when he looked at you your eyes didn't hold that mischief it normally possessed. he knew this was not a moment for a sarcastic quip.
"talk to me," minho nearly pleaded, eyes dancing across your face.
you paused trying to find a way to convey your thoughts to minho without confessing your feelings, "have you ever realized something too late?"
his eyebrow pulled up on his face, "well...of course, yeah. i think we all have."
"like, the thing is right there," you nearly laughed, "right in front of you the whole time. but by the time you realize, it's gone, it's moved on like everything else. i realized the importance of it too late."
you looked to minho who sat silently as you rambled. his eyes were clear of any judgment or jokes. the typical smirk etched on his lips was erased. his brows pulled softly together, a delicate ridge separating them. you watched as his hand snaked up from his lap and cradled your hand. his fingers lazily intertwining with your own.
"you know you can tell me anything," he said softly, his accent lighter.
you offered him a small smile. not a fake one, a real one. you could tell minho everything, everything but this. not when he is interested in someone else, you can't ruin that for him. can't ruin your friendship.
he sensed the hesitation, "...c'mon," he urged gently, eyes hopeful.
there was a moment of consideration as you gnawed on the inside of your mouth. the weight of your secret was becoming unbearable. all you wanted to do was scream at the top of your lungs for every person in KISS and for every star in the galaxy to hear that you were falling for minho. but before you could open your mouth and string together all the consonants and vowels for 'minho i'm falling for you' his phone rang.
minho's hand slid out from yours leaving you feeling icy but not as icy as the blood coursing through your body as you watched a shy smile adorn his face. one of his hands ran through his hair, a movement he did when he was feeling nervous, in a good way. you sat in agonizing silence waiting for him to hang up.
a pink hue dusted across his cheeks, "that was uh-"
"go," you replied softly, barely above a whisper, "have fun."
the moonlight that illuminated your face was now blocked my minho's standing figure. if you could, you wanted to be swallowed by his shadow into the darkness.
"oh. what were you going to say before the call?" minho asked.
Summary: When the games aren’t in session, and In-ho is lonely, he finds himself in the first row at the ballet. Watching you. Suddenly he's falling in love.
TW: Channeling my love for older men. Injury. Reader lowkey gets sad for a sec. Age gap (reader is 25 In-ho is 49). Just FLUFF! In-ho learning how to love someone again. Quite literally head over heels for you. Allusions to masturbation. Size kink if you squint.
WC! 5k Part 2! -> here!
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
It is quite obvious that In-ho is an old soul.
He enjoys old films, old clothing, old theatre, and old music. The little jazz set that plays, “Fly Me To The Moon” is a cherished possession of his, along with his vintage whiskey decanter.
He wears a musky cologne he’d been gifted by his late wife, and his closet is lined with leather dress shoes and perfectly pressed slacks. His dimly lit room on the island is vastly similar to the one in his Seoul apartment, everything perfectly neat and clean.
Yes, In-ho is an old soul.
And in between the games, when he would return to Seoul, he’d find himself bored. Especially during the night. He’d miss his wife, the whispered hope of a promised future.
Often he would distract himself by putting his whiskey decanter to good use, pouring the aged whiskey into his glass over and over again. He would linger by his shelf full of movies he’d seen hundreds of times, tracing his fingers along the cases until he landed on a title. A small smile would play on his lips before popping it into the DVD player and taking a seat next to his beloved cat.
He would find himself mumbling the lines as the actors spoke them on screen, his hand absentmindedly petting his cat. When the movie is over, and the quiet resumes, he’d move to his bedroom.
He’d ensure his cat followed before changing into his expensive pajamas and climbing into the king-sized bed. His cat would join him and he would drift to sleep, dreaming of, well, nothing.
He would close his eyes and wake up without any dream having occupied his mind.
This routine became comfortable. Each night he would get home from whatever he’d been doing before, drink, watch a movie, play with his cat, and sleep without any dreams.
But this night, this night was different.
It was a cold night. And all In-ho wanted to do was drown in glasses of whiskey and watch “Dial ‘M’ For Murder” with his cat.
But as he walked past a line of people waiting to enter a theatre, a poster caught his attention. He blinked once, twice, before walking toward the lit-up frame.
A strikingly beautiful ballerina caught his attention first. She held her arms elegantly above her head, her leg pointed behind her, her other leg resting on pointe as she looked to the side. She was breathtaking.
The Seoul Ballet Company Presents: Swan Lake
Opening Night November 1st
Suddenly the thought of whiskey and Alfred Hitchcock left his mind as he joined the line. I mean, who would miss out on opening night?
Especially when the lead was so pretty.
“We have one ticket left in the front row.” The woman behind the ticket booth clicked her pen unenthusiastically as she watched In-ho pull his leather vintage wallet out of his coat pocket.
A grin rested plainly on his lips as he fiddled with his cash, “That’s perfect. How much?”
The woman slowly turned and punched a few numbers into her register before turning back to him, “80,000 won.” She clicked her pen again.
“Do you have change for 100,000?” He held the two 50,000 won in front of him, watching as she stared at him blankly.
She blinked once before snatching the bills from his hands, “Nope!” In-ho sighed. For someone so slow she took those bills awfully fast.
In-ho drew his lips into a thin line before taking the ticket and placing it in his wallet, “Thanks.”
“Yeah enjoy the show or, like, whatever.” The woman took out her phone and began to text as he walked away, obviously not giving a shit about her job.
But as In-ho walked through the double doors, his breath caught in his throat. The theatre certainly did not disappoint his love for old architecture.
The large barrel vaulted ceilings were beautifully ornamented and adorned with intricately painted designs. Gorgeous crown molding edged the ceiling and stretched to the floor. And a large crystal chandelier rested as the centerpiece, warmly lit and inviting.
In-ho took his seat, a smile evident on his lips as he sighed contently. However, he hoped his cat wasn’t too worried about his whereabouts. Maybe she could come along next time? She is a very sophisticated cat, after all.
As the chandelier and house lights began to dim, the crowd became quiet with anticipation and excitement. And it would be dishonest to say that In-ho wasn’t a little excited as well.
He looked to his left at the woman sitting next to him. She was a small elderly lady with a pair of glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Her eyes were filled with excitement as she scanned through the pamphlet, a wide smile plastered on her face.
She wore a vintage necklace around her neck, layered with pearls. In-ho smiled, it was nice to see someone who also had a knack for old taste.
The soft notes of Swan Lake began to play, and In-ho watched as the curtains opened, revealing the beautifully decorated stage. Large trees with hanging vines arched over the set, greenery and flowers blending into the painted backdrop.
A foggy mist flooded the stage as dancers began to move elegantly across. But the lead had yet to make an appearance.
In-ho watched rather impatiently, and failed to notice the woman next to him lean in, “Right now, the prince is going hunting with his crossbow. But he will find that the white swan has turned into a beautiful woman, and has fallen under a curse.” The old woman pointed slightly to the prince, her voice whispering just loud enough for him to hear.
His eyes trained on the prince as he danced with his crossbow, “Thank you. I must look confused.”
The old lady gave a small laugh, “I used to dance for this company, i’ll never miss an opportunity to explain the ballet.”
In-ho watches as she subtly mimics the prince's moves, her hands moving elegantly in front of her. Her eyes were closed, the sound of the music bringing emotion to her face.
Her eyes flick open as the music changes softly, “Look.” Her eyes lighting up as she nods slightly to the stage.
In-ho watches as you finally take the stage, fluttering your feet as you move elegantly toward the prince. Your hands held high above your head, moving gracefully as you bourrée.
He watched as your back muscles contracted, moving as if you had wings. His eyes trained down to your legs and to your pointe shoes, watching as you danced with ease.
Your white feathered skirt moved along with you, the bodice elegantly framing you perfectly. The feathered piece in your hair catches In-ho’s attention, causing him to study your face.
That poster was nothing compared to your beauty.
You held a soft look, but In-ho didn’t fail to notice the focus that caused your eyebrows to furrow slightly. Your movements were soft and graceful, your demeanor innocent and melancholic.
You were perfect as the white swan.
You were perfect.
He wondered if you were just as innocent as you portray yourself to be, “God, she’s beautiful.”
The elderly woman hummed in agreement as she watched In-ho’s gaze remain sharp on the white swan, an all-knowing smile spread across her lips.
As the ballet continued it seemed that the rest of the audience had disappeared. In-ho felt as if you were only dancing for him. No one else.
He swore you looked at him a few times, him being the focus point of your graceful turns.
And when you transitioned into the black swan, all thoughts in In-ho’s head became dark.
Oh, how he liked this side of you.
Your movements were sharp, determined, and seductive. And he found himself adjusting in his seat as his slacks became increasingly tight. You were so close to him. Just a few feet from his touch as you danced on stage. He could take you right now. He could fuck you, make you feel things you’ve never felt before.
And as you leaped on the stage, the white swan jumping to her death, In-ho felt a tear slip from his eye. You were magnificent.
The audience filed out of the theatre, fanning themselves with their pamphlets and discussing the ballet. You had received a standing ovation, and In-ho took pride in being the first one to stand and clap.
He had finally caught your attention. And when you locked eyes with him as you bowed, you felt your brain turn to mush.
He was handsome. Like, extremely handsome.
His face was perfectly chiseled. His eyes crinkled as he flashed a perfect smile, his hair slightly falling in front of his face and covering his dark eyes.
You didn’t blink once as you remained under his gaze, and it wasn’t until another dancer pulled you up that you realized you were bowing for far too long.
You avoided his eye contact as you walked off, embarrassed he had made you turn into putty just by his stare.
And as In-ho exited the theatre, he took his time lingering by the lamp post. He’d secretly hoped to see you leave.
He doesn’t know what he would say if he did see you. Maybe he would compliment you, or ask you a meaningless question. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d push you against the lamppost, and let his desire consume you.
He’d just wait a little bit longer.
10 minutes.
15 minutes.
30 minutes.
The woman from behind the ticket booth locked the door as she brought down the metal gate, “Excuse me, did the woman who danced as the white swan leave yet?”
She turned around smacking her gum, “Yeah. Why?” She sized him up, placing a hand on her hip as she cocked an eyebrow.
In-ho felt his face flush, “I was just going to compliment her.” He put his cold hands in the pockets of his coat, shifting his weight onto his other foot.
“Yeah well,” The woman smacks her gum as she walks up towards In-ho, handing him a flier, “They have open practice every Friday. Tickets are only 10,000 won.”
He took the flier from her hand, folding it and sliding it into his pocket, “Thanks.” She nodded her head and walked past him, slipping into her jacket.
In-ho turned and started his walk to his apartment only a block away. When he arrived, he heard the familiar sound of meowing by his front door.
And as he opened the door, he came face to face with his cat waiting on the couch, “I’m sorry Elisabeth, but I’m too tired for a movie tonight.”
She gave an annoyed meow before reluctantly following him into his room, hopping onto the pillow beside his. In-ho got dressed in his pajamas, ready for another dreamless night as he slipped into the sheets next to Elisabeth.
But this time, it wasn't dreamless.
In fact, he had dreamed a very vivid dream.
He had dreamt of you.
And as In-ho woke up the next morning, his hand immediately went to his nightstand, picking up the flier.
It seems that the pretty ballerina has stolen his heart.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
"Plié! Ron de jambe, retiré! Good!" You held your arms in front of you, your right leg coming up at a bend, "Pas de chat, écarté! Don't rush it, Fiona!"
Your ballet teacher weaved between you and the other students, her tight bun sitting perfectly on her pointed head, "Développé, demi-pointe! No! Not pointe, demi pointe!"
Her thick French accent bellowed throughout the theatre, "Good y/n! Très bien!" A wide smile painted your lips as you continued your dance, your friend Fiona rolling her eyes at your praise. You giggled as you went into second, your arms outstretched to the side.
"Well done! Take a water break and stretch, we'll take five." You brought your hands to your knees, leaning over slightly as you caught your breath.
Fiona dramatically flopped on her back, a hand coming to her forehead as she breathed heavily, "I've died, she's killed me." You tossed her water bottle into her hand with a laugh as you sat next to her, your eyes scanning the theatre.
Familiar faces met your eyes. Elderly couples, former dancers, and little kids with their moms. Oh! And the man who you haven't stopped thinking about.
Wait.
You hit Fiona's shoulder hard, not taking your eyes off him, "Fiona. Fiona, look." She sat up, holding her shoulder as her eyes trailed to where you were subtly pointing.
"Oh, it's the hot dilf." Fiona took a drink from her bottle, watching as In-ho looked around while taking in the architecture.
You slapped her shoulder again, "Shut up! What if he hears you?" You get up from the ground, pulling Fiona up with you and tossing your water bottle back into your bag.
She followed suit, taking one last drink before tossing it in her own, "First off, stop hitting me. It's abuse." You rolled your eyes as you both took your spot by the barre, "Second, he's in the back corner of the theatre, he's not hearing shit. Except for our teacher's constant yelling."
You didn't respond, instead, you continued looking at him. His black turtle neck sweater hugged his biceps perfectly, and you didn't fail to notice his empty finger where a ring would sit.
"Okay! Lets continue! Tendu, plié! Ron de jambe, plié!"
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
It had been two months since In-ho first started spending his Fridays pining over you.
Each Friday, he would come home, change into an outfit he had dry-cleaned and pressed, feed Elisabeth, and head to the Theatre. He would take his spot in the far left corner, and watch as you danced and laughed with your friends.
He found himself looking forward to Fridays. Which is strange, because he's never looked forward to anything before. Well, besides the games. But he had been so focused on you, that he had fallen behind on his work. Something he'd never done before.
You plagued his mind.
He dreams of you. When he's asleep and awake. He'd find himself walking by the Theatre on other days when you were practicing, hoping to see a glimpse of you.
He found himself listening to Etta James and Nat King Cole more often than not. 'A Sunday Kind Of Love' and 'Unforgettable' filing his apartment as he cooked his dinners. 'My Fair Lady' and 'Gone With The Wind' replacing his classic mystery movies.
He even found himself stopping by flower boutiques, smelling the tulips and Orchids. He wonders what your favorite flower is. Perhaps it is Lilies, the flower that represents innocence and purity.
He wondered a lot if you were a virgin. Often imagining the feeling of your body under his large one late at night when he can't sleep, and when his hand finds itself under his pants.
You had him wrapped around your pretty little finger and you didn't even know it.
Vice Versa, you found yourself looking forward to Fridays as well.
It was the only day you could see the stranger who you had been thinking about constantly.
You liked his style, the way he carried himself with a confidence that intimidated you. His large frame towered over everyone, and he stood out from the crowd. He was perfect. It was as if god himself sculpted him with his own hands.
And oh my god.
You were down bad.
Fiona constantly teased you about it. Making fun of how you stopped wearing your loose cover-up, "Im just hot, that's all Fiona. It's warm in here." You lied. And Fiona was obviously aware of that.
You started offering to stay late with your teacher and help clean up, hoping to catch the stranger before he left. But your teacher always insisted you should go home and rest, and who were you to disobey her.
You've always been perfect. At school, at dance, at everything. When auditions came for Swan Lake, there was no question in anyone's mind about who would get the lead.
But since opening night, things have been slightly different. You often got distracted during practice, your eyes always finding the man in the back corner. You started falling out of your turns, forgetting to bring your pointe shoes, and, worse of all, you had been forgetting to point your toes.
And here you were. Walking to the center of the stage, ready to run through your variation in front of everyone. It was an easy variation, but the end was complicated. You had to do several pirouettes, which you have always been good at. But today you decided to test yourself.
You knew your teacher was becoming increasingly disappointed in you, it plagued your every thought. So, as you spun perfectly, you decided to see how many pirouettes you could perform.
17, 18, 19, 20.
Your leg is wobbling, but you choose to ignore it.
21, 22, 23-
You hear Fiona call your name as your foot slips out of pointe, twisting as you fall on top of it, "Oh my god!" The sickening sound of your ankle cracking causes your heart to drop. The stinging feeling of tears replaced by the overwhelming pain that was now shooting up your leg.
Everyone huddles around you as the teacher runs to call an ambulance, but Fiona kneels at your side, "I know this isn't the right time but, the dilf is running over here right now."
You close your eyes, trying to control your rapid breathing. You wished the stage would open around you and swallow you whole, just put you out of your misery.
In-ho jumps with ease onto the stage, his sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbow, "Move." He pushes past the dancers huddling over you and grabs your face.
Your eyes flick open at the feeling of warm hands pressed against your cheeks. Oh my god, he was holding your face. Your heart fluttered but you didn't notice, you were too worried about the fact that your ankle was bent the wrong way.
In-ho's hand softly brushes over your ankle, causing you to wince. At first, he's skeptical about touching you. Was it too fast? Too sudden? Too bold?
But he didn't have time to think it over as he put his strong arms under you, lifting you gently as he stood. Fiona watched with a smirk on her face as she saw shock fill your eyes, his biceps flexing as he pulled you close to his chest.
Without a word, In-ho steps down from the stage and carries you through the exit, "I have an ambulance coming!" Your teacher ran after him yelling, her typically neat bun somewhat loose and frizzy now.
In-ho motions to his pocket and Fiona responds, grabbing his car key and unlocking his Mercedez-benz, "It will take too long. I'll drive her."
For a split second, you catch his eye, and you could've sworn to god your pain disappeared for a moment. And if it were a different circumstance, In-ho would kiss you. He would kiss you right here with you in his arms.
But the shared look was short-lived as he very carefully sets you in the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt gently. Your ballet teacher leans down to the window, "Don't worry! Fiona can dance for you!"
Your heart shattered.
And tears began to flood. You ignored In-ho's words of reassurance as he took off, speeding to the hospital. The drive was quiet except for your soft cries. And In-ho wanted nothing more than to cradle you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.
"Im sorry im getting your car dirty." You looked at the tear-stained headrest you laid against, wiping your sore eyes with the back of your hand.
In-ho cuts a car off as he turns, ignoring the beeps from the angry driver, "It's okay. I have another one." The subtle money brag wasn't missed by you. In-ho just wanted to impress you.
"What are you? Like a CEO or something?" You turned to face him, giving a pitiful sniffle as he gave another sharp turn.
He chuckled, and you felt your heart beat faster. Was it because of the adrenaline? Or was it because the man whom you've become obsessed with is quite literally acting like your night in shining armor, "Im... Im a game show host."
You nodded, an impressive smile growing on your face, "That's cool. Im y/n by the way."
He flashes a smile, the same smile from the night you first saw him, and a blush creeps up on your tear-stained cheeks, "You're sitting there, with a fucked up ankle, and you're making small talk?"
You suddenly feel embarrassed. He's just some random guy who happened to be in the right place at the right time, nothing more. "Sorry. Just trying to distract myself."
In-ho frowns. Did he say the wrong thing? His grip tightens on the steering wheel, "No! Don't be sorry. If I'm being honest, I've been dying to know your name."
His eyes flick to you before looking back in front of him, "Im Hwang In-ho." A small smile creeps onto his lips as he pulls to a stop in front of the ER.
"Well, Mr. Hwang, it's nice to meet you."
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
"Well, it looks like you have a fracture." You give a long exasperated sigh as the Doctor holds up the X-rays, "The fibula is fractured below the level of the syndesmosis, which is the joint between the tibia and fibula."
You look at In-ho, who, for some reason, seems more stressed than you do, "What's the healing process like? Will she need surgery?" Your head snapped to the doctor at the mention of surgery. Surgery for dancers is like a death sentence.
No. More. Dancing.
"Fractures like these are considered stable, meaning that they are unlikely to worsen with correct treatment and management. You'll just need to wear a boot for a while." The doctor noticed how your concerned look didn't falter, and gave a sigh before placing a hand on your shoulder, "You can still dance."
The breath you were holding escapes your lips as you feel a heavy weight fall off your shoulders, "Thank you so much." The doctor rubs your shoulder before leaving, instructing the nurse to fit you for a boot.
In-ho watches as you close your eyes, a smile resting on your face. He cocked his head, how could you be so beautiful in a moment like this? His eyes take a minute to trail down your body, taking you in, something he's grown fond of doing.
Your hair is a mess, your cheeks are red and tear-stained, your ankle looks like a snapped twig, and you're picking at your cuticles. But god.
You are perfect.
Just as beautiful now as you were months ago.
An unfamiliar feeling has taken over his chest ever since he saw you. A tightening, warm feeling that he hasn't felt in years. At first, he ignored it. Maybe it was just heartburn? But as it progressed, he got worried. The next thing you know a doctor is laughing in his face.
Calling it 'love'.
In-ho immediately left after he heard that, making sure to write a very passive-aggressive review on Yelp. What doctor diagnosed a patient with 'being in love'?
In-ho was not in love.
...
...
Right?
It wasn't until he watched 'Funny Face' that he realized the estranged doctor was correct. The moment Fred Astaire saw Aubrey Hepburn and was immediately captivated by her beauty, he knew it was true.
He didn't care that he was more than twenty years older than you, or that he had bigger things to worry about, all he cared about was you.
And that made him so confused.
You had managed to captivate his heart, soul, and body. And he felt like a teenager with his first crush all over again. So as he saw you look up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, he couldn't help what happened next.
He stood from his chair, taking large steps towards your frame. You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him stand between your legs, careful not to hit your ankle.
His big hands reach down and grab your face, slamming your lips into his own. Your eyes grow wide, confusion flashing across your face before slowly giving in, pulling his head down lower.
His touch was gentle, the opposite of his kiss. His hands softly caressed your red cheeks, while his lips hungrily chased after your own.
You tugged at the baby hairs that rested on the back of his neck, desire and hunger feeding off you as he slipped his tongue into your pretty mouth. A low growl escaped his swollen lips, and you felt arousal begin to pool between your thighs.
You whine as he removes his hand from your face and steps back, crossing his arms. His gaze has always been intimidating. But now that he's seen you fall on your ass, cry, and melt under his touch all in one day, it is much more intimidating.
You've been vulnerable in front of him. Something you could never do before. But you didn't care if he saw your flaws, you were perfect to him.
He saw a future when he looked at you. He saw a family, something he had longed for many years ago. He saw hope, love, and promise.
He saw you.
Beautiful, perfect, irresistible you.
And as he looked at you, only one question entered his mind.
"Do you want to meet my cat?"
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
a/n: chat. its 2 am. but i am DETERMINED to post this. i just love you guys sm mwah mwah. also, wasn't in a smut mood. still getting used to writing smut LMAO.
also random disclaimer: i have never done ballet. so if any terms are wrong or if my spelling is trash PLS LMK!
(“do you want to see my cat” is what jungkook calls the “upgraded version” of “do you want to eat ramyeon?” ITS BASICALLY A NETFLIX AND CHILL INVITE IN KOREA ITS DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO BE CUTE 😭 WAS THAT INTENTIONAL?? 😭😭)
summary: you make gi-hun some tea to share but things escalate(in a good way !!)
wc: 1.9k
a/n: so this is the first gi-hun story I’ve written and I am now expanding my Masterlist..yay!! That being said, I gotta get something off my chest. I literally feel in my soul that gi-hun is a boob man, yk? Like reallyyyyyy a boob man. Could just be me ahh but enjoy reading (be nice this is my first story for him)
->Masterlist<-
The white sheets clung to your skin, soft and warm, carrying the lingering scent of him as you moved through the dimly lit apartment. The air was thick with the remnants of shared breaths and whispered confessions, the memory of tangled limbs and urgent hands still fresh on your skin. As you stepped into the kitchen, the cool floor sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, a sharp contrast to the heat still pulsing through you.
Your lashes fluttered closed as you sank into the memory, the recollection of his touch still lingering like a ghost against your skin. Even now, you could still feel the weight of him, the way he fit against and inside of you like he had always belonged there, the warmth of his breath fanning against your skin as he lost himself between your thighs.
Your bare feet avoided the trail of discarded clothing—his shirt draped over a chair, your dress pooled carelessly near the doorway, a testament to the passion that had unfolded hours before. The reality of him, of this, had exceeded every secret yearning you had dared to entertain. He was more than just a fleeting fantasy—he had reached into the shadows of your soul and illuminated the spaces you had long left untouched.
The kettle on the stove began to hiss, its rising whistle cutting through the quiet hum of your thoughts. You reached for the teabags, watching as the water darkened, the scent of chamomile and honey curling into the air like a gentle embrace. You let it steep for a moment, the warmth seeping into your fingertips as you cradled the mugs, reluctant to break the spell of the night.
The soft whoosh of the white sheets whispered through the air as you stepped back into the bedroom, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting golden hues across the rumpled bed. Gi-hun sat propped against the headboard, his tousled hair falling over his forehead, his bare chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. The blanket pooled loosely around his waist, leaving little to the imagination.
His lips curled into a warm, lazy smile as his gaze found you, dark eyes tracing the curve of your body beneath the soft glow of the night. As you approached, his hands instinctively reached for you, but you moved with purpose, swinging your leg over his lap and settling comfortably atop him. The heat of his skin seeped through the thin fabric draped around you, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.
You pressed a warm cup into his hands, watching as he took it with a curious tilt of his head. Lifting it to his nose, he inhaled deeply, his brows knitting together. "I don't think I've had this kind of tea before," he muttered, his voice scratchy with lingering traces of desire.
You tilted your head, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as you raised your mug to his. The soft chime of ceramic meeting ceramic echoed in the quiet room, a delicate contrast to the warmth simmering between you. A knowing smile curled at your lips as you met his gaze, your voice a gentle tease.
"There's a first time for everything."
You watched as he brought the mug to his lips, his expression shifting the moment the warmth touched his tongue. His brows lifted slightly, a hum of satisfaction vibrating deep in his chest, the sound rich and pleased. The sight made your own curiosity stir, and you followed suit, lifting your cup and letting the soothing liquid cascade over your tongue before sliding smoothly down your throat. A quiet sigh escaped you, the heat pooling in your chest, comforting and familiar.
Gi-hun didn’t speak. He only watched—entranced. His dark eyes traced the delicate flutter of your lashes, the way your lips, soft and full, curved around the rim of the mug before parting ever so slightly to take another sip. The way your throat bobbed as you swallowed, the soft breath you exhaled afterward—it was mesmerizing.
The truth was, to him, you weren’t just beautiful. You were art. Ethereal. Otherworldly. A vision so lovely it left him breathless, as though if he blinked too long, you might disappear like a dream slipping through his fingers.
You lifted the mug for another sip, but before it could reach your lips, Gi-hun’s hand wrapped around yours, gently prying it away. He placed it on the nightstand with slow, deliberate care, his eyes never leaving yours.
Before you could protest, strong hands found your waist, fingers pressing into your skin with a quiet urgency as he pulled you flush against him. The warmth of his bare chest seeped through the thin barrier between you, his body heat wrapping around you like a second skin. A soft gasp left your lips, but it quickly melted into laughter as he tilted his head, pressing a series of slow, featherlight kisses along your jaw.
His lips traveled lower, teasing the sensitive skin of your neck before trailing down to your collarbones, each kiss more deliberate, more reverent than the last. The sensation sent a delightful shiver rippling through you, and you instinctively curled your arms around his neck, fingers threading through the strands of his dark hair. A giggle bubbled from your lips, breathy and sweet, as his kisses lingered against your skin.
"You're too sweet for your own good," you whispered, your voice laced with affection.
Gi-hun pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his grip on you tightening as if he were afraid to let go. His nose brushed against yours, the smallest touch, yet it sent a rush of warmth flooding through your veins. His voice, low and earnest, settled in the space between you like a promise.
"I'll follow you anywhere."
Your heart fluttered at his words, an undeniable truth shining in his eyes. Smiling softly, you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the faint stubble dusting his skin. He leaned into your touch, his lashes lowering as if savoring the quiet moment, the weight of his devotion pressing against you in the most beautiful way.
His hand drifted upward, his fingers grazing the curve of your jaw before his thumb brushed a slow, deliberate line over the softness of your lips. His touch was light—almost teasing—tracing the delicate shape as if memorizing every detail. A playful glint flickered in your eyes as you quipped, "That would mean you’re stuck with me and my antics. I don’t think you want that."
A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, but his expression softened into something far more serious. That same hand slid lower, his fingers curling around the front of your neck, something you begged for earlier. Although this time it wasn't in restraint but in reverence. His warmth seeped into your skin. With a gentle but undeniable pull, he guided your forehead to his, the space between you vanishing in a heartbeat. His eyes fluttered shut, his breath fanning over your lips, ragged and heavy.
"I do…” his voice was barely more than a whisper, raw and aching as if the weight of his own feelings threatened to consume him. “God, I do.”
His lips brushed yours, the touch featherlight, reverent, almost hesitant—like a man savoring a moment he never wanted to end. But as you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss as sweet as it was certain, he melted into you. His fingers tightened ever so slightly at your nape, anchoring you to him, as if afraid you’d slip away.
You responded in kind, your lips moving against his in a slow, plotted dance, each press, each sigh, each lick of his tongue, each lingering second a silent confession of everything words could never quite capture.
As your tongues tangled, his kisses grew deeper, more desperate, igniting a fire in your veins. The cool fabric of the sheets slipped from your chest and fell between your bodies, discarded and forgotten, leaving your skin bare beneath his heated gaze. His eyes sparked with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine, drinking in every inch of you as though committing the sight to memory.
A low, guttural sound rumbled in his chest as he pressed his face against your breasts, his breath hot and ragged against your sensitive skin. Each exhale sent tingling currents down your body, anticipation coiling deep in your core. His hair was impossibly soft beneath your fingers, thick and silken as you curled them into his locks, tugging just enough to draw a deep, approving groan from his lips. The sound vibrated against your skin, pooling warmth between your thighs as he surrendered to the delicious pull of your touch. He lifted you a moment, pushing the blanket from his lap, leaving nothing to separate him from you.
Your hand shot out before you could stop it, slamming onto the nightstand with a sharp crack as he pushed you down, sheathing himself all at once. A startled yelp tore from your lips as one of the ceramic mugs jolted, hot tea sloshing over the edge in messy rivulets. The cup teetered for a heartbeat before plunging to the floor, shattering on impact, jagged shards skittering across the wooden planks.
The scent of steeped leaves and honey filled the air, mingling with the sharp tang of broken ceramic, while a dark stain spread across the tabletop, dripping slowly onto the floor. He lifted your hips, only to push them back down, setting a brutal pace.
Your breath came in ragged gasps, teeth sinking into the firm heat of his shoulder, muffling the soft, needy whimpers that spilled from his lips and into your ear. The world outside this moment ceased to exist—broken ceramic, spilled tea, the mess you'd made—all of it faded into irrelevance. Your damp fingers, sticky with the remnants of your forgotten drink, traced down the ridges of his back, nails pressing into taut muscle. You felt the way he tensed beneath your touch, the way his skin shivered as you kneaded into the knots of tension, pressing deeper, drawing him closer.
If there was one thing you knew about Gi-hun, it was that he was a boob man, always taking the opportunity to knead at your flesh, stare at the curves of your chest, touch, lick, bite.
He basically pried you from him, pushing you onto your back. You gasped in shock from the change of position and he began hammering into you harder.
And it was electrifying.
He attached himself to your chest, not letting off, or letting go as his hair tickled your collarbone. He murmured sweet praises at your beauty, and you arched, practically screaming, as he fucked you through your climax. His wasn't long after, making him collapse. The heavy weight of him was crushing and you groaned, "fuck get offf." He chuckled into your neck, rolling off of you.
You lay side by side, the weight of your bodies pressing together as you both tried to steady your breathing. His chest rose and fell, the rhythm uneven as he struggled to catch his breath. Your eyes wandered to the mess scattered across the floor; the forgotten mug shattered on the floor, and its contents spilled. A sigh slipped from your lips, the urge to tidy up gnawing at you.
“I should pick that up,” you murmured, half-heartedly attempting to sit up, but before you could make a move, his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back down. You tumbled softly against his chest, the warmth of his body surrounding you, and he chuckled, the sound deep and content.
“Later,” he whispered, his lips grazing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
You couldn’t help but giggle, the laughter bubbling up from within, and you let yourself sink into the moment. The mess on the floor could wait.
Summary: When the games aren’t in session, and In-ho is lonely, he finds himself in the first row at the ballet. Watching you. After you entered his life, everything changed. His secret is becoming harder to hide, along with his love.
TW: Channeling my love for older men. Age gap (reader is 25 In-ho is 49). Just FLUFF with SMUT! In-ho learning how to love someone again. Quite literally head over heels for you. Size kink if you squint.
WC! 3k Part 1! -> here!
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You were twelve when you started to dance.
You had been walking with your friend, heading to a convenience store when you saw it.
“Limelight Dance Studio”
However, it wasn’t the sign that caught your attention. Or the big beautiful building that looked like it belonged in a fairytale. What caught your attention was the woman walking into the studio.
Her hair was in a tight, slick bun, and her loose jacket covered her torso. Her pointe shoes were clutched in her hand as she rushed in, pushing past the door as she headed toward her class.
That day you went home and marched straight up to your mother, a flier clutched in your tiny hands. She said no at first, practically shattering your small heart. But without you knowing, she spent that month saving every cent she could, surprising you with a pair of ballet flats and admission to the dance studio.
From then on, your life centered around ballet.
At 17, you finally transitioned to Pointe after years of training. And once you laced the ribbons, you were unstoppable. Every time you were on stage, you were in your element. Glowing with potential.
Dancing is where you thrive. It’s where you belonged.
You studied abroad at Juilliard for four years, becoming the perfect ballerina you had strived to be. And when you returned, the Seoul Ballet Company practically begged you to dance for them.
You accepted the offer calmly, but deep down the little girl who had fallen in love with dance was screaming. You have finally achieved your dream.
You were perfect. Life was perfect. It was fulfilled, and you didn’t need anything more.
Right?
You had your fair share of relationships, but nothing ever serious. Not when your life centered around ballet. Your career was always the main reason your relationships ended, but you couldn't care less.
Men didn't make you happy, dance did.
And you knew that for a relationship to work, you would have to find someone just like you. Busy, determined, focused, perfect.
One night, after many glasses of wine, you realize your standards are extremely unrealistic.
Which, they are.
So you decided to give up on dating.
But often, when it’s late at night, you find yourself lonely. You thought about getting a cat, which you had been excited about. But your bitchy landlord didn’t allow it. So instead, you found comfort in watching old movies.
They came on after dark. The black and white glow illuminating your small living room. You would come home from practice, tossing your bag by the front door before jumping onto the couch. Snacks in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and your eyes glued to the flatscreen. You would stay up late, watching Audrey Hepburn explore Rome or enjoy a breakfast at Tiffany's until you fall asleep.
You’d wake up at 8:00 am, sluggishly getting ready for the gym before chugging your espresso. You’d work out, maybe some pilates or weight training, then grab some lunch. Sometimes you would come home and take a nap, sometimes you would hang out with friends, but often you found yourself lounging by the cafe.
People watching had became your favorite activity.
You’d sit in the uncomfortable metal chair, your chicken salad sandwich sitting untouched on the table in front of you, and you’d watch as people went about their day.
The cafe was placed across the street from a tall building full of luxury apartments, which you bet probably allowed cats. Yes, you were still bitter about that.
One specific day, when you were sitting in the familiar metal chair, you found yourself watching someone intently.
He was quickly walking down the sidewalk, carefully dodging people as he carried a brown bag full of groceries. You gasped as a stranger ran out in front of him abruptly, knocking his belongings to the floor.
You scoffed as the person he’d crashed into walked past, not even offering to help. And your feet almost moved on their own as you walked straight over to help him gather his groceries.
Little words were exchanged, “Thank you.” “You didn’t have to do that.” “Have a nice day.” You assumed he didn’t pay much attention to the interaction.
But you did.
There was something so captivating about him. Something so endearing that captured your attention, something you couldn’t quite describe.
Since then, you often hoped to see him again.
You just didn’t expect to see him in the front row at your ballet.
That was a surprise.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
“Pspspsps!” You rubbed your fingers together, bending down to the ground, “Come here, Elisabeth. Pspsps!”
The fluffy white cat came around the corner, eying you with skepticism as you motioned her to approach you. She was a sassy girl and didn’t fully trust you yet, but that didn’t bug you.
She was honestly intimidating.
You smile widely as she walks towards you, happy to finally make a connection with her. But as she walked past you without even a glance, you sighed, watching as she planted herself in front of your boyfriend's feet.
You stood up and rested your hands on your hips, "She'll love me one day." You watched as she rubbed against In-ho's legs, a quiet purr causing a small smile to form on your lips.
She is intimidating, but she sure is cute.
In-ho keeps his gaze on you, watching how you slightly pout at Elisabeth's adorable nature. His heart flutters, something that's becoming increasingly common in the last five months of your relationship.
It has been five months since your ankle fracture, which is now completely healed thanks to In-ho's firm instructions to rest. You honestly think he just didn't want you to leave his apartment, but you weren't complaining.
Five months since your shared kiss that ultimately changed both of your lives. You moved in after about three months, which turned out to be a great idea, despite everyone saying it was too soon. When he first brought up the question, you were skeptical. But as soon as he mentioned an in-unit washer and dryer, you took the key.
Your mother was concerned at first, especially about the age gap. But you brushed it off. In-ho was quite literally perfect for you, as were you for him. Age didn't matter to you when you both completed each other's heart.
The first thing you did when you moved in was decorate. Not his entire apartment, obviously, but you did go to Home Depot and buy a few plants.
Cat-safe, of course.
Once your ankle healed, you went back to dancing. And, just like before, every Friday In-ho would watch you practice. Though he doesn't sit in the back anymore, he sits front and center.
After your practice, he always gives you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, tulips. He would take your bag with his arm around yours, and you would walk to your apartment together.
Life was, simply put, perfect.
It was bliss. A happiness that was only obtained when you brought down your walls and let a stranger in. A stranger who captured your heart, mind, and everything in between.
When you first discovered his collection of old films and music, you could've sworn you fell in love with him just then. You knew you were perfect for each other already, but the shared interest solidified that.
Nights aren't lonely anymore. Not when your bed is shared by the man who you adore, and a fluffy white cat who is determined to sleep with you.
His arms are wrapped around you, your back pressed to his chest as he holds you tight. His head nuzzled into the back of your neck as he snores, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as you dream.
Your legs are tangled, intertwined under the covers as your hearts beat the same rhythm. Your hands are wrapped on top of his, the feeling of being in his arms familiar and comfortable. It would be impossible to sleep without each other, you both knew that.
So when In-ho sits you down on a warm June night and explains he has to leave for a work trip, you cry. I know, it's dramatic. But you had spent the last five months in each other's presence. Holding each other, kissing each other, making love on the very bed you sleep in together. Where you went, he followed. Where he traveled, you joined.
You needed him. He was the air that filled your lungs, giving you breath. He was the blood that flowed through your veins and pumped your heart, giving you life. He was your soul, your mind. He had you wrapped around his finger, and you knew it.
Vice versa, you were his whole being. He based every decision around you, around your future together. He's made sacrifices you couldn't even imagine. He went from letting the games be the center of his life, to you being the center of his universe.
You were all he could think about.
Important business meeting about the upcoming games? Forget it. In-ho is at home making Kimchi with you, having forgotten all about it.
Meeting with the V.I.P's? What meeting. In-ho is too busy indulging in his desire with his tongue deep in your core, a hand clamped around your throat.
You were his sole purpose on this earth. Where you walked, flowers bloomed behind you. Wherever you went, the sun would shine. In-ho felt he didn't deserve you. No, he knew he didn't deserve you.
He never told you that though. Of course, if he did, you would smack him upside the head, "Seven days? Where are they making you go?" You cried into his shoulder, your body resting on his lap as he sat back on the plush couch.
His heart breaks a little at the sound of your cries, his thumb brushing away the tears that fell, "I just have to host this private game. I'll be back so soon, I promise." Your cries didn't change, his shirt dampening as you snuggled deeper into his chest, "I will call you every chance I can. I promise."
You looked up at him, giving a pathetic sniffle as you spoke, "When do you leave?" You sit up fully now, straightening your top. He rubs his big hand over your arm, watching as goosebumps trail behind.
He looks up at you, a hand fiddling with your exposed bra strap, "Tomorrow morning." He sighs as he watches a pout form on your pretty mouth, his thumb brushing over your lips.
"What do I do while you're gone?" You pull his hand from your face, holding it in your own as you play with his fingers.
In-ho hasn't failed to notice how his pants tightened since you've been sitting innocently on his lap, your hips slowly rocking as you sobbed into his shoulder moments ago. You knew it too. The second he played with your bra strap, the emotion in the air changed from angst to lust.
And if he was going to be gone for seven days, might as well enjoy the night, "Come here." His voice was low and demanding as he took his hand from your grasp, taking a hold of your side.
Your mouth parted as his hand moved down, softly caressing every curve of your perfect body. Though his eyes stayed peering into your own, watching your reaction to every touch.
He smirked as you gave a breathless gasp, his hand pinching your hip as you slowly grind your hips down. His hard cock rubbing against your desire raises an all-too-familiar feeling in the deep of your stomach.
Wordlessly, his hand comes behind you, laying you down on the couch as he stands up. Towering over your body as he unbuttoned his shirt, your eyes trail across every inch of exposed skin.
He moves between your legs, his hands coming to your face as he pulls you into a needy kiss. Your hands find his back, your fingers rubbing, digging into his skin as he fucks your mouth with his tongue.
He pulls away, breathlessly moving his hands down to the hem of your shirt. You watch with lustful eyes as he tugs your top up and over your head with one swift motion. His hands find your bare skin, pinching and squeezing your sides with hunger in his dark eyes.
Heat pools between your thighs, your hand sneaking under your panties as In-ho unhooks your bra swiftly. He leans back, taking you in awe as he trails his eyes over your body.
He gives a small laugh at the sight of your hand slowly fucking yourself, "Tsk, as much as I love seeing you do that, you will have seven days to do it. Tonight, you don't have to do a thing."
Your eyes snap open as he dips his hand under your panties and over your own, moving your hand up to your parted mouth. He pushes your hand towards your lips, a smirk evident on his own as he puts your delicate fingers inside your pretty mouth.
He sighs as you taste yourself, the heat becoming unbearable between your goose-bumped legs, "See how sweet you taste? Do you see why im starved all the time?" He kisses your jaw between his words, his hands slipping off your bottoms, your panties gone with it.
He stands again, tossing your clothes into a pile, his bottoms going with it. He towers over the couch, intimidating you like he did all those months ago.
You sit up, your small hands delicately reaching up and leaving tiny bolts of electricity on his abs as you trace down. You take your thumb, wiping the precum from his sensitive tip. His head falls back just from that touch alone, and as desperate as he is to see your lips swollen and wrapped around him, he remembers his promise.
You lean down, your lips centimeters away from his length when his strong hand pulls your chin up, "You aren't doing a thing, remember?" You whine, his strong arms laying you back down on the couch.
He comes between your legs again, lifting your hips up as he traces his cock between your pussy. The sound of your slick fills his ears, and a small "fuck" falls from his lips. It takes everything in you not to buck your hips, the need becoming irresistible as he lines himself up with your core.
He takes a hand and lifts your face, desperate to see your pretty eyes as he fucks into you. As he sinks in, the familiar feeling of ecstasy overtakes him as he stretches you.
He sets a rhythm, fucking you as he stares into your eyes, your eyebrows raised and mouth agape as your hips meet with a slap. His free hand comes behind your waist, supporting your legs as you meet his thrusts.
In-ho didnt fuck.
He made love.
And that shit was passionate as fuck.
His eyes never left yours. Not once. Not even when he places a hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock deep in your womb. You, on the other hand, writhed beneath him. Your moans filling your shared apartment, mixing with the pornographic sounds from In-ho,.
Your head sank back into the couch, your hand coming to hold his own as he quickened his thrusts. His other hand that supported you moved to your clit, pressing and rubbing perfectly over your sensitive bud.
If there was one thing about In-ho, it's that he's determined to make you cum with him.
Every. Single. Time.
So when his hand reaches your clit, you know he's close, "In-ho, please- god. Please don't stop." You didn't yell or scream. Your voice was sultry, full of desire.
He throws a head back at your words, his warmth spilling deep into your womb with one final deep thrust as you clench around him. You meet him, finding your own ethereal as you reach your climax.
He whines with his thrusts as he slows down, emptying into your tight core, "When... when I'm gone." You furrow your eyebrows, catching your breath as he pulls out of you, "This next week, when I'm gone."
He lays with you on the couch, pulling you to lay on his chest, "Whenever you need me, I want you to use your pretty little fingers and fuck yourself while you think about this moment." You blushed, despite just taking his cock only a moment ago.
He brings his hand to your face, his thumb parting your lips, "Can you promise me that?" Your eyes slightly water, remembering why you were even crying in the first place.
"I promise." Your voice was a whisper, smiling up at In-ho as he kissed your forehead. You take a deep breath, realizing just how much he means to you. Just how much you need him.
If only you knew.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
An: I actually wrote most of this during my mom's colonoscopy LMFAO. Also, guys imma be so fr with you, I'm so tired lmao. But here! The long-awaited part 2 which is basically just fluff to smut lmao. I've never been one to really write part twos (I hate feeling like I HAVE to write because then it turns into a chore) BUT I actually enjoyed writing this one. Im gonna work through my requests and also please join my taglist! Love you guys!
Hey lovelies! I made a link to join my taglist! Please fill it out if you would like to! ALSO I'm probs gonna post the next part to A Gentle Elegance today or tomorrow so if you are interested in being tagged PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE fill out the form!!
Synopsis: Seong Gi-Hun has given up on life, given up on himself. But for some reason, the pretty girl who serves him drinks still thinks he can be saved.
Seong Gi-Hun was a typical example of “like father, like son.” He was unreliable, he was selfish, he was sneaky and a liar. He was the spitting image of his father, and his father before him; a complete and utter lowlife. His marriage had crumbled, his wife and daughter had left him to start a new life in America, and his mother was recently deceased. She’d passed away on the floor of their living room while Gi-Hun gambled away the money he could have used to save her life.
He didn’t deserve to live, didn’t deserve to still be breathing when his mother wasn’t. She had given everything to her son, forgiven him time and time again. She had been the epitome of patient, always giving him another chance to redeem himself. Gi-Hun didn’t deserve redemption, and while he waited for the devil to collect his dues, he would slowly drink himself into the abyss.
That was where he’d met you, in some dive bar in a back alley, slumped over the bar with a whiskey in his hand. You were there working part time, using the cash to pay for a university degree. Every shift you worked, Gi-Hun was there, drinking himself into a stupor. Most nights you’d call him a cab home, but some nights you’d drive him home yourself, idly making conversation as you drove through the dark Seoul streets. He rarely responded, but you never gave up. You’d seen more than your fair share of shit in your time as a bartender, but you’d never seen anyone as broken as Gi-Hun. Whatever had happened to him, it must have been bad. You weren’t even sure if he knew who you were; he was so drunk most of the time it was miracle he could remember anything about the previous night. But he knew who you were; you were one piece of light in his dark, dark world.
He knew you thought he wasn’t listening when you chatted to him in the car on the way home. But he remembered everything you said to him. How you were bartending on top of working full time as a teacher to save up to go back to university. How you’d just broken up with your boyfriend, but you didn’t really mind because he’d been a prick anyway. How your dream was to become a historian, but you were worried you were too old to change career.
“Why do you do this?” He mumbled one night, as you walked with him to your beaten up, rust bucket of a car.
“What do you mean?” You asked, throwing your bag into the back before climbing into the drivers side.
“Why do you help me? I’m no one. I don’t deserve your kindness.”
“You are not no one.” You turned to look at him in the passenger seat, resisting the urge to touch his cheek. This man was so broken, and you had no idea how to help him.
“I’ve done bad things,” he whispered, “I’ve hurt people. I’ve stolen, I’ve lied, I’ve cheated.”
You took a deep breath, staring out of the windscreen as rain began to fall, battering the concrete around you.
“It’s never too late to make a change,” you said, although you knew all too well how that was easier said than done.
Gi-Hun laughed bitterly. “Changing now won’t bring my mother back from the dead. It won’t bring my daughter back from America. It won’t make my wife come back to me.”
You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed silent. How did you help a man who was so broken, so beyond repair?
As you dropped him off outside his dilapidated apartment, you called to him through the sound of the pouring rain.
“I’m not giving up on you, Seong Gi-Hun!” You smiled at him, and even through his drunken haze he could tell what a beautiful smile it was. He would never understand why you helped him, would never understand why you’d decided he was worth saving. Everyone had given up on him, but for some reason you wouldn’t.
A woman like you didn’t need a man like him. You needed someone who could care for you, who wouldn’t leave you broken into pieces as he’d left everyone he’d cared about. But your words echoed in his head as he drifted off to sleep. “You’re not no one. It’s never too late to change.”
Maybe you were right; maybe there was still time to atone for his sins.
summary: "The instant Ron came to you asking for help sewing a rip in his t-shirt, Molly knew you were the woman he was going to marry."
wc: 0.6k+
The instant Ron came to you asking for help sewing a rip in his t-shirt, Molly knew you were the woman he was going to marry. You’d been sitting in front of the fireplace with many of Ron’s siblings, along with Harry and Hermione, listening as Fred and George recalled the story of one of their wicked pranks to Charlie and Bill. You laughed along with everyone else as the twins reached the climax of their story, cuddling into Ron’s jumper that you wore.
This was your first summer at the Burrow as Ron’s girlfriend, and you’d admittedly been a hundred times more nervous to be here, to gain his family’s approval. Your head snapped towards the staircase at the call of your name, watching as Ron padded down the stairs, gripping the side of the shirt he was wearing. “Y/n” he repeated, “Could you fix this for me?” You straightened up in your seat, unaware of the eyes on you as you took the soft fabric of Ron’s favourite t-shirt in your hands, examining the rip in the seam. Your fingers grazed his soft skin underneath the fabric. You hummed, asking “Could you get my-” But your words were interrupted when Ron thrusted your small sewing kit forward, causing you to giggle “Perfect.”
You worked silently, looking for a thread the same colour as Ron’s t-shirt, and began sewing the seam back together. Ron stood in front of you silently, aimlessly playing with a strand of your hair as he listened in on the story. He didn’t notice the look Bill and Charlie shared, or the way Molly stood still with a tray carrying hot chocolate as she admired the intimate moment between you. Molly had to turn away to hide the tears forming in her eyes at the realisation that she would never get to sew her son’s clothes ever again, that he had found someone to do it for him.
“Oh that tickles.” Gasped Ron when your hands ran up his side in an attempt to tie the thread together before snipping it with a small pair of scissors. “Sorry sweetheart.” You muttered, looking up at him while you tried straightening out the now crinkled fabric of his shirt. Ron didn’t bother to check if the job had been well done, so Bill assumed that this had occurred many times before, noticing that Hermione and Harry didn’t flinch at their ginger friend’s request from you. Ron cupped your cheeks, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead as he thanked you, taking your sewing kit back from you. You put a hand over his, shaking your head. “Leave it, I’ll take it up later.” You patted the empty spot next to you reserved for him, and Ron immediately sat down, putting your kit on the side table next to him.
His family watched as you shared a smile, Ron’s hand snaking around your waist while you comfortably cuddled yourself into his side. You leaned your head on his shoulder, arm slung in front of his torso in a loose hug and Ron instinctively pressed another kiss to your temple, eyes trained on his younger sister who started another story to fill the silence. You both thanked Molly sincerely when she handed you your hot chocolates, and she held eye contact with you, a hand coming down to your cheek to caress your skin with a motherly smile as she held back happy tears.
That night, when Ron took you by the hand to lead you outside for a long walk, Molly held her tongue, deciding to give you both some freedom. And when Ginny approached her, asking shyly if her mother could sew up a rip in her jeans, she burst into tears, hugging her daughter close to her.
I am so excited to tell you all that I am currently working on part two of "A Gentle Elegance"! I also have a few requests I'm working on as well, but I wanted to come on here and thank you guys for all the love and support I have been receiving! All of you continue to motivate me to write and pursue my hobbies, so thank you!
ALSO!! If you are interested in joining my taglist please comment!
P.S. I also just finished my Tumblr Blog so go check it out! It's next to my username on my profile!
