30+, unapologetic 2Seok fan, probably too old for this, but I really don't care. I use this blog as a personal story list, to be read and reread. I block bots and empty profiles.
a/n: so I wrote this on a whim while fully in my feelings about Jin's enlistment. Enjoy. Let me know what you think, I love constructive criticism.
°°°°°°°
The silence was comfortable as the couple sat next to each other, scenery whizzing by. A hand was grasped, thumb gently rubbing against knuckles.
“You have the code to my apartment right?” he asked.
You nodded, “Yes, I have it. As a post-it note on my fridge, as an email and text message and in my notes. Trust me babe, I’m not losing it.”
“And you can stay there, I told my mom and the building board that I am allowing you to for the time being.”
“I know and I told you that I’m gonna stay at my place. Your apartment is too big for just me. But I will go to steal some shirts and maybe a pillow.”
He blew a deep sigh out, “I’m sorry, I know I'm being annoying.”
You caressed his cheek, fingertips gently rubbing against the short soft hair at his temples.
“You aren't being annoying. Far from it. I know it's a lot, but we’ll get through this. 5 months will fly by and then you can go back to sending me annoying jokes and memes. Make sure to call your mom, I know she’s worrying herself.”
“You’ll check in on her? I know my dad is there but--”
“Don’t worry, she and I are spending the day tomorrow. Plus she says with you gone we have more time to plan.”
He looked down at their entwined hands, the matching couple bands shining in the light. He gently rotated your band with his thumb, exposing the modest stone in the middle.
“When I come back, I’m going to give you the most obnoxious ring. Let everyone know that I claimed you.”
You rolled your eyes, “Stop it, you silly man. Just go and come back, that's all I want.”
The entry to the base came into view, brick and imposing. The clasped hands grew tighter. Sniffles were quietly heard, unable to be stifled in the quiet backseat.
“Love, are you crying?” he asked worriedly, his eyes searching your face. Glassy eyes met his and you nodded.
“Yes but it’s okay. I’m just going to miss you. But I know the time will go fast and then we have all the time in the world.”
His warm hands cupped your face, taking in the features that literally stopped him short in the hospital almost a year ago.
“Don't fall in love with any hot shot doctors okay?”
You chuckled, “Babe I am the hotshot doctor. It's because of me that you still have a finger.”
Always one to follow his impulsive nature (It was how he got your phone number, asking you out of the blue while you had a needle in your hand), he pressed his lips to yours. Noses bumping gently before your mouths slotted together perfectly. Your eyes slid shut, taking in his cologne and the slight mint of his toothpaste. A tentative knock sounded against the window, signaling the end to your privacy. Around you can see 6 other cars parking.
“It’s time,” he whispered.
You just nodded. Jin tapped the window back, angling his body towards you. He pulled his ring off and pressed it into your hand. Your fingers wrapped around the warm and slightly misshapen ring.
“What are you doing?”
“Hold this for me, I don't want to lose it. I love you so much.” He said breathlessly, as though he was fighting the urge to cry.
“I love you too, go say bye to your bros.”
He pressed one last kiss and quickly exited, shutting the door behind you.
The quiet was too much, all the emotions raised up and this time you didn't have to stay strong. You wrapped your arms around yourself, his ring hooked onto your pointer finger. You wanted to be out there, delaying the goodbye as long as possible. But you knew when you started seeing him that this was just a way of life. Closing your eyes, you leaned against the back of the front seat. When you get home, a glass of wine and a long bath are needed.
Unknown time passed in the car, at one point you could hear the 7 of them joking around and taking photos. Finally, you heard the announcement that all enlistees are to go to the field for line up.
That's it, he was in.
The car door opening makes your head shoot up. A figure in all black with a bucket hat sat down next to you and you resumed leaning your head against the seat.
“Wrong car, Jungkook.” you muttered.
“Can I sit with you Noona/Hyung?"
You started a little at the title. Jungkook was shy and took a little time to warm up to you. He asked if it was okay to use the title over a week ago and it still felt odd.
“Sure.”
The two of you sat in silence, until it was your turn to hear sniffles.
“Jungkook? Are you okay?”
“I’m just going to miss him, who else am I going to annoy at 3am?”
Requested: Can you write plus-size girlie fics for Namjoon and Yoongi? I appreciate plus-size rep, especially when it’s for Namjoon (Yoongi too)
Warnings: mdni, 18+, dead dove: do not eat, dub/con, perv! Yoongi, depraved! Yoongi, sleazy landlord! Yoongi, plus size! reader, unknown feelings, stalking, reader doesn't know there are cameras, power imbalance, manipulation, masturbation (m.), pillow humping, multiple orgasms, dark! Love, mentally unwell! Yoongi, delulu! Yoongi, harbored feelings, toxic! Love, perv! reader?!, pet names, dirty talk, praise, unprotected smut, Yoongi big, hint at a size kink (but you gotta squint), hint of dacryphilia mentioned, dumbification, etc.
WC: 4k +
Tagging: @gottafightwhentheysaybehave
Flowers for @catiekayy, you helped reassure me that sleazy Yoongi would want cameras lmao
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
Yoongi starts his day the same.
He wakes up, he gets dressed, and he feeds the black cat that lingers in front of his apartment complex's leasing office.
By the time it's 7:30 am, the black cat is purring around his feet before he's had his first cup of coffee. And it's while he's lighting the first cigarette of his day that he watches you make your way across the apartment complex to catch your 8 am bus.
He stays quiet the entire time, just watching, waiting. His lips curve up into a knowing grin when you don't even realize he's leaning against the wall as you rush to the bus stop. You barely make it, and it means you'll barely make it to your job on time.
Yoongi can see the way you tense up as you wait for the bus, holding yourself tighter, trying to make yourself smaller even when you're standing alone. He doesn't know if you do it on purpose or if it's second nature to pull your shirt down every few seconds, as if it somehow will magically roll up between now and the next five seconds. It doesn't. And yet you still fidget.
He takes another drag from his cigarette, tilts his head back, and blows the smoke into the air as he keeps his eyes trained on you. He takes his time to check you out, his gaze burning from your head to your feet, and slowly back up again. You always wear something cute, teasing Yoongi with glimpses of your pretty legs, your gorgeous face, or your chubby stomach that you sometimes try to hide under a baggy t-shirt.
I mean, he could look at you all day. And he stares for a few minutes after the bus takes you away from him before he moves. He throws the cigarette onto the cement, his shoe snubbing it out before he looks down at the black cat sitting a little to his left. It stares at him, eyes dilated, and Yoongi sighs before heading back inside the office without saying a word.
Yoongi's day doesn't officially start until 9 am. That's his office hours, from 9 am to 5 pm; he goes through files, replies to emails, calls the maintenance crew for apartments that have requested it, and collects rent due from his tenants. It's not a hard job; it's honestly a little boring, but as a landlord, it has its benefits.
And one of those benefits comes from the security cameras he has placed around the complex. It's allowed him to charge rent for a higher price under the guise of security and protection, and it's a bonus for him when his day comes to a close.
By 5:15 pm, he's upstairs in his apartment, turning on his television as he sits on the couch. On his TV screen, he's got six cameras on display, all showing the inside of your apartment.
He had installed the cameras himself, personally selecting where to put them while you were away at work one day. And you had been none the wiser, the same goes for the few pairs of panties he had stolen after he finished setting up the last camera in your bedroom.
And it's like clockwork. 5:30 pm rolls by, and you enter his TV screen. His eyes focus on the way you toe off your shoes, dropping your keys onto the kitchen counter before you hang your bag on the back of one of your three bar stools. It's a routine he's learned you've had, and it still piques all of his interest while you make it further into your apartment.
Yoongi knows this is wrong. Installing the cameras without your consent and watching you in his free time, but he can't help himself.
His eyes flicker between all six cameras, following you as he leans back into his couch. You make your way through your living room, heading straight to your bedroom, and he watches as you leave a trail of clothes in your wake. This is another habit of yours.
You are completely naked by the time you make it to your bathroom, and his eyes snap to the camera that displays it all as you grab a fresh towel. He watches as you drag it back into your bedroom, and Yoongi's breaths deepen as he realizes what you're doing. His cock swells, straining against his pants as you climb onto your bed, and it's when you put a towel over one of your many pillows that he finally breaks from his trance and moves.
His fingers unbutton his slacks with ease, his eyes never leaving his television as he shoves them down. His cock is already hard, curving up to his stomach as you straddle your pillow, and when your head falls back, his cock weeps a fresh trickle of precum.
The first roll of your hips is a test. The friction you're craving is met when your pretty pussy drags along the towel-covered pillow just right. He can see your mouth drop, your eyes squeeze shut, and it's times like this that he wishes he had added audio to the cameras.
He's only talked to you a handful of times, always brief and polite, so he can only imagine how it would sound if you moaned his name. What noises would you wouuld make when your chubby cunt drools with arousal?
The thought of your pretty pussy glistening wet makes him groan out loud, his hand grabbing his cock to stroke from the base, up, until his thumb swipes his precum around the tip as your hips move with deeper rolls.
You're gorgeous, chasing your own pleasure all alone. He can see the way your body rocks, your tits moving with each hump, and he can't help but think about the first time he saw you.
-
Yoongi had first noticed you during the summer. You were already a tenant when he took over the apartment complex, and he hadn't formally introduced himself to anyone quite yet.
And to be honest, he didn't think anyone would be out this late. Summer brought the neighborhood kids to the pool from the moment the sun was up until it disappeared again. But now, it was close to midnight, no one should be awake, and yet here you were.
Yoongi had stepped out onto his balcony above the leasing office to smoke and to contemplate where his life was heading when he saw movement in his peripheral vision. His eyes flicked over to the pool that was lit up softly, giving the water a glow, and giving him enough light to see you step out of the water.
Yoongi had seen beauty before. Women who smiled with promises of more, who were wrapped up delicately like a neat bow. But it was nothing like this; his eyes landed on you, and time stopped - something inside him stirred, and all the noise in his head quieted.
His cigarette balances between two of his fingers as he watches you quietly grab your towel. Your oversized wet t-shirt clings to your body, hugging every curve and roll as you bend over to dry yourself off. He gets a perfect view of your ass, your legs, how the wet shirt rides up, and his cock twitches the longer he stares. But then you're covering up, stopping him from seeing anything more as you wrap the large beach towel around your shoulders to keep warm.
He doesn't light his cigarette; he waits, watching you lean down as he has an internal crisis. His heart stutters, his cock swells, and his other hand clutches onto the balcony rail for stability. He can barely hear you coo softly, and when Yoongi thinks he's having a heart attack, he sees a black cat saunter out from the darkness. It sits right in front of you, a little chirp coming from it as you rub its head affectionately, and Yoongi curses under his breath.
He's fucked.
-
The memory flashes quickly across his mind. His eyes are still watching you rock your hips back and forth, your pace building as the pleasure grows, and Yoongi is right there with you. He squeezes his cock, stroking to match your pace as dribbles of his precum stain his hand and roll down his shaft, filling his apartment with lewd 'schlick' noises as he tugs on his aching cock to the image of you.
This had been his routine of late. Watching you come home tense, stressed, and in need of relief. Sometimes you'd step in the shower, using the showerhead to find relief between your thighs, leaving Yoongi to stare at the outline of your figure that your shower curtain blurred. Other times, you'd bring out a pretty toy, set it up, use some lube, and give Yoongi a show (not that you knew he was watching), and Yoongi would stare captivated as you rocked back into the dildo like a cat in heat.
But this, with you humping a towel over a pillow, had been the most recent favored choice. You'd been coming home more pent up, and Yoongi was pretty sure most of your stress came financially. The inflation of the economy grew every year, but most people's income did not. It results in a lot of people living paycheck to paycheck, and it didn't help that people like Yoongi existed.
He knew the cost of living was tight. He knew that it wasn't just him but other landlords who were using the inflation of everything else to up their own prices. He knew he didn't need to; he had enough tenants to make the bills and then some, but it was all just greed in the end of the day.
And he was a greedy man.
It shows as his greedy eyes focused on the way your hips rolled erratically. The friction of the towel rubbing on your pretty clit leaves your thick thighs twitching, your head bowing as you shuddered through an orgasm alone.
Yoongi's eyes threaten to flutter closed the moment you reach your orgasm. His cock jerks as he fucks up into his fist, but he refuses to close his eyes; he doesn't want to miss a minute of you riding out your orgasm.
His legs were spread wide on his couch, his slacks shoved to mid thigh as his balls tensed up, and the first splurt of his cum landed on his stomach as he watched you. His mouth drops as he groans, rope after rope of his hot, creamy seed spilling from his mushroom tip, coating his hand and cock in white as he kept stroking.
He imagines how it would feel to cum inside you, to be the one to fuck your stress away. His cock twitches at the thought, and another splash of his cum squeezes out. And it's while he thinks about all the ways he wanted to have you, that you're getting up onto quivering legs. You grab the towel, throwing it in your laundry basket before slipping into your bathroom.
The shower switches on, and Yoongi's now watching camera four. The view inside your bathroom shows you waiting for the shower to warm up. You stare at yourself in the mirror, cupping your full breasts, turning to the side to look at your round stomach, your ass, and Yoongi might get hard again as you twist and turn to look at yourself.
But that's when he comes up with an idea.
-
Normally, when a tenant's lease is about to expire, he sends a notice to their doorstep. It's basic information regarding when their lease ends, how much it will cost to renew, how much it'll cost to go month-to-month, and that if you plan to move, he'll need a 30-day notice.
Your lease isn't due soon, but Yoongi chooses to show up personally at your doorstep on Saturday morning anyway. He knows you have it off, and he holds the folded piece of paper in one hand as he knocks on your door.
His heart races as he stands tall, and he knows this is wrong, but the depraved part of him yearns to see this flourish.
When you open the door, you don't expect it to be Yoongi on the other side. You recognize him from the leasing office, and it has you pulling your robe tighter around your soft body as you look up at him.
Yoongi was the type of handsome you'd conjure up when reading a dark romance book. His dark hair was cut in a shaggy wolf cut that grew longer in the back. He wore multiple rings on his lithe fingers, stacked silver bracelets on his wrists, and there was a noticeable scar that dragged over his right eyebrow down to his cheek.
He was devastatingly handsome, but in a way that you knew was dangerous.
And you proved yourself right when his lips curved up into a devilish grin. He doesn't say good morning or sorry for waking you up so early; instead, he lifts the folded white piece of paper up between two fingers like you had dropped it. "Just came by to give you this - new policies, inflation, we need to make sure each tenant is aware."
It sounds believable. And you ignore the tingles that race up your arm after your hand meets his. You grab the piece of paper, unfolding it in front of your landlord as you begin to read.
And Yoongi watches in real time how your mind races, your eyes rounding as you see the additional fees suddenly added onto your lease. You can barely afford rent, and if you add the new amount - you're fucked.
You can't afford to take time off from work to look for a new place, you probably couldn't find a decent place near enough to work anyway, and you definitely didn't have the money to move all your stuff either way. And you don't mean to let it slip, but your mouth moves faster than your mind as you tell him. "I-I can't afford this."
Your eyes meet dark brown ones, and you don't realize you are exactly how Yoongi wants you. Vulnerable, desperate, and looking to him for help. Fake empathy adorns his features with ease, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as your fingers crumble the paper in your hand unknowingly. "I know, it's not me, it's coming from the people above me."
Yoongi's lies come out easily. Almost like he practiced the sympathy smile before coming here. His mind swishes through multiple thoughts at once. You smell amazing up close. Your chubby thighs are on display with how your robe falls just above the middle of your thighs. And he can tell you're only wearing panties underneath that flimsy robe; it's a fact that he got from checking on his cameras before coming over.
The cold morning air blows, and your nipples peak against your silk robe as you stand frozen before him. Yoongi's mouth salivates from the sight while yours dries up at the sudden news.
Silence falls over you both as your mind reels for solutions that come up empty, and Yoongi is stepping closer. You can feel the heat that rolls off him as he runs a hand through his hair. He's acting like he is unsure, his eyes flickering from the glimpse of cleavage he gets to see from your robe before turning his head to see if anyone is outside or seeing this. Seeing him.
"I uh," his voice is softer, alluring, as he grabs your attention. You're barely registering that he is no longer outside your doorway but actually two feet inside your apartment. "I don't think I should be doing this-" he hums, and something heavy grows in your lower stomach. Your thighs rub, squeezing together as he looks you in the eye, and you catch the glint of something dark a little too late. "But maybe, maybe I could pay your fees for this month."
The air leaves your lungs all at once. If he did that, you'd be able to make rent. If he did that, you wouldn't have to worry about being evicted for at least another month.
"You-" Your lips part, your tongue wets them, and Yoongi tracks the movement with a keen eye. "You would do that? For me?" Your eyebrows furrow, your cheeks flush, and you mistake the twist in your heart as hope. "I- oh my, I would be so grateful! I don't know how I could ever repay you!"
And that's when Yoongi's lips pull up into a wolfish grin. This must be how predators feel when they catch their prey.
"Oh, well, I think we could figure something out."
-
Yoongi knew this was how it was always going to go. He has you lie on your back, your robe falling open, and giving him the perfect view of your full breasts and stomach. Your face is flushed up to your ears, your eyes all round, and innocent that it makes his cock strain against his slacks wantonly.
You were so easy to coax into showing him your bedroom. And you were so easy to agree to let him do this. He likes to think you are just as depraved as he was, selling your body to him just because he can help you with your lease.
And he's going to take good care of you. Get you to make such pretty noises as you let him do what he wants.
His palms grab your ankles, sliding up your legs until you spread your thick thighs for him. "So pretty," he hums, and your face flushes as he exposes your chubby cunt to his hungry gaze.
Your panties barely cover you, and the thin fabric is embarrassingly damp. Your panties are saturated with so much of your slick that it sticks to your puffy wet folds like a second skin. And if Yoongi were a better man, he'd take his time, give your pretty pussy a good inspection, and eat you through your panties until you were crying.
But he's too impatient.
He honestly didn't think he'd get this far, and he didn't think your body would respond to him so well. It feeds his ego, his cock throbbing with need as his fingers hook into your ruined panties. "Is this all for me?" He asks, dragging the scrap of fabric down your hips and legs until you are left in just your robe. "Fuck baby, you're dripping wet."
Yoongi's words make you hot. Your body is rising in temperature as you whimper. You don't see him shove your panties in his back pocket, but you do watch him unbuckle his belt, his fingers dragging his zipper down nice and slow for you.
"You just need a good fucking, huh? Your pretty head shouldn't have to worry about money. You shouldn't have to think about anything but cumming, huh?" Yoongi pushes his jeans down, smirking, his eyes focused on how your pussy flutters, agreeing with him.
You can see a prominent bulge in his boxers, the outline of his cock making your mouth water as he stands between your open legs. He pushes your plush thighs open wider, his multiple rings on his fingers cold on your heated skin.
Yoongi's thumbs part your wet folds, giving him an intimate view of your pretty pussy and making your eyes gloss over as he groans. "You're just perfect, aren't ya?" And before you could give him a reply, his fat thumb circles your clit, applying enough pressure to make your jaw drop in surprise.
The moan you let out is music to his ears. Your thighs are falling farther apart as his free hand squeezes your soft thigh in appreciation. He works on your sensitive clit like a toy, getting you from wet to gushing in mere minutes, your body arching and begging for more.
And again, if he were a better man, he'd prepare you. He'd have you cum first on his tongue and then his fingers a few times before he has you cream on his cock. But he's been wanting this for so long that the moment your arousal can be seen dripping onto your sheets, the last threads of his sanity are snapping.
You barely realize his hands slip away from you to shove his boxers down before you're feeling him guide his cock to your pretty pussy. There is no discussion, no time to really think about what you're allowing him to do before he's sinking the first few inches inside your chubby cunt with a low groan.
His cock is big, and he's bullying your gummy walls apart to take him deeper, inch by mouth-watering inch. The stretch makes your fingers curl into the bedsheets as he keeps pushing forward. "That's it, take all of me. So good f'me, baby." He praises, and your eyes roll back.
When he bottoms out, it's like you can feel him in your lungs. The tufts of hair at his base tickle your clit, and his balls rest on your ass as you try to adjust to his size. Drool forms on the corner of your mouth when his tip kisses the back of your cunt with ease, and your moan comes from the back of your throat. "Oh fuck," you curse, and Yoongi takes that as his cue to slide almost all the way out.
He leaves just his fat tip inside your quivering pussy, your walls spasm around the head of his cock greedily before he snaps forward. His thrust knocks the breath from your lungs and has your mind blanking as he smacks into your cervix like it was his to bruise.
And then he does it again, and again, slamming into you with enough force to make you forget everything but the shape of him he carves into your sopping cunt.
Yoongi holds your hips in a bruising grip, pulling you to meet his nasty thrusts until your eyes cross. The room fills with your cute little "ah!" and "ohs!" as he draws his name along your cervix with his tip. Your pussy squelches filthily with each deep thrust he gives, and it's better than he could have ever imagined.
Your pussy slurps his cock deeper, sucking him in like you don't want him to leave, and it's got his jaw clenching in restraint. If he doesn't focus, he'll cum too soon, and he wants to keep enjoying this. The tip of his cock smacks into the sweet spot inside you harder because of it. He builds your orgasm fast, alarmingly so, and you're scrambling to warn him or possibly run away, but he's having none of it.
"You tryin' to run, Baby?" He huffs with a lovesick grin. Your pussy is making him feel more delirious by the second as he drags you back. "No, don't do that. You can take it- want you to make a mess and cum on my cock. I can feel it, you're close. Are you going to show me how grateful you are f'me?"
Yoongi pulls your orgasm from you with a wicked grin. Your scream echoes as you cum hard. It brings tears to your eyes, your hands grabbing his wrists where he holds you by the hips to keep you in place.
And his pace never falters. He doesn't stop fucking you. Fucking you through your orgasm until it builds right back up again. He reduces you to babble, begging nonsense until you're creaming for the second time, his name the only thing you can cry out in salvation.
Yoongi won't mention that the fees are fake. That he made them up to get you just like this, teary-eyed and dumb off his cock. Instead, he plans to hold this over you. Because soon enough, you'll be all his, and you'll want to be his. It just might take a couple more orgasms until you get that through your pretty head.
Synopsis ✨ Mingyu has been your assistant ever since you become head of department and he's amazing at his job. But then he makes the wild suggestion of pretending to be your fiancé for a friend's wedding and things start to become....strained.
Genre ✨ Fake dating, pining, angst, fluff, smut
Warnings ✨ lots of pining, angst, miscommunication, oc is self conscious about her body and liking Mingyu, an argument, Mingyu is such a cutie (he's whipped), her friends are asses at the start, oral f. recieving, vaginal fingering, face riding? (sort of), hints at subby Mingyu, he cums in his pants, cum eating
Word Count ✨ 12k
a/n ✨ this is part 1 of 2, the second part is their wedding night so basically porn with no plot. If you'd like to be tagged in part 2 let me know, or there's a link to my permanent taglist on my main blog page. Thanks for reading! 🩷
“So, we’ve put you at the kids table again, we could pay for childcare but,” a snicker that makes you grind your teeth, “what’s the point when you’re there and they all love you so much, it’s a win, win!”
You hear your best friend, Yongsoo, laugh with her fiancé and you decide there and then that you no longer want friends. You’ll become a nomad, a wanderer, someone who doesn’t need anyone or anything.
“Maybe she’s bringing someone!” You always liked her fiancé, now you hate him. The way he says it like it’s the best joke he’s ever told makes you feel like a complete idiot.
Your assistant places the floor designs for the new apartment block you’re designing onto your desk but pauses when he sees the look on your face. It’s somewhere between pain and wanting to rip someone to shreds.
“Who’s that?” He mouths.
“Yongsoo.”
He knows what’s happening now, he’s seen this play out again and again over the past two weeks whilst Yongsoo has been finalising her wedding plans and so with that, the seating plan. You’re certain that when you told him your friends had a habit of seating you with the kids at their weddings, he thought you were joking. But now it’s clear that it seems that someone being single, in your friends’ eyes, goes hand in hand with free childcare.
It did used to be you and Minhyun, an old friend from university but he decided to become an OnlyFans streamer and so your friends, ultimately being prudes, decided he wasn’t allowed to sit with you and the ever-growing brood of children.
You had asked him if you could star in a video with him, but he said your bosses probably wouldn’t like it. That and he was very much still as gay as ever and so unless you grew a key appendage, he wasn’t interested.
Discrimination. That’s what it was.
And so now all you have to look forward to this weekend, at your bestie's wedding, is being the entertainment for the kids.
“Yeah, right babe, like ____ has found anyone. She never leaves her office.”
Mingyu glares at your phone but you shake your head to tell him to ignore them, you’re used to it. They don’t mean it in a horrible way, they just don’t understand that you enjoy your work. You enjoy designing things and seeing people love them, to create their homes and families in the buildings you’ve designed. And it isn’t like you haven’t had boyfriends, you have, but they just were equally as dedicated to their work and so they’ve always fizzled out.
Their need to get married and have kids is great for them, it’s not even something you’ve ruled out, you’re still young. But it’s just not something you want now, and they find that whole idea foreign.
“You’ll die alone if you don't start living your life!"
Well, that’s just fucking harsh.
“Actually, I’ll be coming with her.”
You stare at Mingyu. He’s leaning over your desk, shirt sleeves rolled up, speaking into the phone that now has nothing but a stunned silence on the other end of it.
“____? Who’s that.”
You can’t speak. What the hell is he doing?! It’s one thing to go alone. It’s another to turn up with your assistant. You can hear it now, “Oh _____, the only man you can find is your assistant?” or “oh my god, are you paying him?”.
Before you can even answer them, your brain only just catching up to what he’s said, he speaks for you.
“I’m her fiancé.”
WHAT THE FUCK?!
“What the fuck?!” You hear them shout in unison at the end of the phone, such is the shock of you having a fiancé.
You can understand it, you didn’t know you had one until about ten seconds ago.
You hear Yongsoo asking a question, but Mingyu cuts her off.
“Sorry!! We can’t talk right now! We have dinner reservations. Bye!”
You stare at your phone, the screen illuminating with messages from Yongsoo and within a couple more seconds, your group chat, her probably having told the rest of your friends what just happened.
“Sooooooo…you need anything else? Or am I ok to head home?”
Did you imagine what just happened? You must’ve done because he’s just acting like it hasn’t just happened. That he hasn’t just announced to your whole friend group, basically, that he’s your fiancé.
Does he think it’s a joke? He thinks you’re a joke? That he can just set you up like this and then laugh at the fact you have to arrive there alone and explain that your own assistant thinks you’re a fucking joke?
You didn’t think Mingyu was like that, he’s always been kind and caring, making sure you work more as a team than as an assistant and boss. He’s your eyes and ears in the office to make sure your team work well and he makes sure you eat, sleep, even drink water, when you’re heading for a deadline and panicking.
So why has done this to you now?!
“Have I done something to annoy you?”
He stares at you, standing in front of your wide glass desk like a deer caught in headlights.
“No, boss.”
He doesn’t seem to be lying. But then he’s also acting like what he’s just done, hasn’t happened.
“Then why have you set me up like this, Mingyu?!”
You lean back in your chair, taking in the man in front of you. What doesn’t help is the number of dreams you’ve had where the adonis of man you call your assistant, is waiting for you at the end of the aisle. But he has a girlfriend and he’s never shown any interest in you like that anyway. It wouldn’t be right, you’re his boss. Nothing could ever happen. It doesn’t stop you thinking about it a lot. Particularly on nights where it’s just you and your rose toy. But it could never happen. Never will.
And you hate that you feel bad for shouting at him. You hate that little pout he does.
“They were being dicks to you _____! I couldn’t just stand there and let them laugh at you like that!”
“They were just being how they normally are, it’s a running joke!”
“Well, it’s not very funny!”
Why is he getting annoyed about this? He’s caused this!
“And how funny is it going to be when I arrive there on my own and have to explain that the fiancé, they didn’t know about, has disappeared?! Fuck Mingyu…..my parents will be there. All my friends. Why the fuck have you done this?!”
“I just panicked!!”
“It was nothing to do with you!!”
He looks pissed, his usually handsome features tarnished with frown lines as he glares at you.
“I thought…..I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t think.”
“No shit Sherlock.” You rub your temples, thinking of a way to get round all of this. “Just go home Mingyu, I’ll hire someone or something.”
He doesn’t move though. He just stares at you.
“Hire someone?”
“There must be apps where lonely women can hire a man for the day.”
“Like a prostitute?”
“I don’t want to sleep with them. I just want…” you gesture your hands trying to think of how to put it, “company!”
“You’re going to ring up a random man and pay him for company? And you don’t think that they’re going to think you’re paying them for sex?”
You can’t believe you’re having this conversation with him. But he does have a point about that, you suppose.
“Or I could go to a bar. Find someone there.”
You need to do something because the prospect of turning up there without the fiancé Mingyu has just made up, makes you want to throw up.
No. You’ll find a man and then in a couple of months, he’ll very sadly be hit by a car. Not literally of course. It might actually work out well, they’ll leave you alone about finding yourself a man, because you’ll technically be in mourning. Mingyu may have inadvertently done you a favour here.
“I’ll come with you.”
It’s the perfect plan really, it’s. Wait. What did he just say?
“Pardon?”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Where? I don’t really want to go to a bar with you when I have to meet someone. They might think we’re a…..”
“No. I’ll come with you to the wedding.”
You stare at him. You’re sure there’s several reasons human resources can pull you into an emergency meeting because of the suggestion he’s just made.
“You’re my assistant.”
“No shit Sherlock.”
You can tell he’s enjoyed using your own line against you, his smug grin threatening to break free as he watches you struggle.
“You’ll come to the wedding with me? And how do I explain where my fiancé is?”
“He’ll be there. I’ll be him. It’ll only be for a weekend anyway.”
Your heart both leaps and cracks at that. What you wouldn’t give to be in his girlfriend’s position.
“I can’t ask you to do that Mingyu, that goes way past being professional.”
“You’re not taking a prostitute or some random drunk you find at a bar looking to make a quick buck. At least if it’s me, you’re safe.”
“Hyejin won’t mind?”
Mingyu looks perplexed, your question obviously having caught him off guard. You know he thinks they’re both being sneaky, but it’s clear as day to you that they’ve been dating a long time now.
“No? Why would she mind?”
“I guess it’s just work,” you nod, more to yourself than Mingyu. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, boss.”
“And you’ll tell human resources that it was all your idea, if they ever find out?”
“I will.”
You’ve got a bad feeling in your stomach and in your heart about this, but he’s not really left you much choice.
“Ok.”
“Perfect,” he smiles, “I’ll bring my over night bag with me tomorrow and we can leave straight from here after work.”
“O-ok.”
He doesn’t wait for you to say anything though, just happily walks out of your office like this little plan is the most normal thing in the world.
“Haven’t you filled that damn diary with ‘I love ____’ yet? How have you still got shit to write?”
Mingyu slams his diary shut when he hears his friends enter the staff room. The last time his friends got hold of it, they spent the next two weeks laughing at his drunk ramblings about how the love of his life doesn’t even care that he spends his nights planning their wedding.
“I’m just writing a couple of rules for this weekend that’s all,”
“Oh shit have I forgotten game night again?! I swear I’m not playing if she still hasn’t learnt the rules.”
“Oh does ickle Wonwoo not like losing?” Hyejin squeezes Wonwoo’s cheeks together much to the disgust of Wonwoo.
“I just don’t like losing to someone who cheats.”
“Prove it bitch.”
Just before Wonwoo can gear up to have yet another argument about Hyejin’s wavering loyalty to any game rules, Mingyu interrupts.
“I’m going to pretend to be _____’s fiancé for the weekend.”
Silence. Hyejin drops the finger she was aggressively pointing at Wonwoo and stares in horror at Mingyu.
Shit, he was hoping they’d be a little less shocked and a little more ‘oh that’s weird but totally normal and in the realms of what an assistant should do for his boss.’. But instead, he’s met with a look of disgust and utter confusion.
Because of course he is, none of this is fucking normal.
“You’re going to…..” Hyejin looks at Wonwoo who just shrugs before they both look back at Mingyu, “you’re going to pretend to be your boss’s fiancé? For….. what reason? Have you banged your head and got a concussion? Let me see that diary, have you been drinking?”
“NO!” He pulls his diary away and puts it under his ass.
“You’re going to pretend to be your boss’s fiancé?”
Is that not what he said? Why are they just repeating it back to him?! He knows what he said, he just needs to know how to get through it.
“It’s her best friend’s wedding and they normally just use her as free childcare because she’s the only single one, which is so fucked up.”
“Oh well you should have said that sooner, now it makes perfect sense!”
“Exactly,” Mingyu nods.
“NO, YOU IDIOT.” Hyejin shouts causing Wonwoo to snort but Mingyu to jump about a foot into the air, “You cannot think this is a good idea. How did she even agree to it?”
“I didn’t really leave her much choice. I just said it to her friends when she had her phone on speaker.”
Wonwoo can’t control himself at this point, he all but falls to the ground in laughter.
He wishes he’d never told them. Assholes.
“Mingyu, seriously, you’ve been in love with her since the day you started working for her. Your puppy dog eyes follow her around any room she’s in. And she’s fucking oblivious to it, how is any of this going to end well?”
“It’ll work. I can do it, she shouldn’t be treated the way they treat her because she’s single.”
“I agree. She’s a badass with a great ass,” Wonwoo nods along with Hyejin, Mingyu tries to not let the jealously of others commenting on your ass get to him. His opinions on your ass stay between him, his hand and his 3 am ramblings in his diary, “but that doesn’t mean you have to make it awkward for both of you. How does she explain where you are at other gatherings? Or is this a long-term acting job?”
“I don’t know, she can say we broke up or something. I just thought I was helping her.”
The true horror of what he’s done is only just catching up with him, his head lands on the table of the staff room as he lets out a deep groan.
“Is it too late to back out?”
He knows it’s bad because Hyejin never shows her caring side all that often and now her hand is rubbing soothing circles on his back. Even Wonwoo gets up to make him a raspberry tea to try and calm him down.
“We’re leaving after work.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.”
“What were your rules? You said you’d written rules.”
“Don’t kiss her and don’t tell her I love her.”
He hears them chuckle but to their credit they don’t out right laugh at him.
“They’re pretty solid rules I guess, make sure you stick to them.”
“I will,” he scoffs, sitting back in his seat, “there’s no way someone like _____ would ever be interested in someone like me.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind driving?”
“_____, I’ve driven your car more than you have. Just sit back and relax.”
He’s right, he does drive this car more than you. Every few weeks you panic that he feels more like a chauffeur than an assistant, but he more or less tells you to shut the fuck up and get in the car.
“Thanks for doing this,”
You must’ve thanked him ten times today already but now you’re actually on the road, it feels more real. Like there’s no going back.
“It’s cool. It’ll be fun to finally meet your friends, I hear enough about them.”
That warms your heart, you know he’s probably just saying it but the fact he cares enough to try and put your worries at ease, helps a little.
To say you felt a little embarrassed about this whole thing would be an understatement. You spent most of last night tossing and turning worrying that he thought you were pathetic or that you couldn’t find a date on your own, so he’d taken pity on you.
You’re aware you’re not ugly but when every single woman you’ve come across recently looks like she should be walking a runway, and you’re stood there just bigger than them in general, it can knock your confidence.
Even last night your normal routine would’ve been to orgasm your worries away, but your mind always wanders to Mingyu. Which on a normal night would only tip you over the edge quicker. But with your mind plagued with worries that he thought you were just some desperate woman who couldn't find a date, it felt almost like you were insulting him to use the image of him in your mind, to get yourself off. Like he’d take it as a personal offence that someone who wasn’t as hot as him would think about him that way.
“Which one?”
“What? Sorry, I was miles away.”
“I could tell that,” Fuck there’s that smile again that makes you go weak at the knees, this weekend is already seeming like a massive mistake, “I was saying do you want the crispy potato or the chicken skewers from the service station. I think I’ll get both because it’s like a three-hour drive and it’ll be late when we’re arriving at the hotel. Oh! And some of those little doughnuts then we’ve got a sweet treat.”
He looks so happy rambling on about what food he wants. Does he even realise what an amazing person he is? He probably doesn’t, you just hope Hyejin tells him every now and again.
The thoughts from last night are still in your mind, and you just can’t seem to shake that he must think you’re this joke that he has to humour. You're not even sure you could eat even though you are hungry.
“I’m good thanks.”
You look out the window, ignoring the look on Mingyu’s face. Is the way he’s clenching his jaw now the same as he does when he…..
“You need to eat something _____.” he interrupts your thoughts.
“I’m still full from lunch.” A lie, but he doesn’t need to know that “you have something! Use my company card.”
“No, it’s alright. I’ll wait till we get to the hotel, then we can both eat together.”
You wish your heart didn’t flutter when he says together. And you hate that he’s called out your bullshit in the kindest way possible.
Even though Mingyu is your assistant, you had shared a bed a few times. When you’d had to travel for work, and hotels had made an error, which had happened at least five times from what you can remember. So, you weren’t overly phased about sharing a bed with him now. Presumably Hyejin was ok with it, you can’t imagine he hadn’t mentioned it to her and if she was ok with it, then you could be too.
The room was exquisite, but then you’d expect nothing else from Yongsoo, since you were children, she’d been planning her perfect wedding and so you knew it would be nothing less than incredible. You weren’t a bridesmaid, she had asked but her sister was the other bridesmaid and you'd still not forgiven her fully for making out with your college boyfriend, add that to having to stand in front of room full of people? No thank you. Yongsoo understood, she didn’t agree, always telling you about the many men that look at you, but she respected your feelings and didn’t push it. She did make sure though that you had all the perks of a bridesmaid, a suite for yourself and various little gifts saying how pleased she was she was spending her wedding with her oldest friend.
For all their bitching and joking about your love life, in all other respects your friends were your rocks, and you know they just wanted you to be happy.
As soon as you got to the suite, you rushed to take a shower, hoping all of the bad thoughts and worries would be washed away with the stinging hot water.
And they were. That is until you’re confronted with Mingyu, taking the cloches off the room service in shorts and a tight vest. How does he just look like that on a daily basis? Muscles rippling, broad golden shoulders flexing whenever he moves, he’s like every woman’s perfect fantasy. He is your perfect fantasy. You’re suddenly pleased you’ve changed into baggy sweats and sweater, the less he can see of you, the better.
“Feel better?”
His dazzling smile lights up when he sees you walking over to the dining table in the corner of the suite.
“Yeah, much better. Thank you again for driving.”
“No problem. I hope you’re finally hungry now, I think I went a bit overboard.”
He scratches the back of his neck and all you can do is desperately try not to stare at his biceps, so you avert your eyes.
In doing that though you realise just how much food he’s ordered.
“Are we expecting guests?”
“No, I just didn’t know what you’d feel like, and I could eat a literal horse and so yeah…. hence all this food.”
You nod and take a seat. He doesn’t speak, when he said he was hungry, he wasn’t lying. You’ve never seen one person inhale a burger in two mouth fulls, but somehow, he manages it.
It’s only when you’re both finishing off the two sundaes he’s ordered, desperately trying not to watch him bite into a strawberry, trying even harder to not to watch as a little trickle of juice falls from his lip and down his chin.
You need to stop thinking of him like this, he’s taken and not interested.
“Are you sure Hyejin doesn’t mind all of this.”
He pauses, spoon in his mouth and eyes wide, like he’s been caught out. Does he really think it’s not obvious about them? They’re always together.
“Why do you keep asking about Hyejin?”
“Well…..I can see you’ve been trying to keep it low key but….”
“Keep what low key?”
“Your relationship?”
He stares at you and you find yourself wanting to shrink into your seat. For a man with such a beautiful smile, his stern face can be a little unsettling, to say the least.
“S-she’s your girlfriend, isn’t she? Sorry, I just noticed it and I know I’m both of your boss but honestly, I don’t see a problem with workplace relations….”
“She’s my best friend.”
“That’s sweet,” you try to smile through the fact that they have that kind of perfect relationship, where they call each other their best friends, as well as partners. It’s what you’ve always wanted to be honest.
At least he has that, he deserves it. And that’s what you’ll keep telling yourself to make yourself feel better.
“_____, she’s my best friend. No offense, but we’d kill each other if we were in a relationship. Plus, you’re much more her type than me.”
Oh.
Well shit.
“I’m sorry! Shit I’m so stupid. I just thought because you spend so much time together.”
“I spend a lot of time with Wonwoo too. I’m not dating him either.”
“True. Sorry…..Not that it’s any of my business anyway. Sorry.”
“It’s ok, boss.”
You wish he wouldn’t call you that. It’s just another reminder that you’re just his boss to him.
Mingyu can clearly see there’s something on your mind, but he presumes it’s about the mix up that’s just happened and not because you’re literally in love with your assistant.
He leans forward a little bit to try and catch your eye, you looking everywhere but at him.
“It’s ok,” fuck his voice is so soft, like he actually cares more than employee should or would.
You shake yourself out of your thoughts, you just need to get through this weekend, and things will go back to normal.
“I think I’m going to go find my parents room, I haven’t seen them in weeks.”
“Cool just let me get my shoes.”
You freeze as you get up from the table to get your own shoes, why had you not even thought about him having to meet your parents properly?
“You’re coming with me?”
“I mean, it’ll be weird when they think you’re bringing your fiancé, if I don’t come with you?”
“Oh. Yeah, true.” You try to remain calm but already the idea of having to lie to your parents doesn’t sit well with you.
He just smiles at you as he makes his way to the suite door, holding it open for you like the gentleman he is.
Luckily, he’s put a hoody on over his vest, otherwise you’re not sure you’d make it through the rest of the night.
The universe really has a way of being spiteful. Why would it put you in a position where the man of your dreams is pretending to be your fiancé and then it turns out that your parents actually like him?
Your dad hasn’t liked a single boy you’ve brought home since you were a child. He’s always been overly protective and didn’t want any boy in your room, even if it was your gay best friend from high school. He even threatened an ex-boyfriend once for the mere suggestion that you’d be sharing a room over the holidays when you visited them. Whenever he was introduced to ex- boyfriends he’d sit and glare like something out of a mafia film until eventually they left.
But Mingyu? He must be some sort of parent whisperer because your dad is currently telling him all about the fishing retreat he’s booked with his friends. Your mom has said four times what a “charming young man” he is and already planned out what she intends to cook for him when you both go to visit. At this point it’s hard to tell who’ll be more upset when you and Mingyu call off this fictitious engagement, you or your parents.
“You should come with us! I’m sure there’s an extra room in the cabin.”
You smile at how kind your dad is being and you don’t want him to be disappointed, but you know there’s no way Mingyu can go. Why should he even want to?
“I’d love that! What were the dates?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls up the calendar on his phone, looking to see if he’s free or not.
“Don’t look so horrified _____! Your dad and his friends won’t bite!” Your mom chuckles, before she goes back to watching your dad and “fiancé” plan their, now joint, fishing trip.
What the hell is he even thinking about, agreeing to go on a trip with your dad. It’s one thing to do this whole fucking performance for the weekend but it’s another to drag your parents into it. This is already hurting you. You don’t want them to get hurt in the process.
An hour passes by and you note it is getting pretty late. And it isn’t like you’ve gotten a word in anyway, Mingyu has gone down a storm with your parents and although it warms your heart that he seems to like them as much as they like him, it’s pissing you off how careless he’s being.
But is it even carless? It feels more like spite to be honest. He knows none of this is real, it’s going to make the whole thing so much harder to deal with when you have to tell them that you’re not together.
That you’ve broken off the engagement that never was.
You hug your parents goodbye, Mingyu holding the door for you, smile faltering slightly when he realises that your smile drops as soon as you’re away from your parents, a look of simmering anger replacing it.
If you weren’t so hell bent on getting back to your room and finding out what the hell his game is, you might have heard what your parents said behind you.
“It’s not like you to like a man she brings home.” Your mom mumbles.
“I wanted to hate him. Wanted to obliterate the fucker for not even asking permission to propose. But he seems a great guy and……did you see the way he looked at her? As soon as they walked in, I could see it in his eyes.”
“He loves her.” Your mom nods, both then retreating into the room.
“He does.”
You walk ahead of Mingyu back to your room, you’re not sure how you’re feeling because you don’t know what the fuck he’s doing. It’s seeming more and more like this is all a game to him, that he doesn’t care about what happens after this weekend with your friends and family, because he doesn’t need to be involved in the aftermath.
He gets a free weekend away, in a nice suite, free food, free drinks and then gets to go back to his life and you have to watch your dad be upset because Mingyu isn’t going away with him and his friends.
You can take your emotions being played with. But not your family’s.
You wish you hadn’t showered when you’d first arrived because now you’ve got no way of getting away from him for a little while. You’re not even sure what you want to say to him. You’re caught between your heart feeling like he’s sticking tiny pins in it to break is slowly and wanted to strangle him for being so careless where your parents are concerned.
“What’s wrong?”
You look up from your phone to find him sitting on the bed next to you.
“Nothing.”
You turn your eyes back to your phone. You’re not even doing anything, you’ve been staring at the same email confirmation for the past two minutes.
“Don’t lie to me, boss.”
There he goes with the boss thing again. Is he going to say that tomorrow, in front of your friends? Just to reaffirm that you’ll never be with someone like him, not in reality anyway.
“Could you just decide what your fucking angle is with this whole thing?”
“What?” You can tell he’s confused, but you don’t care.
“You keep calling me boss. Are you going to do that tomorrow too? It’s like going from one extreme to the other Mingyu. You go from whatever the fuck that was with my parents to calling me boss? It’s hardly going to be very convincing is it.”
“What do you mean ‘whatever the fuck that was with your parents’?! I liked them! They liked me!”
“You liked them? That’s why you’re messing with their feelings?! We’re not together Mingyu and you’ve led my dad to think he’s taking you on a fucking fishing trip! Do you know how many men he’s hated, not even given the time of day to, and then he meets you and likes you so much he opens up his heart to you like a father would a son in law?!”
“So, you’re mad your parents liked me?” He frowns.
“YES! Because now it’s playing with their feelings as well as m….. As well as being confusing for us.”
Your hearts pounding in your chest. Nearly telling him that it’s playing with your feelings would have made this whole thing even more embarrassing.
“As well as what?” He presses, eyes burning fierce.
“As well as nothing.” You dismiss, “I get my words mixed up when I’m stressed.”
“I’ve seen you stressed. You don’t get words mixed up then.”
Fuck him for knowing you so well.
“Well, I did this time. Is this all a joke to you? I’m a joke to you?”
Now he does look pissed, he stands up quickly, staring down at you whilst you’re still sat cross legged on the bed.
“Why would it be a joke to me?!”
“Why else would you be here Mingyu?! What, you think I’m that pathetic I need you to do this for me? I bring the seemingly perfect man whose way out of my league, he makes my family and no doubt friends fall in love with him. And you don’t expect me to wonder what he’s getting out of all of this?! It’s just fucking cruel. It’d have been kinder to just laugh at me like my friends do!”
He’s silent for a moment, shock masking his usually kind features. It breaks your heart a little more that he doesn’t deny he’s out of your league.
“You think I'm like that? That I'd treat you like that?!” Him shouting so loud makes you jump in your seat.
“I didn’t until you just dragged my parents into this!”
“What was I meant to do?! Say no? Tell your dad to fuck off?!”
“I don’t know! Just not that! It’s going to make it even harder when they never see you again!”
A flash of hurt crosses his features before he just scoffs and walks off to the bathroom.
Leaving you alone. Again.
You should be used to this feeling by now. But sadness washes over you when you realise once again, he’ll never see you as anything more than his boss.
By the time he comes back from his shower, you’re pretending to be asleep on the very edge of the bed. He doesn’t come to bed straight away and you wonder if he’s going to sleep on the sofa. But instead, you open your eyes enough to see him, he’s writing in a pink and purple diary, stuffed with extra pieces of paper and looking like it’s more than well used. Your heart aches a little when your spiralling thoughts try to tell you that that diary is probably filled with thoughts about you. About how pathetic you are and how much he hates being here or even working for you.
Once he’s done, diary secured in his bag, you feel the bed dip as he gets in.
You fall asleep pretty quickly once he’s there with you. There’s just something about him that makes you calm even when you’re heartbroken.
Thank god Yongsoo booked a suite, you and Mingyu had managed to avoid each other somewhat for most of the morning. You showered whilst he still slept, when he went in the shower after you, you went to catch up with Yongsoo before the wedding. When you came back, he was changing in the bathroom into his suit and so you took the opportunity to change into your dress in the suite’s dressing room.
You’d chosen your dress before all your insecurities around Mingyu reared their ugly head. You loved it, a sky-blue slip dress which had a small matching string belt to accentuate the small of your waist. You weren’t thrilled about the thin straps, feeling somewhat exposed but you felt sexy and confident in it none the less. Or you did. Now you just feel like shit, having to pretend to be the fiancé of a man who sees you as nothing more than his boss.
You put your final thin silver necklace on, deciding to layer your two favourites, one was from your parents and one from Yongsoo on your last birthday, deciding they matched quite well with your bangles and simple pearl earrings. Your makeup was simple, classic you could say, minimal base, a small smudge of light pink blush, a simple shimmer on your eyes and your old reliable soft pink gloss. You wore your hair down, not really feeling the need to do some fancy hair do, being just a regular guest rather than a bridesmaid, so soft curls were the easy answer.
If this had been the you of two days ago, before Mingyu decided this was a good idea, you’d have been proud of how you looked. But now? After yesterday? You hated everything about it.
But today isn’t about you. It’s about your best friend. The best friend who took you to the emergency room when you were in university because you’d fallen off a bar table, drunk. The best friend who you’d move heaven and earth to make sure was happy.
You had to man up and do this.
You take one last deep breath, grounding yourself by holding the cool doorknob, before you finally leave the dressing room.
He doesn’t notice you when you first leave the room, you being quiet as a mouse and him being once again engrossed in his diary.
And you’re pleased he doesn’t because the second you see him, your soul bids you farewell and launches itself off the balcony. He looks, for want of a better word, beautiful. The type of man every woman thinks about when they picture their perfect man. He wears suits to work but nothing like this, this one looks like it’s been fitted just for him rather than off the rack, and to your surprise he’s paired it with a black dress shirt and black tie. If he’d have described it to you before today, you’d have reminded him this isn’t a funeral, but seeing it? There’s no hint of morbid around this outfit choice. It’s suave and sophisticated and if he’d just let you, you’d happily climb him like……
“Hey,” he interrupts your thoughts once he spots you standing by the dressing room door.
You swallow heavily when he runs his eyes up and down your body. You’ve never wanted to run away and hide more in your life, you’re caught between wanting his opinion on your look for the wedding and never wanting to hear a single thought he has about your body in your life.
“You look b…….”
“Shall we go?”
You interrupt him, you’d just feel like an even bigger fool hearing whatever pitiful compliment he was going to offer you.
“S-sure.”
He rushes to put his diary in his bag as you head for the door. You walk side by side but a stoney silence follows you all the way to hall which the ceremony will be held in.
You quickly find your seats next to your parents, them greeting Mingyu almost as warmly as they greet you.
You take in the scene around you, it’s opulent and exactly how you’d imagined it to be. Luscious fabrics adorn the chairs, rose petals are scattered along the aisle and candles are lit on every surface you can see. Yongsoo has really done herself justice with this, five-year-old her would be squealing with joy at what adult her has managed to achieve.
“I meant to ask last night,” your mom murmurs to you, not wanting Yongsoo’s nosey aunts in front of you to hear what she’s saying, “where is your ring? You’ve surely not said yes without a ring.”
Shit.
Why didn’t you think of this?! Of course, engaged people have rings!
You stare at your finger, hoping somehow an answer will appear to help you.
“My mom always promised me my grandmothers,” Mingyu leans forward to speak to your mom, “and I haven’t been able to get home in a few months. I didn’t trust her mailing it because, well, we all know what the mail service is like at the moment. So _____ said she’d be happy to wait until we manage to visit in a few weeks, then I can give it to her properly.”
Your mom looks fit to burst with happiness at that answer, a proud smile plastered on her face.
“You don’t have to tell me! Three weeks I’ve been waiting for my new engine for my train!”
“Your train?” Mingyu looks at you and your mom, a little confused.
“It’s his train set.” Your mom huffs in disgust.
You can’t help the sheepish grin as you watch your parents knowingly, as they carry on with their same old argument. Your mom hating his train set and your dad believing it’s his most prized possession.
Mingyu watches it play out, sending you a smile as he settles back into his seat.
You wish that smile didn’t shoot right into your heart, somewhere between happiness and crushing pain.
“Thanks for that, I didn’t think about the ring.” You say for only Mingyu to hear.
“No problem, boss.”
You don’t respond, just sit in the broken pieces of your heart as he once again calls you boss. Another rotten reminder that you’ll never be anything more.
The ceremony passes by in a blur of muffled sobs from family members and vows that sounded more like poetry than any who’ve heard before. But you’re not really paying much attention, you’re not even sure how you came to be stood at the side of the dance floor watching your best friend and her now husband share their first dance.
“Should we d…..”
“Should we get a drink?”
This time you don’t mean to interrupt him, but you’re relieved you did. You’re not sure you could cope with being so close to him, him being that close to your body, holding you.
“I’ll go get us some,” he rushes, probably relieved he doesn’t have to spin his boss around the dance floor, “I’ll be back in a sec.”
He’s gone as quick as he says it as you happily watch all the in love couples strut their stuff on the dance floor, now the music has become slightly more upbeat.
Five minutes pass and no Mingyu.
10 minutes and you begin to wonder just how long the queue for the bar is. You avert your eyes but quickly spot him. Leaning against the bar, Yongsoo’s sister hanging on his every word and her hand on his bicep.
You feel your last scrap of confidence wither and crumble. This is history repeating itself. Only this time, he’s supposed to be your fiancé and not your dead-beat university boyfriend.
You’ve no idea why but your feet move of their own accord, different thoughts throwing themselves at you with every step you take.
Of course he’d like her, she’s gorgeous. Why did you think this was a good idea? What happens when your parents spot him flirting with some other woman?
This whole thing has just been a lesson from Mingyu in how to embarrass someone and ruin their life. Has he been like this the whole time you’ve worked together? You didn’t think so but then you don’t truly know him.
You thought you did. But you didn’t.
It’s only when you end up at your feet’s desired destination, do realise you’ve brought yourself to the children’s table. Old habits die hard and, to be fair to them, they always inflate your ego, them all thinking you’re very cool building great big buildings.
“_____!”
They also say excitedly, one of them knocking over their fake pink plastic wine glass of soda.
“I couldn’t miss out on the fun, could I?” You huff as you throw yourself in a seat at their table.
Has Yongsoo just decided they can look after themselves? Surely, they need someone.
It’s just as you’re pondering Yongsoo’s lack of care for the little terrors that you spot her grandfather, fast asleep and with a moustache drawn on his face.
“Who’s work of art is that?”
“Mine.” One of the little boys says proudly, knowing you’d never tell any of them off.
“I’d give it a solid 8 out of 10, good work.”
His proud smile warms your heart, at least they’d never judge you and make you feel like an idiot.
“Why aren’t you with your furniture?”
“Fiancé.” You chuckle, happily letting Jiyoung sit on your knee.
“He’s talking with some people.”
You don’t know what takes over you, you really don’t.
“Never trust a man Jiyoung. All they do is break your heart and disappoint you.”
Well, that’s great, now you’re mentally scaring the younger generation and making sure their parents will be asking you some very odd questions when they inevitably snitch on you.
“Is your heart broken? I could try and fix it, if you like.”
She truly is the kindest little girl you’ve ever met. Sadly, you’re too far gone in your wallowing and not even her looking at you like you know everything in the world, stops your rant.
“You can’t break a heart that was already in a million pieces.”
Way to dampen the mood _____.
“I broke something into a million pieces once.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, my mom bought a glass photo frame, and I knocked it off when I was being spiderman.”
“That’s cool.” You and the other five-year-olds all agree.
It’s only when you’ve finished re-braiding Jiyoung’s hair that you spot Mingyu looking round the hall.
“I just need to make a call.”
“I just got comfy!!”
“You’re a big girl Jiyoung, I’m sure sitting on a chair won’t hurt your bum.”
She moves but not before glaring at you.
“Don’t frown, the wind might change and your face will stick like that.”
She smiles begrudgingly as you make a quick dart away from the table.
“What shall we tell your fridge?”
“Fiancé.”
“That’s what I said.” She rolls her eyes.
“Just say I went back to the room, he probably won’t ask.”
“Will you come back though? We normally dance together.”
You never thought you’d miss the children’s table, but you now realise how much fun you have entertaining them.
“I’ll be back for that.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“And” you stop to look at Yongsoo’s grandfather before you leave, “he could really do with something rude written on his forehead.”
“LIKE POOP?!”
“Good idea! You do that and I’ll make my call.”
This softens the blow of you leaving, all of them rushing to write poop on the poor man’s forehead. It’s lucky you know him and know he’ll see the funny side. If it was her grandmother, you’d all be grounded for two weeks. Even you.
“Why are you in here?!”
Shit, you hadn’t even heard him come in the room. Why does he look so pissed?
“I just needed a break.” You stand up from the sofa.
“From what? You’ve barely spoken to anyone, apart from your fellow children.”
“Fellow children? What the fuck is that meant to mean?!”
“You’ve been acting like a child all day. Sat in a mood and pouting. Do you know how many people have asked me if we’ve had an argument?”
“Not many, I expect. I’ve only seen you talk to one person.”
He stares at you, breathing ragged like he is genuinely pissed off at you.
“This can’t all be about your dad and that fishing trip.”
“It is about that! That and the fact it’s fucking embarrassing having to be the woman that can only pretend to mean something to someone like you. And then I see you flirting with her and I thought, what’s the point? She’s already stolen one boyfriend off me, why not a fictious fiancé.”
Your stomach drops. You didn’t mean to say that. Your mouth opens and closes, no words coming out as he stares at you with an unreadable gaze.
You presume he’s going to say something but instead he rushes past you to his bag.
Is he leaving? How the fuck do you explain that?
You hear the shuffling of pages before he rushes back to you.
“Read that.”
It’s not a request, it’s an order.
Your eyes scan the page.
“There was no need for them to bring April into the show, it ruined the flow and stunted…..”
“NOT THAT PAGE SHIT.” He snatches it back and skips forward a couple more pages. “That’s from my rewatch of Gilmore Girls. Read that.”
He shoves the diary back into your hands.
“Don’t kiss hot boss. Don’t tell her you love her.”
The world stops around you, you can feel your heartbeat all over your body. Your first thought is that it’s a joke, but why would he write it in something nobody ever sees?
He loves you? Mingyu. Loves…..you?
“You.....” you stare back at the page, “you love......me?” you point at yourself. “What?!”
He startles slightly at you shouting but slowly takes the diary off you and places it on the table.
He edges closer ever so slightly, like he’s not sure what reaction he’s going to get.
“That whole diary, well most of it anyway, is filled with every little thing about you that makes my heart flutter and melt. About how much I think about you every day.....and every night. About how much I want you. Need you. More than I’ve ever needed anyone. How you’ve had my whole heart since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Tears well in your eyes, heart trying to break free of it’s cage.
“If you skip forward a few more pages,” he points back to his diary but makes no attempt to get it, “it’ll say how fucking pissed off I was with you last night for saying you’re not my type or not in my league. I know my type. My type is you. Just you.”
“I didn’t know,” you whisper, arms folding over you out of shame.
“I think you’re the only one that didn’t. Your dad caught me just as I came to find you to say that he could see it in my eyes how much I adored you. Fuck, when I told Hyejin about this weekend she was worried I’d even make it through it, laughing at me because apparently my eyes follow you around every room like a lost puppy.”
You chuckle a little at that and he finally sees that as his sign to move a little closer.
“I didn’t think you’d like so......”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence if you’re going to say what I think you are. You’re perfect. Pick up that diary on any page and there’ll be something written about how perfect you are.”
“Any page?” you challenge, remembering his rant about Gilmore Girls.
“Well. Almost any page.”
“I spoke to your friends.”
“She’s not my friend.” You snap.
“Not her, she didn’t stay for long when all I spoke about was how beautiful you looked tonight,”
“But she touched your bicep.”
The words leave you before you can stop them. Your cheeks heating a little at your jealously bubbling over.
“She did. And I asked her to move her hand. Told her there was only one woman I wanted to touch me.”
Your body tingles at that, though you try to remain calm.
“And I meant your other friends. The ones that are about 3 feet tall.”
“They’re all liars.” You dismiss with a shake of your head. “Famous for it.”
“Are they?” He grins, moving so he’s standing as close as possible to you without touching.
“Hm-mm.”
Your eyes are transfixed by him, your mind and body frozen in his whole aura.
“So she was lying when she told me you’d said all men do is break your heart?”
You scoff, a nonchalant act trying to shield your embarrassment.
“Or that you didn’t suggest that they write something on that poor old man’s forehead?”
“Did she just tell you everything I’ve ever said?! When I get hold of her,” you shake your head. “She’s lost her dancing privileges with me.”
“Good. Maybe I can have them instead.”
You can’t help but smile, your heart now doing somersaults.
“Can I take all of this to mean that you might just feel the same way I do?”
Your eyes dart across his face, trying to find the tiniest hint of a lie on his features.
“I feel the same way you.” You say quietly.
He doesn’t even give you chance to say anything else, his big hands cover your cheeks as he connects his lips with yours. Any shock that may have been there disappears when his hands move off your cheeks and onto your waist, bringing you flush against his chest.
His kiss is desperate, filled with need and longing, his soft lips moving against yours easily as his fingers dig into your skin. His tongue prods at you, begging for entry and you happily accept it. It’s wet and needy, his tongue roaming around every part of your mouth it can. His tongue swirls around and around, your fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, when you tug it slightly your pussy tingles at Mingyu’s moan that vibrates on your tongue.
He moves you back towards the bed, lips never leaving yours and tongue continuing it’s assault on your own.
It’s only when the backs of your knees hit the mattress that your brain catches up with your pussy.
“What are you doing?”
“I didn’t get breakfast because someone was acting like a five year old,” he ignores your horrified face, instead deciding to drag his tongue along your tits. A satisfied chuckle leaving him when you arch slightly into his touch. “so I’m pretty hungry.”
You know where this is going. But you need a couple more seconds to build up the courage to show someone, even Mingyu, your body after a shit couple of days in your own head. So you stall him.
“And what does that have to do with me?”
Your breath hitches when he bites the soft flesh of your right breast.
He raises his head to look at you.
“Please, let me taste you. Please, I’ll be so good for you.”
Fucking hell he looks so pretty when he begs. You always wondered if he’d be some sort of hard dom or the type to whine when he came. Now you know and you can’t help yourself.
“Well when you ask so nicely.”
You kiss him once more as he guides you back onto the bed, making sure you’re comfortable with your head resting on the pillows.
He moves onto the bed after you, eyes eating you up, as he moves closer. It’s only when you try to spread your legs for him you remember how tight the dress is over your thighs.
“Can we move this up?”
You take a deep breath.
“Ok.”
He smiles at you for trusting him as your lift your bum for him to hitch your dress up over your thighs and ass, it bunching pretty messily around your waist.
You’re suddenly plagued by the same thoughts as this morning, the tightness of the fabric around your waist making it even more obvious you’re not flat and toned and sexy like the women he’s probably used to.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, you look beautiful in your dress.” He looks up and his smile falters when he sees worry on your face. “What’s wrong _____?” he leans over you, thumb stroking your cheek.
You almost lose your train of thought when you feel something hard poking your thigh.
“Just. I don’t want you to see me and change your mind. The past two days since we decided to do this, I felt like I was playing at someone you’d like. I always thought you’d be with someone.....smaller?” your heart skips a beat when he clenches his jaw, “just even during the night when I’d normally....”
You slam your mouth shut. That is absolutely not something he needs to know.
His dark eyes snap to yours.
“During the night what?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me ______.”
“I-i. Normally......when I can’t sleep I........”
“Masturbate?”
“Well you don’t have to say it like that.” You frown.
“How else should I say it? You finger yourself? You tease your clit again and again until you cum undone and finally go to sleep?”
Your mouth hangs open at his words. Not really sure how to answer it.
“Do you think of me when you do it?”
You nod.
“So what was different about the other night? After we’d made this plan?”
“It felt like I was insulting you. Using thoughts of you to get myself off.”
You say it quietly but see no reason to not tell him the truth. He says he loves you, after all.
“Insulting me?” His gaze looks down the bed, taking in your exposed lower half, “someone with the greatest tits I’ve ever seen? With an ass that literally mesmerises me every time I’m behind you. Fuck I could’ve murdered Hyejin when she said you had a great ass the other day. I hate the idea of anyone seeing you. And it’s a shame you weren’t playing with yourself the night before we came here. Because I was thinking of you, thinking of how much I want to fuck your incredible thighs until I’ve cum all over them.”
Well shit. You’re not sure what’s more wet, the tears streaming down your cheeks or the ones that would be streaming down your thighs if not for your, probably now ruined, panties.
“I don’t ever want to hear you question how much I want you. How much I need you. I think you’re the hottest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in my life.”
“I think the same about you. B-but man I mean, hottest, most beautiful man.”
He laughs, eyes glittering as he looks down at you.
“You know what’s stupid. We’ve both been sat thinking the exact same thing? I didn’t think someone like you would ever look at someone like me.”
He can’t be serious. He’s like something out of a high-class porn film!!
“Well that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Guess we’re both stupid then.” He shrugs. “Now. Can I please get on with what I wanted to do?”
He’s almost whining, fuck his eagerness only makes you wetter.
“Be my guest.” You say smugly, legs opening as he settles between them.
The second he spots the wet spot on your panties it’s like he’s been possessed. He rolls your panties down your thighs, putting them in his pocket and takes off his suit jacket and tie. Him rolling his sleeves up shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does but it’s like he’s preparing himself, wanting to make sure he has no barriers stopping him from getting to you.
Mingyu lays on the bed, tiny, teasing kisses being placed up your leg until he reaches your pussy. He stops for a second to truly take in the beauty of it, staring in awe at how wet you are. He gives you one quick glance before he dives in. His finger and thumb spread you open, his high-pitched moan making your clench around nothing, when he sees truly how wet you.
He licks a long stripe from your aching hole to your clit before twirling his tongue around the tiny bud before his tongue sets back down on its journey down to your hole, again.
Your hand comes down into his hair, pressing him a little closer and your hips buck slightly when you notice just that first taste of you has him rutting his hips into the mattress.
You’ve never been one to take charge in the bedroom but the way he’s sucking on your clit like he’s desperate and his hips are humping the bed, you have a sudden burst of confidence.
Not in the ‘I’m going to dominate him' kind of way, although maybe one day, but in the talk him through it a little bit, kind of way.
“Does it taste good Mingyu? Does my,” you moan when he sucks harder upon hearing your voice, “does my pussy taste good?”
“Hm-mm,” he nods, humming into your pussy, the vibrations on your clit making your mind spin.
“It’s feels really good baby,”
The pet name has him pressing his face further into you, tongue twirling up and down your pussy before carrying on sucking your clit.
You’re hypnotised by the way his hips move with every sucking motion on your clit. Shit, he really wasn’t lying when he said he wanted you, needed you.
Two big fingers prod at your entrance, as though he’s silently asking if he can slip them into your sopping hole. You don’t answer him, just move your hips slightly so the tip of his fingers stretch you open a little.
Your head throws back onto the pillows as he moves them slowly, easing them into you at a tantalising teasing pace. When he thinks you’ve adjusted, he moves them quickly in and out of your clenching pussy as his tongue now flicks over your bundle of nerves again and again.
Your moans are quiet compared to Mingyu’s. If someone was to walk past the room they’d think he was being fucked into next week. The fact he’s making those noises just because he’s pleasuring you, only makes you wetter. The room is filled with his moaning, bordering on whining, and the sounds of your sopping cunt as his two fingers plunge in and out of you.
You grind your pussy down onto his face, the need to cum on it ever increasing, causing the hand he has on your thigh to ripple into your skin. His hips move quicker the more you pull and tug on his hair keeping him exactly where you need him as you basically ride his face.
“I’m really close,” you manage to get out before a strangled moan takes over when he adds a third finger, that taunting tongue never stopping on your clit.
You can feel your heart beat in your ears as your hips keep grinding onto Mingyu’s face, his fingers being sucked into your greedy pussy every time it thinks he’s leaving it. It takes a couple more flicks off his tongue before he sucks hard and you come undone on his face. You hear a strangled moan from him which only makes your pussy clamp down on his fingers, as they try their best to keep finger fucking you through your orgasm.
Your whole body twitches, heat spreading through every fibre of your being, his big hand on your thigh the only thing reminding you that you’re not floating. His tongue slows, gentle twirls replacing the harsh sucking action as his fingers finally leave you. You continue to twitch slightly as he licks up every last drop of you that he can, before begrudgingly leaving your pussy and sucking his fingers clean whilst he’s still between your legs.
You’re both catching your breath, fingers running through his hair as he rests his forehead on your thigh.
“You’re really good at that.” You whisper, a chuckle escaping when you feel him huff out a breathy laugh against your thigh.
“Thanks.” He mumbles into your soft flesh before he kisses it gently.
“Did you....”
“Hm-mm.”
You stare at the ceiling, a goofy smile on your face at the idea of going down on you making Mingyu cum in his own pants.
“Are you laughing at me?” he challenges, moving up your body and looking down at you.
“No,” you smile up at him, moving his hair back off his forehead, “just feeling.... I don’t know...... Proud?”
“Proud?” his eyebrows draw together in confusion, though his smile remains.
“It’s not very often you make a man cum in his pants.”
He rolls onto his back then he doesn’t collapse on top of you with his laughter.
“What can I say, I finally got my head between the thighs I’ve admired for so long, what’s a man to do?”
He wraps his arms around you, bringing you into his chest.
“I don’t normally speak like that during sex,” you admit, it just now catching up with you that you’d been bold enough to even ask a question like that, “I hope it wasn’t weird.”
He draws back to look at you.
You decide there and then you hope he always looks at you with so much love in his eyes.
“It was perfect. You’re perfect. Everything about it.”
You grin and kiss his lips once more before settling back into his arms.
“I need to change my underwear before we go back down to the party.”
He wants to go back?! If you’re being honest with yourself you were hoping to see what exactly was poking against your leg, not that long ago.
Your face must say as much because he laughs into your hair.
“I believe you promised a certain little lady a dance and I’m owed several dances. Plus. Now I can show you off properly, like the couple they think we are.”
You freeze.
“We’re not....we haven’t been on a date yet Mingyu!”
You sit up and look at him, ignoring the way your dress digs into the soft flesh of your stomach. Your body is covered in goose bumps when he sits up with you, fingers slightly soothing the skin you were so wary to show him, with nothing but affection.
“They don’t need to know that do they! But we’ve both said we love each other. Well. I.....”
He freezes in horror when he realises you never said it back.
“I love you too.”
He sighs bringing you into his arms, both of you sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Then they don’t need to know we’re not engaged. People take years to get married, we both work and stuff, by the time we do get married they’ll never know we weren’t engaged here. And plus...... Now I can finally hold your hand down there, like I’ve been wanting to all day. I swear people were starting to wonder why we were barely stood near each other.”
“I’m sorry for yesterday.....”
“Hey now, I get it. You were protecting your parents. But I am going on that trip, I’m pretty excited to be honest.”
You look at him skeptically.
“I am! I really like them and they seem to like me.”
“I meant what I said, my dad has hated every man he’s ever met. I think that’s why I got so annoyed because he’d have been so upset when you flaked on him.”
“Well that won’t be happening. Come on, we need to get back down there.” He stands, grimacing slightly when his underwear feels sticky.
“I’ll change my underwear and then we can go,”
He turns to leave so you can sort yourself out before you head back.
“Hold on! You’ve got something of mine!”
You stand, pulling your dress down, trying to smooth the creases.
“What?”
“My underwear.”
He looks you up and down, tongue poking his cheek before a smug grin forms on his lips.
“Nah, I think I’ll keep them.”
He walks off, leaving you staring after him in horror.
“I’ll just put fresh ones on then!”
“I wouldn’t bother!” he hollers as he enters the bathroom with his fresh Calvin’s, “As soon as we’ve stayed a polite amount of time, you’ve paid your dancing debts and I’ve eaten actual food, they’re coming straight off!”
“Fuck.” You mumble, willing your pussy to not start dripping.
“Exactly.” He smiles when he comes back in, having changed in record time. “Now.” He looks down at his suit trousers, “have I got cum on these?”
You can’t help but laugh as you wander over to him, now you’ve got your shoes back on.
“Mingyu?”
He looks up at you straight away.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
He pulls you into him, kissing you dramatically before letting you go.
“I love you too.”
He takes your hand to leave but you pull him back one last time.
“Please never call me boss again.”
“Yes.......boss,” he winks before he drags you out of the room.
“It’s my turn!!!!”
Jiyoung ignores Mingyu as he stands, whining next to your dancing bodies. You’d been jumping around, twirling her in your arms for the past three songs.
“I think it is his turn Ji.”
“Tough. He was eating instead of being a good fridge.”
Mingyu frowns at her as you try not to smile.
“Fiancé.”
“That’s what I said!” She rolls her eyes again, just like earlier.
“You know. I heard they’re going to throw the bouquet soon. You don’t want to miss that, do you? If you leave now, you’ll have a good spot for when the dancing finishes!”
“REALLY!!” She stops mid-jump, a look of wonderment on her face. “BYE _____, I HAD A REALLY NICE TIME!!” She shouts as she runs off.
The music changes into something slow as Mingyu finally gets his hands back on you. A proud smile on his face as his hand lands on your waist, the other holding your hand, as you both begin to move to the music.
“You don’t want to try and catch the bouquet?”
“I already have a fiancé.” You smile proudly. “I don’t think he’d be very happy if I went knocking over five years olds to catch a bouquet.”
“Damn right he wouldn’t. Not that bouquet anyway,” he looks over at a flower arrangement in disgust, holding your waist a little firmer, almost possessively, “the ones I’ve picked out are much more elegant.”
You freeze, feeling his body tense under your fingers.
“The ones you’ve picked out?”
“W-well,” he shrugs, “I had a lot of free time on my hands when the woman I love was utterly oblivious to it, so I’ve pretty much planned out the wedding.”
His cheeks turn a rosy shade of pink when you throw your head back in laughter, though he does pull you even closer to him
“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. I need to see more of that diary."
“You wait until you see the corseted lingerie I’ve drawn for the wedding night. Your tits will be falling out of it as I fuck you again and again until you’re crying.”
He whispers it right into your ear, snickering a little when he hears the tiniest of moans leaving your mouth.
You don’t get a chance to reply, your parents fast approaching from the dining area.
“We’re heading up to the room ______ , my nights of dancing the night away are behind me and your mother says her bunion is agony.”
“I DID NOT SAY THAT!” She slaps his shoulder.
You and Mingyu end your dance and turn to face them, him holding your waist so you’re as close as possible to him.
“I’m really happy for you, munchkin.” Your mom says proudly, kissing your forehead. “Don’t leave it too long until you visit, we could go to a spa or something whilst they go fishing.”
“I’d love that, thank you mom.”
“You make a beautiful couple,” she adds, moving to hug Mingyu goodbye, “look after her. She’s our most treasured posession, even more than the trainset.”
You roll your eyes but laugh along with the three of them anyway.
Your dad hugs you goodbye before moving to shake Mingyu’s hand.
“You make sure you always look at her like you did last night and we won’t have a problem. And I’ll email you about the fishing retreat.”
“When did you exchange emails?” You frown.
“Come on dear,” your dad rushes off whilst you stare at Mingyu, “lets leave the love birds to it!”
“We swapped emails earlier.”
“But we were fighting earlier.”
“Last night, after what you’d said, I decided I’d finally tell you how I felt when I was brave enough. It was the first time I felt like you’d given away that you felt the same way as me. And so I figured I’d be going on the fishing trip.”
“That’s very cocky Mingyu.”
“What can I say. I always knew we were meant for each other.”
He kisses you to stop you arguing back.
“Have we stayed a polite amount of time?” you mumble against his lips.
“I reckon so.” He grins, shamelessly looking at your tits.
“Eyes up here Mingyu.”
His eyes flit up to yours, nothing but mischief in them.
synoposis: the one where Namjoon is trying to show he's down bad for you
warnings: mdni, 18+, popular! Namjoon, plus size! reader, praise, namjoon fell first, dirty talk, alcohol mentioned, multiple orgasm, protected smut, a cute love story, college au, mention of jin, mention of jimin, flirting, chain necklace, manhandle, etc.
requested: Can you write plus-size girlie fics for Namjoon and Yoongi? I appreciate plus-size rep especially when it’s for Namjoon (Yoongi too), but there aren’t tons of fics for Joon. Don’t know why the man is fine as hell☺️- inside and out.
Tagging: @gottafightwhentheysaybehave
A/N: shout out to @ahgasegotarmy116 for reading this when it was only half done and sharing similar brain cells as me! Also, ignore that I've used these photos before. I love them, okay? lol
wc: 4.3k +
Everything about Namjoon is big.
If you were to ask his friends to describe him, they’d laugh, bunching their shoulders up to give off a taller and broader stance before simply saying, “big body.”
And it was true.
Namjoon had bulked up in college, finishing long days in the gym with a workout to relieve all the stress of classes, a part-time job, and the dread that one day in the future he might actually have to get a driver’s license and not ride a bike everywhere he went.
His body had developed thick muscles, toned hips, and broad shoulders that he almost had to enter through doorways sideways to get in.
He was a big man, and only someone soft and warm could ever handle his strength.
Someone like you.
-
You didn’t believe Namjoon liked you at first.
He was tall, big, and popular. A dimple smile that made anyone who saw it swoon, he was smart too, top ten in all his classes he took.
You really didn’t think he would notice you.
I mean, you’re pretty positive he had a secret fan club of girls and guys who adored him. You’re also pretty sure the president of the club was Jeon Jungkook, but don’t quote you on that.
You were just happy to keep your head down, pass your classes, and enjoy your college life with your little friend group. You didn’t need to get roped in with the unnecessary stuff like who was popular or who was dating whom.
But that all changed when Namjoon asked if he could sit at the table you were sitting at in the campus library. You were catching up on some assignments, preparing for one that wasn't even due till the end of the month, and suddenly there he was.
Tall, three books in one hand, flashing you those dimples like there wasn’t a free table, two tables to your left.
You had thought it was a one-off situation, letting him share a table with you.
You two had quietly studied together for a few hours without even exchanging a word.
It was honestly very refreshing. And when you had finally closed your laptop, standing up to give a little stretch, you didn't even notice the way his eyes trailed over you.
You simply gathered your stuff, shoving your books and laptop in your bag as he continued to pretend to read. You didn't know he had read the same sentence from the book in front of him five times in a row at this point.
When you sling your bag over your shoulder, you finally look over at him, a soft pink dusting your cheeks with color as you speak up. "See ya in class." It's a simple, small sentence you throw out as you accidentally brush your body against his shoulder to scoot past to leave. You mentally curse the chairs being so close together, feeling your soft body rub against his firm one, while Namjoon is "thanking" whoever designed the building to allow the physical contact to happen.
And you think that's it. Nothing would change in your life other than possibly giving him a head nod in acknowledgment the next time you two were in a class together. But you were sorely mistaken.
-
Namjoon is sitting next to your usual spot in class the next time you see him. He's got his textbook out, pen twirling nonchalantly in between his long fingers as he gives you another dimpled smile in greeting, and you only stumble once while heading to your seat.
"Hey," he greets, and you try not to think about how much you spill into his space. The chairs in most of your classes weren't made for bigger-sized people, and you usually tried to keep your bag in the seat next to you so you wouldn't bother people with how you filled your seat.
But with Namjoon occupying the seat, your thigh is pressed against his, your body squeezing into the chair with a blush. "Hi," you reply softly. You were already trying to figure out how to make yourself smaller. The metal arms of the chair dig into your plush thighs, and you notice that Namjoon doesn't move his leg from yours.
His long legs are spread, his foot barely a centimeter away from your left shoe, and your mind flashes a brief thought: how would it feel to have his arm wrap around the back of your chair? To have him welcome your body into his as you two attend this class.
Instead of diving into that thought any longer than you should, you shake your head clear, not noticing the way Namjoon fails to fight his giddy smile. He tries to keep it cool, bouncing his left knee as his right knee leans into your leg. And you're distracted by Namjoon once again, noticing how comfortable he seemed next to you.
Namjoon mentally sends another "thank you" to whoever designed this college, thankful to have someone so warm and soft squishing into his space. He wonders how much better it'd be if he could just sit you on his lap, and his face flushes all the way up to his ears.
You two don't exchange another word, the professor stepping inside the room with a warm greeting.
And for the rest of the class, both of you blush, pressed into each other, trying to focus.
-
And then it becomes routine.
You would come to your Psych class to Namjoon already seated.
And like the first time, you'd squeeze into your seat, your hip bumping into his until it became natural for him to rest his elbow on the arm of your chair. He did it slowly, building up the courage to get more than just a simple greeting for you.
Eventually, you stopped furrowing your eyebrows, confused why he was sitting next to you, let alone talking to you. And it's not long before you two start passing notes. You easily grab his pen from his hand to doodle something random in the margins of his notebook during the professor's lectures, and it's the highlight of Namjoon's day when you did it.
Your dynamic progressed from notes being passed between you to him offering you a snack, and then, every Thursday, a bag of gummy bears rested on his desk as you two slowly ate them throughout class. He naturally gave you every orange-flavored bear, resting it on your open book while you traded him the pineapple-flavored bears in return. And then finally, he took the next step when the following Thursday came around.
You had figured it'd be the same routine. The class was already going by quickly as you two leaned into each other. But then Namjoon is getting up first once the class is over. He seems a little nervous. You had started understanding his body language a bit better as time moved on. Still, you never seemed to think much of the lingering touches when he borrows a pen or when he slides his notebook over for you to draw random swirls in the top corner absentmindedly.
Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, his eyes not meeting yours as he watches the class begin to empty. "There's a- There's a party tomorrow night."
You blink.
A party? And then you remember.
Yes, a frat party for spring break. It had been the talk on campus this week; everyone was excited for a weekend party to welcome the start of spring break, the small vacation away from classes needed so much for everyone on campus.
And when Namjoon looks down at you, still seated, you're giving him doe eyes as you nod your head - and his heart squeezes.
"I think I'm gonna go," Namjoon adds and then quickly rushes, "to the party. I think I'm gonna go to the party." His fingers twitch, but you give him a pretty smile, your lips curving up in amusement as you nod your head again.
"Yeah?" You stand up and know that if you barely move an inch, you'd be pressed up against him. You give him another cute look as you tilt your head up to look at him, and decide to give him the chance to tell you this isn't what you were thinking. "Maybe I'll see you there?"
You know you're flirting, and you don't know if you should be - you don't know that he's truly catching what you're putting down, but you decide to give him another smile as you leave before him, looking forward to Friday night more than ever before.
And Namjoon groans the moment you're gone, he stands alone in the empty classroom, his brain replaying your coy smile over and over again.
-
You can't believe you're showing up at this party, but then you see his dimple smile flash in your mind alongside all the small moments in class that made you feel warm throughout your body. It's anticipation, it's undeniable now that you have caught feelings, and you feel a little nervous as you walk up Greek Row.
The party is in full swing, with crowds of people lingering on the front porch and lawn as you get closer. The music is already loud from where you stand across the street, and you just know the house shakes on the inside as you watch groups of people spilling out while more saunter in.
Your stomach flips, butterflies fluttering inside your tummy as you really think about this.
If anything, if you read the signals wrong, you can still have fun and tell your friends you officially attended a college party, even if it took you basically four years to do so.
And that's what gets you stepping inside.
The house is packed, and people are everywhere. The entry hallway, the stairs leading to the second floor, the little glimpse of the kitchen you can see towards the back of the house, and the living room, most of all, are packed with dancing bodies. All the couches had been moved along the walls to give space in the middle of the room for people to dance, and a mock DJ booth was set up in the right corner of the living room, where you could see one of the fraternity brothers acting as DJ.
Strobes of lights flashed from purple to blue, red, and green, changing to match the beat of the song currently playing as people bumped and grind already drunk off of cheap alcohol provided from the kitchen. You weren't sure if the smoke swirling in the rooms was from a fog machine or if it came from weed that you knew was being smoked inside another room, but it was the cherry on top of the cake for a classic frat party aesthetic.
It was a little overwhelming, to be honest, and you made your way to the kitchen to get a shot of courage before you tried to see if Namjoon was here.
You didn't know Namjoon was sitting on one of those couches in the living room, a drink in his hand while he tried to nonchalantly keep an eye on the front door. He had been at this party for a while now, his eyes flickering to the streams of people endlessly coming and going, in hopes it would be you walking through the door.
And when he finally did see you, he couldn't stop the grin from forming on his face.
-
Namjoon is able to catch up with you in the kitchen. You're standing there, a little lost, as your eyes scan all the bottles lined up on the counter. A lot of cheap alcohol, and a punch bowl that was mysteriously filled with a blue liquid you weren't sure about.
"I wouldn't drink it," Namjoon hums, and you twirl to see him on your left. He's giving you that dimple smile again, his body relaxed as he stands close to you. He looks good. He always looks good. But he looks really good tonight.
He's wearing a graphic t-shirt, jeans, with a chained bracelet that went with his chained necklace. It glints in the overhead light of the kitchen, and it's then that you realize you're staring too long.
"And what would you recommend?" You ask, you haven't had a sip of alcohol yet, but you could feel your body hum, slightly leaning closer to Namjoon as he bit his lip. Your eyes flicker to his lips from the action, and your own lips part before you meet his gaze again.
"Nothing," he smirks, and you can feel the heat that comes from him as he tilts his head. "But do you want to take a shot with me?"
-
One shot turns into three, and you feel a little buzz thrumming under your fingertips as Namjoon leads you back to the living room. You try not to focus on the way his hand rests on your lower back as he guides you through the waves of people. But you do notice how many people greet him.
It's not surprising; you knew Namjoon was popular, but it was still interesting to see how many people said his name or nodded in his direction as he stayed close to you. It seemed the majority of the people knew him or of him, and silently followed him with their eyes as you two made your way back to one of the couches.
You notice Jin, a friend of Namjoon's, already sitting on one of them. He's nursing a drink in his hand when you two approach and gives you a charming grin. "And how does Namjoon know you?" His lips turn up in an amused grin, knowing eyes flashing from you to Namjoon, whose ears burn red. You sit, smiling at the older friend, and try not to react as Namjoon sits so close to you. But you fail, your thighs squeezing together as you give your own charming smile back to Jin.
"Psych with Volkov."
Jin winces, knowing how tough the professor could be, and nods his head. "Say no more, your next shot is on me."
-
True to Jin's word, your next shot is from him, and you two become quick friends as more of Namjoon's friends come around. And as the night goes on, you become more and more relaxed - leaning into Namjoon as you listen to Jimin talk about the projects he needs to work on during spring break. You would complain too if you had to work on schoolwork instead of taking a break like everyone else.
But soon enough, the couches become crowded, and everyone is trying to squeeze together before Namjoon literally takes you into his hands. "C'mere," he mumbles, and your face flushes from how easily he lifts you and places you onto his lap to make room for more people to hang out. Your weight settles on him, and you're a little drunk but not enough to overthink it.
"Wait," Your blush reaches your ears as Namjoon doubles down by wrapping a strong arm around your waist, keeping you against him as you squirm a little. "Everyone is looking." You mumble out, your back is against his broad chest as warmth pools in your lower stomach, and you are acutely aware of the way his large hand rests on your stomach.
You feel him laugh softly, little warm huffs tickling the back of your neck as he holds you tighter. "Who cares? Everyone's drunk. If they're looking, then they just see how pretty you look on my lap."
He says it so easily, so carefree, like it was only natural that you'd be in his lap. He says it like it's obvious you should be with him, and that makes your head get a little fuzzy from the thought of it. His words echo in your head a few times that you can't hide the smile that dances on your lips, and maybe it's the alcohol that makes your tongue a little loose, but you can't help but turn your head a little sideways to look at him. "Yeah? Are there any other positions you'd think I'd look pretty in?"
-
Namjoon’s eyes are hooded when he looks down at you. He's focused on the way your body squishes under his large hands, molding you to him as he has you lie on your back.
Your legs are straining up onto his shoulders, your full breasts spilling from the sides as your knees bend under the pressure of Namjoon’s body leaning over yours. He was folding you in half, making your thigh muscles burn as your lungs shook to breathe properly. All your rolls and curves were squeezed together under the stretch, and your head spun with the way he was able to manhandle you so easily.
Namjoon had always said he could bench press your weight as a warm-up, but you hadn’t taken it to heart. It always made a soft blush form on your cheeks as you nodded your head during your Psych class, dismissing his comment until he physically proved you wrong now.
Your pretty pussy clenched around nothing as Namjoon smirks down at you. His silver chain dangled between the two of you as his big body draped over yours, and you’re already sucking in another deep breath when you feel Namjoon guide his cock between your plush thighs.
"You don't know how long I've been wanting to do this." He murmurs, his voice almost sounding breathless as he guides the fat tip of his cock between your puffy folds. You can't see the way your pussy drools, mixing your arousal with his precum or that it's glossing his cock with a wet sheen that makes his balls tense from just the sight of it. But you do feel him.
Namjoon is big, just like everything else about him, and you can feel the weight of his cock as he presses his hips forward, sliding his cock between your chubby cunt until the tip nudges your clit. Each time he knocks the head of his cock into your sensitive bundle of nerves, your thighs twitch, and your jaw drops from the tingles of electricity shooting all the way through your body.
You're everything he had imagined and then some.
You're softer, your skin dipping to the hold he has on your body. The weight of your legs on his shoulders grounds him while he gets lost in the way your pretty cunt drools all over his cock. He hasn't even done anything yet, and you're coating him with your sweet slick. He can't wait to taste you, but right now, he needs you first.
Mentally, he promises to take his time next time. He wants to map every curve of your body with his tongue and then his fingers, but when you plead his name with a whine, he can't deny you. He'd been wanting this longer than you probably knew, and it doesn't take him long to lean on his knees, stretching your legs open as his cock notches on your entrance.
Then he's giving you something to really stretch over. The first few inches of his cock pressing in leaves you gasping. Your toes curl, your mouth gapes, and your eyes widen as he bullies his way inside slowly. You can feel every inch, every dip and ridge of his cock maze through your gummy walls until you're grabbing onto his biceps for mercy.
"Oh, oh!" Your head falls back, and Namjoon smirks as he holds one of your legs under the knee to open you up wider as your other leg slips off his shoulder. Your eyes are already glossing over, and he's never been more turned on than right now with you.
You're warmer, wetter, taking him better than he could have imagined, and it makes his stomach flex as he listens to the way you cry for him. Both you and your pretty pussy are talking back incoherently when he finally bottoms out. "Fuck baby, I think we might need to do this every day," Namjoon huffs, and your pussy clenches around him in agreement. "Heh- you'd like that, huh? Do you want to fuck you until your body remembers the shape of me days later, Baby?"
"Oh fuck, please, please-" Your eyes roll back just as his hips push backwards, sliding out until just his tip remains. He leans back to see how shiny you left his cock with your slick before he surges forward, knocking the breath from you once more.
He doesn't have to worry about being too rough; your body moves with his like you were meant just for him. And he tells you that too, as he begins to carve the shape of him inside your pretty pussy as he promised. Shivers run down your spine straight to your sopping cunt, your hole fluttering around his length as he picks up the pace gradually. You take the heavy weight he throws into every thrust with a sweet whimper, your nails digging into his arms as his fat tip smacks into your plush cervix with a filthy kiss.
Your swollen folds meet the tufts of dark hair at his base, and you keen at the way his cock massages all the right spots inside you. Your mouth hangs open, drool forming at the corner of your lips as he abuses the sweet spot that makes you see stars with your eyes open. "You're squeezin' me so tightly, you really don't want me to leave, huh?" Namjoon's words only make your head spin more, your hands clutching to his arms, the bedsheets, his shoulder - anywhere to ground you to reality as he builds the knot in your stomach tighter and tighter.
You never thought that the day you two studied together in the library would end up like this, with Namjoon splitting you open with his cock, his fingers digging into your plush thigh and hip as he fucks you, but you're so happy it did. You can feel his balls slap against your ass, the sounds of skin hitting skin resonating with your whines, and it's too much.
"M'gonna- fuck just like that, just like that!" Your chubby cunt slurps his cock deeper, gripping tighter and making it harder for him to leave as his tip swirls a heart against your sweet spot, and just as your brain realizes what Namjoon has done, your vision whitens. You can barely warn him, "m'cumming - oh fuck - oh my god!"
Your pussy gushes, pulsing around Namjoon so violently that he almost cannot keep fucking into you. Your walls flutter, milking his shaft as your brain blanks; the only coherent thought in your mind is him. Namjoon, just Namjoon, as you tremble underneath him.
Namjoon stares at you in awe, the image of your lewd expression crossing over your face searing into his mind as you cum. And the feeling of your body melting under his as he grinds his hips into yours is something he didn't know he needed until now. He fucks you through your orgasm, praising you for taking him so well, how he's wanted this for so long. He tells you how pretty you look cumming on his cock, that he wants to feel you cum on his fingers and tongue too - and it's not long before your orgasm subsides, only to be built back up as he lets your legs fall apart while his toned hips rut into you harder.
You can only hold onto the bedsheets and his back as he drapes his body over yours. You two are pressed hip to hip, stomach to stomach, as he slides in deeper, his hands resting on either side of your head as he makes your pussy squelch with each thrust. He's got you caged in, making you feel each slide forward until the familiar knot in your stomach twists again, and your brain fogs up. He reduces you to just saying his name like a chant, half-broken between gasps as you whimper, "Joon! Mmph, ngh Joon!"
When your pussy clamps around him the second time, your orgasm triggers his own, and his hips stay flush against your ass as he groans lowly. His cock swells, throbbing as he cums heavily while your walls pulse around him. It makes his own eyes roll to the back of his head, your addictive cunt sucking him deeper.
And you're no better, your thighs twitch around his waist, your breath coming up short while you feel him press his weight onto you. You can feel each jerk of his cock along your gummy walls, and you whimper when he eventually begins to slide out. You can feel the loss of him almost immediately as he slips the condom off, both of your panting as you pathetically squeeze around nothing.
Namjoon throws the condom in the trash, disappearing to the bathroom for a moment before he returns with a wet rag. His breaths are still labored like yours as he gently cleans you up, his fingers massaging your quivering thighs as he does so. When he's done, he easily slides into his bed next to you, wrapping an arm around you to pull you close.
"I meant it."
You blink, turning to face him as your leg hooks over his. His hand rests on your lower back, keeping you pressed against him as you tilt your head up to see him.
"I've been wanting this for a long time." Your heart flutters at his words, and your cheeks darken as he continues. "I also meant it when I said we might need to do this every day."
You smile, giggling, and are thankful that it's spring break because you know Namjoon is going to be true to his word. By the time spring break is over, he'll know how you look cumming on his fingers, his tongue, and any other position he can get you in.
✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: "And through some happenstance, casual and cruel, shaped by the hands of the Moon goddesses, you ended up face to face with what They considered your fated mates. Of course, they didn’t know that - how could they recognize their goddess-given match if you had no scent? As long as you didn’t reach maturity, only you would feel this pull, this constant urge pooling at your lower abdomen when their scents filled your nose and sent your eyes rolling back. You knew your place and it was not amongst royalty."
OR
The one where you find your fated alphas, but they can't find you.
✿ 𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: Romance, Humor, Fluff, Angst, ABO, Soulmate AUs.
✿ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: This is a 18+ work! Minors, please do not interact. Also, there will be mentions of violence and abuse.
(Fanfic masterlist)
°•. ✿ .•°
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 - 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬
(<<< part two)
The couple of glimpses of the castle you had managed to get during your flimsy attempt at escaping could not compare to the real thing. The elaborate architecture filled your eyes with wonder, struggling to absorb all the gleam from the stained glass windows and complicated tapestry as Sophie pulled you, arm in arm with a skip to her step, happy with knowledge that she was not about to be fired.
“This is the great hall” she said, gesturing towards a large set of doors that opened to a room unlike anything you had ever seen.
“Is there an event coming up?” you asked, eyeing curiously the hustle and movement inside where people carried boxes from one side to another, cleaning every corner and dusting every surface.
“The king’s birthday, of course!” your companion exclaimed. “The festivities last a whole week, but the main party is held here. This year, I hear it’s going to be a masquerade. Isn’t it so exciting?”
You agreed softly, still focused on the flurry of busy staff illuminated by the sun shining on the glass dome above their heads.
Your mind conjured pictures of decorated arches and lavish meals, dancing couples under the moonlight and all the fun and romance you never had the chance to experience and most likely never would.
With a saddened heart, you pulled your companion forward, urging her to continue with the tour. There was no reason to linger on the things you could not have, as they were insurmountable and currently only seemed to be adding up.
The tour continued and you got to wander around different parts of the fortress: the lush gardens, the high-ceiling galleries, the stables… And everywhere you went, people seemed to work with a sort of chipper disposition you had never observed in your father’s estate. Tasks were fulfilled and chores done dutifully, but never in silence or with dragging feet. There seemed to never be a cloud of gloom in King Namjoon’s halls.
You sighed wistfully. You wished you could stay. Maybe find some quaint job tending to the poppies in the gardens that allowed you to spend your days outside. Alas, your body was a ticking bomb. You couldn’t stay, but you could enjoy this little moment of peace while you had it.
“You must be tired” Sophie said, misunderstanding your sighs. “We have been going around for a while, after all. There’s just one more place to show and then we can sit for tea.”
Sophie directed you to a big structure located behind the stable, made out of an octagonal set of walls. You could hear people inside as you approached and you twisted the fabric of your skirt between nervous fingers. Living a life as sheltered as yours did not allow for much socializing and you had never seen so many people gathered together at once. The large crowds of the castle still made you anxious.
“This is the guard’s training center. Sir Hoseok is very strict about their schedule. They’re here almost everyday” Sophie explained, waving flirtatiously at a sweaty guard passing by.
“Is… Is Sir Hoseok here?” you asked, curiosity getting the best of you.
Before Sophie could answer, someone stepped out of the building and the open door let out a wave of scents that crashed dangerously over you. Even under the layers of sweat and other odors, you could still pick out the one that called to you like a siren’s song, now much stronger and headier.
Hoseok stepped out after his men, panting and sweating, wiping the side of his face with the hem of his shirt. You watched entranced as he made his way outside, the thick haze of his scent getting heavier as he got closer. The way he moved caused his muscles to shift and flex, slow and calculated, bringing a rising heat to your neck that kept climbing up your body.
“Miss Y/N” Sophie called worriedly. “Are you feeling alright? You seem awfully flushed!”
An unknown sort of warmth was making its way through you, starting from your core and burning towards your extremities, leaving you light headed and aching for something you could not name. Suddenly, you could see alphas around you raise their heads and curiously sniff the air around them, trying to find the source of a new, overpowering smell.
Omega.
“Sophie” you whimpered pitifully, folding over yourself in pain. “Take me back to my quarters. Now.”
Hearing the urgency in your voice, Sophie grabbed your arm and dragged you away across the gardens and back through the halls until you reached your bedroom. Trembling, you collapsed on the soft mattress as Sophie locked the door behind her.
“Miss” she said softly, avoiding coming any closer with her nose scrunched “I think your scent is finally…”
Panic cursed through your veins, burning even more violently than the previous sensations. After years of starvation and various methods of self-containment, you could finally smell the one scent you had been avoiding: your own.
You stumbled back up, clumsily making your way towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. Quickly, you opened the faucet to the marbled tub, allowing it to fill up before you dropped any and all available scented products inside, the water turning yellowish with the amount of essential oils. The incompatible odors burned your sensitive nose and your skin started feeling pricklish, but you did not dwell on it before you fully submerged yourself, clothes and all, barely holding your breath.
You hoped the ice cold water would cool the feverish feeling inside you, but it only scratched the surface. You had never felt something as debilitating as that, the overwhelming combination of afflictions taking your strength and will-power, clearing the thoughts inside your head until it left only an echoing prayer, a scream for help that you could not verbalize.
Alpha, it clamored from within you, the most primitive part of your brain taking over the reins of your consciousness and saying it again and again: Alpha, alpha, alpha…
Alpha…
You stripped yourself from your clothes and undergarments, the fabric scratching and itching as you clawed it away from you.
Alpha…
You pressed your hand against your scent gland, nestled between your neck and shoulder, trying to bring some relief to the swelling skin.
Alpha…
Your mind brought forth once more the image of Hoseok, gleaming with sweat under the afternoon sun, his smell bringing you to a boiling point.
“Alpha” you finally said out loud, barely a whisper over the sound of the water, as your hands traveled down to your core to hopefully bring the pain and longing to a halt, even if temporarily.
“Hoseok…”
***
Hoseok could’ve sworn someone was calling his name.
It started when he was leaving the training compound after long hours trying to ease his frailed nerves, letting go of some of his pent up aggression on the slacking rookies. His skin was covered in sweat, but his body had finally started to cool off, bringing an end to the seemingly limitless streak of days on edge.
Until the wind blew towards him and suddenly everything turned black.
His alpha barely allowed him time to think before it took over his motor capacities, raising his face towards what he believed was the source of a fragrance so decadent and luxurious it made him feral.
Peaches and cream, all the sweetness in the world and the prettiest of blossoms, permeated the afternoon fog like a drug. Hoseok felt it so deeply it left him panting, tasting it, lying on top of his tongue like the only meal he ever wanted. In an almost synesthetic manner, it smelled of soft skin and pretty eyes, lush lips and opioid kisses. This scent had a name and he couldn’t place it, but his alpha could, gladly even.
Mate, it provided.
Hoseok came back to his senses and hit the ground running, growling at all the other recruits that had their noses up in the air. Whoever smelled like that was his only and the sound that came from his chest promised violence and pain to any who opposed.
Then he sprinted, something primal carrying him back to the castle. The stronger the smell got, the weaker he was, knees giving in with the sheer weight of what he had found. His mate was there, somewhere, waiting for him. In a world with so few omegas, a mate was nothing short of a blessing and Hoseok was unsure of what he had done to deserve such a serendipitous gift, but he was not about to question it. No, his mind was much too busy trying to pinpoint his mate’s location while creating elaborate fantasies of a pretty omega under him, calling his name with a moan, neck decorated with a crescent mark in the shape of his bite.
At this point, Hoseok was sure he looked animalistic, pupils blown out with need. He kept following the trace left behind by his mate like a hunter, taking deep breaths to let it penetrate his lungs and imprint the inside of his ribs. The smell got stronger and needier the closer it got to the guest wing and Hoseok could almost feel it on the tip of his grasping fingers until he reached a door and knocked violently and mindlessly.
Sophie, the maid, came out and with her the chemical smell of roses and lilies. Not sweetness, no sign of the desert-like signature of his mate. Just the faint scent of a beta and an overwhelming cloud of essential oils that burned his nose and made him recoil instantly .
“Sir Hoseok” Sophie bowed deeply, her face red and nervous under the slight manic stare of the Captain “H-How can I help you?”
His brain could hardly put a whole sentence together. All it could muster was a howl of disappointment. Not mate, it wailed, where is mate?
Before he could answer or do something stupid like growl at poor Sophie, you came behind her, wrapped in a fluffy robe, your skin wet and pink and your hair dripping across the floors. Could be mate?, his alpha asked and at this point it sounded almost like a whine. But the trail had been lost and all he could smell was soap and the clean aftermath of a long soak.
You squeaked, embarrassed and scared, hiding behind the door. That woke Hoseok up from the trance he found himself, the urge to make an omega comfortable taking place over the inner voice of his needy alpha.
“Sir Hoseok” your voice came from behind the door and he could hear your anxiety in it “I’m sorry, but I’m not exactly fit to receive visitors at the moment…”
“Miss Y/N does not feel well, Sir Hoseok.”
Instinct kicked in again, making him approach the door as if he planned to run poor Sophie over “Should we call a doctor? Is there anything-”
“No!” They said in unison, Sophie closing the gap in the doorway a bit more, blocking the view to the room “I’m taking care of her, Sir, please do not fret. Is there anything you need at the moment?”
You waited nervously behind the door, listening to the sound of his uneven breathing matching your drumming heart.
“No, I- I” he seemed lost and confused and indeed he was. He didn’t quite know how he got there, nor where he would go after, his schedule and obligations slipping away from his fraying mind. He tried to find a plausible reason to be panting at your door, especially at such an inappropriate moment, but all he could think about was the crossover of senses mixing peaches with the rosy color of your collarbones.
Sophie watched the exchange with confused fascination, unsure of what to make of the situation: the alpha Captain looking frazzled in the hallway and the runaway omega going through a late puberty behind her. It seemed like the beginning of a lewd joke or the plot of one of those romance tales the older maids hid beneath their mattresses.
“I’m sorry” he said at last and Sophie’s eyes widened, looking at you behind the door and back at the sweaty Captain almost kneeling at the door.
“Sir?” he heard you ask.
“I”m sorry I ran away the other day. I’m sorry I’m probably scaring you right now as well…”
“You’re not- You’re not scaring me.”
Hoseok froze, his alpha quiet for once on his side of the wall, as if he too was listening to you.
“I’ve met scary alphas. You’re not one of them.”
Hoseok could’ve sworn he heard Sophie mutter “Not to you, at least” quietly, but he was too focused on your voice and your words. I’ve met scary alphas. Goddesses, didn’t that just send a spear straight through his already tattered heart.
“I’m sorry” he repeated. “I’m sorry you went through that. If there’s anything I can do-” he didn’t finish his sentence, unsure how. Anything he can do to what? To help? To erase the memory of the abuse you endured? To make sure your father never got to see the sun again?
“Actually, I have one favor to ask, if it’s not too much…”
“Please, do tell!”
“Can you teach me how to read?”
°•. ✿ .•°
✿ The next chapter called "Nameless" is already available on my ko-fi to Calcifer Crew, my membership tier, and will be posted here soon! Click here if you want early access to all my updates :)
Synopsis ✨ The only two single friends in a friend group, who are more frenemies than friends, sharing a room with one bed? That only happens in fanfiction and movies, or so you thought. Turns out your friend's pre-wedding get away is straight out of a movie because you've somehow ended up with Seungcheol. The only other single friend in your friend group who you've never been able to see eye to eye with. It'll be fine. Probably.
Genre ✨ Frenemies to Lovers, forced proximity, one bed trope
Warnings ✨ Seungcheol is an asshole at the beginning, talks about virginity, OC is a virgin (he laughs but says sorry), thigh riding, male masturbation, very slight nipple play, he is so caring during it, talks about him taking her virginity
Word Count ✨ 7k
a/n ✨ I've had this saved in my drafts for so long but I finally did the header design and loved it so here it is (:
“Could you move that bag somewhere....else.” It isn’t a question, it’s a command as Seungcheol gestures vaguely into the distance.
“Where exactly would you like me to put it? Outside?”
“Works for me.” He shrugs as he wanders off towards the bathroom with his numerous lotions and potions.
Ignorant ass hole. No amount of moisturiser will fix him. Yes, he’s gorgeous, you’ll freely admit that, though not to his face. But it’s his cold, black heart that makes him ugly. Ugly to you anyway. He’s sweetness and light to your friends and to the millions of women that find their way into his bed. But to you? He’s a dickhead.
You’re not even sure why he’s the way he is with you. When you’d first met during university, you’d immediately felt drawn to him. You actually think you loved him at one point but he never felt the same. Not that you ever told him, you weren’t given the chance. He made it clear you were barely in the friend category, let alone in with a chance of more. And so now you find yourself giving him as good as he gets, you don’t stand for his bullshit and you’re long past whatever feelings you had for him.
“It’s fucking annoying about this room shit. What if I meet someone!”
There’s that sinking feeling in your stomach again.
Maybe you’re not totally over your feelings. But at least he doesn’t know and that’s the main thing. Because he’d make your life hell if he did find out. And so you vowed to take your feelings to your grave.
“You’ll just have to keep it in your pants for a weekend. I’m sure it won’t fall off if you don’t use it.”
Daggers. You can feel them being aimed straight at the back of your head as he stands across the room from you.
Just as you’re about to turn around to give him your smuggest of looks, you hear the door slam shut.
You tell yourself you don’t care, but the way he behaves with you has been chipping away at you for years and when he does bullshit like that, you feel worthless. You don’t even warrant a goodbye? No, see you later or I’ll be back in a while? No. Just the slam of a door, too insignificant to Seungcheol to warrant basic courtesy.
Some weekend this will be.
You love your friends with all your heart but just sometimes, you wish they hadn’t invited you this weekend. Your best friend was marrying the love of her life, Mingyu, a man who you knew was made for her within the first ten minutes of meeting him. A kinder man you couldn’t wish to meet. Your two other friends were also here with their husbands and so that left you on the peripheries with Seungcheol. You could tell even he was struggling with the fact they were all talking about couples retreats and wedding ideas all evening.
You know they loved you and would always be there for you but it was becoming ever clearer that you were in completely different stages of your life.
Leaving the table you head to your room to pick up a cardigan and your book. They had hours of wedding chat ahead of them and you just couldn’t face it. Seungcheol does well at inserting himself into every situation or simply sitting at the table and talking to whichever woman is lucky enough for him to spend his time on, so he wouldn’t notice you’d gone either.
You’d spotted a cherry blossom tree in the rental cottage's garden, so armed with a blanket, your cardigan and your current romance read, you made it your mission to let this not be a complete wasted weekend. You’d de-stress and be there for your friends if they needed anything. Perfect.
You loved fantasy books and your current read was not disappointing. The prince was just about to reach the princess who was being kept in a dungeon by the evil warlock and.......
“Whatcha reading?”
Why is he here?! He never goes out of his way to talk to you? So why now?
“A book.”
He scoffs and you hope that’ll be it. His sweet yet masculine scent is invading your senses and it always makes you lose a bit of your stoicism.
“What book?
“Why? You going to Google it and ruin the ending?”
Why is he looking at you like a puppy that’s just been kicked? Is this all some new game to lull you into a false sense of security before he throws a bucket of water over you or something?
“Not a bad idea.” He nods and then sits down with you, under the cherry blossom tree.
You ignore him. If you don’t say anything, he’ll get bored and leave.
Two chapters you manage to read, all but forgetting he’s there as the book starts to get a little spicy. It’s one of the reasons you love this author, she mixes fantasy with sex so well and you completely lose yourself in it. You wouldn’t know if it’s true to life, sadly for you, you’ve managed to reach your late twenties without any sort of sexual experience.
It wasn’t intentional, you focused on your studies so much that it had all sort of left you behind. And then it had been too long and you just didn’t know how to go about losing it. So you lost yourself in books and tried to forget that you'd missed out on your wild youth.
You’ve no idea if the way the Princess is riding the Prince's thigh is true to life but you can’t help but think of Seungcheol’s thighs as you read. God you’ve spent years thinking about that asshole’s thighs. About how strong they look. How biteable they look. How much you’d like to........
“That’s such bullshit. _____, why do read such unrealistic shit?!”
Ass. Hole.
“What do you mean?!” you demand, slamming the book shut on your lap.
“Well why would she be riding his thigh for a start?! Out of all the fucking amazing things you can do, why that? And why does he enjoy it so much? When have you ever ridden anyone’s thigh and he’s enjoyed it so much?”
“It’s fantasy Seungcheol. It doesn’t have to be realistic.”
“Yeah, but the sex should be. When was the last time you rode a thigh?”
You don’t answer him, moving to open your book again and ignore the idiot.
A hand comes down onto the cover though, stopping you from opening it.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
Did he actually want an answer?!
“When did you last ride someone’s thigh?”
“I-I’m not answering that.”
His scent is filling your senses, and you can feel your cheeks flushing under his gaze.
“When was the last time you fucked someone?”
His eyes hold a challenge in them, almost daring you to turn away from him as your heart hammers against your chest.
You need to get away from him. From this situation.
“That’s none of your business!”
“Oh come on ____, you can drop your little miss perfect act. When did you last get fucked?”
You feel like you can’t breathe, like everything in your brain is being suffocated by the long-haired man in front of you and you can’t cope with it.
“I haven’t...” Fuck , you’re struggling to keep your words in, what the fuck is he trying to achieve here?!
“Haven’t what?” he pulls back slightly, not realising how close he’d gotten to you in his taunting, and you’re panicked look gives you away. “You’re a virgin?!”
You fight back tears as he throws his head back in laughter. You knew he could be a dick but you didn’t think he could be that big a dick.
You do the only thing you can think to, get up and run towards the house. You hear him shouting for you to come back, he sounds almost apologetic but it’s probably that he doesn’t want the rest of them to see he’s upset you.
Rushing past your friends, they barely notice anything is wrong as you tell them you’re not feeling well and heading to bed.
You know this is his room too but if you get ready for bed quick enough, you can be in bed and pretending to sleep but he saunters into the room.
It only takes you five minutes to do a streamlined skincare routine and brush your teeth, if you’d have remembered to bring your pyjamas in the bathroom with you, you’d be ready for bed already, prepared to spend the night ignoring Seungcheol beside you. No doubt he’ll sleep like baby knowing he’s worked out your darkest secret. It’s not even that you’re overly ashamed of it, it’s him knowing that annoys you more than anything. And the fact that literally everyone will know by the morning, if they don’t already. Only your best friend knows and as she’s probably downstairs sharing goofy in love looks with Mingyu, you don’t want to disturb her.
You just need to get changed and into bed before he gets into the room.
Rushing out the ensuite you head straight for your bag, but something stops you.
How did he even get in here without you hearing? Did he run?
“I’m sorry.”
You wait for a ‘but’, but to your surprise it never comes.
But you don’t want to talk to him. Not now. Not ever.
“Apology accepted.”
You don’t spare him another glance, just get your pyjamas and head back to the bathroom.
If you looked back now, you’d see the look of confusion on his face, normally you’d argue back with him, why aren’t you arguing back?
You can do this, you think as you stare at the bathroom door. Just walk back in there, ignore him and get into bed. That’s all you have to do. You turn the doorknob, take a breath and leave the sanctuary that is the ensuite bathroom.
For fuck’s sake! You don’t condone violence, but for Seungcheol, you’ll make an exception.
“Get off my side of the bed.”
“No.” He folds his arms and you try to not look at how his arms flex.
What an arrogant bastard. He made such a fuss of not wanting to be on the side nearer the door and now his fat ass is sitting there.
“Fine.”
You move past him, but he throws himself across the bed like a fucking annoying starfish.
“You’re not funny. You’ve had your joke. More than one in fact. I want to go to bed. Fucking move.”
Nothing, he just lies across the bed, stopping you from getting into it, face in the mattress. Just one long push and you could suffocate him. But why should you do prison time for him?
There’s no point in arguing with him, especially when he seems hell bent on setting a new world record for biggest prick on the planet.
You look around the room, the sofa is small but looks comfortable enough. You only have two nights here and if you sprint up the stairs before him tomorrow, you can wrestle the bed back from him. But right now, you’ve got no fight in you, you’re embarrassed and dreading whatever tomorrow will hold. You just want to sleep.
Luckily you packed your biggest, most comfortable sweater, fuzzy on the inside so it’s warm and your fluffy socks. The sofa had scatter cushions so once you’ve got your sweater and socks out of your bag, ignoring that huge idiot on the bed who’s still refusing to even look up, let alone move, you turn the lights off and settle on to the sofa.
It isn’t that bad, your mom always said you could sleep anywhere and through anything, and thankfully she seems to have been right.
Poke.
Is he serious? You won’t rise to it, he can go back to his bed.
Another poke, right in your shoulder.
A third, right between your shoulders.
The fourth is where you decide you will actually hurt this man.
“WHAT?!”
You turn around from facing the bag of the sofa, sitting up to stare at him.
“I said sorry.”
“And I said apology accepted. Why are you poking me?”
“You can’t sleep on the sofa.”
“Well, you wanted the bed and I’m tired so fuck off and leave me alone.”
“You dropped your book,”
He takes it out of his hoody pocket and gives it to you.
“Thow it away, donate it, I don’t care. I don’t want it.”
“Oh, come on ____, that’s stupid!”
You can’t help it, everything catches up with you, and tears start streaming down your face. Why did you have to break in front of him.
You don’t want to hear whatever bullshit he’s got to say, you just want to go home but instead you’re stuck here in this hell hole. You chose to turn back over and ignore him. Hoping he gets the hint. For a moment you think he does but then you feel your legs being lifted. He sits down on the sofa and gently places you legs down on his own, so you’re still technically laying down but sort of on him. Why can’t he just leave you alone?! You ignore him. Does your whole body feel like it’s been electrocuted because the man you’ve been pining after for more than ten years has touched you? Yes, yes it does. But you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your reaction, he’d probably say it’s because you’re desperate.
Ten minutes must pass by of complete silence, you’d have forgotten he was there if you couldn’t feel his fingers mindlessly running little circles on your ankle.
“I shouldn’t have laughed. It isn’t funny.”
His voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it, particularly when he’s talking to you. You can’t bring yourself to speak to him though, if you do, you’ll just start crying again.
“And…I’m sorry for the way I am with you. Fuck, I’ve spent over a decade taunting you instead of just telling you.”
Your heart is in your throat. He’s never spoken to you normally, he sounds almost vulnerable.
“Are you even awake?” He doesn’t get a response, you don’t know what you’d even say. Sighing, he continues anyway, “Do you remember the day we met? You’d just been stuck in that huge downfall of rain, and you had that bright pink raincoat on. Some girl laughed at it, but you just turned to her and said you didn’t care how it looked, at least you didn’t look like a drowned rat like her.” He chuckles, fingers still drawing their circles, “You looked so cute when you realised, you’d said it out loud and to the biggest bully in the university.”
Cute?! Did Choi Seungcheol say cute in a sentence talking about you?!
“And then your eyes found mine and your cheeks went pink and you started stuttering and I could tell you liked me.”
How embarrassing. For once you thought he was being open with you, instead it’s just another way to get at you. Had you been that obvious? All these years he’s known?
Your eyes remain closed, trying not to move and give him a reaction.
“I knew because I felt the same way. I couldn’t do anything about it though. I’d been a fuck up all through high school and that first year of university. You were so…..so….perfect, I couldn’t tarnish that. So, it was easier to annoy you, you gave as good as you got and it meant I could talk to you at least, without getting your hopes up.”
Tears start falling down your cheeks, he must know you’re not sleeping by now, the sniffle you did gave you away.
“Do you remember that guy who tried to force himself on you?”
Why would he bring that up now?! Some man at a party in your final year had tried to put his hand up your skirt but someone had wrestled him off you. You never found out who, but they stopped something horrific happening that night.
Wait.
“It was me who pulled that creep off you, I’d probably still be punching his smug face now if Dino hadn’t pulled me off him. I swore them all the secrecy about what happened, said you just needed to forget about it and bringing it up wouldn’t help. Dino vouched about what the guy had done to the Dean, and I got away with a one-week suspension.”
They all told you he’d been on holiday. You remember being pissed he wasn’t taking his studies seriously and instead was partying in some holiday resort.
“And those flowers and chocolates you’ve been getting every valentines day for the past eleven years? They’re not from your mom. She isn’t acting confused when you call her to tell her you’re too old for your parents to buy you valentines presents. She is confused, she’s no idea what you’re talking about because they’re from me.”
“Laughing at you tonight, seeing how hurt you were, it was too far ____. It’s nothing to laugh about anyway.” You’re still silent, he’s spent most of his adult life wanting to hear your voice and now he’s not and it’s killing him. “Please, talk to me.”
You sit up, wiping your eyes, shoulder touching his from how close you two are.
“It hurt when you laughed at me.”
“I know it did. I don’t even know why I did it, it was just a reaction. I don’t think I even registered it was what you really meant until I stopped laughing.”
“But you were being mean before you’d even laughed at that. More mean than normal anyway.”
You pull your sweater over your hands, hoping he won’t see how your hands are shaking slightly.
“Can I be honest?”
You glance at him out the corner of your eye, he looks softer than you’ve ever seen him yet there’s a sadness in his eyes about how everything has played out.
“I guess,” you shrug.
“The idea of sharing a bed with you messed me up, all I could think about is how easy it would be to touch you. I don’t even mean sexually, I just mean to hold you, for you to hold me. I’m sorry. I know I push it, but those questions……they were too far.”
You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been worrying about the same thing.
“You didn’t have to be such a dick about it.”
“I know. I’ll stop, if that helps.”
That doesn’t sit right with you at all.
“So, you’re just going to ignore me instead?”
He looks at you and you realise he’s crying.
“I don’t want to. But what’s the alternative?”
“Oh, I don’t know, you actually try to be nice to me?!”
You’re horrified look makes him smile but it’s gone as quick as it came.
“I don’t think I can without hoping there’s something more there. And that’s not possible.”
Is he being serious. He confesses, after all this time, tells you he knows that you like him, or liked him at least. And then says nothing can happen?!
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Oh my god is it because I’m a virgin?! It isn’t like I haven’t wanted to and don’t get fucking cocky, it isn’t because I’ve been pining after you. It just passed me by and before I knew it, it was too late and it’s awkward bringing it up on dates and…….”
“____,” he turns to you slightly, “it isn’t because of that at all. There’s just too much shit happened, too much time has gone by where we’ve been at each other’s throats.”
“In your opinion.”
He looks at you, but something takes over you. He made this decision years ago and he’s making the same one now. And you don’t like his decision.
So instead, you do the only logical thing.
You crash your lips into his, just like you wanted to do all those years ago in your pink raincoat. They feel just how you always thought they would, soft pillows mould into yours like they’ve always meant to. He doesn’t pull back straight away, but he doesn’t really commit to it either. You wonder about deepening the kiss, making him kiss you back but what’s the point if he doesn’t want to. You pull back from him, lips tingling from feeling his for even the briefest time and even more embarrassment creeps up your neck.
It was a mistake, he’s not interested in anything more, you see that now and you just want to get away from him. Perhaps you could sleep in the living room once they’ve all gone to bed. You can hear them all down there still, listening to music which is in contention for their first dance. You just need to hide somewhere until they’re gone and then creep into the living room.
Before you can stand properly though, he pulls you back down, landing like a sack of potatoes on his lap.
“Fuck. Some warning would have been nice.” You huff.
“I could say the same to you!”
He’s still got tears in his eyes but that smile you always love is on his lips, and you can’t find it in you to stay mad at him.
“Well, you were deciding things without me. About me. I had to shut you up somehow!”
“Does that mean what I think it means?”
“That I wanted you to shut up? Yes.”
“No. I mean, did that kiss mean what I think it means?”
“I think so, I want it to.”
“Thank fuck.”
His lips reconnect with yours, it’s nothing like the half assed attempt you’d made, it’s fierce and wanton like he’s been waiting for this forever. But then maybe he has. Angling his head so he can make the kiss that bit deeper, his hands come to rest at the top of your thighs, now he’s got you where he wants you, he seems to have no intention of letting you go. He nips bottom lip, taking your gasp as an opportunity to intertwine his tongue with yours. The way he kisses you with so much need makes you dizzy, or maybe that’s the fact that Seungcheol isn’t even letting you breathe with the way his tongue is attacking your mouth.
The feeling of something hard pressing against the inside of your thigh distracts you slightly. It’s not like you’ve never felt one against you, you’ve fumbled around with people before you’ve just never done anything about it. And now you’re confronted with it, you’re not sure you’re ready to do anything about it. Seungcheol doesn’t seem to mind though, his velvet lips continue to move against your own before moving to press tiny, teasing kisses down your neck.
It’s only when his hands move under your sweater and t-shirt do you start to panic slightly. Did he want to do something now? Did he expect something more than this? The coldness of his fingers as they move over your stomach send a thrill through before they settle on your waist, as he lips begin their path back along your neck, searching for your lips again.
He seems to spot something isn’t quite right though.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you wanting to... You know?”
He smirks but it vanishes when he realises that you asking about it, doesn’t necessarily mean you want it.
“I’m not expecting anything _____. Just being like this enough. Did you want to stop?”
“I don’t know.”
You’re not trying to appease him, you genuinely don’t know whether you want to stop or not. You know you’re not ready to go the whole way but you can’t deny, the way he was kissing you has you wetter than you think you’ve ever been and if what you can feel poking into your leg is anything to by, he’s more than into this.
“I’ve got an idea.”
“Oh god,”
“Hey now there’s no need for that.”
“Seungcheol the last idea ...”
“Cheol.”
He hates you calling him that. He’s never let anyone call him. He’s never let you call him that.
“You told me I could never call you that. I did it once years ago and you bit my head off!!”
“Because I liked it and didn’t want to.”
You roll your eyes. This man is ridiculous.
“What’s your idea?”
He just pouts at you.
“What’s your idea Cheol?”
His proud grin and the way his fingers dig into your thighs makes your heart flutter.
“Your prince and princess, they seemed pretty into that whole thigh riding thing.”
He can’t be serious. After the bullshit he just pulled about that book?
“You’re just trying to annoy me, aren’t you?”
“You gave yourself away _____. I saw the way you kept rubbing your thighs together as you were reading, even saw you glance at mine a couple times.”
You hadn’t even realised that’s what you’d done.
“I-I didn’t k...”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of baby, and I get you’re not ready for anything. So I’m prepared to sacrifice myself for the greater good.” He clutches his chest dramatically. Ass hole.
“You want me to..” fuck, you can’t even say it, especially not with him calling you baby, “you want me to ride your thigh?”
“I want you to use me to get yourself off, however you want to. I want you to feel good, especially after the shit I’ve pulled tonight.”
“But you said it was a waste of time, said the prince would get nothing from it, didn’t understand how he even enjoyed it.”
He looks between your eyes, you know he can tell you’re doubting his motives, he’s not a complete idiot.
“I’ve said a lot of shit I didn’t mean. I’ve done a lot of shit I didn’t mean. But. The idea of you using me to make yourself feel good, makes me fucking feral.”
Feral? The idea of him thinking like that about you after all these years makes something snap in your brain, you don’t even think twice before you stand up and pull your pyjamas down.
Seungcheol sits open mouthed, like he can’t believe this is actually happening.
“Should I, take these off too?” You play with the hem of your black panties, you’ve no idea how he wants this to go down. “Cheol!!”
His eyes snap to yours and away from eyeing the slightly wet patch that’s already formed on your underwear.
“Sorry,” he isn’t, his Cheshire cat grin tells you he isn’t, and you can’t deny him staring at you like that made you just that bit wetter. “Anything you want baby.”
He stands up and takes his jeans off, freeing the tent he’s managed to form in his underwear. He pauses though when he sees you’ve frozen.
“Did you want me to keep them on?” He’s standing there awkwardly in his t-shirt and boxer briefs like he wants the ground to swallow him up.
“N-no, it’s fine like this. I think though, I’ll take these off? Unless that’s weird, like all of me touching your….”
“Off is fine!” He says too loudly, like a child pretending he isn’t excited for Santa to visit.
He takes a seat back on the sofa, eyeing you hungrily. Shit. You didn’t actually think about having to take them off and revealing yourself. No one, except your gynaecologist, has ever seen your pussy. What if it looks weird? What if it doesn’t look like the women he’s used to? What if….
“Do you want me to take them off?” Fuck, his voice has dropped into that of some sort of sex god.
It might make it easier though.
You walk over to him, you’d love to say in a sexy way, but in reality, it’s more of a nervous shuffle.
“Please.”
He pulls you to him by the back of your thighs, positioning you to stand between his spread legs. Hungry eyes look up at you like he’s ready to devour you if you’ll let him. Nobody has ever looked at you with such hunger and you know that by the time those panties are off there’s going to be a fucking mess between your thighs. He moves slowly, fingers tucking under the band of them and slowly pulling them down and revealing your aching pussy to him. Your hands move to cover yourself, you’re not even sure why, it’s just instinct.
But just as you step out of your panties and go to move your hands, his hands land on your wrists and hold them at your sides.
“Don’t hide from me baby, you’re beautiful.”
He’s staring at your core whilst your heart hammers in its cage. It’s all just so overwhelming, to have waited so long for anything to happen and for it to be with Seungcheol, it’s like every emotion possible is running around your head right now.
You flinch when a pair of lips peck your hip, looking down you find him staring at you with so much fondness in his eyes. Your fingers move to run through his hair, it’s long at the moment and for some reason he’d decided to go with blonde underneath and black on top. You make a mental note to tell him later that you don’t hate it, like you’d told him you did when you first saw it. The satisfied hum he lets escape when he feels you playing with his hair makes your heart flutter.
“Come on,” he mumbles, pulling you onto his thigh.
The second you make contact with it, you can’t help the airy moan, your clit had been begging for some sort of friction since this whole thing started and now you’re pressed firmly against his thigh it’s like your whole body is alight.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he says it almost in awe, like he didn’t think it was possible for you to want him that much, “can we take these off?” he asks, playing with the hem of your t-shirt and sweater.
Your sopping pussy is currently on his thigh, so you don’t suppose it makes sense to be embarrassed at this point.
“Yes,” it’s a whisper but he hears it and moves to gently take off the last of your clothes.
It’s the gentleness that shocks you in all of this, how he’s treating you like he might break you. If you’re honest, it’s what you need right now. Yes, you’ve spent nights dreaming about him pounding you into his mattress, whispering filth into your ear as he fucks you again and again, but right now, you just need him to show you he cares, that he wants you like you want him.
“You’re a goddess.” You can’t look at him, not when he’s complementing you like that and so close to your naked body. “Don’t blush _____.” He says, holding your cheeks in his hand and making you look at him, “you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, I thought it when you had your stupid raincoat on all those years ago and I think it now.”
He turns your head again slightly, angling you where he wants you so that he can run his tongue from just under your ear and down the side of your neck. Goosebumps form all over your body as the sensation makes you grind down on his thigh. The second you start, you can’t stop, the feeling of his warm skin under your dripping cunt forces you to grind yourself back and forth hungrily.
“That’s it, good girl ____,” he hums as his lips leave little kisses along your collar bone, moving slowly down towards your tits, “fuck, I didn’t think it could feel so good, but your pretty little pussy is so wet, it feels incredible the way you’re using me baby. Doesn’t it feel good?”
You can’t think, the feeling of his thigh under you, knowing it’s him that’s making you feel this way mixed with the way he’s talking to you has you mute.
“Mm-mm” is all you manage to get out, forehead resting against his shoulder as you hump him like it’s your life’s mission.
“That’s not an answer baby, tell me how good it feels to use me.”
Fucking hell.
“F-feels good Cheol, feels really good,” your last word comes out as a moan when he takes that opportunity to flex his thigh.
“You deserve this baby,” his hands move to your ass, squeezing slightly and beginning to control your movements, “one day when you’re ready, I’ll show you how much I’ve loved you all these years. Show you how much I’ve wanted you.”
You can’t say anything to him, tears are forming in your eyes as you mindlessly grind against his thigh, you must be dripping down it by now but neither of you care, your only goal is to cum, and you know you’re not far off.
“You like that idea baby? Me being the one that takes this pretty pussy as his own. Make it mine? Fill you up so much that you never forget who it belongs to? Fuck the idea of being the first person to ruin your tight little hole ____, it’s blowing my mind. You’ll let me baby, won’t you? You’ll let me take it one day?”
You’d agree to anything at this point, that familiar feeling is bubbling in you stomach and your pace is getting quicker by the second. Your clit is grinding against him and the way he’s now controlling your pace with one hand on your ass cheek, only makes you want to give him anything he wants. It’s only when you turn your head slightly, you realise he’s palming himself through his underwear.
“Don’t worry about me baby, just keeping using me. It’s about you.” His voice sounds strained like it’s paining him to say that to you.
You want to see him. Want to see him cum. See that you can make Seungcheol cum just by him seeing you ride his thigh.
“S-show… show me.”
He moves his head back slightly so he can see your face. He looks so fucked out yet there’s a look of concern in his eyes. You don’t stop moving though, you can’t.
“You want me to show you? What do you want me to show you baby? You want to see me cum? How you make me cum?”
“Please Cheol,” a tear falls down your cheeks and fire flashes in his eyes.
He stops your movements for a second with his hands on your hips, needing you to look at him properly before he does anything.
“You’re sure you’re ok with that?”
“Yeah, I want to see you….to see you cum.” It’s almost like you’re pleading with him at this point.
“Fuck,” he hisses, pulling himself out of his underwear and pumping his hand up and down his dick.
He’s big, bigger than you imagined but not big enough to be imposing. His tip is pink and leaking pre-cum and all you can think about is how much you want him inside you, how much you want to feel him in your hand, mouth, anywhere he wants to. The sight of him fisting is own dick makes you grind down on his thigh harder than you had done, hole leaking all over him as you moan into his neck.
He keeps one hand on your hip, still somewhat guiding your movements, whilst his other hand wanks himself off. His eyes are fixed on the way your pussy is oozing all over his thigh like it’s some incredible piece of art. You cry out when he leans forward and nips one of your nipples, arching your back into the feeling as your cunt humps his thigh like your life depends on it.
He gives your other nipple one quick nip and then turns his attention back to watching you, the way you’re moving and your hips are jolting tells him you’re nearly there and he isn’t going to miss the moment he finally sees you cum.
“You close baby? Fucking my thigh has got you this needy?” A little sob leaves you, “Don’t worry baby, it’s got me needy too. I’ve thought about making you cum for years and now I get to see you break all over me…fuck I’m close.”
His breath hitches as his hand moves quicker and quicker pumping his dick, neither of you seem to notice but it’s like his fist is in time with your hips. Both of you desperate for release.
“Cum for me ____. Cum all over my thigh baby…….please.”
It’s his pleading please that breaks you. Your whole-body shakes and you’ve no idea whether you are moving your body or the force of your orgasm causes your clit to keep moving against his luscious thigh, but a feeling of complete euphoria washes over you. You grind yourself down on his thigh, riding out your high as Seungcheol manages to find it in him to grab your cheeks and make you look down as he cums all over his hand. Streams of white hot cum cascade down his fingers as he doesn’t take his eyes off your puffy pussy and his soaked thigh. You’ve no idea if it’s just the situation or the sight of his cum erupting out of tip but you swear it’s the longest orgasm you’ve ever had. It feels like hours when you finally bring your riding to a stop, the pressure on your clit becoming a little unbearable.
“Are you ok?” he says after a couple of minutes, hands on your shoulders so he can make you sit up properly and look at him.
“I’m great.” You grin and for some reason he seems relieved, like he was worried you’d immediately regret it.
“What’s wrong?!” Are those tears again? You’ve never even seen him cry before today, let alone twice in one day. He leans into your touch when you wipe the tears away, cupping his cheeks to run your thumb along his cheek.
“I just…you don’t regret it. You want this?”
“I regret you deciding you’re not good enough for me on your own all those years ago. But I don’t regret that we’re here now.”
“Do you want to go on a date with me?” His big goofy grin is one of your favourite sights in this world and the fact it’s aimed at you is so special to you.
“I suppose so.” You say, rolling your eyes.
He laughs, moving his thigh slightly making you wince a little.
“We should shower,”
“Together?!”
“____, you just came all over my thigh. A shower is a step too far?”
You hadn’t thought about it like that. And you have always wanted to see what the tattoo was like on his back. You’d only ever seen it from afar.
“Good point,” you concede standing up. You’d be embarrassed at the mess you’d left on his thigh if he wasn’t looking at it so proudly.
“Come on then Princess.”
“Cheol put me down, I’m heavy!!”
He simply scoffs, mumbling something about what do you think his muscles are for, as he puts you over his shoulder and walks towards the shower.
“I say we just tell them.”
You’re leaning against the sofa in the living room, your friends all having started preparing breakfast in the kitchen. You’d both slept like babies after what had gone on last night and being able to fall asleep intertwined with each felt like the most natural thing in the world. Waking up with his face smushed on your pillow next to you felt even more natural, like it’s how this weekend was always meant to go.
After he’d spent five minutes checking it wasn’t all a dream and you were in fact both now technically dating, he’d spent a good five minutes making sure he showed you were both now technically dating. Your lips were numb and head spinning before he finally decided to disconnect his mouth from yours.
“Right then.” He sighs and takes your hand, both of you making your way into the kitchen.
Are they being serious? You both stand there, two people who have spent over a decade arguing, holding hands as they sit at the table and all they say is good morning?
“Excuse me?!” Seungcheol demands, waggling your interlaced hands in the air.
“What?” Your best friend says, “You want a round of applause because you’ve both figured out something we’ve all known since we were 19?!”
“You haven’t known.” You scoff, they can’t have done. Neither of you have been obvious.
“I knew about three minutes after I met you both.” Mingyu nods wisely.
Well. They could’ve all told you.
“You all knew?! How?!”
You and Seungcheol share confused looks.
“Idiots.” Dino says, looking at you both like you’re the stupidest people on the planet.
“I said they just needed a push,”
“Mingyu, you did not! The room was my idea!”
“No,” he disagrees, pointing his fork at Dino, “I remember telling you all to not tell them about the downstairs bedroom.”
What a bunch of sneaky assholes. There’s another room?!
“It was a set up?! What a fucking cliché!”
You throw yourself in a chair, a perplexed looking Seungcheol doing the same. Not even his hand on your thigh will stop you giving this bunch of idiots a piece of your mind.
And you do.
But do either of you stay in the extra room that night? No, you don’t. Because now you’ve got him, you’re not letting him go.
Sypnosis: You’ve always been in the background, quietly loving him while he shined in the spotlight. One drunken night, everything changed — a single, impulsive moment between you that left your heart tangled and your world uncertain. By morning, he pulled away, leaving you to wonder… can you keep loving someone who will never choose you?
A/N: Hi lovelies! I’m so excited to share Chapter 1 of It’s Always You. Just a quick note: minors please do not interact, as this chapter contains smut. If you read it, I’d really love to hear what you think, your comments truly mean a lot to me and always make my day. Chapter 2 will be posted tomorrow on kofi, and it will be shared here on Tumblr on the 14th. Thank you so much for reading and supporting my stories. I hope you enjoy this one. 🤍
Chapter One
The pension house sat near the edge of the sea, warm lights glowing against the dark blue of the evening. Laughter spilled out from the open windows, music humming through wooden walls that smelled faintly of pine and salt air. It felt intimate. Safe. The kind of place meant for memories that would be replayed years later.
It was Hobi’s idea, of course. He said he wanted something simple this year. Just family. Just close friends. Just people who felt like home.
You stood outside the gate for a second before going in, smoothing your dress down, fingers brushing through the newly dyed strands of your hair. A softer color than before. Braver. You told yourself it was just for a change. You knew better.
The moment you stepped inside, someone screamed your name.
“There she is!”
Hoseok was the first to reach you, arms wrapping around you so tightly your heels nearly slipped on the stone path. He smelled like expensive cologne and vanilla cake.
“You came,” he said dramatically, holding your shoulders and looking at you like you had just saved his life. “And you look insane. Why do you look this good at my birthday?”
You laughed, pushing at his chest. “It’s your birthday. I have to outshine you a little.”
He gasped. “Betrayal. On my own day.”
But he didn’t let go. He never really did. Hoseok had always been affectionate with you, naturally clingy, naturally warm. The others were used to it. His friends were used to it. Even his family.
You greeted his mother with a respectful hug, bowed slightly to his father, let his sister squeeze your hands and tell you she loved your hair. You were introduced to a few of Hoseok’s childhood friends, and you slipped into conversations easily, smiling, laughing, fitting into spaces that once felt intimidating.
It hadn’t always been like this. You met Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin in university. Same elective class. Same row. Taehyung had borrowed your pen and never returned it. Jimin had apologized for him and bought you coffee the next day.
Somewhere between group projects and late night convenience store runs, you became theirs. And one night, Taehyung said casually, “You should meet the others. They’ll like you.”
You still remember how nervous you were the first time you stepped into their dorm. How loud it was. How chaotic. How alive. And how your eyes landed on Kim Seokjin.
He was arguing about food portions in the kitchen, animated and dramatic, shoulders broad, laughter loud. He turned when Taehyung called his name, and for a second, he just stared at you. You had smiled. That was the beginning of everything.
Now, years later, you were no longer just Taehyung and Jimin’s classmate. You were invited to birthdays. Holidays. Family dinners. You knew their parents’ favorite dishes. Their childhood stories. Their habits. You belonged. And that was the problem.
Inside the pension house, music played softly from a speaker. Fairy lights were strung across the ceiling beams. A long wooden table was set with food and bottles of alcohol waiting to be opened.
The members were gathered near the corner of the living room. Hoseok still had an arm around your shoulders. From across the room, you felt it before you saw it. His gaze.
Seokjin stood slightly apart from the group, drink in hand, phone resting loosely in his other palm. He wasn’t smiling like the others. He was watching. Jungkook leaned toward him and muttered something. You caught the words, barely.
“Hyung, Hobi’s not letting her breathe.”
Seokjin’s lips twitched faintly. “It’s his birthday.”
Taehyung suddenly appeared beside you, sliding in smoothly and tugging at your hand. “I reserved a table for you. Come on.”
“For me?”
“For us,” he corrected, winking. “But mostly for you.”
Hoseok finally released you with exaggerated reluctance. “Don’t steal my favorite guest.”
“I’m not stealing,” Taehyung said. “I’m relocating.”
When you reached the table, Jimin’s eyes widened.
“Wow.”
You blinked. “What?”
“You look…” He searched for the word, shaking his head. “Different. In a good way.”
Jungkook nodded enthusiastically. “Noona, you look really pretty tonight.”
You laughed softly, feeling heat crawl up your neck. Seokjin was the only one who hadn’t said anything.
He was sitting down now, phone in hand, thumbs moving as he typed something, screen reflecting against his face. Jungkook nudged him with his knee. Hard.
“Hyung.”
“What.”
“Say it.”
“Say what.”
Jungkook gestured toward you. “Use your eyes.”
Seokjin finally looked up.
His gaze traveled slowly, taking in your hair, your dress, the way you were trying not to look like you were waiting. “You look nice,” he said simply.
Nice.
You smiled anyway. “Thank you.”
Taehyung groaned. “Nice? That’s all you have?”
Seokjin shrugged faintly, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “What. She does.”
The party officially began not long after. The cake was brought out, candles glowing warmly against Hoseok’s smiling face as everyone sang off key. You stood between Jimin and Jungkook, clapping, laughing, watching Hoseok squeeze his eyes shut to make a wish. You wondered what idols wished for when they already had everything.
Later, music grew louder. Shoes were kicked off. Someone turned the living room into a dance floor.
You danced with Hoseok first, of course. He spun you around dramatically, dipping you so low you shrieked. Jimin joined. Taehyung followed. Jungkook tried to teach you a new move and failed halfway through because he started laughing too hard.
Seokjin stayed seated for a while. He drank slowly. Checked his phone. Watched. Every now and then, he stood up and joined briefly, clapping to the beat, singing loudly for a verse, making everyone laugh before retreating again. You told yourself he was just tired.
As the night deepened, some guests began leaving. Hoseok’s parents hugged him tightly before heading out. His friends said their goodbyes. The house grew quieter, warmer.
Hoseok was eventually so drunk he could barely stand.
“Best birthday ever,” he mumbled as Jimin wrapped an arm around him. “I love you all. Especially her.”
He pointed at you dramatically.
“Go to bed,” Taehyung laughed.
Jimin guided him down the hallway toward one of the rooms, Hoseok still rambling about how everyone should stay forever.
When the door closed, silence settled differently. Now it was just you, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Seokjin. Four glasses. One half empty bottle.
Jungkook sprawled on the floor, back against the couch. Taehyung leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out lazily. Seokjin sat across from you, one arm resting on the table.
“Do you remember,” Taehyung began suddenly, grinning, “when she cried for three hours straight because of that guy?”
You froze.
Jungkook perked up immediately. “Oh my god. That night.”
“Don’t,” you warned softly.
Seokjin’s expression changed, subtle but noticeable.
“The tall one,” Taehyung continued, merciless. “The one who thought he was mysterious.”
“He wasn’t mysterious,” you muttered. “He just never texted back.”
Jungkook laughed. “That’s worse.”
Seokjin finally spoke, voice calm. “I told you he wasn’t good.”
You looked at him.
“I remember,” you said quietly.
“He was my friend,” Seokjin continued. “I knew how he was.”
“And I thought you were overprotective,” you replied, attempting a smile.
“You never listen to me.”
There was no teasing in his tone.
You swallowed. “He seemed nice at first.”
Taehyung softened slightly. “You liked him a lot.”
You shrugged. “I liked the idea of him.”
Seokjin’s gaze didn’t leave your face. “He never made time for you.”
You laughed softly, though it sounded thin. “He had a busy schedule.”
“So did you,” Seokjin said.
Silence followed. Jungkook cleared his throat, sensing the shift. “Dating is hard for us anyway.”
Taehyung nodded. “People think it’s glamorous.”
You looked at them. “Is it?”
Jungkook snorted. “It’s stressful.”
“You know about mine,” he added, pointing at you. “On and off. On and off.”
“You complain to me every time,” you teased gently.
He grinned sheepishly.
You looked at Taehyung. “You too.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “No comment.”
Your eyes moved slowly. And landed on him.
“What about you,” you asked, keeping your voice light. “Are you dating anyone?”
Seokjin leaned back slightly, swirling the liquid in his glass.
“We’re just talking,” he said after a moment. “Seeing where it goes.”
Your heart dropped so quietly no one heard it but you.
“Oh,” you said, nodding.
Taehyung looked between you both carefully.
Jungkook reached for the bottle again. “Pour her more.”
You didn’t protest. The alcohol burned more than it had earlier.
You forced a smile. “That’s good.”
Seokjin studied you for a second. “You’re drinking fast.”
“It’s a celebration.”
“For Hobi,” he said.
“Right,” you agreed.
Laughter returned, but softer now. Stories about trainee days. Old dorm fights. Burnt ramen. Broken furniture. You laughed at the right moments. But every word echoed differently.
Just talking. Seeing where it goes.
Later, when Jungkook finally slumped against the couch half asleep and Taehyung went to check on Hoseok, it was just you and Seokjin left at the table. The house was quiet. He looked at you for a long moment.
“You don’t have to drink like that.”
You smiled lazily. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“You always pretend you’re fine,” he said quietly.
You met his eyes.
“And you always pretend you don’t notice.”
The air between you shifted. Neither of you looked away.
From down the hallway, Hoseok’s muffled snore echoed, almost comical in the silence. Seokjin exhaled slowly, fingers tightening slightly around his glass.
“You should get some rest,” he said finally.
You nodded. But neither of you moved.
The pension house that had been loud with celebration now felt suspended in time, wrapped in soft darkness and the distant sound of the sea brushing against the shore.
Seokjin leaned back in his chair, sleeves rolled slightly, collar loosened. He had stopped pretending to check his phone. He was watching you openly.
“Stop drinking,” he said.
You tilted the bottle slightly, pouring the last of it into your glass. “You should too.”
“I stopped.”
You smiled faintly.
He studied you carefully. “You don’t have to finish it.”
“I want to.”
The words were soft, but there was something underneath them. A quiet defiance. A quiet ache.
He stood first when you tried to get up. The room swayed just enough for you to grab the edge of the table.
“I’m fine,” you insisted.
“I know,” he replied, already beside you. His hand settled at your waist, steady and firm. “But you’re not walking alone.”
He guided you down the hallway slowly. The wooden floors creaked softly under your steps. Your shoulder brushed his chest once, twice. Neither of you commented.
Inside the guest room, the air felt warmer. You sat at the edge of the bed, staring at nothing in particular. He crouched in front of you to remove your heels, fingers careful as if you were something breakable.
“You don’t have to do that,” you murmured.
“I know.”
“But you always do.”
He didn’t respond. When he stood, you were already looking at him.
“You’re really handsome,” you said quietly.
His ears flushed immediately. “You’re drunk.”
“And you hide behind that every time I say something real.”
His expression shifted.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
The room felt smaller suddenly.
He stepped back slightly. “You need to sleep.”
He turned toward the door. Your hand shot out before you could think. You caught his wrist.
“Stay.”
His body went still.
“Don’t,” he warned gently.
“Just until I fall asleep.”
“You won’t remember this clearly.”
“I remember everything about you.”
The confession slipped out so easily it frightened you. He looked at you differently then. Like he was seeing something he had tried very hard not to see.
After a long pause, he exhaled and lay down beside you, stiff and cautious, staring up at the ceiling. You turned toward him instantly.
“Stop looking at me,” he muttered.
“Why.”
“Because you look like you’re about to say something reckless.”
You smiled softly. “I like you.”
The words hung there. Heavy. He closed his eyes briefly. “You’re drunk.”
“I’ve liked you for years.”
His breathing changed.
“You don’t get to say that like it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” you whispered. “It’s everything.”
Silence stretched between you.
You moved closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
“Can I kiss you?” you whispered.
Seokjin didn’t even look at you. “No.”
You frowned and shifted closer, your knee brushing his. “Just one.”
“I said no.”
You propped yourself up on your elbow, hovering near his face. “I won’t sleep until you kiss me.”
“That sounds like a you problem,” he muttered, but there was no real bite in it.
You tried again, softer this time. “Please?”
He finally turned to look at you, eyes tired but amused. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re avoiding the question.”
He sighed when you leaned in again, stopping just inches away. “You’re not giving up, are you?”
“No.”
A long pause. He studied your face like he was weighing something dangerous.
After a few more seconds of your stubborn silence and his failing resolve, he exhaled.
“If I kiss you,” he said slowly, carefully, “you go to sleep.”
You nodded immediately. “Promise."
He hesitated. You could see it. The war in his eyes. The restraint he had built over years of proximity and stolen glances and choosing distance.
When he leaned in, it was cautious. Gentle. A mistake he intended to keep small.
The second your lips met, something inside him gave way. The kiss deepened without permission. Charged with everything that had been unspoken for too long.
His hand found your waist, pulling you closer instead of steadying you.
He pulled back slightly, forehead resting against yours.
“You’ll regret this.”
“Will you,” you asked.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed you again. And this time, there was no pretending it meant nothing.
It was slow. Exploring. Careful. Years of tension unraveling in the space between breaths.
You shifted closer, your fingers sliding into his hair. He inhaled sharply at that, his composure cracking just enough.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured.
“I do.”
“Say it tomorrow.”
“I’ll say it tomorrow too.”
The honesty in your voice unsettled him more than the alcohol ever could.
His hand traced along your side, hesitant but hungry, like he had imagined this before and hated himself for it.
“You should stop me,” he said quietly.
“Do you want me to.”
The silence that followed was the loudest thing in the room.
He kissed you again, deeper now, slower, as if memorizing the shape of you.
His lips moved slowly along the curve of your neck, warm and unhurried, leaving a trail of heat that made your pulse flutter beneath his touch. Every kiss lingered, not rushed, not careless, but full of intention. The closeness felt overwhelming in the quiet room, your fingers tightening in his shirt while a shiver traveled down your spine, each brush of his mouth drawing you deeper into him.
You arched beneath him, your fingers gripping his hair, pulling him closer as your voice broke into something raw and unguarded.
“God,” you breathed, your nails grazing his scalp as you held him there.
Your chest rose and fell unevenly, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him, “If you stop now,” you whispered, voice thick with heat, “I swear I won’t forgive you."
The words spilled from you without restraint, heavy with want and stripped of caution, your thoughts blurred by the intensity of it all. And yet, beneath the haze, one truth stood painfully clear, the way he made you feel was undeniable. Alive in a way that scared you. Aching in a way that felt inevitable. Completely, helplessly consumed by him.
He paused for a moment, his breath warm against your skin, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of hesitation and something deeper that made your heart race.
“You’re really sure about this?” he murmured, his voice low, steady — not from doubt, but from the weight of the moment.
The question lingered between you, fragile and unspoken, like a promise waiting to be made.
You nodded, pulling him closer, your hands sliding down to the broad expanse of his shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, the way they flexed under your touch as if he were holding back a storm.
"I mean it," you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind inside you, "I want this. I want you." The room around you faded into a hazy backdrop. The dim glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows that danced across the walls, the faint scent of laundry detergent from the sheets mingling with the heady aroma of his cologne, a mix of wood and spice that made your head spin.
He searched your face for a long moment, as if making sure he could read every flicker of emotion there. His thumb brushed gently over your cheek, a touch so tender it contrasted sharply with the heat building between you.
Then, slowly, he leaned in.
His lips met yours again in a kiss that deepened unhurriedly, deliberate and exploratory, as though he wanted to memorize the feeling instead of rush it.
As his tongue slipped past your lips once more, you moaned into his mouth, the sound escaping unbidden, a soft, needy echo that filled the quiet room.
He tasted of mint and something uniquely him, a flavor that made your toes curl against the cool sheets.
Your bodies pressed together, his weight a comforting anchor as he shifted, his hips grinding against yours in a rhythm that was both tentative and insistent. "Fuck, I want more," you breathed against his lips, your hands roaming lower, tugging at the hem of his shirt until it rode up, exposing the warm skin of his abdomen.
The muscles there were hard and defined, a testament to the strength you could feel in every movement, and you traced the lines with your fingertips, savoring the way his breath hitched at your touch.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his cheeks flushed, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your pulse stumble.
“I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and hate me for this,” he said quietly.
There was vulnerability in his voice, a small fracture in his composure that revealed the man beneath the restraint, the one who cared far more than he ever let on.
You shook your head immediately, almost fiercely, and cupped his face in your hands, pulling him back to you. The faint scrape of his stubble grazed your palms, grounding you, making this achingly real.
“I won’t,” you whispered, but there was nothing fragile about it. Your voice trembled with emotion, thick with urgency, with truth.
Your thumbs brushed along his cheekbones as if you needed him to understand, to feel it. The promise wasn’t light. It came from somewhere deep, somewhere raw and unguarded, from the part of you that had already chosen him long before this moment.
His expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and in that moment, you saw the shift, the way his reservations melted into something more profound.
He kissed you again, slower this time, his hands sliding down your sides to the edge of your clothes, fingers hooking into the fabric with a gentle urgency.
"Then let me show you," he whispered, his voice a husky promise that sent shivers down your spine. You lifted your hips instinctively, helping him as he peeled away the layers between you, the cool air kissing your exposed skin and making your nipples harden into tight peaks.
He paused to admire you, his gaze roaming over your body like a caress, and you felt a flush of heat spread across your chest, your breath coming in shallow gasps.
When his hand finally slid lower, settling between your thighs, your breath shattered in your chest. The touch was warm, deliberate, and the shock of it sent a sharp pulse of heat through you.
You gasped, back arching instinctively as electricity rippled beneath your skin. Every nerve felt suddenly alive, hypersensitive to the slow, possessive weight of his palm.
The room seemed to tilt, the air thickening around you as the space between restraint and surrender disappeared completely.
"Oh, God," you murmured, your voice breaking as his fingers explored with a careful precision, tracing the slick folds of your pussy with a touch that was both reverent and ravenous.
The slick heat between your thighs was impossible to hide, and when he felt it, a low groan slipped from his throat. The sound alone made your stomach tighten.
His thumb found your clit with slow, deliberate intent, tracing measured circles that sent waves of sensation spiraling through your body. Each movement was unhurried, almost torturous, building a deep, aching pressure that coiled tighter and tighter inside you, leaving you breathless beneath his touch.
"You’re already drenched for me,” he breathed, his voice rougher now, stripped of restraint. There was something almost reverent in the way he said it, but beneath that, hunger.
You bit your lip, nodding, your hips bucking against his hand as he slid a finger inside, the intrusion stretching you in the most delicious way, filling you with a fullness that made your eyes flutter shut.
"More," you pleaded, your voice a whisper turned plea, the word echoing the desperate need coiling in your belly. He obliged, adding another finger, thrusting slowly at first, then picking up a rhythm that had you moaning louder, the wet sounds of his movements filling the room like a symphony of desire.
His free hand roamed upward, palming your breast with a firm grip, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it peaked even harder under his touch.
"Tell me what you want," he urged, his voice rough with his own restraint, his cock pressing hard against your thigh through his pants, a rigid reminder of his own arousal. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and in that shared look, you saw the raw emotion, the longing, the fear, the unbridled passion that mirrored your own.
"I want you inside me," you confessed, the words tumbling out like a vow, your hands working to undo his pants, freeing his throbbing dick from its confines. It sprang free, thick and veined, the head glistening with precum that you couldn't resist touching, your fingers wrapping around the shaft and stroking slowly.
He hissed at the contact, his hips jerking involuntarily, and you felt a surge of power in that moment, the way you could make him unravel.
"Fuck, that feels good," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as you continued, your hand moving with increasing confidence, feeling the heat and pulse of him in your grip.
As he positioned himself above you, lining up at your entrance, the anticipation was almost overwhelming, a slow burn that made every nerve ending sing.
He paused, his tip teasing your opening, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Please," you whispered, your voice laced with need, and with a deep, shuddering breath, he pushed inside, inch by inch, stretching you in a way that was both painful and exquisite.
The fullness was intoxicating, his cock filling you completely, hitting spots that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "Oh, fuck," you cried out, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, his thrusts deep and measured at first, building a rhythm that had you both gasping for air.
The room seemed to close in around you, the world narrowing to just the two of you, the slap of skin against skin, the musky scent of sweat and sex, the wet, rhythmic sounds of your bodies joining.
He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he picked up speed, his hips driving into you with a force that made the bed creak, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.
But even through the haze of pleasure, the emotional current between you pulsed just as fiercely. His lips brushed your ear, his breath unsteady as he whispered, “Maybe tomorrow we’ll have to face whatever this means… but tonight, you’re choosing me. And I’m choosing you.”
The words weren’t possessive, they were raw, almost aching. A confession wrapped in heat.
Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice, swelling just as sharply as your body trembled beneath him. This wasn’t just want. It wasn’t just hunger. It was two people stepping over a line they both understood, and crossing it anyway.
He stilled suddenly, breath heavy, eyes dark as something shifted in him. Without a word, he guided you gently, turning you until you were on your hands and knees beneath him.
The change in position sent a new wave of heat through you, vulnerable, exposed, yet impossibly wanted. His hands traced down your spine, memorizing the curve of you as your back arched instinctively under his touch.
“Look at you…” he murmured, voice rough with desire.
The air felt thicker like this, every sound amplified, your breathing, his shifting closer behind you, the quiet tension building all over again.
He moved closer behind you, his hands steady at your hips as he guided you back toward him. The anticipation alone made your breath shake.
Your body rocked forward with one powerful thrust, his thick cock slamming deep into your soaked pussy from behind, the force of it making your knees dig into the rumpled sheets.
He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave bruises, pulling you back against him as if he couldn't get deep enough, his massive length stretching you wide with every relentless stroke. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the dim room, mixed with the wet, squelching noises of your cunt taking him in, your arousal dripping down your thighs and coating his balls as they smacked against your swollen clit.
You could feel every inch of him throbbing inside you, his girth filling you to the brim, hitting that perfect spot deep within that made your vision blur and your moans turn into guttural cries.
"Fuck, you're so tight like this," he growled, his voice rough and breathless, leaning over you to press his chest against your back, his hot breath tickling the nape of your neck as he pounded into you harder, the head of his cock dragging along your inner walls with a delicious, punishing rhythm.
You arched your back, pushing your ass higher to meet his thrusts, the position making you feel utterly exposed and vulnerable, yet the raw pleasure was overwhelming, a fire building in your core that threatened to consume you.
His hands slid up your sides, one cupping your breast roughly, squeezing your nipple between his fingers until it ached, while the other tangled in your hair, pulling just enough to make your scalp sting in the best way.
“Tell me how badly you want this,”he whispered harshly in your ear, his words sending a shiver down your spine as his hips snapped forward, driving his dick even deeper, the base of him grinding against your entrance.
You moaned loudly, the sound echoing off the walls, your pussy clenching around him involuntarily, milking his shaft as waves of ecstasy rippled through you. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his muscles taut and straining as he fucked you with an intensity that left you breathless.
He slowed for a moment, teasing you with shallow, circular grinds that made your clit throb with need, his cock twitching inside you as if savoring the way your walls gripped him. "Fuck, you're dripping all over me," he muttered, his voice laced with a mix of awe and lust, his free hand slipping between your legs to rub firm circles over your sensitive bud, the added pressure making you gasp and buck against him.
You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of his face in the low light, his eyes dark with desire, his lips parted as he panted, sweat glistening on his forehead.
The emotional undercurrent hit you then, a rush of affection tangled with the primal hunger, remembering how he'd hesitated earlier, how he'd tried to be the responsible one before giving in to this. But now, there was no holding back; his thrusts grew faster again, each one jolting through your body like a shockwave, the head of his cock hitting your cervix with a deep, thudding pressure that bordered on pain but only amplified the pleasure.
Your moans escalated into desperate whimpers as he picked up speed once more, the friction building an unbearable tension in your core.
“Let go for me,” he breathed against your ear, his voice rough with urgency. “I’ve got you.”
You could feel him swelling inside you, his cock pulsing with impending release, and the thought of him filling you while buried deep made your head spin.
Your hands fisted the sheets, knuckles white, as you pushed back against him, meeting his rhythm, the lewd sounds of your bodies colliding filling the room like a symphony of raw lust.
The sensation was all consuming, the stretch of his girth, the way he angled his hips to grind against your G-spot with every inward thrust, the hot slide of his skin against yours, it was as if he was claiming every inch of you, body and soul.
As the pressure mounted, your body trembled uncontrollably, your pussy fluttering around his cock in rhythmic spasms, signaling your approaching climax.
He sensed it too, his fingers still working your clit in tight, relentless circles, the added stimulation pushing you over the edge.
"That's it, fuck, you're gonna come all over my dick, aren't you?" he groaned, his words crude and filthy, spurring you on as he hammered into you with renewed vigor, his own breaths coming in ragged gasps.
The room spun around you, your world narrowing to the feel of him dominating you, the thick vein along his shaft rubbing against your inner walls, the salty taste of sweat on your lips as you bit down to stifle a scream.
Emotionally, it was a whirlwind, beneath the haze of pleasure, you felt a deep connection, a vulnerability from earlier that made this feel more than just sex, but you were too lost in the moment to dwell on it, your body surrendering completely as the orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave.
He didn't stop, even as your pussy clenched and pulsed around him in the throes of release, his thrusts turning erratic and powerful, chasing his own peak with the same unyielding stamina that didn’t surprise you.
"Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight," he rasped, his voice strained, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he drove into you one final time, his cock throbbing violently inside you. The aftershocks of your climax made everything hypersensitive, each movement sending jolts of pleasure-pain through your overstimulated body, but you loved it, craved it, your moans dissolving into incoherent pleas for more.
He followed soon after, a deep groan escaping his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his body shuddering against yours. Panting heavily, he collapsed over you for a moment, his weight pressing you into the bed, before slowly pulling out, the loss of him leaving you feeling empty and aching in the best way.
He lay down beside you afterward, the heat between you slowly settling into something quieter, heavier. Your head found his chest as if it had always belonged there, your breathing evening out, fingers resting loosely against his skin.
He stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide open, replaying every second of what had just happened. The room felt different now. Changed.
You shifted slightly against him, voice soft and drowsy. “You’re crazy.”
A small, conflicted smile curved his lips. He slipped out of bed gently and went to the bathroom. When he returned with a damp towel, he cleaned you up with quiet care, movements slower than usual, almost thoughtful.
“Go to sleep,” he murmured.
You smiled faintly, eyes barely open. “Thank you.”
He stayed longer than he should have, sitting at the edge of the bed, listening to the rhythm of your breathing, feeling the warmth you left behind on his skin. He let himself memorize it. The weight of you beside him. The softness of your voice. The way you had said his name.
Then reality began to press in.
Hoseok asleep in the next room. Taehyung just down the hall. Years of friendship balanced on a single night neither of you could take back.
Carefully, he stood. He pulled the blanket up around your shoulders and brushed your hair away from your face, his fingers lingering longer than necessary.
“You don’t understand what this changes,” he whispered into the quiet room.
But you were already asleep.
He stood by the door for a long moment, hand resting on the handle, torn between staying and leaving.
When he finally stepped out and closed it softly behind him, the silence in the hallway felt heavier than before, as if the house itself knew something irreversible had happened.
You woke up to sunlight. Soft. Unforgiving. For a moment, you didn’t move. Your eyes stayed closed, your body warm beneath unfamiliar sheets, your mind still suspended somewhere between sleep and memory.
Then it rushed back.
The kisses. His voice in the dark. The weight of him beside you.
Your eyes flew open. The other side of the bed was empty. Cold.
You pushed yourself up too quickly and winced, your body sore in ways that made everything feel real all over again. The room was quiet. Too quiet.
There was no trace of him. Except—
Your clothes.
Folded neatly on the chair near the wall. Your heels placed carefully beside them. On the bedside table sat a glass of water and two tablets of medicine.
You stared at it for a long time. He had thought about your headache. He had left before you woke up. You swallowed, your throat suddenly tight.
“Of course,” you whispered to the empty room.
You got dressed slowly, each movement heavy with the awareness that something had changed and you didn’t know how to name it. When you stood fully, your legs trembled slightly. You inhaled, steadied yourself, and practiced walking normally before opening the door.
The hallway smelled like coffee and garlic. And laughter. You stepped into the living room carefully.
Jungkook was in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, humming to himself as he flipped something in a pan. Taehyung was sprawled across the couch, scrolling through his phone. Jimin was setting the table. Hoseok, miraculously alive after last night, was dramatically clutching his head.
“Good morning,” Jungkook sang, glancing over his shoulder. “Look who survived.”
You smiled faintly. “Barely.”
Taehyung’s eyes flicked up immediately, scanning you with mischief. “You look tired.”
“I am,” you replied quickly.
“Head hurts,” you added before he could say anything else.
Jimin nodded sympathetically. “Mine too. Hobi almost destroyed us.”
Hoseok groaned from the couch. “I regret nothing.”
You laughed softly, grateful for the distraction.
You walked carefully toward the table, aware of every step, every sensation. You prayed no one noticed. Taehyung noticed. He leaned closer as you sat down, lowering his voice playfully. “Rough night?”
Your heart slammed against your ribs. You rolled your eyes dramatically. “You all drank like it was the last day on earth.”
He grinned, unconvinced but amused. “Sure.”
You forced yourself to relax into the rhythm of the morning. The clatter of plates. The smell of food. The easy teasing. It felt painfully normal. Too normal.
You kept your eyes off the empty chair across the table. The one he usually took. You didn’t ask. You were afraid of how your voice might sound if you did.
Halfway through breakfast, the front door opened.
Namjoon stepped in, hair slightly messy, holding a jacket over his arm.
“Morning,” he greeted casually.
“Hyung,” Jungkook called. “You disappeared.”
Namjoon held up the jacket. “This was left in the living room.”
Your stomach dropped before he even said the name.
“Seokjin left it,” Namjoon added. “He headed out earlier. Said something came up.”
The room carried on.
“Oh.”
“Already?”
“He didn’t eat?”
But you heard nothing after that.
You forced your lips to curve upward. “He left?”
Namjoon nodded. “Yeah. He woke up early. Looked tired.”
You swallowed carefully. “Did he say where he was going?”
“Just that he had something to take care of.”
Something to take care of.
The phrase echoed too loudly in your head. You nodded as if it meant nothing. As if you hadn’t woken up expecting to see him beside you. As if you hadn’t hoped for even one awkward glance. One shared understanding.
Instead, there was folded clothes and medicine and distance.
Breakfast continued. Hoseok complained about his hangover. Taehyung and Yoongi argued with Jungkook about seasoning. Jimin insisted the eggs were overcooked.
You laughed at the right moments. You nodded when spoken to. Inside, something was unraveling slowly.
By late morning, everyone began packing. They had schedules in Seoul later that afternoon. The easy intimacy of the pension house dissolved into managers, calls, reminders, logistics.
You carried your bag outside with the others, the sun brighter now, harsher.
In the van, you sat by the window.
Jungkook plugged in his headphones almost immediately. Taehyung leaned his head back with a sigh. Hoseok was already asleep again.
You stared out at the road as the sea disappeared behind you. Your phone felt heavier in your hand. You unlocked it. Scrolled to his name. Your thumb hovered over the screen. What would you even say?
Are you okay.
Did you mean it.
Was it a mistake.
Do you regret it.
You locked your phone again. If you asked, you might get an answer. And you weren’t sure you could survive it.
The van moved steadily toward Seoul, toward schedules and cameras and the version of him the world knew. You rested your head against the glass, watching your reflection blur with the passing landscape. You whispered softly, too quiet for anyone to hear.
“Did it mean anything to you.”
The city skyline appeared in the distance. And somewhere between the sea and Seoul, you realized the silence between you might hurt more than any rejection ever could.
The days passed in a blur of spreadsheets, phone calls, and deadlines. You immersed yourself in your work as an assistant at the company you had moved to after the pension weekend, convincing yourself that keeping busy would dull the ache of that morning. Even when messages from the members pinged your phone, carefully casual and full of friendly jabs, you avoided them. You told yourself you were “busy,” though in truth, part of you just wasn’t ready to face him. He hadn’t reached out, not even a word, and the thought of seeing him without explanation twisted something tight in your chest.
Hours and weeks melted into routine, but inside you, the memory of that night, his hands, his lips, the moments of intimacy, refused to fade. You carried it like a secret, a weight only you bore. And yet, beneath the careful smiles at work, there was a simmering ache, a longing you didn’t dare voice.
Then came the day of the concert.
You had managed to secure backstage access, something the staff never questioned. Everyone knew you already; it had become a given that you were part of their world. As you walked through the hallways, the familiar hum of preparation hit you: stylists fussing with costumes, assistants running between monitors, makeup palettes open, and hairdryers buzzing like electric bees. The scent of hairspray and energy drinks mixed with the faint tang of sweat from the dancers, creating a strangely intoxicating perfume of chaos.
You paused briefly at the greenroom door, taking a deep breath. Your heart raced, not from nerves, but anticipation. You had missed them. Seeing Taehyung’s playful grin, Jungkook’s exaggerated bow, and Jimin adjusting his jacket made your chest feel light, almost like a homecoming.
And then you saw him. Seokjin.
He was across the room, speaking softly to a stylist about the setlist, his tall frame leaned casually against a table. Your eyes met briefly, just a second, but it was enough. For a heartbeat, the entire room disappeared. You could see every line of his face, the way the light caught the subtle curve of his lips, the slight crease between his brows that appeared when he concentrated. Then, almost immediately, he looked away.
That split second, that simple avoidance, slammed into you like ice water. Your stomach tightened. You had expected him to glance, maybe even smile, maybe a hint of familiarity, but not this careful distance.
The greenroom hummed around you. You moved further inside, trying to shake off the tension. Every laugh, every shout from the members, felt layered and distant, as if you were underwater. Then, as if scripted to break something in your chest, the door opened.
She walked in.
Tall. Elegant. Famous. Effortlessly radiant, the kind of woman who made even the most ordinary room seem brighter. Every eye subtly acknowledged her presence as she moved forward, gliding through the space with grace and warmth. She greeted everyone, shaking hands, laughing softly, nodding, and then, your stomach twisted, you realized she was headed for him.
He looked up from adjusting his collar, and she leaned in, brushing her lips against his. A perfect, practiced kiss, lingering just long enough to mark a claim without effort. Her lipstick left a faint, glossy mark that she smoothed away delicately with her thumb.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, her voice light, playful, confident.
Seokjin’s hands moved almost automatically, fixing the collar of his jacket, adjusting his tie. “You’re fine. And thank you… you look incredible.”
Your vision blurred for a second. The room, the noise, the familiar chaos of laughter and conversation, it all felt muted, filtered through a veil of shock.
You wanted to disappear. Pretend the greenroom didn’t exist. Pretend your heart didn’t ache. Pretend your chest wasn’t screaming with every casual smile he offered her, every laugh he shared, every brush of his hand against hers.
But you didn’t. You stayed. You smiled. You joined the chatter as if nothing had happened. You commented on Jungkook’s ridiculous story, laughed at Jimin’s bad joke, nodded along when Taehyung teased Hoseok about his lingering hangover. You were a part of it all, moving and laughing as though nothing had shattered inside you.
And yet, every movement felt deliberate. Every laugh forced. Every word carefully measured.
You noticed the small things: the way his eyes lingered on her, the slight brush of fingers against her arm, the gentle tilt of his head when she leaned close. You saw it all, and it tore at you silently, like a slow, deliberate cut.
Jungkook nudged you at one point. “You okay?” he asked softly.
“Yeah,” you said too quickly, swallowing the tightness in your throat. “I’m fine.”
The day went on, the concert came closer, and the noise of the staff, the buzz of cameras, and the chaos of final preparations kept you distracted, but never enough to forget.
You had expected awkwardness. You had prepared for it. But nothing could have prepared you for the quiet devastation of seeing him with someone else, someone who wasn’t you, someone who now held his attention in ways you had dreamed of holding it for years.
And as you moved among the members, laughing and helping where needed, you realized something painful and undeniable: he hadn’t looked at you since that moment, and you understood immediately that some part of him was avoiding you.
It wasn’t just the presence of another woman. It was you. You had been too close once, too vulnerable, too honest, and now, he was keeping a careful distance, hiding behind politeness and schedule and fame.
The night stretched ahead like a blade. You wanted to disappear before he noticed, before he remembered you were there.
And yet, you were here. Right in the greenroom, watching him laugh, seeing him move, and realizing that for all the years of closeness, for all the moments you had shared, some walls would remain between you unless someone dared to tear them down.
You swallowed hard, forcing another smile, and whispered to yourself: Just get through tonight.
The concert felt louder than any you had ever attended. Backstage was a world of motion. Stylists fixing microphones. Managers speaking into headsets. Assistants rushing past with water bottles and towels. The LED screens flickered with countdown graphics while the arena trembled with anticipation.
And there he was. Standing near the entrance tunnel, tall and impossibly composed, dressed in stage black that made him look untouchable. His girlfriend had been guided carefully to the VIP section with polite bows and quiet excitement from staff.
You had smiled when you saw her. You were proud of yourself for that. You told yourself you were mature enough for this. You told yourself you had always known this day would come. But knowing something is possible and watching it happen are two very different things.
He glanced toward you once while adjusting his earpiece. Just once. It lasted half a second. But it felt like standing in front of a fire and pretending you couldn’t feel the heat. Neither of you smiled. Neither of you looked away quickly enough to call it accidental.
From the wing, you stood beside Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin. The boys were electric under the lights. Every move sharp. Every note strong. Years of practice shining through. But tonight, the backstage air carried something heavier.
Taehyung leaned close to you during a transition. “So,” he murmured, nodding subtly toward the VIP section, “you talked to her?”
You shook your head.
“She’s nice,” Jimin said, folding his arms. “We met her once. I was shocked, honestly.”
“Hyung introducing someone like that,” Jungkook added quietly. “He’s serious if he did that.”
The word serious pressed into your chest. You forced a nod. “She seems lovely.”
Jimin studied you carefully. Too carefully. “Well,” he sighed, trying to lighten the mood, “there goes all the teasing. No more Jin and Y N jokes.”
He nudged you playfully. It felt like someone had scraped a wound raw.
Taehyung tilted his head. “I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m not convinced.”
“Convinced of what?” Jungkook asked.
“That it’ll last.”
Jimin gasped softly. “Tae.”
“I’m just saying,” Taehyung shrugged, eyes flicking briefly toward Seokjin onstage. “Hyung’s heart is complicated.”
Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck. “I just hope no articles come out. First time he introduces someone like this. He’s very private. If this turns messy…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
You swallowed.
“It won’t,” you said quickly. “I’m happy for him.”
The words tasted strange.
Taehyung looked at you again, that quiet knowing expression he had carried since high school.
“You sure?” he asked gently.
You smiled wider. “Of course.”
And if your hands trembled slightly, no one pointed it out.
The concert moved in waves of fire and sweat and roaring fans.
You watched him from the shadows.
He was brilliant. He was glowing. He was someone else’s.
And every time he drifted toward your side of the stage during choreography, your pulse reacted before your pride could stop it.
He never lingered, but he looked. Long enough for you to feel it. Not long enough for anyone else to notice. It was a silent conversation neither of you dared speak aloud.
During a short transition before his solo, he stepped offstage, breathing harder now. A staff member reached for him but he waved them off gently.
Then he walked toward you. You didn’t move.
Up close, he looked unreal. Skin glowing under the stage lights, hair damp against his forehead, eyes darker than usual.
“You came,” he said quietly.
You swallowed. “I always come.”
A flicker passed over his face. Silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said.
It came out smaller than you intended.
He exhaled slowly. “I thought that was obvious.”
The words struck harder than shouting would have.
“Why?” you asked.
He looked past you for a second, toward the empty hallway, then back at you.
“Because staying would’ve made it worse.”
Your throat burned. “Worse than what?”
“Worse than it already is.”
The crowd roared as the VCR began to play.
You barely heard it.
“You left before I woke up,” you said. “You couldn’t even wait.”
His jaw tightened for a split second before he forced himself still.
“If I had stayed,” he said carefully, “you would’ve looked at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”
“And?”
“And I wouldn’t have been able to pretend it didn’t matter.”
Your heart cracked open.
“So it didn’t matter?” you whispered.
His eyes softened then, and that was worse.
“It mattered too much.”
You blinked rapidly, trying to steady yourself.
“Then why does it feel like I imagined it?”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Because I’m trying to protect what we have left.”
The words felt like ice water.
“By pretending nothing happened?”
“By not turning one night into something that ruins everything.”
“Ruins what?” you demanded softly. “We’re already ruined.”
He shook his head. “No. We’re not. We can still go back.”
“Back to what?”
“To before.”
There it was.
Before.
Before you knew what his mouth felt like against yours. Before you learned the way he said your name when it wasn’t a joke. Before you saw him unguarded.
“You think I can go back?” you asked.
His silence answered you.
The stage manager called his name. Thirty seconds.
He didn’t look at you immediately. When he finally did, his eyes were steady. Resolved.
“That night,” he said, “was a mistake.”
The word mistake echoed louder than the stadium.
You felt your face go still.
“A mistake?” you repeated.
“We were drunk. Emotional. We crossed a line we shouldn’t have.”
You stared at him, waiting for him to take it back.
He didn’t.
“You deserve something real,” he continued, voice controlled. “Not something that starts in confusion and ends in regret.”
“Do you regret it?” you asked, barely audible.
He hesitated.
And that hesitation shattered you.
“I regret that it complicates everything,” he said finally.
You nodded slowly, even though your chest felt like it was collapsing inward.
“So leaving early,” you said, “that was your solution?”
“Yes.”
“So I didn’t have to see you walk away?” Your voice trembled now despite your effort. “Or so you didn’t have to see me stay?”
His eyes flickered.
“I left,” he said, “because if I had stayed and you looked at me the way you did that night, I would’ve chosen wrong.”
The words were quiet.
Devastating.
“Wrong?” you repeated.
“You.”
The syllable landed like a blade.
“I would’ve chosen you,” he corrected, forcing the words out, “and that wouldn’t be fair. Not to you. Not to anyone.”
Your vision blurred.
“So you decided for me.”
“I decided for both of us.”
The VCR ended. Five seconds.
He stepped back.
“This is the best decision,” he said, almost to himself. “You might hate me for it now. But one day you’ll understand.”
You felt something inside you finally give way.
“I don’t hate you,” you whispered. “I just wish you had fought for me.”
His composure cracked for the first time.
But only for a second.
Then the mask was back.
“I don’t get to want you,” he said.
And then he turned and walked into the light.
When he sang his solo that night, his voice was steady.
Controlled.
Professional.
No one would have guessed that backstage, away from the lights and applause, two people had just quietly shattered each other in ways neither of them knew how to fix.
Pairing: Rich boyfriend Hoseok x Middle class, Fem Reader
Theme: Lovers' quarrel au, hurt to comfort au.
Summary:
In which you declined an expensive gift from your rich boyfriend and later heard him complaining about you to his equally rich friends.
Word count: 6.1k
Warnings: Angst, hospitals, crying, fluff, Hoseok is a dumb sweetheart.
Minors Do Not Interact!
Masterlinks | Patreon
A/N: Birthday special oneshot for the one and only love of my life, Jung Hoseok.
Everything in this world comes with a price tag.
Even the free sample comes with an expectation of turning a prospect into a customer and there’s nothing wrong in that. If you need something, you will have to pay the price - that is more or less the only universal rule being followed everywhere beyond borders, religions, races, languages and so on.
The only difference lies in the capabilities of those paying the price. Some people barely manage to pay for what they need and some people don’t hesitate to pay a hefty amount even for something they won’t be needing as much.
And some reside in between the two categories… like you.
“Are you done with the dishes?” you ask one of the part-timers. Her face is hidden by the big kitchen chimney, making it tough for you to see her as you place your question.
“Oh sajangnim.” Daerim chimes in, “I am half way done.”
“Go home” you start walking inside the kitchen, “it’s getting late. I can finish up.”
“But I can-”
“Go home, Daerim-ah” holding her by her shoulders, you pull her away from the sink. Grabbing a pair of gloves you start doing the dishes.
“Thank you sajangnim. You are the best.” She bows down enthusiastically and runs out of the kitchen.
You smile to yourself.
When you started this small eatery, you had three goals - one, offering filling meals at an affordable price mostly for students and laborers. Two, offering jobs to young adults in need. Three, feeding them one meal per day. And you have been successful in doing all three of those. Also, a secret four - being your own boss, not having anyone to report to and not licking boots of those who are all talk but no work.
It’s been some two years since you started the business - and some would be calling it a failure as you are not generating a lot of profit, but whatever you make, is more than enough for yourself. You have a nice house in a nice neighborhood, two cats, a good amount saved in a secondary bank account - and that’s everything.
You hear the front door opening and closing, and then the sound of footsteps welcoming themselves inside the kitchen. You know who it is.
A pair of strong hands wrap themselves around your waist.
Oh, you forgot to mention that you also have a very handsome boyfriend, with whom you are in love.
“Not done yet?” Hoseok places his head on your shoulder, sniffing your hair like a puppy.
“Just a bit more.” you try to deliver your words but he is already placing down kisses on your ear.
“Umm.. You continue, so that I can continue too.” Hoseok says absentmindedly, as he pours his focus on kissing your nape. His hands on your waist are getting tighter with every passing second. This is not a good sign. Last time you two broke plates when you did stuff here. You can’t let the same thing happen today.
Scrubbing the last glass, you wash your gloved hands and turn off the faucet.
Turning on your heels to face your boyfriend, you say, “I am done, let’s go!”
Hoseok pouts, looking adorable. His almond eyes are warm with affection, his soft fluffy hair is covering his forehead, his heart-shaped lips are inviting you to dive in.
Tiptoeing, you place a kiss on those lips, “let’s go now, baby. We can continue upon reaching home.”
He smiles, “promise?”
“Yup!”
“What.. is this?” your eyes threaten to bulge out of the sockets as you step out, hand in hand with your boyfriend.
There stands a shiny black brand new Porsche 911 right outside your eatery. Looking up at Hoseok you find him grinning ear to ear. “I finally got it, jagi.” He looks away to stare at the car as if it’s the most precious thing in the world.
You forgot to mention yet another thing - your boyfriend belongs to the top 5% elite group of South Korea, meaning he is super rich and a proud over-spender. And this is his fourth luxury car, seventh car including the premium ones.
“Oh I see! No wonder why you seemed to be happier than usual, huh?” Watching him happy makes you happy too. Although you are happy with your frugal living, you never question your boyfriend’s love for luxury items, especially because he is self-made. He deserves to spoil himself just the way he wants.
“Eh? I am always happy while picking you up. You are my most valued possession.” leaning down he places a kiss on your forehead. You giggle.
People like him only fall for people like you in dramas and movies. But your real life fairy tale started shaping itself when you met him through a dating app. You matched, you chatted, you met and you clicked instantly. The first date was unceremonious and fun, the second one was romantic and by the third one he was asking you to be his girlfriend.
That was a year ago. It has been an eventful year and you are still falling for him more and more every single day.
Despite the ever so persistent class difference between you and him - Hoseok never makes you feel like you are anything different than him. If he buys you a meal, he lets you buy the next one. He respects your work, your independence without mocking or belittling anything and maybe that is the biggest reason why you are head over heels for him.
“Let’s go home! I have something for you too.” he starts pulling you towards his car.
“Really? What?”
“It’s a surprise.”
It has become a routine to spend the weekend at his place. You close your eatery by eight during Saturdays and Hoseok picks you up. The Sunday goes by talking, cooking, eating, and watching movies together. Both you and Hoseok wait for the week to come to an end so that you can melt in each others’ arms, while collecting pieces of each other’s life through stories.
Occasionally you two go out for dates but he has a pretty huge following on his Instagram and going out means attracting unwanted attention. Hence, you prefer existing under his roof and doing whatever you like for a whole damn day.
Today is nothing different. It’s just another Saturday, or at least, you think it is until Hoseok blocks your way from going further into his apartment with a huge shit eating grin on his face.
“What is it?” you smile, heart warming up inside your chest.
“Go, wash up. I will be waiting for you in the living room.” he says with the same expression.
“Is it about the surprise you were talking about earlier?” you narrow your eyes at your boyfriend.
“Yes!” he exclaims enthusiastically, “now go! Hurry!”
You love his innocence. You love how he is just so cute and down-to-earth despite owning the biggest real estate business in the country. The only time he turns to a monster is when he has you pinned under him but that’s for a completely different purpose.
“Okay! Okay!” you move towards the master bathroom without wasting another single second. If Hoseok wants you to hurry up, you will do just that.
It takes you some twenty minutes to complete your night routine. As you come out of the bathroom, you find Hoseok seated on the couch - changed into his comfort clothes, with a huge box on the top of the coffee table.
Walking slowly towards him, you eye the box. Honestly, you have no idea what is in here and given the size - assuming anything is impossible.
When Hoseok said he had a gift for you, you thought of small things - like the ones he has given you before - a set of matching cups, a very pretty phone charm, a bouquet of flowers and the biggest box of your favorite chocolates.
“What is this?” you question, sitting beside him.
He picks it up and puts the box down on your lap, “open it.”
The box is not only huge but also quite heavy. Is this a blanket or something? You recall telling him that you need to buy a new duvet a few days back.
“Come on. Open it!” He seems to be impatient at this point. So without delaying anymore, you start undoing the ribbon. The gift wrap comes out easily enough but as soon as the main box is exposed before your eyes, your breath hitches.
It’s a Louis Vuitton box, meaning whatever inside is a luxury item - one of those things you definitely can not afford.
Gulping once, you continue to open the box. It is a bag. The brown leather body of the item is lined with a thick pink seam. The strap and handles are of the same color. It’s beautiful to say the least but your eyes go to the price tag lying lazily on the top of it.
36,45,898 won for one bag - one piece of an article that you don’t even have clothes to pair with.
“Do you like it?” he asks, excitement prominent in his voice.
“Hoseok, this is very pretty but also… very expensive.” you look up at him. The look in his eyes doesn’t waver. He can not understand the meaning behind your words just yet.
“Yes! I know! But your boyfriend is rich enough to afford that baby.” he smiles sweetly.
Looking down, you eye the bag as if it’s mocking your entire existence, “that is the thing, Hoseok. You are rich enough to afford this, not me. I can’t accept this. I am sorry, but accepting something so expensive from you feels like I am taking advantage of your affluence.”
Although you are not staring at him, you can feel how his expression changes as soon as you say those words out loud.
“I- I don’t get what you are saying, Y/N.” he tries to smile through the confusion, but fails, “This is a gift. Why does it matter if you can afford it or not? I am not asking anything in exchange for this?”
“No, Hoseok. It’s not about you asking anything in return or not. I am not accustomed to receiving expensive items like this, and since I can not buy something like this for myself, I don’t think I can accept this either.” you try to emphasize your point, but Hoseok’s face puzzles even more.
“But why?” he asks again.
“As I said, it would seem like I am taking advantage of your money. And I am not your sugar baby, I am your girlfriend.” you try to place your argument.
Hoseok’s eyes narrow on you, “exactly! You are my girlfriend and I have the right to spoil you!”
“You do. You definitely do! But not with something so expensive. You could have bought me a bunch of houseplants or a blanket, I would have been the happiest. But look at this bag, Hoseok… I don’t even have clothes that would go with this! Fuck! This bag costs more than four months worth of rent for my apartment. You get what I am saying?”
Your boyfriend cards a hand through his hair, “I don’t. I don’t get what you are saying except for the fact that you are not going to accept this, right?”
You sigh, “Hoseok-”
“Yes or no, Y/N?”
“No. I can’t accept this.”
“Okay.” Hoseok stands up, grabs the box, and walks away towards his study.
Now… Jung Hoseok is a sunshine in human form but when he is angry, he becomes a tough rock, too stubborn to deal with.
For the entire night, he doesn’t speak a single word to you. When you initiate conversations, he gives you one-worded replies. He doesn’t even look at you properly, doesn’t touch you either. Although his coldness hurts you, you try your best to give him some time to process what you have told him earlier.
You know you have hurt his sentiments. He was so excited and you poured cold water on his excitement. But if you don’t straighten your terms right now, it might be too late.
Hoseok is not someone who can stay angry for long. You can talk to him tomorrow again and make him see your point better.
Yes, for tonight you will let him be.
He lays down with his back facing you for the first time ever and even if what hurts you, you know you kind of deserve it.
For most of the night sleep doesn't come your way. You twist and turn and stare solemnly at Hoseok's back for the better part of the time. When you manage to get lucid, the events from earlier start to crowd your headspace. It's maybe some time around the dawn when you fall asleep.
So waking up was harder than ever. Your eyes open to the buzz of your phone, vibrating on the night stand with a notification from a gc.
It's 9:46 in the morning. Your eyes open wide at the time, you never wake up this late.
Usually during Sundays, your morning sun rises with you being Hoseok’s arm and your eyes open on their own by 8. But today, everything feels off and unpleasantly different. Your mind reels back to the events from last night.
The first thing you do after regaining your wits is to check for your boyfriend - he is not on the bed.
Climbing off, you check the living room, kitchen, the balcony, his study, the guest room and even both of the bathrooms but he is nowhere to be found. And then you notice the small sticky note at the coffee table top.
“I have some urgent work to finish. Will be back around evening.”
Your heart drops to your stomach. Hoseok is not the one to work on weekends. He brings work home if there's anything urgent. Hence, this is an excuse to avoid you. The note, too, is extensively dry. He could have easily texted you, but leaving this note means he doesn’t want to leave any room for your reply.
Is he that angry with you?
Your eyes start watering as the realization sits heavy in your stomach. You didn't mean to hurt him this much. You just hate the thought of people calling you gold digger or something of that sort.
If accepting the gift makes Hoseok happy, then fine. You'll accept it.
But first to make up for him, you need to cook. You'll cook his favourite dishes and take the food to his office so that you can talk things out.
Yes! That's the best idea.
Hurrying on your feet, you wash up and then head towards the kitchen. Focusing on the task, you decide to wear something nice as well.
It takes you two hours to complete everything. Once you are done cooking, you change your clothes, put light make-up that you always carry in your bag and head out to make things right with your boyfriend.
Hoseok's office isn't too far away from his home. It's a small four-storey space, situated in one of the less busy streets of Gnangnam.
The security guard bows towards you as you push the main door open. Bowing back at him, you walk inside. The office is deserted, which confirms your suspicion of Hoseok using work as an excuse to avoid you.
His cabin is on the first floor, so you take the stairs. As you step on the floor you hear sounds coming from his office room, which is weird because the glass walls are soundproof.
Maybe the door is open?
Turning around the corridor, you see the glass door wide open, letting everything be heard clearly. There is nothing abnormal about it.
Hoseok has two very dear friends - Munjoon and Jian. Both of them are equally rich, self made. They met through networking parties, clarity galas, noblesse oblige kind of events and became friends.
You have met them a couple of times already and got the impression of Jian having a very fat crush on your boyfriend, which never really bothers you because you know Hoseok only has eyes for you.
However, he never once intentionally met up with them on the days he reserved solely for you, so him being here using work as an excuse and meeting his friends, is a tiny bit disappointing.
You know you were extremely stubborn last night but if you two could talk - wouldn't it be better?
As you near his cabin, the voice gets louder, sentences get clearer and a few of them fly inside your ears, registering themselves.
“No matter how many times I hear her, I just couldn't get what she was getting at. I still don't get her point, not even a bit.” You hear your boyfriend say… No, you hear him complain. Your feet halt, not having the courage to introduce your presence. You stand right beside the open door and hear him complaining about your behavior.
“Maybe because she is not accustomed to such things, that's why?” Munjun replies to him. It feels as if he wants to say more but is soon cut off by Jian.
“Oh you shut up, Mun-ah! She just has no class and that's the truth. If she really respected Hoseok, she would have accepted the gift.” She pauses for a second and then continues, “people like these, Hoseok-ah, don't have any idea about sophistication.”
Your eyes blur with the impact of the insults. Yes, you're not as rich as them but having no idea about class and sophistication? How is that even an argument? If you could, you would remind them you are as much educated as any of them.
But you blink your tears away. You know your boyfriend is not going to sit still and listen to anyone insulting you like this.
“I think you are right.” Hoseok says instead. Although his voice is laced with some kind of hesitation as if he is not even present there; but he still… says those words.
Your heart drops to your stomach as you try not to let a loud sob out.
“Why else would she quit a perfectly fine job and open an eatery? The place is not even on social media! Can you believe that?” Jian complains even more, “she really doesn't suit you, Hoseok-ah.”
Hoseok lets out a sigh, “I… I really don't know.”
And that's all you needed to hear. Hoseok not being sure about you anymore is certainly the one big push you needed to believe that this relationship is indeed a failure, that you thinking the class differences didn't matter when love is strong was all a mirage.
You lost in this battle. And you will now retreat.
Turning around, you walk away as quietly as you came.
You wish you could vanish into thin air so that Hoseok never has to see your face ever again but before you can finally call it quits, you have a few questions to answer. And you will answer those standing face to face with your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.
By the time you manage to walk yourself to Hoseok’s house - you are exhausted. Not physically, but mentally. You are exhausted by replaying everything you heard, everything you should have not heard at all.
The words went through your ears and made a home inside of your brain. Those change everything you have chosen to believe, everything you have known about your and Hoseok’s relationship.
And now the high horses you have been riding all along, the pride you have been feeling, the confidence you had in your love - everything feels like a lie, a mirage that was once covered with a cloak that looked and felt like reality.
The truth is out and you don’t know how to absorb everything.
Upon reaching his house, which now feels like it’s judging you for even daring to step inside it, you start packing. There’s not a lot of things to pack - a few clothes and skincare, that’s it. So, it doesn’t take you more than ten minutes to accumulate everything and put those into the overnight bag you brought when you started spending the weekend at his place.
Once you are done, you make a quick trip to your own place to drop your luggage and then come back and wait patiently for your boyfriend to come back.
You lose the sense of time gradually as the words from earlier keep stomping on your chest. Your vision blurred quite a lot of time but you blinked the moisture away. Although you want to cry, your heart is threatening to burst into pain - you are not going to break down before you face Hoseok.
It’s maybe after three or four hours later when the door lock chimes in, signalling that it’s time to face your fears.
You don’t turn your head to look at him even when you hear his footsteps carrying himself inside. He doesn’t utter a word either. The atmosphere of the house turns even more tense than last night as soon as Hoseok steps inside and starts ignoring your entire existence altogether.
He trudges towards the fridge silently, grabbing a bottle of water.
Standing up you walk towards him, but instead of crossing the kitchen island to stand beside him, you stand on the other side.
Something in you tells him that you two don’t belong to the same sides anymore.
“I left my nine to five because I didn’t like working for someone else. Yes, I know I have a degree in management and yet I opened an eatery which doesn’t make any flashing profit. But I am happy with whatever I do. I am happy with offering people affordable meals. I am happy even though there’s no social media recognition of my place. I am happy enough and do not want to change a thing.” you try your best not to cry. Gulping once you continue, “I am sorry I never explained all these before. You might have always wondered what’s the deal with me, why do I seem to be so pessimistic. It’s just that I try to be happy with as little as possible because you don’t know when you lose everything you have. This is also the reason why I declined your gift. If you keep giving me these expensive items, there might be a day when our relationship starts being defined by these things, and not by the love we share or the memories for that matter. I hope this helps simplify the reason behind my refusal. I am sorry for hurting you the way I did. And also…” your teeth bite on your lower lip as you try your hardest not to cry, “I don’t think I am someone suitable for you. We don’t match - not by wealth, not by class - nothing. So… it will be better to part our ways here. I hope you will find someone who matches you and I hope I will find someone who matches me as well.” pulling a smile to your lips, you smile, finally looking at Hoseok, “bye. Take care of yourself.”
Hoseok stands still as if he has stopped breathing. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even move an inch. He only stares at you with a slight frown on his forehead. So you take his silence for his agreement and bow down.
It doesn't even take you a minute to leave his place and him behind.
You don’t want to hope, don’t want to expect anything but your heart still wants him to run behind you, tell you everything you heard was a lie - tell you that he loves you much more than what class and social differences can allow.
However, Hoseok doesn’t come. And you let yourself melt in the pool of your own tears - letting your heart hurt before you can put a lock on it and restrict itself from being a fool for anyone else.
But before you can reach the bus stop - an alert from Hoseok’s number reaches your phone.
Jung Hoseok has never fallen in love before.
You are the first ever person who blew his mind with how simple you are. You rocked his world in the best possible way and made him yours with such a grace that he can't believe that was a time when you weren't there in his life.
And he can't think of the future without picturing you in it.
Although Hoseok never fell in love before, he dated a bunch of women. So he knows well how a relationship works.
In this theory, the foundation of a strong relationship lies within the course of spending quality time, respecting each other's boundaries, having a healthy sex life, and pampering each other with tons of gifts.
His relationship with you is enriched in every possible aspect, except for the last mentioned one.
It's not that he hasn't gifted you anything before. He has gifted flowers, chocolates, keyrings and so on. But those were not that impactful. He always wanted to give you something that would be one of a kind. Something that would last a longer time than those keyrings or mugs. Something that would belong to you and only you in this entire world.
So when he saw that bag in the LV store and got to know that he could customize the bag by adding your name to its leather panels - he knew this was the item he was looking for all along. He didn't think twice before pulling his black card out and purchasing it for you.
He hadn't been that excited in a while.
In this one year, Hoseok has gotten to know you well. So he had an idea about the hesitation you would go through upon seeing the price of the bag. He wanted to uproot the price tag out but he didn't want to hide the amount from you either.
However, he didn't… certainly didn't expect you to outwardly turn the gift down. He didn't expect you to differentiate yourself from him the way you did.
It hurt him, angered him and frustrated him beyond explanation. And as a result he ended up ignoring you. Despite having no work, he ended up going to his office just to stay a bit away from you. Calling Jian and Munjun was not a conscious choice but he needed to share the storm that was going inside of him. He needed to discuss this ordeal with at least another person to help himself understand your point of view.
“People like these, Hoseok-ah, don't have any idea about sophistication.” Jian had said and Hoseok had not even listened to her properly. His mind was riddled with so many questions but more than those - the fears echoed louder.
The fear of you not totally accepting him, differentiating him made it tough for him to function properly. His mind kept on replaying the events from last night. Your face, your actions, your stubbornness of not accepting the gift - everything turned him into a melting pot of anxiety.
“I think you are right.” Hoseok had replied, without even thinking or knowing what he was agreeing to.
Jian reached out and placed her hand on top of Hoseok’s then, bringing him back to the room. He sat straight and focused on the conversation.
“Why else would she quit a perfectly fine job and open an eatery? The place is not even on social media! Can you believe that? She really doesn't suit you, Hoseok-ah.”
But if anything, her words complicated him even more. He didn’t know who was not suitable for whom - you for him or him for you. “I… I really don't know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose to shoo away the headache that had started troubling him by a bit already.
“Hoseok” Munjun called him, “I think you should be happy instead of being sad and angry.”
He looked up at his friend with a frown tattooed on his forehead, “what do you mean?”
“Every girl I have ever met and dated, loved receiving expensive gifts. When we broke up, none of them returned the expensive shit I bought for them. But I often see them flaunting those items at parties and events.” he shrugs.
“So? What are you trying to say?” Jian asked on behalf of Hoseok.
“I am trying to say that Hoseok, you found a gem! She is not after your name or money! She loves you and only you! And you have hurt her pride by thinking she would love it if you flaunt your wealth with gifts. If I were in her shoes, I would be pissed too! Go and apologize to her, you won’t find another one like her. And if you are not looking forward to doing so, give me her contact. Imma ask her out right away.”
“Yah!” Hoseok screamed at his friend but thanks to Munjun, he realized his mistake. “Thanks.”
“No worries.” Munjun stood up, “make up with Y/N as soon as possible. And you, come with me.” The last part was dedicated to Jian. “You wouldn’t get anything by staying here.”
“Oppa-”
“Let’s go.” Munjun pressed more.
Hoseok had an idea about Jian’s feelings towards him, but at that moment he became sure. Too bad - he can’t even look at another woman other than you.
Since they left, Hoseok has been trying to craft sentences after sentences to apologize to you, to make it up to you, to tell you that he fucking loves you so damn much. It took him some time - because he was not ready to face you just yet. After the way he avoided you for the better part of the day - he ended up feeling like a criminal and was not sure how to stand before you and say what he should say.
He expected you to be hurt and angry after his cold treatment. But he was confident - he knew you would forgive him if he explained himself and all of his shortcomings properly.
He had no idea what was waiting for him behind those closed doors.
Your face was darker than he had ever seen as you explained why you quit your job and started the eatery. For a moment Hoseok had no idea why you were saying whatever you were saying but then his mind made a connection - and he realized you somehow heard his conversation with his friends and misunderstood certain things.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to tell you that this is a misunderstanding - but nothing came out of his throat.
The look on your face, the tears in your eyes scared him shitless - he realized he was about to lose you… forever.
And when you closed the door behind your back - his entire world fell apart. The breath caught in his throat and he blacked out.
Hoseok is a good sleeper.
He has a very strict schedule, which means his napping hours are maintained very strictly as well. Hence, sleep nuisances are very sparse in his life.
But still… he hasn’t slept this well in a while.
By the time he manages to tear his eyes open, his eyelids have gone heavier than ever - he feels a sharp pain in the back of his head as soon as he sees light.
Fuck! What happened? Where is he? Why is everything so bright? Wait? Did he die and is now in heaven?
The last thing he recalls is you storming out of his place and then… he can’t put a finger on what happened after that. When he closes his eyes to put some more pressure on his brain and find out what actually took place, he hears a sniffle.
Turning his very stiff neck, he finds you sitting beside his hospital bed (?). With your face in your hands, you are most probably crying.
“Y/N?” his voice cracks through the heavy hospital air smelling like disinfectant. Your head springs up at the speed of light. With big, red, wet eyes, you open your mouth to say something but only a sob comes out.
“Hey.. hey. Don’t cry, baby. I am fine.” Hoseok tries to sit up, but you push him down with frail hands.
“I am- I am so sorry, Ho-hoseok. I am so sorry. I am-” your voice chokes as another sob takes over. Hoseok sits up ignoring your attempts to keep him on the bed. Leaning towards you, he engulfs you in a tight embrace to calm you down but you start crying even harder.
“Baby, please calm down, hmm? I am fine. See I am here, perfectly fine.” detaching himself from you, he cups your face delicately as if you are a doll made of porcelain. “I can't remember what happened, can you tell me? Please?”
This seems to work. You finally look up at him while he wipes your tears away with his thumb.
“I was.. I was on the way to my home, almost at the bus stop, when I got an alert from your number saying that you have suffered from a hard fall. I ran back, but by the time I reached, you were already unconscious. Thankfully your smart watch already alerted 119 as well, so they were on their way.” you pause to sniff again, “the doctor said you blacked out due to some kind of shock and banged your head on a hard surface. There’s no internal or external injury, but you will be suffering from a bit of swelling for a few days ahead.”
“Oh. So that is what happened…” Hoseok finds himself revisiting the moment when you walked out and everything drowned into an unfathomable darkness before his eyes.
“All of it happened because of me, Hoseok. I kn-know you blacked out because I chose to be a bitch-”
“Stop, Y/N. Don't curse yourself.” He interrupts your statement firmly, “Yes, I know I blacked out because you… you said you were going to br-break up with me, but that’s not your fault. Anyone would want to leave such a bad boyfriend like me. I not only failed to understand how precious you are, but also… ignored you for a whole day.” he closes his eyes, suddenly very angry with himself. Only if he talked things out with you, all of these would not be happening.
“I should have talked to you as well. I went to your office and heard you talking to your friends…. And I just… jumped into a conclusion. I am sorry-”
“Stop apologizing. If anyone should be sorry, then it’s me.” he clutches your hands tightly. “I know you have gotten the wrong impression from whatever you've heard, but trust me, my intention was never to look down on you or insult you. I am the worst, I know. But, Y/N.. don’t leave me please. I will be better. I promise I will be better for you.”
You nod your head in a no and for a moment Hoseok’s heart stops beating - he feels another concussion coming his way. But then- “I am not going anywhere. I am not… I am even ready to accept the gift.”
A smile spreads on his face, “You don’t have to, Y/N. I will never force you to do something you don’t want. Just.. just don’t leave me, okay?”
You nod again - a furious yes this time, “Yes. yes. I will be here. I am here, Hoseok, for as long as you want me.”
“Till I am a hundred then?” Hoseok places his forehead against yours.
“Till you are hundred.” you confirm.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you more.” you place a kiss on his lips..
“Hey! This is a hospital! We don’t want any kind of contamination here!” A nurse screams from the other side of the ward.
Both of you bow your heads to apologize but you see something akin to a smile on her face. When you turn your face to look at your boyfriend again, you find him smiling down at you with stars in his eyes.
And this is what love is all about - a little argument, a little miscommunication at times, a little adjustment and compromise. When you are truly in love and loved - none of this is a big deal.
A little love has the power of making everything a lot better.
He’s thoughtful in that quiet way of his—the kind of thoughtfulness that doesn’t announce itself, doesn’t need credit. He holds doors open for you without thinking twice. He carries your heavy bags like it’s automatic, even the ones you insist you can manage yourself. He shows up at your door with steaming takeout containers because he “was in the neighborhood” (he wasn’t). He sits through the worst, most ridiculous movies with you, the kind even you can’t defend, and even though he rolls his eyes dramatically, he never once suggests changing the channel.
It isn’t until someone points it out that you realize… Yoongi doesn’t do this for anyone else. Maybe, just maybe, Yoongi feels the same way about you as you’ve been secretly, stubbornly, quietly feeling about him.
So tonight, you decide it’s your turn.
You show up at his door with grocery bags cutting into your fingers, heart racing like you’ve just run here instead of driven. When he opens the door, he doesn’t even look surprised.
“Come in,” he says simply, stepping aside, and just like that, you’re inside his world again.
He doesn’t blink when you head straight to the kitchen, setting bags down on the counter. He doesn’t comment when you move around like you own the space, sliding things into his fridge, stacking snacks in his cupboards. His only response is to lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with that quiet, indulgent look that’s so distinctly Yoongi.
When you finally join him on the couch, you sit a little closer than usual. Close enough that your knees touch when you shift, close enough that your thigh brushes his when you lean back. To anyone else, it’d look normal. But Yoongi notices. Of course he notices.
He says nothing, only leaning into you until the steady weight of his shoulder presses against yours.
The two of you sit like that through an entire episode of some drama you can’t even remember the name of. It’s only when the credits roll that you risk glancing at him.
When the credits roll, you finally dare to turn your head—only to find his gaze already on you. His eyes crinkle faintly at the corners, a teasing smile curving his lips.
“Finally figured it out?” he murmurs. His voice is low, gentle, the kind of sound that sinks into your chest and lodges there.
Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your first instinct is to laugh it off, but your throat feels tight.
“Sorry it took me so long,” you manage, the words soft, almost ashamed.
Yoongi shakes his head, smile widening as if he’s amused at the very idea. He leans closer, until his forehead nearly brushes yours. “Don’t be. I was happy to wait.”
The air between you feels charged, humming with something fragile and infinite. Your pulse stutters. Your fingers twitch against your lap. And then, before you can lose your nerve, you let them drift—just a small shift, brushing the back of your hand against his.
He catches it immediately, threads his fingers through yours like he’s been waiting for permission.
“Yoongi…” your voice is barely a whisper, uncertain, hopeful.
“Mm?” He tilts his head, eyes soft as moonlight.
“This… this means we’re—?”
His lips twitch like he’s fighting a laugh. “You think I’d sit through Sharknado 3 with just anyone?”
You groan, pressing your face into your free hand, but he catches your wrist and gently pulls it away. His smile softens again, gaze steady. “It’s always been you.”
Something in your chest cracks wide open at that, relief and affection spilling out all at once. Before you can say anything, he leans in, brushing his lips over your cheek. It’s soft, unhurried, a promise sealed in warmth.
And when you finally turn your face toward him, daring to close the distance, his mouth finds yours like it was always meant to.
The studio is quiet in that way that isn’t actually quiet.
The low hum of equipment. The faint click of keys. The scratch of pencil against paper.
You’re on the couch with your laptop open, knee bouncing, half-drowning in uni deadlines. Tabs open. Notes scattered. Brain spiraling.
Across the room, Yoongi is working like he always does—hoodie on, headphones crooked, shoulders slightly hunched. Calm. Focused. Untouchable.
Every few minutes his eyes flick to you.
You pretend you don’t see it.
The door swings open.
“Hyung.”
Jungkook walks in with a plastic bag, looking too pleased with himself. “I come bearing gifts.”
Yoongi doesn’t turn. “You’re loud.”
“You’re old.”
Jungkook drops the bag on the table in front of you. “Japchae for you.”
You freeze.
“…Japchae?”
He nods. “Yeah. Hyung said to grab it.”
Your head turns slowly toward Yoongi.
He’s still facing the screen.
Still pretending this is normal.
“How did you know that?” you ask, eyes returning to Jungkook.
Jungkook blinks. “Know what?”
“That it’s my favourite.”
A beat.
He points at Yoongi. “He told me.”
Silence.
You look at him properly now. “How did you know?”
Yoongi exhales through his nose, pulls his headphones down around his neck.
“You mentioned it once.”
Your brows pull together. “And you remembered?”
He finally looks at you.
There’s something almost defensive there. Like the question itself offends him.
“Yeah.”
Jungkook looks between the two of you, grins like he’s just witnessed something he’ll tease you about later, and slips out.
The door shuts.
The studio feels smaller.
You stare at the container in your hands.
Japchae.
You did mention it once. Months ago. Offhand. Between conversations.
And then—
Your brain starts connecting dots.
The way he always hands you iced americanos without asking—because you once said hot drinks make you anxious before big moments.
The way he avoids horror movies around you—because you mentioned offhand that she has nightmares.
The way he texts on the exact day you grandmother passed—never saying much, just: You okay today?
You steps closer to him now.
“You remember all that?”
He sighs softly, like you’re asking something obvious. “I remember everything about the people I care about.”
Your heart stutters.
You stand before you fully realize you are.
Step closer.
“You remember all that?” you repeat, softer this time.
He tilts his head slightly. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t think to tell me?”
“You didn’t know?” he asks quietly.
Your heart is pounding now. “No.”
He studies you for a long second before speaking.
“You think I let just anyone sit in here while I’m working?” He gestures vaguely around the studio. “You think I’d let just anyone see me when I’m frustrated? Or stuck? Or exhausted?”
Your breath catches.
“You think I’d memorize how you take your coffee…” His eyes flick down to your hands. You’re picking at your sleeves. Of course you are. “…or how you do that when you’re overwhelmed. For no reason?”
Your voice comes out softer than she expects. “Yoongi…”
He stands slowly, closing the small distance you’d left between you.
“I don’t let people in here,” he says, quieter now. “Not really.”
You swallow.
“You’re in here,” he continues. “You sit there while I work. You see the messy parts. You hear the unfinished songs.”
His gaze softens.
“You think that’s accidental?”
“I thought I was just… around,” you admit. “Convenient.”
His brows pull together immediately. “You think I keep people around out of convenience?”
You don’t answer.
He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, close enough that your breathing starts syncing without permission.
“I don’t do casual,” he says. “Not with music. Not with people.”
Your hands are still fidgeting.
He reaches out, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrists to still them.
“You’ve been one of my people for a long time,” he adds.
One of my people.
The words settle somewhere deep.
“And I’m just finding out?” you whisper.
He exhales, almost a huff of disbelief.
“You really didn’t know.”
It’s not a question this time.
You shake your head.
He looks at you like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s heard all week.
“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it.
His hands are still around your wrists. Not tight. Just enough to stop the nervous movement. Just enough to keep you there.
“You thought I was just being nice?” he asks.
“I thought…” You hesitate. “You’re like this with everyone.”
He actually scoffs at that.
“I’m not.”
There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes now. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just steady.
“I don’t notice everyone’s favorite food,” he says. “I don’t memorize their deadlines. I don’t stay up until four finishing a mix and still text to ask if they got home safe.”
Your breath falters.
“I don’t rearrange sessions because someone has exams,” he adds, softer. “I don’t keep the couch clear because someone likes sitting there.”
Your stomach drops a little.
“You keep it clear?” you whisper.
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “You hate clutter.”
You did mention that once. Offhand. Laughing about how messy dorm rooms stress you out.
The realization keeps stacking. Quiet proof. Months of it.
“Yoongi..” Your breath shudders. “You never said anything,”
“You never asked,” he replies gently.
That almost makes you laugh. Almost.
His thumbs brush lightly over the inside of your wrists before he seems to realize what he’s doing. He doesn’t pull away.
“I figured,” he continues, voice quieter now, “if I just… stayed. If I showed up. You’d know.”
Your chest aches a little.
“I didn’t,” you admit.
“I can see that.”
There’s no accusation. Just fact.
You look up at him, really look at him — hoodie slipping off one shoulder, hair falling into his eyes, that careful calm he wears like armor. He’s never been loud about his feelings. Never dramatic. He builds them like he builds songs. Layer by layer. Subtle. Intentional.
“For how long?” you ask.
A beat.
“Long enough.”
That’s such a Yoongi answer you almost roll your eyes — but you’re too busy trying to breathe.
“You could’ve told me,” you whisper.
“I am telling you.”
He steps closer, barely an inch, but it feels seismic.
“I don’t let people sit in here,” he repeats. “This place is… mine.” His hand gestures around the studio — the tangled cables, the scribbled notebooks, the unfinished tracks. “You’re the only one who’s ever made it feel less lonely.”
Your throat tightens.
“I thought I was distracting you,” you confess.
He shakes his head immediately. “You’re grounding me.”
The words knock the air out of you.
“You stress about everything,” he continues, almost fondly. “You overthink. You spiral. But when you’re here…” His lips press together briefly. “It’s quieter in my head.”
You don’t know what to do with that.
Your voice comes out small. “Yoongi…”
He releases your wrists slowly — but only to slide one hand up, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek like he’s testing whether this is allowed.
“You really had no idea?” he asks again, softer now.
You shake your head.
A faint, incredulous smile tugs at his mouth.
“I bought you noise-canceling headphones because you said the library was too loud.”
“I thought that was just—”
“Because you needed them.”
“I thought you had extra—”
“I didn’t.”
Silence.
Your heart is racing so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.
“You’re terrible at this,” you breathe.
“At what?”
“Making it obvious.”
He raises a brow slightly. “I thought I was being pretty obvious.”
The studio feels too small for your heartbeat.
“You’ve been one of my people,” he adds again, almost like he needs you to understand the weight of it. “For a long time.”
Your hands find the front of his hoodie without thinking, gripping lightly.
“You’re one of mine too,” you admit.
That does something to him.
You see it — the subtle shift. The way his shoulders drop. The way his breathing changes.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
You can feel the way his body relaxes into that thought.
He huffs softly. “You’re the only noise I don’t mind.”
A small smile breaks across your face. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said.”
“I didn’t say I was romantic.”
He doesn’t step back. If anything, he edges closer — subtle, almost subconscious. Your hands are still in his hoodie. His hand is still at your neck. The space between you is barely there now.
Your grip on his hoodie tightens, and before you can think too hard about it, you close the last inch of space and press your forehead lightly to his chest.
He inhales sharply at that.
Not startled.
Just affected.
His other arm comes around you slowly, like he’s giving you time to change your mind. When you don’t, he pulls you in properly.
“You’re unbelievable,” he murmurs into your hair.
“You’ve said that already.”
“I mean it differently this time.”
You laugh softly against him, and you feel it — the way he holds you. Not loosely. Not casually. Like something chosen.
After a moment, you tilt your head back to look up at him.
His gaze drops to your lips for the briefest second before returning to your eyes. Hesitation flickers there — not insecurity, just permission-seeking in his own quiet way.
You answer by sliding one hand from his hoodie to the side of his neck.
His lips press to yours with a quiet certainty, slow and warm, like he’s been thinking about this exact moment for a long time and refuses to rush it now that it’s here. He kisses like he does everything else—carefully, intentionally. No wasted movement.
One hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, fingers spreading there. Protective. Grounding. The other lifts to cradle your jaw, thumb resting just below your ear.
You make a soft sound against his mouth before you can stop it.
He exhales through his nose at that, the faintest hitch in his composure. His lips move more firmly now, still unhurried but deeper, tilting slightly to fit better against you. The world narrows to warmth and breath and the faint taste of coffee.
Your hands slide fully into his hair.
He freezes for half a second at that—surprised—before melting into it. Actually melting. His grip tightens just slightly at your back, pulling you flush against him as if he’s been waiting for permission to hold you like this.
His thumb strokes slowly along your jaw as he kisses you again—softer this time, but lingering. Like he doesn’t want to waste a second of it. Like he’s memorizing this too.
When you pull back, you’re both breathing a little uneven.
“Took you long enough,” he mutters, resting his forehead against yours.
“You never said anything.”
“You never asked.”
You roll your eyes lightly. “That’s not how this works.”
“It worked,” he says quietly.
And annoyingly — he’s right.
A knock suddenly pounds against the door.
“Hyung, if you two start dating and don’t tell me I’m taking credit for this entire thing,” comes Jungkook’s voice from the other side.
You freeze.
Yoongi doesn’t even look annoyed. He just sighs softly, still holding you.
“Go away,” he calls flatly.
There’s a pause.
“…So that’s a yes?” Jungkook shouts.
Yoongi doesn’t move away. He just sighs, pressing one more soft kiss to the corner of your mouth like he refuses to be rushed out of this moment.
“Yeah,” he says, loud enough to carry. “It’s a yes.”
Your heart flips all over again.
He looks back down at you, something steady and sure in his expression now.
Blind date set up by your mother? Sounds like a horrible idea. Blind date on Valentine’s Day? Even worse. But your date is Namjoon - tall, handsome, and unexpectedly charming. What starts as a potential disaster turns out to be… well, you’ll see.
genre: Art nerd Namjoon X psychology nerd reader. Pure fluff. Cozy date vibes. First date.
word count: 4.8K
a/n: here's a little something for valentine’s 🥰 I didn’t have time so this is not edited, proofread or anything. So it might be repetitive, and there might be mistakes. Hope you'll still enjoy it and I love you all ❤️
Why did you say yes to this?
You roll the question again and again in your mind as you struggle through the rain to get to the restaurant.
You normally wouldn’t want to go anywhere after work, especially not when it’s raining.
Especially not for a blind date with a dude you know nothing about. And frankly, don’t care to learn.
But your mother insisted.
Saying it’s her friend's son, he’s tall and nice, and you basically stopped listening because you’re not interested.
But she continued.
I gave him your number already. She said he’ll contact you to schedule a date. Not leaving you space to refuse.
And he indeed sent you a message a day later. Apologizing he doesn’t have the time to call you properly as he’s busy with work, but would love to schedule a date.
You said yes…
What else could you do?
He suggested a time and a place, you agreed, and that’s where the conversation ended.
So you know nothing about him.
Because you haven’t listened to what your mom had said, and you didn’t feel like asking questions someone who just told you “he’s busy with work.”
And his profile picture is of a flowers field, so you don’t even know how he looks like. That can’t be a good sign.
You sigh as you realize this is probably going to be a disaster.
And on top of all that, it’s fucking Valentine’s Day.
Blind date on Valentine’s Day? How have you agreed to this? At the time, you didn’t even realize it when he asked if you were free Thursday night.
Only when you talked with your friends did you connect the dots. To be honest, it’s quite impressive that he managed to get a reservation for Valentine’s Day on short notice. And a nice restaurant at that.
You finally get there, shaking water off your umbrella and yourself. You check your phone - nine minutes early. That’s good, it’ll give you a moment to collect yourself and manage the mess your hair is probably in.
You approach the hostess, hoping the table is ready so you’ll be able to put down your coat and go to the restroom to freshen up.
“Hi, I have a reservation for…” You realize you have no idea if he made a reservation or on what name. You don’t even know his last name, “…Namjoon?”
The hostess looks at her screen for two seconds before she nods as she talks, “Yes, Kim Namjoon, two people, 8 PM.”
You’re about to ask her if the table is ready as you came a bit early when she looks up, “Follow me.”
You follow her as she walks throught the busy restaurant. It really is a nice place, warm lighting, white tablecloths, some old tunes playing in the background, low enough to hear the person next to you, loud enough to be heard over the murmur of the space full of people.
You cross the restaurant and you look around, all the tables are fully occupied. Until you get closer and closer to table, tucked in a corner, the only table where a single man is sitting at.
Is he already here?
As you get closer.. Oh, he’s big. Like his back and shoulders dwarf the chair kinda big.
And.. handsome.
Very handsome.
A panic starts to rise in you. What the actual fuck? It was supposed to be a flop date with your mom’s friend son loser random guy.
You are definitely not prepared for a nice date, at a nice place with someone looking like that.
This couldn’t be him? Right?
You look at the hostess, she’ll probably divert at any moment now, take you to a lame table near the toilet or the kitchen. But she walks in confident, long strides directly in this direction, his direction.
He’s looking at something on his phone, glasses low on his nose. As you get closer, he seems to notice, and he looks up, as a bright smile breaks on his face. And when you are a few steps away from him, he pushes himself up, takes the glasses off, and puts them down on the table.
You get to the table, and the hostess looks back at you, you wonder if she can read the panic on your face. “Enjoy your night,” she says as looking between the two of you. And then she leaves you there alone. Well, alone with him.
And as much as you feel terrified, he looks delighted.
He dressed nicely, with a linen shirt tucked into light dress pants. And you try to ignore how the shirt stretches on his pecs. And he's tall. Like, towering-over-you, you-need-to-tilt-your head-to-see-his-face tall. He takes a step towards you, hand reached out, you look down at it and then back up at his face as you put your hands in his.
His hand is large, larger than yours. And warm, compared to your icy hands that still haven’t warmed up from the outside cold.
“Namjoon. Nice finally meeting you,” he says as he shakes your hand. His voice.. It’s.. not good for you. What it does to you. Like the final nail in your coffin.
“y/n, nice meeting you too,” and you’re very aware how shaky your voice sounds.
He let go of your hand as he circles you, “May I?” as he gestures to your coat.
You just nod, and he takes it off, hanging it on the back of your chair, and he pulls it out for you.
But you don’t sit down, you need a moment. “Umm.. I need to go to the restroom. Real quick.”
He nods, and he chuckles a bit, like he finds you amusing, “Sure.”
You lock the door after you, letting out an exhale that has been sitting in your chest since you got here. You hurry to check yourself in the mirror, and well, you look just like the mess you’ve imagined. You look down at your clothes, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. Maybe you should have worn something nicer to work today. But you have nothing you can do about it now. You hand-comb your hair, making it look somewhat normal. Adding some lip gloss and a spray or two of perfume.
You examine the result in the mirror; this is the best you can do right now. You take another deep breath. You can do this. This is just a date. What is the difference from before? That he’s hot and tall and handsome? And it looks like he has pecs you want to lay your head on?
Okay, this isn’t helping.
Maybe he’s still a total loser.
Yeah, his personality might suck. Like, he could be a complete dick.
But he did choose a nice restaurant. And he got up when you arrived... And he took off your coat and pulled the chair out for you... That’s quite gentlemanly actually...
Maybe you’ll go out and find out instead of talking to yourself at the restaurant bathroom?!
OMG, how long are you here? He probably thinks you’re having explosive diarrhea or something.
One last look at yourself. You can do it.
And with that, you got back out.
You stroll back to the table, slide into the chair in front of him. Your Valentine’s date. Namjoon.
He puts down his phone right away, takes off his glasses, smiling at you as you sit down.
You look at each other for a moment, you don’t know what to say, where to start, and it looks like he doesn’t know either.
“Well.. this is awkward,” he chuckles, and rubs the back of his neck. And you catch that he’s also a bit nervous. Maybe as you are. But he is. And it’s somehow reassuring.
You laugh lightly with him, “Yeah, it really is. I’ve never been to a blind date. What is supposed to happen now?”
“Neither do I,” he nods. “I was just visiting my mom’s when your mother was there. And she started showing me pictures. She really talks about you a lot,” he giggles as he shakes his head.
Oh, fuck your life. You cover your face with your hands. This is so embarrassing.
“This is mortifying.”
“No, no, it really wasn’t. She’s cute,” he giggles again, “and very persistent.”
“How is it not embarrassing that my mom basically told you that I’m chronically single?”
He laughs, a full laugh, “Because that makes the two of us.”
And just like that, the ice start to break. Without noticing, you feel more at ease. Like, you can actually do this. Go through this date.
“Wait, you knew how I looked?” You suddenly realize what he said earlier. “So it’s not actually a blind date to you,” you tease.
He takes a sip of water, “Yeah, I saw some pictures of you, so I already knew you were pretty.” He flirts easily. “You haven’t seen any picture of me?”
You shake your head as you raise the glass of water to your lips. You need to cool yourself down.
“So I hope you’re not disappointed,” he says cheekily with a wiggle of his brows and a grin.
You’re about to open your mouth to say god’s know what, but luckily, you’re saved by the server who stops by your table.
“Are you ready to order?”
You panickly fumble with the menu you haven't even opened yet.
“I think we need a few more minutes,” he answers her calmly. “Do you want to order drinks first?” he asks you as he opens the drink menu.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Is wine okay? Or do you want something else?”
“Wine is fine. You can choose whatever.”
He says something that sounds French as he points to what he wants for the server.
You then busy yourself with reading the menu as you need to prepare for when she’ll come back. And he follows suit, opening his own menu, “Do you want to share starters?”
Umm, duh? You’re starving. And because you haven’t really had many expectations for this date, you just planned to eat. Because at least you’ll always have food.
“What do you think about fried zucchini flowers from the specials?” you suggest.
“That sounds good. And the burrata?” he asks as he looks at you above the menu.
You hum and nod. Your stomach already growls.
And right on cue, the waitress arrives with your wine. She uncorks the bottle and pours a small sample into one of the wine glasses. “Who will try the wine?”
Namjoon is gesturing with his hand to you, “Please.”
She places the glass in front of you, and you take a small sip, feeling suddenly embarrassed as Namjoon is looking at you, waiting for your approval. You don’t know much about wine. But it’s good. It feels smooth and the taste is rich.
“I like it,” you nod as you look at him.
He smiles at you, then turns to the waitress and gives a nod of approval. And she follows by filling both of your glasses.
“Are you ready to order?” Namjoon asks you.
“Yeah, I’ll take the risotto,” you tell the server. Namjoon orders the carbonara and the starters you agreed on.
When the waitress leaves, he takes up his glass and swirls the wine in it before taking a sip. He hums, and you ignore how low and attractive it is. “It’s a really good wine.”
You drink your wine as well, humming in approval.
“Your mom told me you’re doing your PhD now,” he says as he puts down his glass. “In psychology?” he adds a beat later. It takes you a bit by surprise, because he is obviously more prepared for this date than you were. If it wasn’t acutely obvious already.
“Yeah, I’m doing my research in behavioral psychology.”
“What is it about?”
“The connection between addiction and stress.”
“Sounds interesting. How have you got into that field?”
“Well, originally, I was more in the neuropsychology side. I was doing my bachelor's seminar on the HPA axis. The whole reward-stress dopamine-related response.”
“How did you get from that to behavioral psychology?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested.
“Well, I got really into the world of addiction, as a phenomenon that shows how the brain reacts to extreme situations. How we react to them. I look at addiction more as a stress response and less as… lack of control. If that makes sense.”
“Yeah, totally,” he answers, and there is something in his voice, and a sparkle in his eyes that makes you want to keep talking.
So you continue, and he asks more questions. Looking at you, listening intently. Surprisingly, it goes well. This is very nice. He asks good questions, adding intelligent comments. You’re actually enjoying yourself talking with him about this. The food arrives at some point. And you feel more like yourself. More in your element.
Before you even notice, your glass is empty, and he immediately suggests filling it up for you.
And as you eat your starters, you ask him, “What do you do?”
He looks up at you, fork in one hand and knife in the other, frozen in the middle of motion. “You really don’t know anything?”
You feel yourself blush as you shake your head. And he laughs, like he finds you obliviouness so funny.
“How did you even agree to this date at all?” he says as he shakes his head like he doesn’t really expect an answer, still laughing. He relaxes a bit and then says, “I’m a curator. I work with several galleries, and I also help connecting business who look to buy local art with artists.”
“Oh, I actually worked with this restaurant. I helped them with getting all the art that’s hung around here.” He says as he looks around.
You look around as well, “You did a good job.” He seems pleased with the compliment, smiling brightly, “Thanks.”
“This is how you got a reservation here on Valentine’s Day?” you ask, because now it makes more sense.
“Yeah,” he answers proudly. “The owner is a good friend of mine,” he chuckles. “I told him I have a very important date and that he has to help me out,” he adds with a wink.
You almost choke on a bite, and you swallow it forcefully.
“I actually don’t know much about art,” you add, not knowing what to say more.
“You don’t need to know nothing. Art is meant to be enjoyed, to evoke a feeling for the consumer. That’s the only thing you should know.”
“Have you ever been to a gallery before?” he asks. You shake your head busing yourself with the food, you can guess where it’s heading.
“Then.. maybe.. I can take you?”
You just nod, mouth full of food. Not that you’d know what to say in response anyway.
The main courses arrive, with a new refill of your wine glass. And you feel much better, this is going way better than expected.
For a moment, conversation pauses, forks clink softly against plates, steam curls up between you. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until now, and judging by how he’s already digging in, neither did he.
“This is dangerously good,” he says after his first bite, eyes widening slightly. “I might need to apologize in advance if I start ignoring you.”
You smile around your fork. “As long as you don’t steal my food.”
He’s lifting a brow. “I was actually planning on snicking a bite of your risotto.” And his fork is already making its way to your plate. A moment before he reaches your plate, he looks up at you, checking if this is really okay with you. And you nod with a smile. You planned to steal a bite of his pasta anyway.
You laugh, the sound coming easier now, more natural. It surprises you how comfortable it feels.
“So,” you say after a moment, swirling your wine absentmindedly, “Do you go on a lot of dates arranged by your mom?”
He winces. “God, no. I’m usually okay with finding dates on my own.”
You look at him, mischief glints in your eyes, “So... you go on a lot of dates?”
“Very smooth,” he chuckles as he takes a sip of wine. “But no, I usually work too much. Doesn’t leave much room to meet new people.” He says with a shrug, accepting it for what it is, but it sounds like it saddens him. “At least that’s what my mom says.”
“What about you?” he asks, quietly.
“Does my mom set me up on dates? She tries, but I usually refuse,” you say cheekily, trying to lighten the mood back again. Knowing this is not what he intended to ask.
“Then how did I get so lucky to land this date?” he asks, amused.
“She already gave you my number before talking to me. I couldn’t really back off at this point,” you say with an exaggerated sigh.
“Can I be honest with you?” he says conspiratorially, lowering his voice.
You nod, eyes locked into his.
“I actually begged your mother for your number. After she showed me a picture of you, and she told me about you, I just really wanted to meet you.”
Your throat feels dry all of a sudden, and you feel hot all over.
“I hope it’s okay with you,” he says, voice even lower.
“Y-teah, it’s okay,” you barely mumble. And he smiles in response, a light laugh laced with his words, “Good. I’m glad you said yes to this date.”
“Me too,” and you look down at your plate, digging in for another bite.
For a few moments, both of you are back concentrate at eating. You’re suddenly very aware of everything - your heartbeat, the warmth of the wine in your stomach, the way his gaze flickers to you when he thinks you’re not looking.
“Are you always this concentrated when you eat?” he asks suddenly, voice low, teasing, but there’s something in his tone that makes you feel like he’s only asking because he wants an excuse to keep the conversation going.
You blink at him, caught. “Uh… I don’t know. Maybe.”
He smirks, leaning back slightly, still eating, thought. “You look like you try to figure things out.”
You giggle. “And what exactly am I figuring out right now?”
He shrugs, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “If I’m completely charming you or completely terrifying you.”
You snort, unable to help yourself. “I’m leaning toward terrifying.”
“Nah. I don’t buy it,” he says, and it sounds so dorky, you can’t help but laugh. How does he manage to say something like that but not sound cocky? Or douchy?
“Okay. And what about you?” you ask, biting down on your lips, feeling somewhat self-conscious. You haven’t openly flirted like that in a long, long time.
“Oh, I’m completely charmed. Wasn't I obvious enough?” he says right away, not even a slight waver in his tone.
You feel the heat creeping to your face; you hope that it’s dark enough that he can’t really see it. And you try to hide your smile behind a sip of wine. Not that you think you manage to.
You lower your glass slowly, trying - and failing - to compose your face.
“Oh, you were obvious,” you say, attempting nonchalance.
He squints at you slightly. “Obvious in a good way or in a ‘please escort this man out’ way?”
You pretend to consider it, tilting your head. “I’ll return to you with an answer by the end of the night.”
“I’ll wait patiently.” He nods seriously. “I did come in strong with the eye contact. Rookie mistake.”
You can barely hold your smile in as he refills both of your glasses, finishing the last drops of wine. “You did hold it for a very long time,” you agree.
“I read somewhere that long eye contact builds connection,” he says matter-of-factly. Then he pauses, thinking for a moment before he continues. “Or it triggers a fight-or-flight response. It was a fifty-fifty gamble on my side.”
“Fifty-fifty? You’re generous,” you say with a teasing smirk.
“Ouch,” he snorts. ”So, how are my chances looking right now?”
You pretend to muse, finger tapping your chin. “Like.. 30 percent?”
“Oh wow, that bad?” he says, but his big smile tells you he knows you’re bullshiting.
“What can I say? I’m hard to impress,” you giggle as you say.
“I figured. Or else, how someone like you would still be single?” he grins as he says.
You narrow your eyes at him. “Wow. That sounded like a compliment and an insult at the same time.”
“I’m talented like that,” he replies proudly. “It’s a niche skill.”
“So what are you implying?” you challenge, but there’s not a real bite.
“That you have standards,” he says simply. “High ones.”
You hum. “Correct.”
“And possibly a low tolerance for nonsense.”
“Also correct.”
He nods thoughtfully. “That explains a lot.”
“Explains what?”
“Why I need to be on my best behavior.”
“And is this your best behavior?”
“This is me trying.”
“That’s concerning.”
He laughs. “Okay, fair. But in my defense, I don’t go on many dates.”
“Oh?” you lift a brow. “Because you’re busy reading about cheap psychology theories about eye contact?”
He laughs. “Next time, I’ll check with the psychology PhD candidate if she approves the data.”
You shake your head, smiling. “So you don’t date at all?”
He shrugs. “I get busy. And then when I do have time, I convince myself I should use it productively.”
“That’s the most responsible excuse I’ve ever heard.”
“I once cancelled a date because I remembered I had laundry,” he admits.
You almost snort wine out of your nose.
You level with him and rise up the stakes. “I once cancelled a date because I started a new show the night before.”
He nods slowly. “Dangerous.”
“I realized I prefer to go home watching what happens than going on a random date.”
He presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. “Did you at least lie creatively?”
“I said I wasn’t feeling well.”
“That’s technically true,” he says solemnly. “You were unwell. Emotionally. And probably also mentally.”
You fake gasp, punching him on his arm. Ignoring how solid it felt.
“You cancelled for laundry.”
“Laundry is survival,” he argues.
You roll your eyes, and he laughs.
“Okay,” he says calmly. “Once, I cancelled a date because I found a parking spot directly in front of my apartment.”
You’re laughing before he even finishes. “You sacrificed a chance for romance for convenient parking?”
“You don’t understand,” he says, shaking his head. “It was rush hour. In the middle of the city. Right next to the building. I felt it was a sign.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I texted her and said something came up.”
“A paring spot came up,” you say, and you both laugh a little too loud for the vibe of the restaurant.
You wipe at the corner of your eye, still smiling. “You’re worse than me.”
“Thank you,” he says proudly.
“That was not a compliment.”
“I’m taking it as one anyway.”
You’re still smiling at him when the waiter appears beside the table, clearing your plates.
“Desserts?” she asks, placing the dessert menu between you.
He looks at you, and you just nod your head.
“Yes, please,” he answers.
There’s a moment of silence as you both read the menu.
“I’m kinda eyeing the tiramisu and panna cotta,” you say, and you look up at him, only to see that he’s already looking at you.
“Let’s do both,” he says simply, still holding eye contact with you. He shifts a bit, his knee brushes yours, and when you don’t move it, he leaves it there.
You smile, and he smiles back. Something soft takes over his gaze.
The waiter returns, and he orders the desserts.“And espressos, please,” he adds.
You look at him. “It’s like, late at night.”
“And the problem is?” he asks.
“You’re not sleeping tonight.”
“I rarely do.”
“That explains a lot,” you mutter.
He nudges your foot lightly under the table. “Rude.”
You feel so different from the beginning of the date. It’s almost hard to believe it was today. It’s hard to believe you just met today. When are you ever so comfortable next to people you just met? When was the last time you enjoyed a date? And a first date at that!
The conversation flows easily now. You tell things about yourself, you life. He listens, gives you some of him in response. Share a bits of himself. Giving commentary when it’s appropriate.
The desserts arrive. With his espresso.
You dig into the tiramisu immediately.
He takes his own spoonful, eyes widening slightly. “Okay. This was the right choice.”
You nod, mouth full. “Mhm.”
After a few moments of just eating in silence, he leans back, declaring, “The tiramisu was better.”
You giggle. “Are you always this decisive?”
“About dessert? Absolutely.”
“About other things?”
He leans back slightly, studying you. “Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether I care.”
You raise a brow. “And tonight?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I cared enough to find a reservation for Valentine’s Day on short notice.” He lifts his brow, like he thinks it’s obvious.
“And now I owe a favor. This is probably gonna cost me,” he mutters, laughing.
“Hope it was worth it,” you say with a smirk.
“Oh, totally.” He leans in a bit, resting both hands on the table, eyes narrowing as he looks at you. “And still, I got only 30%.”
You pretend to consider it again, tapping your chin dramatically. “Fine.”
His eyebrows lift.
“Thirty-five.”
He gasps softly. “Five percent? That’s huge.” He says all sarcastically.
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Never,” he says, already looking extremely pleased with himself.
You lean back in your chair, buzzing from wine and sugar and the way he keeps looking at you.
“Okay,” you say. “Important question.”
He straightens again. “I’m ready.”
“Would you eat the last bite if I offered it, or sneak it when I’m not looking?”
“To be honest? I’d probably sneak it.”
“And here I was, thinking you might be a gentleman.”
“I am a gentleman,” he says, pouting slightly.
“So you’re not patient,” you tease.
“I’ll have you know I’m plenty patient,“ he murmurs, voice low, eyes locked on yours.
You smirk, letting your hand rest casually on the table. “Plenty patient, huh? I’m skeptical.”
He leans back, eyes glinting. “Skepticism is healthy. Keeps me on my toes.”
You laugh softly, finishing the last bite of tiramisu. A yawn escapes you, the exhaustion of the day, the food, and the wine finally catching up with you.
“I feel like this is the time I’m obligated to say I had a lot of fun tonight,” and suddenly, something else is painting his tone. More gentle, almost shy. “And I’d love to see you again,” he says as you notice his cheeks are tinted pink.
“If you’d-”
“I’d love to,” you don’t let him finish.
He looks at you, smiling, his hand resting on yours now. You feel the warmth climb up from it, and it’s like it sets your whole body on fire.
“I didn’t expect to enjoy tonight as much as I did,” he says, softly.
You tilt your head. “So you came with low expectations for this date?” you tease.
“I came with high expectations.” He squeezes your hand. “And you exceeded them.”
He holds your gaze, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb on your hand, until the waiter clears the plates and he signals for the check.
You gather your things, still smiling, as he helps you on with your coat. “You want me to call you an Uber?” he asks, keeping his tone casual, but there’s a hint of care in it.
“That’d be great,” you reply, buttoning up your coat and trying not to stare at how tall he looks in the dim light of the restaurant.
You step outside together. The city is wet from the rain, lights reflecting in the puddles. The night is beautiful, almost cinematic. He tilts his head, smiling, and you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine - not from cold, but from the way he’s looking at you.
He comes closer, standing right in front of you.
“So…” His hand brushes yours lightly. “This was… fun. Very fun.”
“It was,” you murmur, matching his smile.
He smiles brighter, he leans in and presses a soft, gentle kiss to your lips. Short, sweet, yet enough to make your heart race. When he pulls back slightly, his eyes search yours, sparkling in the streetlight, full of emotion.
Neither of you says a word, just your breath swirling together in the cold air.
Then his hands go to the collar of your coat, and he pulls you back in. Or that you lean back forward. It’s hard to tell when the only thing on your mind is him.
Your lips meet again, this time longer, warmer, more certain. And for a moment, the world narrows to the rain-soaked street and the soft press of his lips. His thumbs brush along your jawline, and the kiss depends. His tongue teases your bottom lip gently, and you slightly part them for him. He tastes like cream and wine and want. He holds your head gently, fingers brushing your hair. And it feels right. You feel sure and steady in his hands. You can’t remember the last time you were treated with such gentleness. His hands are gentle, calm, keeping you in place but not pulling you hard. His lips moves without a rush, like he savors every minuscule movement of your own. And you feel yourself melt more and more into the kiss. Wanting more of him. More of his calmness. More from how steady he holds himself. You feel like he can holds you too. Not that you ever looked for someone to hold you. But maybe it’ll be nice from time to time?
You break apart just slightly, eyes immediately connecting.
“What are my chances now?” he asks, voice low and slightly breathless.
This is probably the sweetest Namjoon fic I’ve ever read 😍 He is so perfect😭💗 I enjoyed reading this Valentine’s fic it is so cute and such a treat! 🍬🍭 it was so funny when she was having her little pep talk in the bathroom, and she was like “WAIT?! How long have I been in here for?!” cause GIRL SAME! 🤣👏 If I arrived and discovered MR. PERFECT KIM NAMJOON is my blind date I would be doing my little happy dance 💃🏻ahhh I loved this so much 🥹❤️ he is such a gentleman 🥹❤️
