It took him a while to make a move because he was scared to mess up the relationship
So either you make the first move or you'll have to be very patient 😭
Oh this one is strong on physical touch btw
He likes to cuddle, he will always save a seat for you next to him, random hugs just because
And he will never let go of your hand
Trust me on this one
If you're walking around, better believe he WILL be holding your hand
And he also hugs you when you're cold to warm you up 🙂↕️
Your opinion is EXTREMELY important to him
Both on trivial matters, like what hat he should wear, and on more important things, like his job
You always receive spoilers to the tracks he's producing as well
Partner privileges
Talking about partner privileges
He takes such care of you
Always make sure you ate enough and on time
Drives you to your work/uni and then drives you home after
Insists on you taking an extra coat on cold days
Even massages you when you're too stressed or when you had a particularly rough day
Also loves to send you texts and voice messages throughout the day
If you can't see each other that day, he's gonna make sure to document EVERYTHING to you
He loves to have you near, even when it's not physically possible
He also smiles mid kiss 💔
He perceives everything as well
You're currently obsessed with a new series? He's already sending you videos about that
You're feeling kinda down? He is comforting you before you can barely understand what you're feeling
You want to go to some place? He's already cleaning his schedule so you can go asap
He's so observant
And if you're talking, his eyes are on you
The type of guy to put his full attention on you
He's a perfectionist, nothing new here
So if you guys ever fought it would probably be because of these details
And because he wanted the relationship to be so perfect, there would probably be a bit of accidental self sabotage
But with time this gets better
He also needs a bit of validation
I don't think he'd be very jealous (considering the perilla leaf debate)
But some validation is still nice lmao
Trusts you with his life
You know every single secret of his
You know where every precious possession of his is, and you can use all of them
You're his emergency call
He genuinely trusts you a lot
He's not jealous, but he is protective
If he senses you're feeling uncomfortable, he will step up with no hesitation
Sidewalk rule
He loves your smile
He has 649264 pictures of you smiling
And most of these pictures were taken secretly, when you were too focused on just enjoying life to notice the camera
Idk he also seems like he would want to have matching items with you
If English/Korean are not your mother tongue, he would LOVE to learn your language
He would learn a few words and suddenly that's all he's saying for the rest of the week
Overall, he's your safe place and you're his
He is your personal sunshine: cheer you up on sad days and make happy days even brighter
Confidents of each other
It would be a dream, honestly
Masterlist | you'll probably like: Fri(end)s
Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!
i’m back with another one, this time it’s them getting called dude/bro by their significant other and getting a lil mad about it 😌 as with the other one, this is with my modern day love interest!men and not a statement of leaving out certain members. ps: leave some comments my loveys i really love reading them ❤
Sanguis!Yoongi is many things in your life: best friend, lover, safe space, consultant and partner. However, he is most definitely not your "dude". So when you accidentally call him as such, he shows you a new side.
You swear that you were simply expressing your excitement for Sanguis!Taehyung's new painting, but suddenly you have him pouting on the other side of the screen.
Your relationship with Sanguis!Hoseok has never been normal. He is your beloved friend who you fuck regularly and sometimes you also cuddle. Calling him "bro" came natural to you, because you thought that this is what you two are, but maybe he is not on the same page than you.
Sanguis!Jungkook loves nicknames. Or so he thought. Because when you threaten him with no more workouts followed by a cold-hearted "bro" he is one second away from bursting into tears.
You know exactly what you were doing when you addressed your husband OGC!Jungkook with a wrong nickname. Sometimes you just have to tease him, his reactions are way too hilarious not to.
You are doom scrolling in your office when the videos on your feed are turning very food centric. The only person you want to text about your growing hunger is your husband ihyily!Taehyung who does not appreciate the new nickname.
People often assumed you were born into dance because of how naturally your body moved, but the truth was simpler than that, you just never remembered a time without it.
Your childhood had always been filled with music leaking through open doors and the sound of your feet against polished floors. Ballet came first, small hands gripping barres too high for you while instructors adjusted your posture and your parents watched quietly from the corner with soft smiles on their faces.
Then came everything else... Jazz, contemporary, street dance, hip-hop.
You learned them greedily, not because someone forced you to, but because movement fascinated you in ways words never could. Every style felt like learning another language for emotions you didn’t know how to explain out loud, and your family never stopped you.
As long as you came home smiling and exhausted, they supported every sudden interest wholeheartedly.
One month you were obsessed with ballet technique, the next you were locking yourself in your room trying to master intricate footwork from underground hip-hop videos at two in the morning.
Somewhere along the way, your body stopped separating the styles entirely.
Ballet softened your lines, hip-hop sharpened them, contemporary taught you restraint while street dance gave you freedom.
You mixed all of it together until your choreography became unmistakably yours, fluid yet precise, elegant yet emotionally aggressive in a way people couldn’t explain properly.
People remembered how your dancing felt before they remembered the actual choreography. Still, despite loving dance itself, you never loved attention.
Even during your early twenties, when you started auditioning as a backup dancer for idols and performance groups, you preferred blending into formations rather than standing in the center. You liked rehearsals more than stages, preferred dim practice rooms over screaming crowds.
You danced because it made you feel alive, not because you wanted people staring at you.
Which was exactly why Hye-jin nearly lost her mind over your refusal to post online.
“You’re wasting talent” she complained one evening while sprawled across your apartment floor watching rehearsal clips on your laptop.
You barely looked up from stretching. “I’m not wasting anything.”
“You choreographed this in one night.”
“And?”
“And nobody’s seeing it except me!” You snorted softly before grabbing your water bottle.
Hye-jin narrowed her eyes at you before suddenly sitting upright. “Post dance covers.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“People online are scary.”
“You literally danced backup for idols.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“They weren’t looking at me.”
Hye-jin stared at you for a long moment before groaning dramatically into your couch cushion. “You’re unbelievable.”
The conversation should have ended there. Instead, a week later, she appeared at your studio holding a cheap black face mask she bought from a convenience store.
“Wear this.”
You blinked slowly “What.”
“If your problem is people seeing your face, cover it.”
The mask lasted exactly twenty-three minutes before you ripped it off in annoyance “It’s stuffy.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Thank you.”
Eventually, after several failed attempts involving masks, hoodies, and lighting angles, you settled on the simplest solution, a black cap pulled low enough to shadow most of your face.
It wasn’t perfect, but it worked.
The first dance cover you uploaded barely had a caption, no introduction, no explanation, just movement then somehow, everything spiraled from there.
One video became ten, ten became hundreds of thousands of views, then millions.
People became obsessed not only with your choreography, but with the mystery surrounding you. Dance forums argued endlessly about your identity, idols began referencing your videos during livestreams while professional dancers recreated your choreography online hoping you might notice them.
Nobody ever did, well... not really.
Because the more attention your account gained, the more carefully you protected your privacy, which was how Hye-jin accidentally became your manager.
“You realize your inbox is terrifying, right?” She said one night while scrolling through endless messages on your phone.
You grimaced from across the studio floor “I know.”
“Half these people are asking for choreography.”
“I know.”
“And the other half are trying to figure out who you are.”
“…I know!”
Hye-jin sighed dramatically before pointing at herself “I’m handling it.”
And somehow, she did. No public applications, no direct contact, no random auditions.
If someone wanted to work with you, they needed to be referred personally by another trusted client, it kept things controlled, quiet and safe.
More importantly, it kept you hidden, which was exactly how you preferred it.
Now at the present, the music finally cuts off inside the studio and silence rushes in almost violently after hours of bass vibrating through the room.
Breathing heavily, you walk toward the camera still recording at the front of the practice room, the brim of your cap continuing to hide your face even as you crouch briefly to stop the video.
Click. Recording ended.
Immediately, your shoulders relax and you pull the cap off your head and run a hand through damp hair before tossing it carelessly onto the counter beside the coffee machine. Sweat clings to the back of your neck as you reach for your towel, wiping your face while walking toward your water bottle.
The cold water disappears embarrassingly fast, only then do you finally reach for your phone lying beside the laptop.
Three missed notifications, one from your bank and two from Hye-jin thus you unlock the screen.
Hye-jin 🦊
Potential client.
A second message arrives almost immediately after.
Hye-jin 🦊
And before you say no, hear me out first.
Your eyes narrow instantly, that never meant anything good.
You press call without hesitation, placing the phone on speaker beside the laptop while cleaning up the studio almost automatically.
“Wow,” Hye-jin answers immediately, “Usually you ignore me for at least ten minutes first.”
“You sent the words ‘hear me out first,’ that’s threatening.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“You live with me, you know I’m right.”
A laugh crackles through the speakers as you start gathering scattered cables from the floor.
The studio occupied the entire second floor of the building the two of you rented together. Downstairs was your actual living space, a cozy kitchen permanently smelling faintly of coffee, a cluttered living room Hye-jin kept filling with throw pillows and a dining table usually buried beneath paperwork and takeout containers.
Upstairs belonged to dance where you come alive. The mirrored studio, two bedrooms and one completely empty spare room neither of you had figured out what to do with yet.
Honestly, you liked it that way.
You settle cross-legged on the floor near the counter and open the freshly recorded dance video on your laptop, immediately slipping into editing mode.
Trim here, adjust brightness slightly, lower the audio distortion at the beginning. Your hand then reaches absentmindedly into your bag beside you while staring at the screen.
“…Did you put this here?”
Hye-jin hums “Put what?”
You pull out a snack bar with narrowed eyes “The snack bar.”
“Yes.”
“You’re treating me like a stray cat.”
“You forget to eat when you dance.”
Fair enough.
You unwrap it anyway, chewing quietly while replaying the video from the beginning.
Hye-jin waits suspiciously patiently on the other end of the call, which immediately makes you suspicious too.
“…Who’s the client?”
“Oh,” Hye-jin says far too casually, “Someone referred by Hyunjin.”
Your fingers pause over the keyboard.
“…Hyunjin?”
“As in Hyunjin, yes.”
That immediately gets your attention, Hyunjin had worked with you months ago after being referred by another dancer and unlike most clients, he had understood your boundaries immediately. No questions about your identity, no attempts to pry, just choreography, rehearsals and mutual artistic respect.
You trusted him which meant anyone referred by him automatically mattered more. Still...
“You sound too excited” You mutter suspiciously.
“Because this one’s interesting.”
“Hye-jin.”
“I’m serious this time.”
“You said that last time and I ended up teaching choreography to an idol group that communicated entirely through screaming.”
“They were enthusiastic.”
“They broke one of the mirrors.”
“…That was technically only one member.”
You sigh deeply and return your attention to the editing timeline. “So who is it?”
“The referral came from Hyunjin,” Hye-jin says, clearly dragging the moment out on purpose “But the actual client is Hoshi.”
Your chewing slows.
“…Wait.”
“Mhm?”
“Hoshi as in…”
“Yes.”
“Kwon Soon-young?”
Hye-jin bursts into laughter through the speakers. “There’s only one Hoshi, you weirdo.”
“No because why are you saying it so casually?!”
“What did you want me to say? Breaking news, tiger enthusiast requests your services!”
You stare blankly at the laptop. “…That’s actually worse.”
“Anyway...”
“No wait, seriously? That Hoshi?”
“Yes, that Hoshi.”
You lean back against the counter fully now, genuinely stunned. Everyone in the industry knew Hoshi when it came to performance, the man practically breathed choreography to which immediately raised another question.
“Why does he need me?”
Hye-jin laughs softly. “Apparently he saw one of your videos through Hyunjin.”
“That narrows it down to absolutely none of them.”
“You know what I mean.”
You sigh quietly, dragging the editing cursor across the screen. “And they’re friends?”
“Hyunjin and Hoshi? Yeah, dance circles overlap a lot more than you think.”
Fair but still, you weren’t agreeing yet. Experience had taught you that talent alone didn’t guarantee compatibility. Some dancers wanted flashy choreography without emotional depth while others treated rehearsals like a status symbol instead of actual art.
You had no patience for either so instead of answering immediately, you start asking questions.
“How long?”
“Initial agreement is around three months.”
“That’s long.”
“He specifically asked for consistency instead of one-time choreography.”
That's... interesting.
“Location?”
“Mostly private studio sessions.”
“Here?”
“Nope.”
“Good.”
Hye-jin snorts. “You’re never letting clients into this building, are you?”
“Absolutely not.”
This place was yours, safe and hidden.
No cameras waiting outside, no fans accidentally discovering your address and definitely no chance of your private life bleeding into your work.
“So where?”
“They offered a private practice studio under the company.”
You hum thoughtfully. “How much are they offering?”
Hye-jin names the amount casually.
Your hand freezes mid-air. “…Excuse me?”
“I know.”
“That’s absurd.”
“That’s idol company money.”
You stare at the screen for another second before muttering “I should’ve become famous properly.”
“You are famous properly.”
“Not enough apparently.” Hye-jin laughs again.
“One more thing.”
“Mhm?”
“Am I teaching only him?” There’s a brief pause.
“Yes.”
Your eyes narrow immediately. “Just him?”
“According to the request, yes.”
That was unusual, most companies preferred group sessions for efficiency, one-on-one training meant this was personal, intentional.
“And the company knows about this?”
“They do,” Hye-jin answers “Apparently he went through official channels first before contacting us.”
That eased part of your concern at least. Still, your eyes drift toward the paused frame on your laptop screen, your shadow frozen mid-dance beneath dim studio lights.
Three months. one-on-one sessions with someone like Hoshi.
Meanwhile, inside a practice room several districts away, Hoseok was losing his mind quietly.
Not visibly, he had dignity but internally? Absolutely not.
Because it had officially been one week since your last upload, one week!
Which normally wouldn’t matter except now Hoseok had accidentally developed a routine.
Your videos usually appeared late at night after long rehearsals and he would tell himself he was only watching for inspiration, choreography analysis, artistic curiosity, then suddenly an hour would pass and he’d somehow memorized specific movements frame by frame... Completely professional behavior obviously.
“Hyung.” No response.
“Hyung.” Still nothing.
Across the practice room, Jimin finally stopped dancing entirely. “You missed Namjoon-hyung’s mistake”
That immediately got everyone’s attention because Hoseok never missed mistakes. Ever.
Usually one crooked shoulder was enough for him to stop rehearsal immediately, yet now?
Namjoon blinked from the center formation. “Wait, I messed up?”
“You were off by half a beat” Jimin answered.
“I was?”
“Yes.”
Silence and slowly, six pairs of eyes turned toward Hoseok who was once again staring at his phone, refreshing the same page repeatedly.
“…Hyung,” Jungkook says carefully “Are you waiting for exam results or something?”
“I’m not waiting for anything.”
“You refreshed your screen six times.”
“That sounds fake.”
“It happened in front of us.”
Hoseok finally pockets his phone with a sigh. “I was checking notifications.”
“You turned notifications on for someone” Taehyung gasps dramatically.
The room goes silent and Hoseok freezes. That was enough confirmation honestly.
“Oh my god” Jimin breathes “He did.”
“It’s a secret account, isn’t it?” Jungkook adds immediately.
“It’s not secret.”
“So there is an account.”
“There are millions of accounts on social media.”
“You’re sweating.”
“We were dancing.”
“No, this is different sweat.”
Hoseok stares at all of them in betrayal. Meanwhile, from the corner of the room, Yoongi doesn’t even look up from his phone as he says “He’s waiting for that ghost dancer to upload again.”
Dead silence. Slowly, everyone turns toward Hoseok whose expression immediately gives him away.
Jin gasps loudly. “The mysterious rival dancer?!”
“They’re not my rival.”
“You called them annoyingly talented three days ago” Namjoon says.
SUMMARY: All you wanted was to help your best friend move in with her fiancé, Jin — you just didn't know putting up with Hoseok came with the deal. And now there's only one bed.
WORD COUNT: 22.2k
GENRE: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, smut, oneshot (is renovating a house a genre? 🤣)
RATING: Explicit
WARNINGS: bickering, arguing, Jin is a whole mood and sometimes he doesn't help, unfinished business, misunderstandings, Hoseok is actually a sweetheart and vulnerable and goals, alcohol (no one does things drunk), sexual tension, dirty talking, brief masturbation, exhibitionism (kinda), oh brat reader 💯, soft Dom Hoseok, oral f rec, fingering, unprotected sex, biting, his hand around your throat once, pulling out, reader can't get enough of him 🤷♀️
A.N.: So... I had the idea for this fic one year ago, when I renovated my place and moved in. I'm trying to go through my WIP folder, what can I say? Better late than never. Also, that's where some of the knowledge comes from, but don't take it at face value 😅 I did most of the painting, not the rest 🤣 Anyway, enjoy 😉 Thank you, Raven @eerieedits, for the banner! This is another entry for Bangtan Writers HQ's Second Quarter 2025 event: ‘Home Is Where The Heart Is’.
Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad
As soon as you exited the bus, you heard a familiar voice shouting your name. Ahn Hyeonseo was easy to spot at the Gwangju bus terminal — she was the beautiful girl jumping around and waving for you to find her between the crowd of families, the elderly, and a few young people. You waved back and got your luggage from the bus luggage compartment before making your way to her.
She squealed in your ear as she hugged you, “I’m so happy you’re here!!!”
You hugged your best friend with a sigh, then pulled away. “There are way too many people here,” you complained, telling her in so many words that you wanted to leave.
She led the way from the terminal to the nearby, overcrowded parking lot. “Because of the festival. I’m happy we scheduled this well in advance, or I’m not sure how you’d get a ticket.”
“It’s why we picked this weekend anyway.” You shrugged as you dragged your luggage at least half your size behind you.
She raised an eyebrow as she eyed it. “Yeah… And you need all that for a weekend?”
You scoffed. “This is just what I might need to help you,” you underlined, poking her with your elbow as she grinned. “My clothes are in my backpack,” you added, showing her your big backpack that she certainly noticed when she hugged you.
She smiled widely as she unlocked the car and helped you load your things inside. “I got everything you told me to, and you can always wear my clothes.”
You pushed the trunk door closed. “These are just for the details… I don’t know what I’ll encounter.”
Hyeonseo laughed playfully as she got into the driver's seat, and you got into the shotgun seat. You were teasing her because she had only sent you a few photos, hoping to convince you to visit and see for yourself. That made things more complicated because you didn’t just want to visit, you wanted to help her restore the house she had bought with her fiancé. But Hyeonseo preferred to keep up the mystery.
“Don't exaggerate, you've seen the whole place. I've sent you enough photos and videos.”
“Not of the details,” you complained, and she shrugged.
“People were working, so everything was covered anyway. Now that the electricity, plumbing, floors, and all that is done, we can finally finish it.” She had a massive smile as she drove you to her new home. “I'm very excited about it.”
“How was the move-in?”
“We took two days off and already slept there tonight.” She glanced at you with sparkles in her eyes. “I love it. I’m so happy we did this, even if it literally makes me broke for the rest of my life.”
You grimaced ever so slightly, but stopped yourself from commenting negatively.
“It was a good investment,” you told her, observing the streets that would witness your best friend building her family. “It was a good find for where it is and everything.”
“Yeah, it’s just the amount of work it needed,” she sighed. She gave you the latest update about the roof, and you recognized the long sigh of someone who wanted to spare you the stressful details. “But it’s finally done. We’ve moved in, everything is in boxes everywhere, and we can now work on the details. That’s where you come in.”
She smiled sheepishly, and you felt lighter. “I thought you’d want to settle in asap and overlook the details.”
“Well, Jin is right — if we don’t do it now, we will never do it. And since we can get help, we decided to push through it,” she explained as you observed the residential neighbourhood you were now in. “Our kitchen isn’t finished, we only have a few pieces of furniture… It’s a work in progress. Actually, that’s one thing we need your help with,” she added, as though suddenly remembering. “We thought to replace the built-in closets, but it’s really expensive. So we wanted you to take a look and tell us if they can be recovered.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“There’s also— Ah, you’ll see,” she cut herself short when she entered her new driveway.
A pickup was already parked there, and you automatically assumed someone was still working at the house. More importantly, you leaned forward to look out of the windshield at their new home. It had two floors, plus an attic, and it looked quite nice, with black tiles on the roof and large windows. Who knew your best friend would become a homeowner?
“Come, let’s get you inside,” she said, already getting your luggage from the trunk. “I have to call the furniture store again, it’s getting late.”
Hyeonseo huffed and refused to let you carry everything by yourself. Instead, she went ahead and entered the place through the garage, welcoming you inside her home for the first time.
“Come in!!!” she almost squealed, putting your luggage to the side and forcing you to put your backpack down too.
You were already in awe, eying the whole place. It was spacious, with an open concept and large windows at the front, providing ample light to an almost empty living room, aside from the materials and machines left there and the air conditioning unit up in the corner. The wood floor was beautiful and matched the vibe of a fixer-upper. The kitchen also looked brand new, but you could see what Hyeonseo meant with it not being finished — there was no stove, for example.
“We’re supposed to get a bunch of things still today, I’m so excited!” She clapped her hands. “Chairs, a dining table, and a couch. Finally, it will start looking a bit more proper!”
“Tell me you have a bed,” you asked, suddenly worried.
Hyeonseo laughed. “First thing we assembled — our bed and the guest room’s bed.” You sighed, and she waved at you to follow. “Come, I’ll show you the rest!”
You wanted to stop and observe things a bit more carefully, but Hyeonseo dragged you along to the first floor after a glimpse at the bathroom. Instantly, you noticed the dark blue stains on the wood stair treads and halted. Glancing behind you, you noticed that the ground-floor wooden floor had no stains.
“What happened here?” you asked, reaching to touch a particularly dark stain to feel how thick it was.
“Some walls upstairs were blue and they didn’t protect the floors while painting,” Hyeonseo revealed, then heaved a deep breath. “The renovating team fixed the floors, but not the stairs. They proposed it, but it was expensive, and it would mean not being able to access the rooms for a while, which didn’t work for us. We needed to move in this week,” she reminded you as she climbed the rest of the stairs, and you nodded.
“Yeah, well, it’s not a lot, it just takes a lot of time… I might be able to do something about it.”
Hyeonseo sighed in relief, happy to count on you. Once on the first floor, she proudly showed you the second bathroom and the master bedroom. You nodded, noting that the only pieces of furniture you’d seen so far were that bed and a couple of chairs in the living room. The ladders didn’t count. Nor did the yet-to-be-assembled furniture, like the bookshelves, closets, and desk, still sitting in piles of wood planks and bolts in the living room.
“You painted the rooms already?” you asked, and she nodded.
“Just the bedrooms, so we could learn to do it and already sleep here. What do you think? That main wall was dark blue before.” She pointed at the main wall behind their bed, and you nodded, approving the very light orange tone they had chosen instead.
“It’s nice, it opens the room and makes it softer.” You walked around, noticing the corners and the skirting board. “You even protected the skirting board and taped the other wall for a perfect line. I’m impressed.”
“You told us to!”
You smirked. “Sure, but you did it properly.” Hyeonseo rolled her eyes, and you raised an eyebrow at the built-in closet. “Is that the one?”
You approached it carefully, instantly entranced by the beautiful flower engravings on the wooden sliding doors. However, once close, you scowled. “They got paint on the closets too?! How clumsy can they be?”
Hyeonseo sighed. “Yeah, they left it a mess.”
You slid the closet door open and started feeling the shelves and the back of the closet. You hummed as you did, glad that it didn’t look like there was much damage to be fixed.
“Well, the closet might look old, but the wood is sound. I think just some sanding and treatment with oil should be enough.”
“That’s wonderful news!” your best friend beamed. “Let me show you your room.”
You followed her to the room next door, which had a queen-sized bed and a similar built-in closet. You were about to make your way to it to check it out, but Hyeonseo guided you away gently by the shoulders. “You can check it later. Think about this,” she coaxed, turning you to look at the sun-lit room. “You can visit anytime,” she gushed, hugging you dearly. “We’re just a three-hour drive away!”
You smiled and held her back, eternally thankful for her.
“Now come and check the attic!” She beamed at you, grabbing your hand to drag you along. “It’s the only part they finished before we bought it,” she explained as she went up the narrow wooden stairs.
You placed your hand on the wooden railing and compared it with the other set leading to the ground floor. The Korean pine wood you were touching had been recently installed, and it still had a fresh, new smell. It was the same type of wood as the older set leading to the ground floor, but that one needed work. Starting by removing those horrible dark blue paint stains—
“Oh, hi!!” Hyeonseo beamed again, already out of your sight.
You pressed your lips and hurried to follow your best friend to the attic before she called you out for geeking about the wood of her stairs.
You instantly heard Jin’s voice replying to her and smiled, but your stomach dropped as the attic came into view.
“Hobi!” Hyeonseo all but shouted and jumped into his arms, and you almost missed the last step and fell face-first onto the beautiful varnished floor.
Only Jin seemed to notice your almost tumble; he hid a smirk as you kept going, sniffling casually. By then, your brain couldn’t take in the spacious, raised-ceiling, well-lit room. You were just staring at the man hugging Hyeonseo, anticipating being able to see his face at any moment and confirm that it was, in fact—
Hyeonseo’s feet touched the floor when Hoseok put her down. “Ah! The pickup outside! I didn’t recognize it!”
Hoseok smiled casually as he let her step back into Jin’s orbit. “It’s my father’s. I grabbed a bunch of things from him just in case.”
“I told you the roof was fixed.” Jin shrugged, placing a hand on Hyeonseo’s shoulder, only to make her slide to the side so he could greet you.
“I have other things as well,” Hoseok said as his eyes landed on you, and you stopped breathing.
For a split second, you didn’t know how to feel. He looked good five years later, with clearer skin and a sturdier build. Even if he still looked scrawny under his cargo pants and white tank top, he was taller and stronger. His eyes were just as scrutinizing as you remembered, even with soft locks of hair falling over them. Yet, they were all you could see until Jin got in your line of sight.
“There she is!”
You raised your eyes to meet Jin’s just in time to be swept off your feet and squeezed empty like a balloon while trying not to squeak like one.
“Don’t kill her, put her down,” Hyeonseo chuckled, tapping her fiancé’s shoulder. Jin put you down with a grin as she told him, “We need her alive.”
“That we do,” he agreed, then turned to Hoseok. “I’m guessing you remember each other.”
You almost gasped. Instead, your eyes jumped to Hoseok’s, remembering everything. Your gut churned as his features remained stoic. All he did was bow, and you bowed back.
“Hello.”
You mumbled a hello back before pointing behind you. “I’ll go check the other closet now.”
“Now?” Jin asked, confused. “You can do that later!” he suggested, but you were already going down the stairs.
“In case we need to buy something extra,” you retorted, projecting your voice so he could still hear you.
You heard feet behind you and knew Hyeonseo was following you down. You waited in the second bedroom, then closed the door behind her.
“What the hell?!” you whispered-shouted, widening your eyes at her.
“What?”
You instantly knew she was feigning her naivety. “You know we don’t get along!!”
She rolled her eyes. “That was in high school.”
You opened your mouth, then closed it, biting your lip. Reeling your frustration in. “Why is he here anyway?”
“Besides being Jin’s best friend,” she underlined, “he also knows what he’s doing. His dad is a contractor, and Hoseok has helped him his whole life with renovating houses. He brought a lot of materials and machines so we could do this right and for free.”
You groaned. “Aren’t you lucky with your friends?”
She beamed at you with the wildest smile, but you were still uneasy.
“Why this weekend?” you insisted. “I know you say it’s just high school and that it was five years ago, but you know me better than that.”
“I know,” she acknowledged, sighing. “This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to have come last weekend, but plans changed at the last minute, so it happened like this.”
“And I don’t suppose he could come back later?” you asked, and she smiled sheepishly.
“Not really… His mom moved to Seoul, and his dad lives more than two hours away. He drove all the way on purpose to help us. Sorry,” she added before opening the bedroom door to shout back at Jin. “WHAT?”
You didn’t hear what he was asking, only that Hobi would stay there the weekend at the same time as you. Maybe he’d leave soon. Clearly, the place was almost done anyway. All that was left were details, and you could handle those.
You took a deep breath, using that thought to soothe yourself. It was temporary. And it was all water under the bridge anyway. It all happened a long time ago.
“Not yet! Come,” Hyeonseo called you to follow her. “I have to call the furniture retailer and then order something for dinner.”
You heaved a deep breath, throwing a woeful eye at the built-in closet before following her out. You didn’t want to be anywhere Hoseok was, nor did you want to pretend otherwise.
You could appreciate Jin and Hyeonseo’s effort, though. She called the furniture retailer, which confirmed delivery soon, then ordered fried chicken. Meanwhile, she bantered with Jin the whole time, who focused on trying to create cocktails without knowing where anything was.
“It’s written on the box!” Hyeonseo facepalmed, and Jin started whining just to push her buttons.
“Yeah, I know! But it’s not in the box that says bar!! Did you throw my shaker away?”
“No!!” she denied with a screech as she pushed boxes left and right, trying to find the right one. “How else would you make me drinks?”
“Right? Then you have to find it,” he teased, then scoffed. “Otherwise I’ll never again be able to—”
“Ah!!! Found it!” she claimed victoriously as she stood from her knees with a small box containing a cocktail shaker and other things.
“Woah!! How was I supposed to find it?! You called the box ‘tools’!!”
“It is a tool… to make drinks…” she tried, putting the box in his hands. He scoffed and she insisted, “The tool boxes are all yours anyway.”
He gasped. “There’s more than one?!”
She forced an angelic smile, then darted away, and Jin kept whining about her. You knew it was all playful and guessed Hoseok knew as hell, only he wasn’t listening. He was inspecting the sockets and light switches to ensure they were installed correctly. When a socket almost broke apart in his hand when he touched it, you guessed all of them needed to be checked.
He glanced at you, then kept going as though you could be anyone, and it annoyed you. He was the douchebag, why the hell was he ignoring you?
You spun on your heels. “I’m going to—”
“No way!” Jin stopped you, leaning over the counter as though he would run after you if he had to. “You had a long trip, and you just got here. Sit while I make you a drink.”
Your mood lightened as the evening progressed. Hyeonseo and Jin kept playfully bickering while she made fun of him for not making proper drinks, settling instead for soju and beer bottles. The fried chicken arrived not long after, and the conversation between the four of you was decent, even if you and Hoseok never really addressed or answered each other. You never thought you’d ever be sitting down on the floor eating fried chicken with your bare hands with him, but there you were.
You were almost done eating when the doorbell rang. Hyeonseo instantly sprang up to go get it with Jin echoing close behind her, “Finally!!!”
You glanced at Hoseok, who lowered his eyes quickly as the couple got the door. Instantly, you could hear how relieved they sounded, but it was short-lived.
“This can’t be right,” Hyeonseo challenged, and you turned to look.
There were six beige textile dining chairs with light oak legs and a gorgeous matching dining table that made you gasp quietly. It was beautiful craftsmanship with a smoke finish that just made you want to slide your hand on its surface.
“Where is the couch?”
That was the question that sparked a long, back-and-forth discussion. The delivery guys had no idea; it wasn’t on their delivery sheet. It was past closing time, so at first they couldn’t contact the retailer. Eventually, they managed to, but everything was correct on their side — chairs, table, and couch. Finally, the store said something had happened at the warehouse, and even though Hoseok offered to go get the couch himself, the manager had sad news.
“It was shipped to our warehouse in Daegu by mistake,” he said over the phone on speaker. “I can promise you’ll get it, but only on Monday.”
“It’s two hours away,” Hoseok said, and Hyeonseo shook her head.
“Two and a half hours, which makes five. You’re not going at this hour—”
“They can’t give it to you even if you go. The paperwork must be sorted before it can be delivered to you. I’ll do it personally, but they only reopen on Monday. I’m sorry.”
There seemed to be no workaround, so the call ended, and the delivery guys left.
After a moment of silence, Jin decided, “We’ll pay for your hotel room.”
“Don’t be silly,” Hoseok instantly shook his head.
“It’s the only option.” Hyeonseo exchanged a look with Jin, then continued, “Your dad is too far away.”
“The fuel is cheaper than a hotel,” Hoseok argued, and she shrugged.
“But the four-hour drive is not worth it.”
“You blew through all your savings, absolutely not,” Hoseok insisted, throwing a look at Jin as well. “I can book my own hotel room, it’s fine—”
“Everything is likely booked because of the festival,” Jin breathed, and you knew before he finished talking that Hyeonseo would groan and curse their luck.
“Damn it, you’re right!”
Hoseok still tried, “Well, there must be one room left somewhere—”
“You can sleep with me,” you offered.
Everyone turned to look at you, even him, and the silence stretched. It was the first time he was looking at you as though he saw you, and his features hardened.
Next to him, Hyeonseo raised her voice, “I’ll ask my parents for money and—”
“What?!” Hoseok interjected, then shook his head firmly. “I can sleep on the floor.”
“You can sleep with me,” you repeated firmly, trying as best you could not to be annoyed.
He looked at you again, and you could see the vexation sparkling in his eyes. You kept your eyes on his, daring him to say he was so petty about stupid high school drama that he’d rather sleep on the floor.
“We can’t ask you to do that,” Hyeonseo protested, and you shrugged.
“We’re both adults. Besides, we’re not strangers,” you pointed out, letting the room take in your laidbackness.
Hours before, you had told Hyeonseo she should have known better than to invite Hoseok while you were there, and now you were saying it was fine to sleep in the same bed. And that was the thing — it was logical. Because there was a difference between what you’d prefer and the situation at hand. You were not that petty.
Hoseok kept scrutinizing you as though he could read your mind, and you held his stare relaxedly, with nothing to hide. “I don't bite, you know.”
He rolled his eyes as Jin and Hyeonseo exchanged a look, but then they looked at Hoseok, and you noticed the hope in their eyes. You didn’t doubt they’d call their parents and get money to pay for a place somewhere, even if it cost hundreds of thousands or millions of Korean won a night. But you also knew there was no way Hoseok would go for that. And there was no way they’d let him pay it, so—
“Fine,” Hoseok accepted as he shrugged. His hands were in his pockets, and you couldn’t help the irritation. Not even a thank you, a bow, an acknowledgment, or any indication that he’d make this an endurable experience. You couldn’t believe you had ever fallen for him. Even as a teen, how were you so stupid? He was not a soft-spoken or gentle person. He was unrefined and ungrateful.
“Shouldn’t you also promise not to bite her?” Jin asked Hoseok, and Hyeonseo elbowed her fiancé. Hoseok didn’t bother answering, and you couldn’t tell if Jin was serious or trying to lighten the mood. He insisted, “No, I’m serious. I think it’s only healthy to establish boundaries. See, I should have forbidden you from hitting me from the start, now it’s a bad habit,” he explained as he caught Hyeonseo’s hands mid air trying to stop him from saying nonsense and making things weird. “We’re a cautionary tale, kids. Listen well to—”
“Oh, stop it,” she whined, and Jin smiled and kissed her forehead.
“It’s getting late,” Hobi commented, interrupting them. “Maybe we should decide on how to make this weekend the most efficient.”
He grabbed his beer and waved at the hosts to sit first on their new dining chairs. You couldn’t help but smile as Hyeonseo and Jin sat and touched the new table, kicking their feet and giggling — their house was coming together little by little.
Hoseok gave them a minute before settling on a chair next to Jin, and you finally mimicked him — you grabbed your soju and sat next to Hyeonseo.
“Okay, let’s make a list and then establish priorities,” Hoseok started, and everyone agreed. “Have you bought the stove?”
“Yes, we can pick it up tomorrow morning,” Jin replied.
“Okay, I can install it. I noticed that some sockets and light switches are not installed properly, and one of them is broken. We need to buy that too. Now, lamps,” he pointed above their heads, “you only have the light bulbs or nothing at all. We need to get something too, have you decided what you want?”
“We wanted something modern and simplistic,” Hyeonseo told him, and Jin nodded.
“Pick something, I can also install them. Same for garden lights. What else?” Hoseok mused, looking around. “We’ll need to paint the whole ground floor, bathrooms, and corridors. I noticed the damage and cracks on the wall.”
“We were told it was normal,” Hyeonseo mumbled, instantly worried, and Hoseok nodded.
“It is, it’s the house breathing, and probably from paintings and shelves and things like that from the previous owners. But I’ll patch those up before we paint. I also noticed that the doors look old, and the built-in closets are not looking great either. Have you considered replacing them?”
Hyeonseo shook her head, but you spoke first, “That’s why I’m here. They need a bit of work, but they should be great after I’m done with them.”
He didn’t instantly reply, and both Jin and Hyeonseo stayed quiet. Hoseok just looked at you as though he was evaluating whether he had misjudged your role in this renovation, and you couldn’t care less about his opinion.
You turned to the couple. “I’ll also remove the stains from the stairs. Though for that, I need you to buy the proper remover tomorrow as well.”
Hoseok hummed. “Okay, that’s a lot of work for two days. Maybe we should start prepping still tonight.”
You scoffed. “No way,” you disagreed, then shrugged. “We’re four adults and two of us know what we’re doing. As long as we have everything we need, this will go fast.”
He huffed. “Still. Prepping now is time we don’t have to spend tomorrow.”
You rolled your eyes and turned to Hyeonseo. “You have the paint you want?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pick special paint for the bathrooms?” Hoseok asked. “Because of the humidity—”
“I told them to get waterproof paint,” you interrupted.
“She did, we have it,” Jin confirmed, eyeing the two of you as though you were children about to fight.
You looked away from Hoseok to Hyeonseo. “So the most efficient way of doing things will be that you and Jin go get your stove and the ceiling and garden lights while Hoseok handles the wall patches, and I check the sockets and light switches.”
“You know how to do that?” Hoseok asked, and you couldn’t help your sarcasm.
“What else are you going to ask me? If I can change a light bulb?”
His features sharpened, but Hyeonseo spoke first, “Alright, and then?”
“Then Hoseok can install the stove so we can eat lunch while the others prep the floors, skirting boards, and windows. I wouldn’t tape the doors cause I plan on sanding them and painting them anyway. Then, after lunch, if the patches are dry, we can sand them and start painting. That will take the longest, but with three people, you’ll go fast.”
“Why, what will you do?” Hoseok asked with a hint of cynicism.
“I’ll start with the stairs because they will take the longest. Then I’ll handle the closets and then the doors. If you could sand them beforehand, that would be great.”
He scoffed with derision before smiling. “There’s one flaw in your plan.”
“What?”
“The spackling paste needs at least twenty-four hours to dry.”
You frowned. “No, it doesn’t, a couple of hours is enough.”
“No, that’s not good enough.”
You rolled your eyes. “It’s to fix little—”
“Doesn’t matter how little it is, the paint won't adhere nicely and it will be noticeable in the long run,” he argued, and you heaved a deep breath.
“Guys—” Hyeonseo tried.
“Fine,” you relented, though as annoyed as ever. “Then we only paint the walls and ceilings without patches and leave the others for Sunday.”
Hoseok didn’t even blink. “Once you open the paint bucket, the color might change.”
You had to snicker. “Over twelve hours? Give me a break!”
“It’s best to do it in one go,” Hoseok insisted.
“Sure, it’s best, but we only have two days!”
“If we start tonight, we can get it all done.”
“We’re too tired to start tonight, we can start tomorrow!” you argued, leaning over the table towards him.
“We won't be able to finish it.”
“Whatever we can’t finish, they can. They’ll at least know what to do. They can paint anytime!”
He rolled his eyes. “They need to live too. They have everything in boxes. They don’t even have closets to put their clothes or shoes in—”
You bristled. “You worry about your part, I’ll worry about mine!!”
“Okay, let’s calm down,” Jin suggested, rising from his chair. “How about a drink? A toast?”
Hyeonseo instantly picked up on his cue. “That’s a great idea! Another beer? And for you, soju?” You gave her a look, but eventually nodded and got up alongside her. Hoseok stood up too, and you ignored him. You had to swallow your pride and tone it down; there was no use in wasting your time with him.
Jin was back in a second and opened the bottles, then passed them around. Then, he raised his. “To moving in with my starlight and to surviving this,” he started, and Hyeonseo elbowed him.
“To our best man and maid of honor for being by our sides every step of our lives. We love you,” she added, teary-eyed, and you reached an arm around her. You didn’t want to fight or stress her out even more. She knew that, you could see it in her fond smile as she eyed you.
“Right, thank you also for helping us finish our house and saving us a lot of money!” Jin added cheekily, and you all had to smile.
“Jjan!”
Four bottles clinked together, and you were still smiling when your eyes crossed Hoseok’s. His expression was so much lighter and tender that it was like a gut punch. He looked just like when you were teenagers at parties or school, laughing and playing around. It was nonsensical, but your heart fluttered just as it had back then. You had to press your lips before taking a sip from your drink. It was as though your heart had forgotten all that had happened on your prom night.
But he was quick to remind you why you had fallen out. He put the bottle down and headed toward his tools in the far corner of the living room. “I’ll patch the walls tonight so we can paint tomorrow.”
You widened your eyes, instantly irked, and Hyeonseo put her hand on your shoulder, shaking her head. Jin hurried to follow Hoseok while you bristled. “Why does he have to be like this?!”
“Let him,” she told you with a shrug. “It’s his body and energy, right? Don’t worry about him, let’s get you settled in.”
You appreciated Hyeonseo's help with your bags and even more the time alone with her. With the move and her wedding planning, you barely had time to talk.
She turned to you, then propped herself up on one elbow beside you on the bed. “Do you think they're still at it?”
You nodded. You had suggested that Hoseok take the morning to do spackling because you believed he'd need more than two hours. You hadn't even been talking that long.
You tapped your fingers on the mattress over the sheet, then got up and neared the built-in closet in that room. You stood your ground that you’d only really start tomorrow, but the fact that Hoseok was getting things done already made you a little restless. It wasn’t a competition, but…
Hyeonseo called your name, and you hummed while you inspected the closet in the same way you had the other one earlier. No blue stains there, so that was a plus.
“Is it really okay for Hoseok to sleep here?”
You didn't answer, frowning as you felt something on a shelf that you weren't expecting.
“I was thinking that maybe he could sleep with Jin while I—”
“Shit!!” you exclaimed.
“What?”
She got up to join you as you started hitting the shelf until it dislodged, and you could take it out.
“Shit,” you bit again and she looked at the wooden shelf in your hand. “See this?” You pointed at the edge — it looked rugged, frail, and friable, as if it were about to break apart. “It's rotten. I think a few of them have it. Something must have spilled in there, and they didn't clean it properly at the time.”
“Okay… can you fix it?”
You were fretful as you realized the problem. “I can, but I didn't bring wood with me or tools to cut wood. I do have glue, but that’s about it.”
“Okay, but… is it really a big deal?”
You looked at her in disbelief. “I’m not going to let you use a closet that is rotting! It’s not impossible to fix, I just don’t have the tools!”
She nodded, knowing you well enough — you said you’d do it and you didn’t like failing your best friend. “I can ask Hobi.”
Your eyes instantly widened as though she had lost her mind. “I don’t want to ask him!” you blurted out louder than you needed to, and you instantly regretted it. Hyeonseo raised an eyebrow, and you swallowed dryly, reeling your irritation back in. This wasn’t about you. “But I will.”
“I can ask,” she suggested, and you shook your head.
“No, I need to ask.”
Hyeonseo didn’t question you, and you were thankful for it. You followed her out of the room downstairs as you mused over how to go about this. You decided that being professional was the best way to handle the situation. For Hyeonseo and Jin, Hoseok would surely agree.
You found him on a ladder, sanding a hole in the wall, likely from a nail used to hang up a painting. On your way, you notice multiple patches already spackled, and you have to give it to him — he’s fast and efficient. Hyeonseo turned to the kitchen to talk to Jin, but you didn’t. You stopped right next to Hoseok.
“What?” he asked quietly, feeling the hole and surrounding wall with a digit before passing the brown sandpaper a few more times.
“I need to ask you something.”
He didn’t stop working or tell you to go on, so you couldn’t help seething underneath your composure.
Still, you continued, “Did you bring any tools to work with wood?”
“I did.”
Your expression instantly morphed from concealed anger to hope. “What did you bring?”
“I have a track saw.”
“And bar clamps?”
He finally put the sandpaper in a pocket of his cargo pants and turned to look at you. “Yeah, why?”
You instantly explained the situation to him, transparent about what you needed and why. You knew you sounded overly concerned about something simple, but he didn’t snicker or mock. Instead, by the time you were done explaining what you needed and what you planned on doing, he was down from the ladder, listening to you intently.
“What type of wood do you need?”
“A type of soft pine wood. It’s inside the closet, so I can turn the shelf around and it won’t be visible even if the color is slightly different.”
He nodded. “What size?”
You raised your hand. “About twenty by ten? I’m not sure yet, I haven’t cut the rot out yet.”
“How many?”
“Two that I’ve noticed so far.”
“So, four bar clamps would be enough?” he asked, and you nodded. “I’ll check, give me a sec.”
You held back from following him and simply stayed put, waiting expectantly. You couldn’t believe you were nervous and hopeful that Hoseok would help you with this. But at the same time, you didn’t care that it was him as long as you could do it. Built-in closets were expensive, and you didn’t want to leave without fixing them. On one hand, you could just buy new shelves, but on the other, that felt like wasted money when it was something you knew how to fix.
When he came back, you rushed to him. He had six bar clamps in one hand and a couple of planks of wood that you instantly took off his hands. You analyzed the thickness, color, and size while he put the bar clamps down in the corner next to his tools.
“What do you think?” he asked, stopping next to you with his hands on his waist.
“They’ll do,” you told him with relief relaxing your shoulders. “Should I go take the measurements now?”
His eyebrows raised in a moment of surprise, and you pressed your lips. You surprised yourself by asking his opinion.
“No, that’s okay,” he said quietly, extending his hands so you could give him the planks. “Maybe we could start with the closets tomorrow morning? That way, you can leave the wood gluing until Sunday while you get the stairs done.”
You nodded, gave him the planks so he could put them down, and pressed your lips, noticing the bucket with spackling paste hanging on the ladder.
“Cool,” he told you before getting back on the ladder.
You kept your lips pressed as he grabbed his metal spackle knife. You cleared your throat. “And the sockets and light switches?”
“I can check them, don’t worry.”
He gathered paste on his spackle knife and applied it to the wall, and you ended up sighing. “Do you need help?”
“I’m almost done,” he muttered, focused on what he was doing. “A couple more and I’ll be done.”
He got down from the ladder, and if he could see your uneasiness, he didn’t say anything. So you simply nodded and let him be. After informing Hyeonseo and Jin about Hoseok helping you with everything in the morning, you headed to bed, but sleep didn’t come easily.
Hoseok said he’d be done soon. What was taking so long? You huffed and played with the sheet while you waited, getting irked. Why did you care anyway?
You sighed and looked at the ceiling. While you almost berated him for wanting to start tonight, it was the fact that he did that that gave you extra time to handle the unexpected wood rot in the built-in closet. Not only that, but he simply offered to help instead of flat out refusing or even taking a jab. He ended up being way more professional than you were, making you uneasy with your own attitude. You wanted things to go smoothly.
It was almost two in the morning by the time he entered the bedroom. He did so quietly in case you were sleeping, so you croaked hurriedly, “I’m not sleeping yet.”
He paused and looked at you, already under the sheets, then nodded. He had a bag with him that he dropped against the wall on the opposite side of the room, then suddenly stopped, and turned to look back at you.
You instantly tensed up and stammered, “Do you prefer this side of the bed?”
He looked down and turned away, kneeling to search for something inside his bag. “No.”
You pressed your lips as your heart started racing inside your chest. You were hyperaware of the t-shirt and shorts you had on, of the softness of the sheets you were lying on, and of what else you could potentially feel once he joined you in bed. Of course, you were no longer a teenager, but he was still… attractive and off-putting and…
He found a t-shirt and kept rummaging for something else while you swallowed dryly. He was just a hot guy you once pinned after. That was a long time ago.
He pulled a pair of shorts out and got up with the clothes in his hands, and you spoke without thinking, “I can turn around if you want.”
He blinked at you, but you were already turning to give him privacy. Instantly, your whole body heated up like crazy. Why would he change here? You were here; that would be weird. And now it would be embarrassing in any case, whether he stayed or left to change somewhere else.
You berated yourself in your head for being stupid. You should have been asleep instead of saying—
A muffled sound reached your ears, making you feel even hotter. You could imagine his cargo pants hitting the floor or his tank top, and something thrummed under your skin, making you rub your thighs together. For a second, you closed your eyes. You still remembered what it was like to be around him during high school. The way he laughed or held the door open for you. You were good friends, although for you, he was so much more.
The bed dipped behind you, and you burned. A wave of heat scorched your spine up to your neck as Hoseok settled behind you, and you could barely breathe.
He whispered, “Can I turn off the light?”
“Wait.”
Your breath hitched with your plea, and your cheeks flushed. You didn’t know your voice could sound like that, and you could only pray that he didn’t notice.
You turned back around to face him and found him looking at you with a raised eyebrow, arm stretched out to the light switch on the wall.
“I…” Your voice trailed off as you looked down. He was under the sheet, right there, an arm's length away. You cleared your voice. “Do you need a blanket?”
He observed your whole face for a second before answering, “No, do you?”
You shook your head. “I think I’ll be too hot.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you realized you said it out loud. He didn’t even blink, but your cheeks were burning. Suddenly, you felt like breathing was impossible while he looked at you like that.
At least until he turned off the light. “Yeah, I get that.”
You didn’t know why you were reacting this way. If anything, he turned off the lights, so it had to mean he was done for the night. No more talking, looking at each other, and certainly no touching or wondering or—
You pushed a tense breath through your gritted teeth. You weren’t making any sense.
You turned your head to his side in the dark. He hadn’t moved next to you, which meant you were both just staring at the ceiling, awkward and stiff next to each other.
“Okay, listen,” you croaked out once more. “I know this is awkward, but it’s just sleeping. Can we agree to be normal and just get through this?”
“Are you saying I’m not normal?”
“N— No, I’m just—” You struggled to find words, especially because everything pointed to you not being the normal one. “I just meant that we could cooperate since we’re in this situation.”
“Am I not cooperating?”
“You are, I’m just saying that— Gosh, just—” The more you stumbled all over your words, the more you had no idea what you even meant anymore. “You can trust me, that’s all.”
You looked at him in the dark again, wondering if he’d have a snarky remark or if he’d call you out for blushing and acting weird, unlike him. You braced yourself for it, thinking what excuse you could give, and as you waited, the silence stretched. You frowned; maybe he had fallen asleep?
But eventually, he whispered, “Okay.”
You woke up slowly, so warm and snuggly, you didn’t want to move or open your eyes. You were hugging the most wonderful pillow, warm and soft, with an earthy, citrusy masculine scent that had you dreaming of walking through sun-warmed soil and citrus groves. You buried your nose a bit more, wondering why the fabric was soft but the pillow itself was so sturdy—
Your eyes snapped open, and you pulled back, gasping mutely before your hand covered your mouth. Your heart raced inside your chest as you realized you were spooning Hoseok, burying your face in his back, and getting crazed by his cologne. Your eyes widened impossibly; how crazy were you?! Yet before you could understand what the heck happened, Hoseok’s arm moved and felt the space behind him. Your stomach twisted as you slid further away from his reach, your heart about to come out of your mouth with how fast it was racing.
Whatever he thought was missing was not enough to wake him up or make him turn around. Thinking you stood a chance, you pulled the sheet closer to his back before sliding away and putting your legs out of the bed. You hugged your chest for a moment, willing yourself to calm down before getting up, grabbing your things, and rushing to the bathroom. It looked like you were the first one up, and maybe that was a good thing, because you needed to do some serious soul-searching to figure yourself out.
It was just Hoseok. You didn’t even like him, hadn’t for many years. Hadn’t since he misled you, broke your heart, hurt you, making you angrier than you had ever felt. And humiliated and blindsided and—
You clenched your teeth as you washed your face. Right. That Hoseok. You weren’t seventeen anymore, but it didn’t hurt to remember what happened. Maybe your attraction to him was undeniable, but he still didn’t deserve a second of your attention, let alone whatever was happening to you. You were there to help Jin and Hyeonseo, nothing more.
When you got downstairs, you were glad to find the happy couple scrambling to prepare whatever was left for breakfast and brewing coffee. It gave you a moment to sit down, chill, and wait for Hoseok to wake up.
Five minutes later, Hoseok was already downstairs and ready to have coffee, so you finished yours in an instant to get to work.
Hoseok's calling halted you in your tracks. “Wait, let’s decide what our morning looks like first.” You pressed your lips and nodded, rejoining the three of them in the kitchen. He turned to the couple. “Have you decided on the lights you want?”
“Yeah, we stayed up last night deciding,” Hyeonseo beamed, and Jin grabbed his phone to show what they had picked.
You didn’t have much to say; their options were modern and seamless, easily blending in with their aesthetic.
“Okay, so the plan is the same,” Hoseok concluded, glancing at you. “You go with Hyeonseo to get the stove, the lights you selected, and the stain remover. Meanwhile, we’ll get the closets started. We should take care of the sockets and light switches before we prep for painting. Also, you need to get covers for the floor.”
“We saved cardboard boxes to use them as protection,” Hyeonseo shared with a smile, nudging you.
“Good idea,” Hoseok agreed, and your lips twitched in the hint of a smile. Of course it was.
Everyone agreed on what to do, so you went ahead upstairs. Now you were paranoid that there could be more rot you hadn’t found, so the quicker you were sure the built-in closets were fine, the better.
You grabbed your toolbox and got started in your room, removing the doors, drawers, and shelves from the closet, and laying them on the floor out of the way in a corner of the room. The two shelves that had rotted were placed to one side, and fortunately, everything else seemed to be in good condition. You tapped everywhere extra times and felt each surface to make extra sure everything was fine. Once you were certain, you moved to the master bedroom and repeated the same process there.
Fortunately, no rot there, but the front of the sliding doors had dark blue stains on the flower carvings. Once everything was dismantled, you knelt and felt the paint splashes with your finger, and that was how Hoseok found you.
“Need help?”
“No, it’s okay. The ones with the rot are in our room,” you told him, stopping what you were doing to show them to him.
Once there, you let him evaluate them himself as you discussed how you’d like them cut and fixed.
“Okay, so about five centimeters more?” he asked, and you nodded. “Do you want me to measure them and cut the new wood to size?”
“Yeah, I’ll glue them then,” you agreed, already thinking about what you had to do there while he helped with that.
He nodded. “You got it.”
You glanced at him as he left with the shelves to be cut, but didn’t notice his expression. You assumed you could trust him, given his experience, and weren’t shy about letting him do it. You had a long day ahead of you anyway.
You started getting the metal shelf pins off the closet, then unscrewed the handles of the drawers and the drawer frames. Despite the age of the wood and the carelessness with whatever liquid had rotted the shelves, the closet was at least relatively well-preserved.
When you looked up, you frowned. You were a bit short, but that closet rod was really up high. Even Hyeonseo would have difficulties using it. You should probably lower it a bit once you were done.
You jumped a few times to try to get the closet rod to come off, but it was screwed in. So your next step was to search for a ladder downstairs. You grabbed the first one you could find that was truly just a two-step folding ladder and got back to it. You had to get on your tippy toes with your screwdriver to reach the bracket and try to unscrew it, all while the metal step moaned under your feet.
Gritting through it, you smiled when the bracket came loose. However, as soon as it did, you realized it was a terrible idea to support your weight on the rod itself. As soon as it loosened, it gave way under your weight, and you fell forward.
Except a pair of hands grabbed you by the waist before you could fall inside the closet. A ruckus echoed all around you, and you cowered, covering your ears. The rod clattered inside the closet below your feet as wood shelves were tossed to the side on the floor.
Seeing them made you realize you were pressed firmly to someone’s chest. Someone who stepped on the ladder and steadied you firmly.
“Are you okay?”
You shuddered and looked over your shoulder. Hoseok was so close, letting you down slowly as your legs gave in. He supported your weight until your feet were safely on the floor. You turned to him, the adrenaline making you tremble. And yet he kept his hands firmly on your waist, making you blush even more as you tried to calm down.
“What were you doing?” he asked, and you finally saw the tension in his shoulders. “Why are you using the short ladder if you can't reach it?”
“Because— I—” you stammered, losing yourself in his eyes for a second. “Because I thought you’d need the big one.”
“I was cutting the wood pieces outside,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, well, for the…lights.”
He huffed and gave you a look, and you pressed your lips. Right as you did and realized it was unlikely your heart would stop racing for as long as his hands stayed on your waist, you heard the sound of racing footsteps up the stairs.
“Is everything okay?!” Hyeonseo shouted, but it was Jin who showed up first.
“We heard—”
He stumbled on his feet and words at the sight of Hoseok dropping his hands at your sides. Jin’s eyes were comically widened when his fiancé entered the room, looking spooked.
You cleared your throat. “It’s okay. It was just noise; nothing serious happened. Thanks for the help,” you added, looking at Hoseok for a moment. “I still need to take the rod from the other closet as well, so…”
“I’ll do it,” he offered, and you frowned.
“No, I will do it.”
He sighed. “Just let me do it.”
“No!” You squinted. “I can perfectly do it myself!”
“You won’t reach it.”
You scoffed. “I can definitely reach it!”
“It’s not safe.”
“Guys—”
“Well, then help me.”
Hyeonseo called your name, and you both finally turned to her. “Should we get the other ladder?”
Jin was already exiting the room when you said, “There’s no need. This one is already here,” you remarked, with your eyes on Hoseok. You were blatantly going against his advice, but it didn’t feel like an argument. It felt like something else.
“Be reasonable,” he breathed, and you leaned toward him.
“I am. I’ll do it, and you’ll help me.”
Hyeonseo looked at Jin while you folded the two-step ladder and exited the room with Hoseok not far behind you.
“Well, we’ll go get the stove then,” Jin announced, not getting much of a response. Hyeonseo patted his shoulder, then grabbed his hand to drag him downstairs.
You didn’t see his face of disbelief because you were busy setting the ladder in front of the built-in closet in the master bedroom.
“How should I help you?”
“Stabilize the ladder.”
You stepped on it, screwdriver in hand, and he huffed. “It’s not enough,” he complained, and you smiled, already on your tiptoes to get the bracket uncrewed.
“Then stabilize me.”
He circled the ladder to get in front of you, settling his firm hands on your waist. You had a smug smile as you got the rod, but it vanished when you looked down. Hoseok was at your chest level, looking at you with dark eyes. It made your knees weak, and he was quick to grab you and put you down on the floor again.
This time, he removed his hands quickly, pushing you out of your haze. You swallowed dryly. “Thanks. See? Reached it very well,” you told him. He nodded, and you set the rod aside. “So, the shelves. We need to glue the pieces together.”
You weren’t even surprised he helped you, but you were thankful. It went faster as you applied the glue and set the pieces in position while he tightened the bar clamps to keep everything locked tight.
“There,” he said, once everything was done. You left everything drying in the hallway so the rooms wouldn’t smell. “Now you can move on to the stairs and handle the closets tomorrow.”
You shook your head. “First, the sockets and light switches.”
“I can handle that,” he suggested as you both went down the stairs.
“No, it’s faster like this. This way, if they need to buy extra, we can call them while they’re at the store.”
Hoseok turned to you when you both got to the ground floor and nodded. “Thank you.”
You weren’t supposed to have fun with Hoseok, but you wouldn’t deny it happened. You made it a competition to check every socket and light switch as fast as possible, and it was super tight. You won, checking your half first, but Hoseok dismissed it by saying he had caught two broken sockets. He had to call Jin and Hyeonseo to ask them to buy new sockets, explaining what type was needed, and you grinned. It was still a win in your book.
When the couple returned, you were quick to say you’d fix those sockets while Hoseok installed the stove. While he took the time to prepare, you noticed he kept an eye on you. You couldn’t help a smug smile while you connected the three cables in the correct color code, housed properly in the backbox, before you screwed the faceplate over it. You did it in record time, and when you got up to move to the other one, you saw him turning away with a smile on his face. You didn’t know why, but impressing him made you really fuzzy for some reason.
After that, you evaluated the stairs more seriously. You knew that even if the stains weren’t extensive, you had to do it properly — every stair tread multiple times. You weren’t even sure a whole afternoon would be enough.
You huffed and turned away, grabbing painter’s tape to start prepping alongside Jin and Hyeonseo. You even got on the high ladder to protect the fire alarm on the ceiling and noticed Hoseok glancing at you every now and then.
Hoseok and Jin installed the bedroom and bathroom lights after that, and you decided that helping with lunch was more efficient than just hanging around. It gave you more time to talk to Hyeonseo and ensure everyone got an early lunch.
“How's your shop coming along?” she asked you as she cooked and you chopped vegetables.
“You mean my online store?” you asked, and she nodded. “I have enough commissions on Etsy and other platforms to do nothing else. Working on those items means I have content to upload on social media, and I have enough views that I make some money from that already.”
“Can you believe that? Remember when restoring things was just a hobby you did in your parents' living room?”
You nodded, giving her the chopped onions. “And now I have a room in my apartment that’s my workshop.”
She took them and kept cooking. “Maybe one day you’ll have a physical store!”
You crinkled your nose and grabbed plates and chopsticks to set the table. “Not sure it will ever be worth it, especially in Seoul.”
“Seoul?” You turned around to Hoseok and Jin, now seemingly done with the lights. For now. “You live in Seoul?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?” Hoseok asked, grabbing the glasses and water jar. Jin passed behind him and you to help his fiancée.
“Seocho-gu…”
“Seocho-gu??” Hoseok almost choked as he placed what he was carrying on the dining table, same as you. “I live there! Where?”
“Nambusunhwan-ro, in a street that leads to the Daehang Hospital.”
“That’s so close to where I live! Woah, the world is small!”
You pressed your lips and nodded slowly while setting the table alongside him. “And you work there too?”
“Not there, I teach in Hongdae.”
“You’re also a teacher?”
“Oh, you’re a teacher?”
You shook your head as Jin and Hyeonseo carried the many side dishes to the table. “Like Hyeonseo, I mean,” you clarified, working with everyone to finish everything and start eating.
It gave Hyeonseo the opportunity to talk about her school and kids, and finally sigh, “I’m happy I teach kids before they become teens.”
“Yeah, I teach adults. It’s much better,” Hoseok acknowledged before turning to you. “But you don’t teach.”
“No, I restore old items like furniture and chandeliers and sell them online.”
“Ohhhh.” Hoseok nodded. “That explains it.”
You raised an eyebrow. “What do you teach?”
“I’m a dance instructor.”
You didn’t hide your surprise. “So you don’t work with your dad?”
“Fuck no,” he grumbled.
The conversation evolved in another direction, but you stayed behind, wondering if you ever knew Hoseok at all. You were friends for a year in high school; good friends, you’d say. You remembered him talking about his parents' divorce, for example, but not about the time he spent with his dad. You knew he enjoyed dancing, but you never knew he took it seriously. You realized after that you probably didn’t know him well, if he could blindside you like that, but now you were realizing you never knew him at all.
Everyone helped clean up, and while Jin put on music to cheer up the place, you couldn’t help but chuckle. He had pulled Hyeonseo to the middle of the room to dance while you and Hoseok handled the dirty dishes, and it was a sight to see.
“It’s our song!” she laughed as Jin swung her around. To call it dancing would probably be too much, but the song did say ‘shut up and dance with me’ multiple times.
You glanced at Hoseok, who was quietly next to you, just looking at them with a soft expression, and you guessed he remembered it too. Jin and Hyeonseo were always like this, all the way back in high school. They were the living proof that young love could grow and evolve into something beautiful.
Once you finished with the kitchen, you let Hoseok handle the painting with the couple while you turned to the stairs. You were already dreading the amount of time it would take and the stinky smell, but it was for a good cause.
You opened the windows up and downstairs, put on gloves, and then prepared the gel that would remove the paint. You decided to do two steps at a time, tread and riser, top to bottom, so that while one set had the solvent, you could already scrape the previous and not get burned. Grabbing your brush, you glanced at Hoseok, who was starting to paint the kitchen ceiling after they had spent some time protecting the cupboards and surfaces. He didn’t say anything about the stairs, and you sighed. Even he didn’t want to get involved.
You covered the first two steps with the gel and stepped away to breathe normal air for a second. After fifteen minutes, you started scraping the gel and paint with a spatula, and Hyeonseo clapped behind you.
“It’s working!!”
You glanced at her, then sighed. “This is going to take a while.”
“And now?” Hyeonseo asked behind you.
You sighed and turned to her, shutting off your electric sander and wiping the sweat off your brow with your shirt. She was clearly worried about you, and you didn’t have the energy to react whatsoever.
It had been seven hours since you started with the stairs, and you could feel Hyeonseo’s discomfort every time she checked up on you. First, she thought it would go really fast—until she realized you had to apply the solvent, wait twenty minutes, scrape it off, and clean the grime at least twice from every tread and riser. All fourteen steps.
You touched the diluent with your forearm, so that got you a small burn mark that she freaked out about. When you tried assuring her it wouldn’t happen again, she assumed it was because you were done. But you still had to sand everything multiple times.
So you had been using your electric sander for the past couple of hours. First with heavy grit, then medium grit, then fine grit. Hyeonseo had checked on you a couple of times, but she didn’t understand that you couldn’t stop. If you did, you wouldn’t be able to lift a finger anymore.
You put the electric sander down and passed your hand on the last step. “It’s going well.”
“Are you done?”
You chuckled. “No.”
“It’s almost eight… we were thinking of going out for dinner and checking out the festival.”
You suppressed a laugh. “Sure. Not sure I can survive that, but sure.”
Hyeonseo sighed while the men kept painting, now in the bathroom, you believed. “You’re not supposed to kill yourself doing this.”
You rolled your eyes. “Don’t exaggerate.”
You grabbed a pot of wood filler that matched the Korean pine wood color of the stairs and a putty knife, and climbed up the stairs again.
Hyeonseo’s eyes widened. “What are you doing now?!”
“Fixing your stairs,” you informed, getting to work filling every crack and hole you saw.
“But— The paint is gone, so—”
“Stop worrying,” you told her. “Let me do my thing.”
She sighed.
You opened your eyes and instantly groaned — shit, everything hurt.
Raising your head from the pillow, you looked around the dark room with a frown. You had fallen asleep. Shit.
Your eyes drifted to the closed door. What was that noise?
You got up from bed, feeling even more dead than when you lay down just for a minute to rest your eyes. That was a terrible idea, you mused as you got out of the bedroom and followed the noise.
What you found made you stagger atop the stairs. Hoseok was sitting on the second step of the stairs, counting from the bottom, using a delta sander to get the corners perfectly, judging by his gentle and precise technique.
You shook your head. “Wait,” you said, going down the stairs, and he stopped to look at you. “The filler has to dry.”
“And it did,” he agreed, grabbing a sheet of sandpaper to sand the nosing of the step.
You were baffled. “How long did I sleep?”
He glanced at his wristwatch. “About three hours.”
You cursed vilely. “And nobody woke me up?!”
“You needed the rest.”
“And you didn’t?!”
“Everybody took a nap,” he told you with a light smile, and your eyes widened.
“You too?”
He nodded. “You didn’t flinch when I lay down or when I got up.” You rubbed your eyes, slightly embarrassed, and he continued, “Jin and Hyeonseo are getting ready for dinner, and then it’s our turn.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Dinner?”
“We’re going to a barbecue place,” he said casually, basically telling you not to worry, and you deflated. As long as you weren’t ruining anyone’s plans.
“What do you think?” you asked, kneeling to feel the texture of the stairs.
“You did a wonderful job,” he complimented, and you looked at him as he analyzed the details. “Stains are gone, every surface is smooth and balanced. You even picked the right color for the filler. A second sanding and it will basically become invisible.”
“It’s already pretty good,” you commented, scrutinizing the bigger patches you had fixed that were barely noticeable after Hoseok sanded once.
“Indeed.”
You felt the nosing of the step you were on and pressed your lips. “Thanks for the help.”
He got up, and you did the same, towering over him ever so slightly.
“Not a problem.”
Your eyes locked on his, and you didn’t know what to say. For the first time in years, you were actually fine with him. Anger and frustration were no longer bubbling under your skin, making you believe you had moved on from what happened. Though the more your heart beat, the more you questioned how he drew you in like this.
“You were right, you know,” you whispered, and his eyes lowered to your lips. It likely didn’t mean anything, but your heart skipped a beat or two. “I should have started last night. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything properly so far without your help. And I’ve only started the closets and the stairs,” you remarked with a sigh. ”I don’t know how I’m going to do the doors as well.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he instantly reassured you, raising his eyes to yours again. His tone was warm and intimate, and it made you shudder. “I’ll sand them tomorrow, and they can paint them later. They’re pros at it now.”
He said it jokingly, and you chuckled, letting that warmth envelop you.
He licked his lips. “I know how exhausting it can be, and we don’t have much time. So don’t worry about anything. Whatever you need, you can ask me.”
You searched his eyes and saw nothing but honesty, and your heart was unrestrained. Logically, you knew exactly what he was saying, but your stupid heart was still racing. You observed his features, both gentle and sharp, as he looked at you. You could swear his eyes had as much intensity as yours, but you had to doubt yourself. Were you still pining after Hoseok? Were you really over him if all it took was a few whispers for him to steal your heart again, even after so many years?
“Oh, you woke up!” Jin exclaimed from the top of the stairs, and you turned around. “You can go ahead and shower.”
You pressed your lips and eyed Hoseok before climbing up the stairs again.
You didn’t know how you got here.
“Come on!” Hoseok insisted with a lopsided smile and a glint in his eyes.
He held your hand and you blushed, stammering, “I can't…”
“Oh, come on!” he insisted. “I’ve already heard you snore. There are no secrets between us.”
You heard Jin and Hyeonseo laugh behind you, and let Hoseok drag you closer to the crowd of people dancing.
Thinking again, you knew how you got there. You all ate barbecue and had a few drinks, and now you were tipsy with a dance instructor insisting you should embarrass yourself in front of your friends. And what was worse, you didn’t mind.
He turned to you and grabbed your hand, spinning you once to loosen you up. “Just relax.”
You tried moving side to side along to the music, but you were no good. You couldn’t even look at him, your eyes were nailed to the floor as he tried to get you to follow his lead with your hand. Suffice it to say it wasn’t working.
“It’s no use,” you told him, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m just no good.”
“Nonsense,” he breathed, pulling you close. The music shifted to something more commercial that you recognised, but didn’t pay much mind to. “Just hold onto me.”
He wrapped your arms around him, then wrapped his around your middle. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to look away, afraid your red cheeks would be too obvious. So you hugged his chest and let him swing you both to the song’s rhythm.
You closed your eyes, breathing in the earthy citrusy cologne while his firm chest acted as a pillow. Little by little, you relaxed, letting the moment sway you and take you. The lyrics spoke of running away and young love, and your mind blanked as he guided you ever so gently. His hips were moving to the beat, and although he wasn’t forcing you to match him, you found yourself doing it. Your hips had a mind of their own and swiveled to match his, and his posture changed.
You looked up at him, flushed and slightly embarrassed. You weren’t really just dancing with the way you were glued together. His body was firm, warm, relentless, pressed to you, never once leaving you behind. On the contrary, his hips responded to yours the same way his hands brushed up and down your body in feather-like touches, covering you with goosebumps all over.
What were you two doing?
“That’s it,” he murmured, and you looked up at him. He raised his fingers to brush your hair out of your face. “You’re doing so well.”
A familiar burn spread through your whole body, making you swallow dryly and lose sight of reality for a second. You wanted him. Your fingers curled around his neck, and his weren’t shy about pressing your waist. In another world, you would have kissed him already. You were burning, breathlessly swivelling your hips with him in a crowd, gushing between your legs, and eager to jump him. There was no way you felt all that without him feeling something. And on top of that, his eyes were fixed on you. He wasn’t looking away, or eager for it to be over. He was pressing you closer, guiding your bodies, breathing at the same tempo as you, licking his lips as though he wanted to taste you.
The music halted for a moment, and a message was broadcast through the speakers, but you weren’t paying attention. Hoseok hadn’t let you go; neither of you had moved.
While you pondered over what you could say, a voice from behind you snapped you back to reality.
“Woah! You’ll have to teach us how to dance like that for our wedding!”
Hoseok let go of you slowly, and you let him, loosening your grip as well. You wondered if his eyes held a question before they turned to your best friend.
“I will, don’t worry!” Hoseok replied with a grin. “Anyone can feel the rhythm. It’s easy to achieve this, I do it all the time,” he answered, seemingly proud of himself, and you felt the flame inside you wither until it was snuffed out.
“Really?” Hyeonseo asked with a teasing tone, but you were no longer listening.
“Excuse me.”
You spun around, letting your feet take you as far away as possible. You frowned as you walked, confused about the feeling twisting your guts. So what if Hoseok was a good teacher and bragged about it? Why was that making you so furious?
Sitting on a street bench while the crowds passed you by, you took a deep breath. You knew why, even if it was hard to admit. You thought you two had something special. There was tension and want, and you believed you weren’t the only one feeling it. But you were. Again.
Suddenly, there were tears in your eyes. You felt seventeen again, crying and wondering where you went wrong. What you did wrong, what you interpreted wrong. But you were twenty three now, and you refused to go through the same shit for the same guy. Fuck that!
You didn't want to worry Hyeonseo, so you made your way back. You found them chatting in a way that made you think they were waiting for you to get back. You lied about going to the bathroom, and before you could reveal your intentions to leave, Hoseok grabbed your hand.
“Come on, let’s teach them together,” he proposed with a sparkly smile.
You pulled your hand free. “I don’t feel like it. I’m sure you can find someone else here to do that.” You turned to Jin and Hyeonseo with a small smile. “I’m going home. I’m really tired.”
Hyeonseo looked at Jin, who nodded. “Sure, we can all go—”
“No, I’ll go ahead. I already called a taxi.” You bit your tongue; since when did you lie so much? “You guys should enjoy yourselves a bit longer.”
You said your goodbyes quickly and were thankful Hyeonseo knew you well enough not to insist. She told you she’d text you the code to get inside the house, and you were on your way.
Growing up in Gwangju meant you knew exactly where the taxi street of the festival was, and you headed there without a second thought. Once there, you got in line — it was almost three am, so many people were already leaving.
Not even a minute later, you heard someone calling your name, and you turned, surprised. Hoseok was making his way to you in between people, and for a moment, your breath hitched. He looked dazzling in jeans and a leather jacket, his firm body framed perfectly. To think you were pressed to his firm chest, wrapped in those arms…
You could almost forget he made you feel like an idiot. Almost.
You were ready to ignore him, but he reached you quickly, bowing to the other people waiting in line.
“I almost lost you,” he complained, clearing his throat, and you raised an eyebrow.
“Why did you follow me?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you. I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said. Seeing you remained skeptical, he continued, “I didn’t mean you were easy or something.” He scratched the back of his head. “When I said I do it all the time—”
“You just meant that you can teach anyone,” you interjected stoically, and he paused.
He dropped his hand as the queue moved forward. “Right. So then, why are you upset? It’s why you’re leaving, right?”
Your lips twitched. “I’m not upset. I was just reminded of why we never got along in the first place.”
He frowned. “Never? That’s not even true.”
You rolled your eyes as you became the first in line. “Whatever.”
You could see out of the corner of your eyes the way he clenched his jaw and looked away before turning to you again. “Well, what is it? Maybe if we talked about it—”
“I don’t need to talk about it. And I don’t want to. I know everything I need to know.”
He huffed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other constantly as though his frustration was physical. “Doesn’t sound like you do,” he commented with a hint of bitterness. “Maybe if we talked you’d be able to form sound opinions instead of just assuming shit and acting like you know everything.”
Your eyes widened. “Assuming?! You literally just said it!”
“You’re making up whatever story in your head,” he insisted, eying you harshly. “You hear what you want to hear.”
You scoffed before you could help it. “Yeah, right!”
A taxi stopped in front of you right on time. You spun on your heels and got in, and Hoseok grabbed the door when you reached to close it.
Instantly, your eyes were locked in a mute argument. You even expected him to shut the door behind you, seeing as he was just as annoyed as you. Instead, he was preventing you from closing it.
“Miss?”
You couldn’t even turn to look at the driver; you couldn’t lose.
Hoseok stepped closer to the car and muttered, “Don’t be like this. Let me go with you.”
You gritted your teeth and seriously pondered kicking him in the shin and closing the door, leaving him there. It was only the thought of how Jin and Hyeonseo would have been disappointed that made you roll your eyes and swallow a grumble before letting go of the door and moving along in the backseat of the car.
You told the driver the address, and Hoseok rode in the taxi with you. Why was he even there? Surely not to make sure you made it safely. Although he might have promised that to Jin and Hyeonseo so they’d stay at the festival and enjoy themselves. He was likely just tired…but you’d be damned if you cared.
As soon as you entered Jin and Hyeonseo’s place, you stormed your way to the bedroom you were sharing. You changed clothes hastily, turned off the lights, and threw yourself over the bed diagonally, spreading the pillows around you and hugging a few. You’d be damned if you wouldn’t sleep properly tonight.
You couldn’t fall asleep. Hoseok entered the room not ten minutes later and you could feel the air thickening around you. By the time he hit your foot with his knee, the lights were back on and he was pissed.
“Move.”
You ignored him, and he bumped your foot with his knee multiple times.
“Move, I want to sleep.”
“Not my problem,” you grumbled, and he scoffed.
“Indeed, but you’re mine. Get out of the way.”
“No,” you grumbled again, muffled. “I’m withdrawing the invitation; you can sleep somewhere else.”
You could almost hear the way he was fuming. “You’re fucking unbelieveable, you know that?! First, you get angry and don’t want to talk about it. Then, you withdraw your invitation? Fuck! I can trust you my ass! You’re so two-faced!”
By the time he was done, you were sitting up in bed, baffled and angry. “What?!”
He had no issues facing you head-on. “You heard me. You extend an olive branch one second and shit all over people the next. I’ve never met anyone as two-faced as you.”
“How fucking dare you!” you screeched as you kicked the sheets to get up from bed. “You’re the one who plays people, pretending to be all vulnerable and hurt, only to use them and throw them away like trash! Who the fuck are you to call me two-faced?!”
His anger was visible on his clenched jaw and flared nostrils as you shouted at him. He frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
You scoffed. “As if you don’t know.”
He threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “I won’t know until you tell me! Stop assuming shit!”
“Stop playing dumb!”
“When did I?” he asked you to your face, and you crossed your arms over your chest.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to fall for it again.”
Hoseok groaned and pressed his palms to his eyes. “Fuck, you’re just like back then! The second I think I can trust you, you flip a switch and turn into someone else completely!”
“What?”
“Hyeonseo said I had you all wrong, that it was all a misunderstanding, but she’s wrong,” he told you, facing you head-on again. His eyes were harsh, and his tone accusatory. “This is just who you are. It’s bad enough our paths crossed twice; let’s not do it again.”
He grabbed his bag from the floor and stormed off with you hot on his tail.
“What are you talking about?!”
You chased him all the way downstairs, then stood frozen as he went outside to his pickup to get a blanket. When he started to make a makeshift place to sleep in the corner of the living room, you lost it.
“Argh, you’re fucking impossible!” you exploded, gripping your hair by the roots. “I flipped a switch?! I literally go to the bathroom, and the next thing I know, you’re kissing someone! Right after telling me you were so heartbroken you couldn’t stand the thought of being with someone! Are you serious?!”
He had taken off his jacket and thrown it on the blanket. He snickered. “Next thing you know? My, do you have selective amnesia or something?”
Your brow furrowed. “What?”
“You didn’t go to the bathroom, did you?”
You were stunned. “What?”
“I heard you!” he accused, all signs of mockery morphed into anger. “I followed you to suggest holding your drink, only to hear you giggling with your friends about how pathetic I was.”
You paled but instantly shook your head. “I never said that.”
“Your friends did, and you just laughed! Two-faced,” he underlined.
You gaped, frowning as you tried to remember what he was talking about. “I was— I don't know, I— Maybe they did say that, I don’t remember. But I wouldn’t have.”
He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, and you bristled. He was so sure of himself, but what did it matter?
“What does that have to do with anything? I didn’t ‘flip a switch,’” you insisted. “They called you that, not me. So what does that have to do with what you did?”
“You thought I was so pathetic, and I just—” His expression soothed as his voice quieted. “I didn’t want to be.”
“You never were.”
He scoffed derisively, and you rubbed your eyes for a second, wanting to kick yourself.
“Listen, they just—even I, we were just…mean,” you explained with regret. You weren’t proud of who you were in high school. “Young and stupid and mean.”
Hoseok listened with harsh yet glistening eyes. “I opened my heart to you and you ran to tell them.”
“That is not true.”
You stiffened, and he instantly retorted, “Yeah, right.”
“I don’t care what you heard, that is not true,” you stated resolutely. “I never told anyone a word of what you told me. I might not have refuted them when they called you that, I might have played along, but I’d never break your trust.”
He had a painful smile, holding back a snicker as you spoke, until he blew up, “Oh, come on! You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth.”
“So you mean to tell me you went along with them and still never told them the things I told you when I believed we were friends.” You nodded, and he insisted, “You went along with them saying those things about me, but were still actually my friend.” You nodded again, and he threw his hands up in the air. “Does that even make sense?!”
“It’s the truth,” you repeated.
“Why would I believe you?”
Your breath hitched as you realized the answer to what he was asking. He was angry and maybe hurt; you could see it in his face. You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to feel. You were talking, actually talking, for the first time in years. But you never expected it would mean you’d have to tell him this.
But then again, it didn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago.
You pressed your lips to hide a sad smile. “Because it’s the truth. Not just because you had told me things as friends that I would never repeat to someone else, but because I didn’t want them to look at you twice, I…had this big fat crush on you and didn’t want any of them to get any ideas.”
He wasn’t just stupefied, you could see in his wide eyes that his thought process was completely busted. “What??”
It made you blush and rub your eyes again before you blurted, “We became closer friends when you opened up about your ex, and I… I didn’t want to make a move because it would have been too soon, and I didn’t want to be a rebound, but I was hoping we could… I don’t know,” you sighed, looking away, embarrassed. “But then you invited me to prom, so I thought maybe you were over her, so I thought what the hell, why not? I was so excited that night, just waiting for the right moment to say something, but then I saw you kissing whoever that was and I just—I was fucking pissed ‘cause that wasn’t even a rejection, that was… Why invite me to prom if you wanted to be with someone else? It just—”
You stopped yourself, feeling the anger bubbling up in your chest once more. You rubbed your eyes and sighed, calming down. He looked befuddled; he probably didn’t remember any of it.
“I didn’t,” he blurted out, and you looked at him. “That girl, I… I didn’t want to be with her; I didn’t even like her. I was just pissed after hearing you and your friends saying I was pathetic for being heartbroken over my ex and…I felt betrayed. You were literally the only girl I trusted at the time, who I thought…Who I wanted to spend time with. And then you said those things and I just…I didn’t want to be pathetic,” he admitted, heaving a deep breath. “That girl caught me alone and confessed, and when she kissed me, I felt…validated. Like I was not worthless. Of course, I told her I didn’t feel the same way, and she was cool about it. Otherwise, I would have felt pretty shity about it.”
“You were never worthless, much less because you had feelings. I’m glad she made you feel good about yourself.” You looked down, a frown on your lips. She did what you couldn’t. “Regardless of what they said, you were never pathetic. They were allergic to vulnerability and needed to be bitches about it, that’s all. Hell, me too. I’m sorry about that.”
He nodded with his shiny eyes focused on you. “Even if I know now how you felt at the time…I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do with all of this information.”
You shrugged. “You don’t have to do anything, it’s in the past. Though…about today,” you started, then heaved a deep breath as you rubbed your pink cheeks. “I’m not gonna lie, it felt just like back then. There I am, thinking something special is happening, only for you to dismiss it like it’s nothing. It’s easy to achieve this, I do it all the time,” you mimicked his voice, and he groaned.
“No, I knew it was bullshit as soon as I said it,” he confessed, scratching the back of his head. “Even Hyeonseo called me out for it.”
“‘Cause you realized it wasn’t that good to begin with, ‘cause I’m a terrible dancer?”
You spoke really fast, and he chuckled, “No, because it just isn’t true. The way we danced, especially when you’re not comfortable with it, is not easy. At all. Even seasoned dancers need months to be that smooth, sometimes even couples can’t do it, and you just— No, that was all us. I don’t do that all the time, it’s not something easy to teach.”
You frowned. “Dancing?”
“Chemistry.”
Your breath hitched as you stared at him. You couldn’t help the confusion or the way your heart raced. “I thought…” you croaked, “it wasn’t real.”
His eyes were locked with yours. “I think we can agree that it is.”
Your breath deepened as a familiar burn climbed up your chest. The air was thickening again as you stared at each other, but you stayed in place. Even if you both agreed that there was chemistry between you, you weren’t sure what to do with it. You weren’t sure you wanted to follow through…or that he did.
When he stalked slowly in your direction, you stood at attention. Your skin tingled under his eyes, roaming over your legs, past your pajama shorts and t-shirt to your eyes. By then, he was already in front of you, less than an arm away, and you struggled. You were almost dizzy with want, pushing your nails into your palms to hold yourself back. When he took another step closer, the faint scent of his cologne made you sigh and look up. You were radiating heat at that point, keeping your desire in check while wanting nothing but for him to grab you.
He seemed to be waiting for something, so you closed the distance between your bodies. Your stomach pressed to his, and your curiosity got the best of you. You looked down, wondering if you’d get to feel—
His hand raised your chin to make you look up at him. Instantly, the fire you were trying to contain reared its ugly head. Your hands found their way to his shirt, clutching it as though you were containing a visceral need to pull it off, all while you looked into his eyes. Your core ached for something to clench around and you almost begged him to fuck that crisp tension out of you.
Your lips parted as he leaned in, covering you with a shudder as his free hand palmed your waist, pulling you to him by the arch of your back. But then, all too fast, you both blinked.
The sound of car doors slamming closed hit you, and time didn’t stop to let you two figure it out together. Instead, Hoseok’s eyes flickered to your lips, but you weren’t able to say anything. By the time the first key was pressed into the front door lock pad, he had already lowered his hands and released you.
You couldn’t protest because in a second, Jin was opening the front door with Hyeonseo not far behind him.
“Oh, hey guys,” Jin said with a smile, then closed the door behind his fiancée. “We thought you’d be sleeping already.”
“Is everything okay?” Hyeonseo asked, eying you as she took off her jacket.
“Yes,” you croaked.
“We were just heading to bed,” Hoseok told them, then gave you a fleeting look before going ahead. “Good night!”
You offered Hyeonseo a small smile to reassure her and waved at Jin before following Hoseok upstairs. You closed the bedroom door behind you, and seeing the mess of pillows and sheets you had left behind, you were a little embarrassed.
“Sorry,” you muttered, getting on the bed to align the pillows and pull the sheet to lie stretched and proper. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just pissed.”
For a second, he frowned, but then he seemed to remember. “If you want me to sleep downstairs—”
“I don’t,” you cut in, sitting on your side of the bed. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have… assumed the worst.”
“That I’m two-faced?”
He hummed as he neared the bed.
“So you…also assume things?”
Your tease made him chuckle. “I guess I’m at fault, too.”
You smiled and got under the sheet comfortably. Only then did you notice he was just standing there. “What’s wrong?”
“I left my bag downstairs.”
You raised an eyebrow, imagining Hyeonseo’s questions if she saw Hoseok with his bag. “And you don’t want to go grab it?”
“Not really.”
He stepped out of his shoes, then sighed, putting one knee on the bed, and you stopped him. “Get them off.”
He raised an eyebrow, and you looked at his jeans.
“You shouldn’t get in bed with outside clothes.”
He looked down at your legs under the sheets, then back at you, and you simply held his gaze. Now that you had found common ground, you were confident that teasing him a little wouldn’t hurt.
It helped that Hoseok was precisely the kind of man who made your knees weak. You asked, and so he got rid of his jeans in a flash, casually tossing them and his t-shirt back before getting into bed with you just in boxers. As if his chiseled abs wouldn’t have you drooling. As if he weren’t half-hard. As if he didn’t know you’d eat him with your eyes. As if he didn’t want you to.
You both lay back on your pillows, and your eyelids became heavy. The light was still on, but you were comfortable and warm, and all of a sudden, it was hard to keep your eyes open. You still wanted Hoseok, but you were so tired, you were getting dizzy.
You felt his eyes on you and turned to him with a sheepish smile. “I’m really tired,” you confessed, and he nodded.
“Same, I’m hanging on by a thread.”
You smiled and licked your lips. “Can I…?”
“Hug me to sleep?”
He raised an eyebrow and your eyes widened as you gasped. Did he know about last night?!
He simply smirked. “Yeah, come here. Oh, wait,” he told you before reaching the light switch on the wall. Then he settled back and grabbed your hand over the sheet, pulling you closer. You snuggled up to him, then sighed comfortably, and he held you close.
You woke up snuggly and warm, with a citrusy perfume near your nose and your legs tangled with someone else’s. You didn’t question it, stretching lazily before pulling away slightly. You slept like a rock, but still felt the exhaustion from the previous day. Just thinking you had another day like it ahead of you made you groan under your breath.
Hoseok turned around to face you, and it made you blink a bit more awake. He looked raw and vulnerable, with his hair disheveled and eyes barely open. Instantly, it made you feel a little breathless, a little hot, and a little exposed.
“Hey,” he whispered, and your cheeks warmed.
“Hey,” you rasped back, covering your face with your hands. “I must look horrible.”
He chuckled. “You look the same as always.”
You peeked between your fingers. “So I always look terrible?”
He was caught off guard and laughed quietly. “No, you never do.”
You lowered your hands and stayed like that, just observing one another, until you asked quietly. “We were friends… How come you never told me about your dad?”
“What do you mean?”
“You talked about the divorce, your sister, your mom, your ex… but not about your dad.”
He looked down for a moment before answering, “I just… didn’t want to talk about him. Our relationship was always…complicated. He left my mom, and then he would insist on taking me to construction sites for long weekends and vacations so I could learn the trade. He refused to listen to what I wanted. Meanwhile, my mom worked two jobs to support my dreams of becoming a dancer. She pushed me to go to Seoul and supported me while my dad all but threatened to disown me if I followed my dreams.” His expression hinted at bitterness before he looked at you again. “You can imagine I didn’t want to talk about him.”
You nodded. “And now?”
“He’s changed,” Hoseok acknowledged softly. “I think he accepted that it’s up to me to do what I want to do and that I’m good enough to do it. So we’re okay now. I see him a couple of times a year.” You nodded, and he quieted. “What about you? I remember your mom was sick five years ago.”
“She was, she’s been in remission for three years. My parents moved to Jeju Island to have a peaceful life there, and I’m hoping that will help.”
“You must miss them.”
“I do… Feels like everyone is super far away now.”
“But as it turns out, we live in the same neighbourhood,” he reminded you, and you raised a corner of your mouth.
“So it seems.”
“You can call me, you know,” he offered. “If you need anything.”
Your face was warm. “Thank you.”
“You can also call me just… Just because. If you want to.”
You weren’t used to seeing Hoseok hesitate, and yet, somehow, it made you relax. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” he asked, as though he couldn’t believe your answer, and you grinned.
“Maybe,” you teased, and he smirked. You felt warm again, seeing that smile, but also incredibly at ease.
His eyes returned to yours with a sharper edge to them, and you were instantly stirred up.
“You had a crush on me?”
“Yeah.”
His eyes roamed your features for a brief moment. “I wish the timing were different.”
“I don’t,” you admitted. “I was not the greatest person back then.”
“And now?” He raised an eyebrow, and you chuckled.
“Still a work in progress.”
He nodded, smiling too. “I wasn't great back then either. I was insecure. Thought my world was ending when my ex left, and that I had to be in a relationship to mean something.”
You nodded slowly. “Was that why you dated so many people afterwards?”
“It’s also the way people act. I don’t know about you, but my friends are constantly dating someone.”
You shrugged. “If you call that dating. I don’t get the obsession with saying you’re dating when you know it’s going to last a couple of weeks tops.”
“It has to be serious enough to avoid a stigma, but not serious enough ‘cause a relationship takes too much work.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Wow, exactly. Well said!”
“Thanks. It’s my conclusion after years of therapy to process how my parents’ divorce made me link my self-worth to my relationship status.”
Your chin dropped. “Woah!”
He smiled. “Once I realized I was following a pattern, I thought therapy would help. I had internalized that being alone meant I was less, without realizing that I didn’t even want to be with some of those people. I just said yes so I wouldn’t be alone.”
You pressed your lips. “And now?”
“I’ve been single for two years, and it’s nice.” He smiled, stretching a bit before asking, “And you?”
“I haven’t really thought much about dating,” you admitted, shrugging. “I’ve been developing my business for a year, and it takes most of my time.”
“That makes sense,” he said, adjusting the pillow under his head.
“Some pillow talk we’re having,” you joked, and he cleared his throat.
“Sorry, did I make things weird?”
“No, not at all. It reminds me of when we were friends.”
You remembered all the breaks you would spend just the two of you talking at the back of the school or in some park.
“Maybe that’s why it's so easy to talk to you,” he mused, observing your expression.
“You mean you don’t talk about this with every girl you get in bed?”
“No,” he stated, then joined you in laughing quietly. “Also, you got me in bed.”
“That’s true. Had to take charge,” you confessed with mock modesty. “Now, I have you right where I want you.”
“Do you?”
Your smile dissipated when you realized what you had said and how he was looking at you. Instantly, heat spread from your cheeks down your neck, and you had to swallow. “I—I mean, not that I’d force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“You mean besides forcing me to strip before getting into bed?”
You almost choked. “I didn’t mean it like that!”
“I know.” He smiled, and his hand moved near yours over the sheet, but he didn’t touch you. “If last night was an isolated thing, that’s okay. It’s cool, I promise.”
You instantly remembered the way his hand pressed you, arching your back and hitching your breath. “It wasn’t…I mean, it wasn’t alcohol or anything like that,” you said, your voice more and more quiet as the tension spread down your neck. “If anything, it feels like whenever we’re together, we…”
“Have chemistry?”
You hummed.
“Was it like this in high school? And I was just blind to it?” he asked in disbelief.
“It wasn’t like this… Wanting to kiss you and wanting you are two different things,” you explained, despite feeling like you were dipping into dangerous waters.
“So you want me?” he asked, and you felt almost assaulted by his dark, meaningful eyes. Your core clenched around nothing at the thought of being under this man. The way he turned you on was wild.
“I do…” As soon as the admission was out of your lips, he moved closer, and you had to put your hands on his chest to stop him. “But we’re not alone.”
Your tone was firm, more to tame your desires than to stop him, but he still halted. He was close enough that you could see the moles on his face, but he had yet to touch you.
He eyed you intently. “And if we were?”
“We’re not…”
“But if we were?” he insisted.
You swallowed, rubbing your legs together. “I already told you I want you.”
His lips curved in a tease. “I want to hear what else you want.”
You raised your chin. “You haven’t told me what you want yet.”
“I’ll tell you, then,” he whispered, making you shudder from head to toe. He got up on his elbow, and you rolled to face up. “I want to look at you. I want you to take your clothes off for me.”
You couldn’t help but smile. “If only you had asked before…”
“I still can.”
You hummed, unashamedly running your eyes down his exposed torso. He didn’t have the broadest shoulders, but every piece of him was defined and soft, like a taunt for you to scratch and bite. It was torture to see all that flesh but not touch it.
“I want you to touch me,” he spoke again, drawing your gaze up. “I want you to touch me and grab me with the same hunger you have in your eyes right now.”
You let out a small, tense breath as you eyed his chest again, unabashedly taking advantage. “And then?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
You chuckled. “I might need ideas to spice up my shower.”
He groaned mutely, then gently tucked the sheet to frame your silhouette without touching you. It made your body temperature surge as you let him find his way to seeing your form without stripping you. The more he observed and wondered, the more sensual and wanted you felt. You didn’t know if you wanted to rub your legs together or spread them open for him.
“I want to touch you,” he breathed, then looked at you. “Lick and feel every curve until I know you by heart. I want to eat you out. I want to know how you taste, wet like that for me.”
Your eyebrow quirked, but you stayed quiet, letting his words burn you a bit more intensely than his presence alone did.
“I want your hips on me again. Need to appreciate the way they match mine.” His eyes caught you opening your legs under the sheets, but you didn’t close them. “And I want to fuck you. I can’t hide it,” he whispered, adjusting his posture as though he was eager to get in between your legs, if only you let him. “I need to know what you look like when I fuck all sense out of you.”
“Wouldn’t that be something,” you breathed, sneaking your hands down your stomach.
“You—”
A bang interrupted him and covered you with goosebumps from head to toe.
Neither of you breathed as you waited patiently for the sound of a car engine to roar to life, and then for it to move away from the driveway.
Your eyes were locked, both surely thinking the exact same thing — Jin and Hyeonseo were likely gone to grab breakfast. You were alone.
“Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his muscles flexing as he stayed in place.
“You.”
“Don’t just say that,” he scolded lightly, adjusting himself on his knees.
“It’s what I want,” you insisted, more than aching for him. “I want everything you said.” You leaned in a bit. “Make me scream your name.”
He ripped the sheet from over you and froze. You bit your lip but couldn’t find it in you to look innocent. Not when your hand was buried in your sex.
“I can’t believe you,” he breathed before throwing the sheet to the end of the bed.
“You never said I couldn’t,” you argued, giving up on solo pleasure when you could have him.
He caught your wrist as he settled between your legs. “I said I want you.”
“And I want you, too. Hey,” you called, letting your voice register lower. “I’d let you watch.”
He shook his head and forced your wrist to the mattress next to your head as he covered your body with his to reach your lips. His mouth wasn’t soft at the dawn of a first kiss; it was rough and helpless with want. Your free hand instantly gripped his hair, keeping him close as your bodies adjusted to each other, and in a second, your world was overturned.
He didn’t just take two seconds to push his tongue inside you; he took two seconds to melt you to a liquid state. In a split second, he was kissing you like he owned you, matching every whimper and sigh with more. If you needed to breathe, he bit your lip. If you needed to moan, he swallowed it.
He wasn’t shy about pressing his cock to your thigh, nor about palming your curves as he said he would. You could only shudder and whimper with the way he touched and squeezed you, especially when he grabbed your ass. He even parted your mouths to hide in the crook of your neck and have both hands free to squeeze your asscheeks, pressing you to him.
You had to moan, swiveling your hips to get friction.
“You and your perfect ass,” he grumbled, giving it a few more squeezes. “On the ladder, the stairs, last night… Fucking tease.”
“Didn’t know you were staring,” you breathed, and he raised his head.
“Didn’t you?”
“No. No, trust me.” You smiled, gyrating your hips as you cradled his cheeks. “Or I would have made it much worse.”
He let his mouth crash to yours harshly before pulling away. “You fucking tease… I’ll take my time with you—”
“No,” you cut in, holding his head so he’d look at you. “We don’t know how long we have.” You could see Hoseok’s gears turning, so you insisted, “You have to fuck me. I need to feel you. I need you to fuck this tension out of me.” He groaned, and you didn’t give up. “Need you to make me scream your name while creaming your cock. It will be therapeutic,” you promised, earning a smirk. “Please.”
It took Hoseok one second to ponder your request. The next, he was already on his knees.
“Take them off.”
“What?”
“Take them off,” he repeated, glancing at your shorts. His hands dipped inside his boxers to stroke himself, and you almost melted at the sight.
Instead, you swallowed. “We don't have much time.”
“Get your clothes off before I rip them off.”
Heat flushed through you as you gushed between your legs, and you scrambled to as he asked. Normally, you’d like that moment to be sensual, but all you could think of was Hoseok between your legs.
He clearly was thinking of that too, because as you got rid of your pajama t-shirt and shorts and underwear, he kept stroking himself in front of you. He wasn’t shy about grunting, licking his lips, cursing, or spreading the precum on the tip of his dick right under your hungry eyes. Especially when you leaned back down and spread your legs for him.
“Holy shit,” he almost choked, falling to his elbows on the bed right before pressing his face to your wet cunt.
Your moan echoed in the empty room as you clenched from the surprise. Your hands gripped his hair firmly, and you cursed yourself, bucking your hips against his starving mouth. You watched him eating you out, groaning into you as he drooled all over your slicked folds. That was such a power trip for some reason. Like you knew you were his kryptonite, like you knew he should have been fucking for years, like you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist you as soon as he tasted you.
But the past didn’t matter; you need him now.
“Fuck, Hoseok, wait,” you breathed between moans, finding it hard to not press his face to your sopping pussy.
He hummed, and you tried sorting out your thoughts.
“We don’t know how long we have,” you reminded him, cursing him when his tongue started drumming on your clit. “Fuck! You either fuck me now, or—!”
You keened desperately when three digits pushed through your warm walls, stretching you with a few pumps. Looking at him, his eyes were almost wicked as he saw you trying not to writhe in pleasure.
“So bossy…” he commented, licking his lips. “Lucky we’re in a hurry.”
You whimpered and curled your toes with the way he fucked you with his fingers, but stayed otherwise quiet because he grabbed his hard cock in his other hand.
“It’s a shame, really,” you breathed, and he surely thought you were teasing him, because he quickly leaned in to nip a nipple, making you jolt. “I also didn’t get to touch you and grab you.”
“Can still make it happen,” he told you, sitting back between your legs with his cock still in his hand.
You smiled. “That sounds good,” you breathed, reaching out to meet his busy hand.
While he looked down at your hand taking over from his, stroking him gently, you observed his reactions. The way his eyes hooded, or his lip raised, containing a moan when you squeezed a little more. He enjoyed watching what you were doing, and you enjoyed watching him. Even when his fingers inside you lost focus, you were set on that one goal — to see him fall apart.
“So hard,” you whispered, licking your lips. “Come on,” you coaxed, slowly pulling him by his dick to close the gap between you.
He followed your lead, removing his fingers from your sopping pussy to replace them with the tip of his cock. He moaned quietly then, as he rubbed his shaft on your slick, hungrily passing a heavy hand up your stomach to your chest. He pinched a nipple just to tease you, then pressed the head of his cock through your entrance.
You couldn’t even catch your breath, whimpering uninterruptedly as your core hugged the head of his cock. You cursed him, feeling your legs trembling as you spread them as much as you could. Your core throbbed wildly with the stretch, and you thought that was the peak for you, but then he topped it off with his fingers on your clit.
You finally let go and arched your back, so completely overturned by pleasure, you felt like you were in a tempestuous sea. You couldn’t suppress your moans, hold back the way you gripped the sheets or moved to sink further down his cock. Instead, you mumbled incoherently, begging him to poke your insides, but he smiled and kept fucking you exactly like this.
“I don’t know,” he taunted, but you could see the sweat trickling down his temple as he held back. “I think you can cum just with the tip.”
“Fuck, I can— But I want you whole— I didn’t say make me cum,” you pointed out a bit more firmly than your previous moans. “I said, make me scream your name.”
He growled your name, then gripped your hips and fell over you, sinking as far inside you as he could, bottoming out with a groan. You could only scream and throw your head back, letting the pain mix with the delight of having him tucked to the base inside you. It was so good, your nails were piercing the sheets as you clenched like a vice around him.
Looking at him, you knew you had a victorious look on your face. He smirked. “Got what you wanted all along, huh?”
“Not yet,” you breathed, then locked your legs behind him. “Fuck me, Hoseok. Please—”
He grabbed your legs further up around his waist, then finally gave in and gave you exactly what you wanted. Everything heightened your senses so much that you were speechless, finally rid of all your thoughts and judgments. The way he breathed heavily into your neck, stealing nips and licks while hearing you moan attentively. The way he gripped your asscheeks to fuck you as deeply as possible, groaning mutely against your skin. He wanted you, craved you, just like you craved him. The slap of skins, the sloppy mess between your bodies, the citrus cologne as you bit his shoulder — that was what dreams were made of.
You knew you wouldn’t hold for long, but you didn’t expect to last minutes. You were in the zone, matching your hips to his, when he bit your neck hard. Your hands instantly darted to grab him, your nails sinking into the skin of his shoulders, but still, he didn’t release you. Instead, he rutted into you like he needed to fuck you. Like he was in too deep to stop. Like he knew you needed to take his cock just once more before you’d fall apart.
You wanted to scream his name, and it was the first thing out of your mouth as soon as the wildfire spread through you in waves. You were surprised when his hand darted to cover your mouth, but he didn’t stop pounding into you, and so if anything, you came even harder. His mouth replaced his hand once you became breathless, gently kissing you and coaxing the last quakes out of you, until you stilled.
Your senses returned to you slowly, and two things were immediately clear to you: one, Hoseok was still hard as fuck inside you, and two, you were no longer alone.
“Fuckin hell,” he cursed, moving ever so gently inside you, and your hands darted to his asscheeks to stop him.
“They’re here?!” you whispered, suddenly so anxious your chest felt tight. You could hear faint noises from downstairs.
“You didn’t hear them coming in?” he asked, surprised. You were clearly spooked, so he reassured you, brushing your cheek gently, “The door slammed like seconds into your orgasm. I didn’t want to ruin it for you, so I didn’t stop.”
You gasped. “What if they heard?!”
“They didn’t.” You gave him a look, and he kept reassuring you, “They didn’t. I covered your mouth, I promise you they didn’t hear a thing.” You heaved a breath, hugging him, and he nuzzled your hair. “But I did… you sounded so fucking hot, I almost burst. Fuckin hell,” he groaned, moving once tentatively inside you. “Fuckin heaven, rather,” he corrected himself, then pulled away to look at you. “But I know you’ll want to stop—”
Your hands darted to his ass again, this time to prevent him from pulling out, at the same time your phone buzzed on the floor next to the bed. You didn’t even glance away; your eyes locked with his as they were. You couldn’t help it; you couldn’t explain.
“What?” he asked, eying you curiously.
Your phone buzzed again, and you whispered, “If they can’t hear it…”
Your voice trailed off as you bit your lip, and he chuckled darkly, leaning back in to nuzzle you. “Then what?”
“Then why stop?”
He laughed a bit more, quietly dragging his nose down your neck. “You naughty girl… I love that idea,” he whispered, withdrawing his hips for a moment before sinking into you again.
You had to curl your toes and bite your lip, but suddenly, you were exhilarated. You felt dirty, but it was so good to have him fucking you slowly while you tried your best not to make a sound. Your eyes stayed locked, spreading a hellish fire down your chest because he saw you. He saw you taking his cock, fighting the urge to moan and let the world know how good he felt. He knew how turned on you were from fucking under people’s noses like this. And all it did was make him fuck you harder, wanting to spill all his cum inside a little whore like you—
You could swear a second orgasm was right within your grasp when you heard voices talking loudly downstairs. Hoseok halted this time, looking at you while he listened attentively. Then, your phone buzzed again, and this time, you didn’t ignore it.
Hoseok almost slipped out of you as you contorted yourself to reach the bloody thing on the floor. Then you gasped.
Hyeonseo had texted you multiple times:
[Are you okay?] 2:43
[Are you hungover? I can make soup.] 9:12
[We got breakfast.] 9:39
[You can come down.] 10:01
[Are you okay? You’re still not up yet.] 10:03
You heard steps on the stairs and hurried to type:
[I’m fine, gonna shower first. Hoseok is still asleep.] 10:04
You looked at him with eyes like saucers, and he didn’t react. He stayed still, listening to Hyeonseo turning back down the stairs and telling Jin something.
“I told her I’d shower first and that you’re still asleep,” you informed him, rubbing your eyes. What the hell were you thinking?
“Okay, good,” he breathed, then pressed a kiss to your lips.
His hips instantly moved again, slowly but breathtakingly, and you knitted your eyebrows to keep quiet. You grabbed onto him while he fucked you, snapping his hips to yours with such precision, you started seeing stars. You were so turned on, the sloppy, gushing sounds where your bodies met thrilled you even more.
“I wonder if she had called you,” he whispered before licking up the column of your neck to reach your ear. “Wonder how you would have reacted, trying to talk to her while I fuck you like this.”
You licked your lips, eyes closed, shuddering from head to toe at the thought. “Maybe next time,” you said, though your voice broke apart.
Hoseok smiled at you and pressed his lips to yours firmly, halting his thrusts completely. You sighed into the kiss, imagining he’d continue, but he pulled out and away, getting up from bed.
You sulked instantly. Usually, you were very uptight about your privacy and behavior, but right now, you wanted to finish what you both had started.
You were about to open your mouth when Hoseok said, “Let’s get you in the shower.”
You turned to him, eyes wide. “What?”
He was already back in his boxers, his hand out for you to grab. “Don’t argue with me.”
You sulked further. You thought he was done, and it soured your mood.
So you put your hand in his and let him pull you up to your feet with a huge pout. It just didn’t feel right to—
Hoseok stole a kiss from you, then grabbed a folded towel nearby and wrapped it around you, making you raise an eyebrow while he smirked. “Stay quiet.”
You tucked the towel more firmly around you as he led you out of the room. Once out, you could hear Jin and Hyeonseo cooking while music played in the background, likely from one of their phones.
Hoseok pulled you by the hand to the bathroom and, to your surprise, closed and locked the door behind him. Then, he gently pushed you into the walk-in shower. You stumbled back, eyes fixed on his, wondering what he was up to.
In a flash, his hand grabbed your towel and maneuvered you against the sidewall of the shower. Your back hit the cold tiles while he caged you in, making your knees weak in anticipation. All he had to do was stretch his arm and start the shower, and you were both unleashed.
You gasped as the water spray barely caught your leg, but you had no time to think about it because he kissed you. You dared to breathe more heavily and even to whimper when he pulled your towel loose, his hands instantly grabbing your tits to pinch your nipples. He swallowed your cries, ever so mindful, and it made you gush even more. This was a man who wanted to be with you, was willing to be risqué, but still took your limits as a priority. You just wanted him even more.
As his hands trailed your sides, his mouth followed, licking every inch of skin within reach. It made you close your eyes as you leaned back against the wall, letting every touch send shivers down your spine. He kneeled in front of you, licking and nibbling, then he looked up at you before reaching your sex. Made you clench right in front of him before his lips ever touched yours. You even blushed at how much you wanted him to do crazy things to you.
As though he had heard your thoughts, he smirked and tilted your body to show him your side. Instantly, he bit your round hip, making you bite your own fist not to make a sound. The pain mixed with a pleasurable sting stunned you so much that you were nimble in his hands as he turned you around. Then, he spread your legs and asscheeks, pulling you to him, and in a second, your moan echoed in the bathroom.
He pulled his mouth away from your dripping folds. “You have to be quiet,” he warned you, and you nodded, covering your mouth as he dove in again.
His mouth on your slit was something sinful. The way he grabbed your hips to fall back on his face, and the way your hips urged you to follow, was demented. You could barely spare a thought for how important it was to keep your mouth shut.
He must have realized it, because soon after, he got up behind you, covering your arched back with his chest to reach your ear. “Something for next time,” he suggested, biting your earlobe. “Want you to touch yourself at the same time and come, but I think you’ll be too loud.”
You could only catch your breath and look at him over your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” he cooed, turning your chin slightly to meet his eyes. “Don’t say sorry. I like the thought of doing this again.”
You looked at him, blushing even more if that was possible, while he just smiled at you.
Then, you felt his fingers gently rubbing your clit. “Can I?”
You nodded instantly, kissing him to stifle your whimpers as he kept caressing you. You were dazed, at the mercy of his wishes, and when he pressed the tip of his cock to your core, you easily groaned in bliss.
You pressed your hips flush to his, making him take a deep breath near your ear as you appreciated being full again.
“Fuckin heaven,” he muttured to your ear before grabbing your hips.
For a second, you thought you’d lose all sense of reason, but you were sensible enough to put your hand on the wall and press your mouth to it as Hoseok slammed his cock into you again and again. At times, you pressed your forehead instead, but the way he pushed inside you made it almost impossible to hold back your cries. It was everything, both in its entirety and in the details. The way he was holding his breath while pouding into you as though your cunt was the best he had ever fucked. Or maybe the way he grabbed you, muttering how your ass was perfect and your wet pussy was heaven. And then, perhaps it was the way he tried not to cum, pressing you flat to the wall as he kissed your face. As he made it personal by making you cream his cock thoroughly as he slowed his thrusts.
“Can you cum again?” he almost groaned, swiveling his hips.
“Yeah,” you breathed.
“How?”
“Fingers.”
He licked and nipped down your neck, and you weren’t sure he heard you. But surely enough, his fingers found your clit and rubbed in circles.
“Good?”
“Up and down,” you stammered as you shuddered, your nails looking for something on the wall to hold onto, but there was nothing.
As soon as his hand moved as you requested, you tensed from head to toe.
“Fuck,” he groaned behind you, pushing himself even further inside you. He was so deep, you could feel him in your throat. “You feel so good,” he grunted. “Close? I won’t last long.”
“Just—” You could barely breathe. You let your head fall back to his shoulder. “Just undo me.”
He kissed your neck before supporting himself on the wall with his free hand, and the way he moved was just different. He wasn’t trying to fuck you as quick and hard as possible, it was something else. His fingers were attentive to move as you had asked, bringing you so close with a simple rub that your toes were curling. But it was also the way he covered you like a cape, moved his hips with you to deepen the feeling, making you constantly feel like all you breathed, tasted, and felt was him. To the point that all you needed was a little push, so you moved closer to the wall, exposing your neck while you tried to grab his hand taking support there.
He didn’t get it at first, thinking you wanted him to cover your mouth for your orgasm. So you had to pull on his hand until you tucked it snugly around your throat, and then he got it. He pressed you by the neck to him, and you were finally tucked in. Exposed and vulnerable, while safe and thoroughly fucked.
In that position and with his hands all over you, you didn’t need much to cum. The fire building between your legs was uncontrollable, and the way he poked your insides, bliss. A few thrusts deep inside you, making you moan desperately, and you unravelled. You had a mind to cover your mouth to stifle the cries, greedily meeting him thrust for thrust to make the climax last as much as possible.
Because of this, you almost prevented him from pulling out. He had to hold your waist so you wouldn’t fall back on his dick, making him cum inside you. You looked at him as you felt him cumming over your ass and in your fucked out daze, you thought he was wonderful. Just very fucking wonderful as he groaned and shuddered, spurting ropes of cum on your skin.
When he opened his eyes to meet yours, you smiled, and he kissed you. Not once, not twice, just so many gentle kisses, you forgot about the world.
“Are you okay?” he asked the moment he pulled away to look at you.
“Perfect, you?”
He chuckled and brushed your cheek. “You could say that.”
You wouldn’t complain about having his lips on yours again, but you still gasped when you felt the water touch your arm. It shouldn’t have surprised you, you knew the shower was running next to you, but still. You were too much in your daze.
“Shower, remember?” he whispered, and you sighed, shifting to stand under the stream fully. You wiped the water out of your eyes as he turned you around, stealing another kiss. “I’ll see you after?”
“Absolutely,” you breathed, and stood there as you watched him leave the bathroom.
You weren’t exactly sure how, but you were just getting started. You were just with him, and all you could think about was being with him again. This time, in your apartment, with nothing but neighbours whom you didn’t give a shit about to feel inconvenienced by you fucking him without restrictions. All day, all night, until you got that horny bug out of you. If ever.
“Okay, but won’t you listen to me?” you asked Jin with a huff as you dragged your luggage outside.
“How about you come and do that some other weekend? Before the wedding, preferably,” Jin suggested, and you shook your head in disbelief.
Yet before you could say anything, Hoseok tapped your shoulder. “May I?”
You looked at him, and he tapped you again. “Oh, right,” you agreed, giving him your backpack, which he proceeded to load into his pickup along with your luggage. You turned back to Jin. “It’s unlikely that I will be able to.”
“And if Hobi does it?” Hyeonseo suggested, coming outside with a few snacks for you to take on your trip back.
“I might not have the time, so listen to her,” Hoseok shouted from his pickup, and Jin sighed.
Once more, you thoroughly explained how to apply the finish on the stairs; only the most essential step. “Do it as soon as you can before stepping on it damages the surface. I’d say as soon as you get your couch tomorrow. It takes a few days, but then you have beautiful stairs for a lifetime.”
Jin mumbled something you didn’t get, and Hyeonseo patted his shoulder. “We’ll do it, don’t worry. That’s all that’s left, right?”
“Yup, the closets are done. The stairs almost,” you said with a bit of a grimace. “The doors…”
“Sanded, you guys can paint them tomorrow,” Hoseok said, joining you. “All the lights, the stove, and the ceilings are done. Now you can paint what is left, you will be done tomorrow for sure.”
“Did you add the silicone sealant in the shower downstairs?” you asked, remembering suddenly, and he nodded.
“Yup, all done.”
Hyeonseo had tears in her eyes. “Thank you so much, guys, you’ve done so much for us!”
“Now, make sure to take care of the place,” Hoseok teased Jin with a look.
“Maybe we’ll invite you over once a year. Just to catch up,” Jin suggested angelically, and Hyeonseo elbowed him. Everyone chuckled. “You two seem to be getting along much better now,” Jin noted, scratching his chin. “So tell me: did Hobi ever promise not to bite you?”
“Jin!” Hyeonseo gasped.
“It does help to settle boundaries from the start.”
They started bickering, and you subtly closed your jacket lapels a bit more. You weren’t sure that was an innocent comment, given that you had a few marks around your neck.
“Don’t listen to him,” Hyeonseo sighed, then turned to you and Hoseok again. “You sure it’s okay to take her to the bus station?”
“Of course! Not a problem at all,” Hoseok reassured her with a smile. “Should we get going? I still plan on returning to Seoul tonight.”
You nodded and hugged Hyeonseo. “Thank you for dinner and for everything. See you soon!”
You also hugged Jin, ignoring his quips, then made your way to Hoseok’s pickup. You sat shotgun and instantly let it sink in: Hyeonseo and Jin were waving at you as Hoseok got into the driver's seat next to you. You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat all so easily. You, sitting there, pretending you tolerated a man you not only had balls deep inside you earlier this morning, but intended to have again as soon as possible.
“You good?” he asked as he prepared everything, including the temperature, GPS, and music. You nodded, ready, and he glanced at you. “You know, we live in the same neighbourhood in Seoul. If you want, I can take you. I just have to drop off the pickup at my dad’s and get my car.” You stayed quiet as he buckled his seatbelt. Then, he looked at you. “If you’re comfortable.”
“You want to be with me inside a car for three hours?”
You raised an eyebrow teasingly, and he chuckled. “Actually, close to four with the detour. But there are worse things. I enjoy the company.”
You nodded and waved again at the couple while Hoseok drove you out of the driveway and away.
At the house, Hyeonseo and Jin waved until your car disappeared.
Then Hyeonseo asked, “Did we succeed?”
Jin nodded. “Yes, we did!”
Hyeonseo raised her hand, and Jin instantly high-fived her. “Mission accomplished.”
You’d never trade quiet, sleepless nights with your boyfriend for anything in the world, even when sometimes it feels like the world is falling apart around you.
Pairing: Hoseok x Reader
Rating: Explicit
Genre/Trope: Established relationship, smut, fluff
Soundtrack: Sabrina Claudio - Belong To You (ft. 6lack) [Remix]
Gentle. Always gentle. A long time ago, you used to hate being treated gently. The vulnerability that came with someone taking care of you, being soft with you, knowing every little detail about you enough to shape their world around you… it was hard. Scary. Gross, even. You wanted to be tougher than that because one day that gentleness would end and how would that leave you?
Empty.
That is, until you met him.
You felt Hoseok wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest so he could tuck his face into the crook of your neck. His warm breath tickled goosebumps across your shoulders and arms, but his grip kept you grounded. His hands pressed into your sides to hold you in place. Like a weighted blanket, you felt secure with him on his side behind you, the rise of his chest comforting as he breathed against your back.
His warmth and the pattern of his breathing was almost enough to lull you back to sleep. You couldn’t tell what time it was. The storm raging outside knocked the power out just before the two of you climbed into bed, but you assumed only an hour or so had passed.
“Hey,” Hoseok whispered in your ear. You let out a small ‘mmm’ in response and nestled backwards into his arms even more deeply. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”
You nodded, eyes still closed. A crack of lightning briefly lit up your dark bedroom with white light bright enough to penetrate your eyelids.
“Want me to make you some tea?”
Forcing your eyes open, you twisted around to face him. Hoseok’s hair was messy, wavy strands flopped in every direction. You reached up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. He’d been growing out his hair and you quite liked being able to ruffle the strands around, watching them fluff up and flop to the side. Especially the hair at the back of his neck that was now longer than you’d ever seen it. You liked the way it made him look rugged and slightly unkempt; the exact opposite of your responsible, well-organized Hobi.
At this point, you were just barely able to make out the details of his features in the dark. But you felt the way he leaned into you and you knew to meet him halfway so he could give you a light peck on the forehead. Gentle. Always gentle.
“No, it’s okay,” you insisted. You gave him a tap on the nose. “You’re too considerate sometimes.”
“Never.”
“Yes you are.”
“Only a little bit.”
“A lotta bit.”
A pout was his next rebuttal. You reached out to press your fingers against his lips as though you were trying to smooth them out. When you moved to pull away, Hoseok caught your hand and pressed it against his mouth again. He kissed your palm, then each fingertip. The softness of his touch sent shivers down your arm.
“It’s because I love you so much,” he murmured, his voice tired and thick.
Before you could respond, he cupped your face and pulled you towards him. His lips moved against yours softly, guiding you into a slow dance you’d only dance with him. A smooth hand ran down your side to stop at your hip, squeezing it lightly. Your fingers found Hoseok’s hair, tangling in the loose waves at the back of his head and tugging just enough to make him sigh against your mouth. You captured his bottom lip between your teeth when he slightly parted his lips, taking advantage of the opportunity to nibble and suck on it.
“You’re gonna start something,” Hoseok spoke gruffly when he pulled away. You tugged at his hair again and got the quietest of moans out of him. “I’m serious.”
Even if he hadn’t said anything, his growing erection pressed against your body said enough.
“Maybe I want to start something.”
The room stood still, shadows from the swaying tree branches outside the only movements. Eventually, Hoseok shifted, pressing his chest against yours with enough force to roll you onto your back. Wordlessly, he shifted beneath the blankets to hover above you. His forearms rested on either side of your head while you felt him spread your legs apart with his knee. Slotting himself between your thighs, he lazily rolled his hips into yours. You whimpered from the pressure and the heat radiating off of him. Soon you felt that heat on your neck as Hoseok sucked hickeys onto you, swirling his tongue against your skin. In the past, you thought making love was boring, that you needed to be treated roughly in order for sex to be fun. You were accustomed to being used. Sex with Hoseok, though? It was heated and weightless.
He left wet kisses along your throat while his hands gripped the hem of your t-shirt. Well, his t-shirt, an old baggy one he never wore anymore. He cradled the back of your head as he pulled it off, careful to rest you back onto your pillow.
“It’s so cold,” you whispered.
“Mhm.”
Hoseok pulled the blanket up, making himself disappear beneath it in the process. With him out of sight, you lifted up the blanket slightly to peek at him, only to drop it in favor of squeezing the bed sheets beneath you as you felt him drag your underwear down your legs. He grabbed the back of your thighs and pushed forward so your legs were lifted up, feet against his shoulders and pussy on display. The inability to see what he was doing under the blanket only heightened your desire and you felt your arousal drip down.
One hand pressed hot into your hip where your thigh creased from the angle Hoseok had your legs pushed up. The other slipped between your thighs.
“Hobiii,” you moaned, head slightly lifting off the bed when you felt his fingers swipe at your wetness gathering around your entrance.
He coated his fingertips before sliding his fingers upwards, parting your lips until he got to your clit and began circling it. You clenched, though the way he had you folded into yourself made it difficult for you to get any friction to provide relief. Instead he kept you raised and spread open, fingers slippery and sticky. It was easy for him to slip two fingers inside of you, even easier to hit that sweet spot on your front wall to have you lifting off the bed again. The way he pumped into you was sleepy and slow, but you hadn’t expected anything faster. Hoseok shouldn’t have even been doing this; you knew how exhausted he was. He should have been sleeping.
Instead, you felt him shift, his shoulders dropping down slightly. And then you felt the tip of his tongue flick against your clit.
“Fuck, babyy, oh fuck.” You immediately let go of the bed sheets and slipped your arms beneath the blanket, fingers digging into Hoseok’s hair.
“Mmhmm, uhh huhh,” Hoseok moaned into your pussy, his lips closing around your clit. He suckled it softly, applying such light pressure while his tongue licked at you that you felt like you were going to explode.
“More, baby,” you whined. “Faster.”
He shook his head, smearing his lips with your arousal, and you weren’t sure if that was an answer to your requests or just him enjoying his late night snack. Likely the former since he returned to gently sucking your clit and taking his sweet time pumping his fingers in and out of you.
“Please, Hobi.”
Begging usually got you what you wanted, especially when you used the breathy, high-pitched, pornographic whine that you knew drove him crazy. To add to your plea, you tugged a bit harder on his hair, dragging your fingers through his bangs to pull the strands out of his face.
Suddenly, his mouth left your pussy and your next whine was that of disappointment. When his tongue returned it was to lick along your lips, and he occasionally pressed kisses everywhere but your clit.
“It’s bedtime,” you heard him speak from the darkness. “I’m going slow to lull my baby to sleep, okay?” Then his lips were burning into you once again.
Your build up was gradual, a growing throb as your clit became even hotter and more swollen with every lap of Hoseok’s tongue and curl of his fingers. You squirmed and arched your back beneath him, cursing him for taking his time with you even when you both knew you loved it. The fact that your sheets were already soaked through was a testament to that. Who the fuck cared if you were tired and supposed to be sleeping? Every drag of Hoseok’s hot tongue across your clit, every drip of his saliva coating your pussy had him practically exorcizing your soul from your body.
But when Hoseok unexpectedly slipped a third finger inside of you and sucked your clit with a tiny bit more force, he finally got you unraveling in a flash of white light that you weren’t sure was you cumming or the lightning outside.
Your legs twitched uncontrollably where they’d flopped over Hoseok’s shoulders and down his back. Exhaustion made them heavy, and you struggled to move them while Hoseok wouldn’t let go of you. He’d removed his fingers from you and had both his hands on the backs of your thighs, keeping you spread open as he continued sucking your clit.
“Hobi, oh my god, please, I came already,” you whimpered, pulling his hair to get his attention. He moaned a response into your skin and began lapping against you, flicking your clit from side to side. Your body jerked forward, but Hoseok’s grip on your thighs kept you pushed down.
“Jung Hoseok.”
Rather than sound threatening, your voice cracked and Hoseok had the audacity to laugh.
Tears welled up in your eyes and your body jerked again when you felt his teeth gently graze the top of your clit. A guttural moan was torn from your throat as you came a second time, squeezing Hoseok’s hair so tightly you were sure you’d ripped a few strands out accidentally.
Finally, finally, Hoseok emerged from beneath the blanket. He crawled up to hover over you once again, chest heaving and arms caging you in.
“It was hard to breathe under there,” he laughed again.
You opened your mouth to speak but all you could do was whimper once again.
“What was that, baby?” Hoseok drawled. He dipped his head down to nip at your earlobe and your eyes fluttered.
“Felt good,” you finally found your voice.
“Better than tea?”
“Much better.”
Hoseok chuckled, sleepy eyes meeting yours through his bangs that fell forward, slightly obscuring his face. The storm outside wasn’t raging as loudly against the windows, but the occasional lightning bolt still lit up your bedroom, allowing you to see more flickers of his face. You brought your fingers to his throat, running them along his Adam’s apple until you reached the dip where his collarbones met, before venturing down his bare chest. When your fingers dragged down his abdomen, you felt Hoseok suck in his stomach and heard him hiss lightly.
“What about you?” you whispered. You reached the waistband of his briefs, but you didn’t move any lower. Still, you could feel Hoseok’s cock twitch against you.
“I’m okay, baby. Don’t worry about me. I want you to sleep.”
He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck for a moment before he began to pull away from you. There he was, being too considerate again. How many times had he insisted he didn’t need anything from you? You’d never met someone more selfless. It wasn’t fair.
You quickly slipped your hand into his underwear and squeezed his cock, rolling your palm around the tip where precum already started to drip out.
“Shit, babe…” Hoseok stayed nuzzled in the crook of your neck and bucked into your hand with languid thrusts. There wasn’t a desire to chase a high, but more so a desire to relish in the warmth of your hand, the firmness of your grip, the comforting smell of your body wash.
“Is it embarrassing,” he took a deep breath and pulled away from your neck to look you in the eyes as he thrusted again, “that I could cum right now, just from this?”
“Maybe a little bit.”
Your honesty and the giggle that followed brought a frown to Hoseok’s face. You had no intention of letting him cum in your hands. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smoothed out his frown when you pulled him into a kiss. Your hands traveled the lean muscles of his back, reaching down to squeeze his ass.
“Feisty.” You felt him smirk against your lips. Hooking your fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear, you pulled the clothing down his thighs and waited for him to sit back to completely remove them.
“Come up here,” you ordered him, but Hoseok shook his head.
“I’m too tired to fuck your mouth. Let me put my energy into fucking you the right way.”
You felt a shiver down your spine and nodded silently as you spread your legs wider to accommodate him.
Hoseok ran his hands down your legs until he could reach around to the back of your thighs. Pushing them up, he folded you nearly in half as he had when he ate you out, keeping you slightly elevated and wide open for him. Since his hands were occupied, you reached between your bodies to guide him. Hoseok’s breath hitched when you lined his cock up with your entrance.
He sunk into you slowly, taking his time slipping inch by inch to allow you to adjust and to savor the high that came with that initial thrust. Your mind was still foggy from two orgasms and a lack of sleep, so you appreciated his thoughtfulness as he eased into you.
“Mmmm,” he sighed once he bottomed out and your bodies were flush against each other. Leaning forward slightly, Hoseok rested both of your legs on his shoulders.
“Yeah baby?” Your voice trembled as you watched him brush his lips along your calf, planting a soft kiss at your ankle. His hands fell to your waist to hold your hips down as he drew back. He pulled out of you as far as he could just to slowly ease into you once again. Each thrust was thoughtful, intentional. His strokes were slow, but long and deep.
“You know you leave me speechless,” Hoseok groaned, pushing a bit deeper in his next thrust. Your whimpers got louder when you felt him brush your cervix, his fingers pushing you hard into the bed.
Hoseok was definitely the biggest you’d ever been with, but even more importantly, he was the most fluid in his movements. He knew how to move his body with flexibility and grace, which for you was the most satisfying aspect of sleeping with him. You never had to put in work to get yourself off; every roll of Hoseok’s hips made his cock glide against your g-spot and his pelvis stimulate your clit. You weren’t an object for Hoseok to use to get off. No, Hoseok put your pleasure in the center of everything he did.
Although sometimes that wasn’t necessary. He brought his fingers to your clit, but you swatted him away.
“I’m tapped out,” you sighed. You really didn’t need him to try to make you cum three times. What was this, porn?? Two orgasms was plenty.
“Are you really?” he smiled, a hand creeping back towards your clit. You swatted at him again. “Alright, alright. I’ll cum without you like an asshole.”
“Stop being so dramatic.” You clenched your muscles around his cock and Hoseok let out a low moan. If he was ready to bust from a simple handjob, you were sure he was having to work hard to keep it together now that he was inside you.
“Do that again for me, baby,” he said in a shaky breath that confirmed your suspicions. Another moan rumbled from him when you did as you were told, tightening around him and pressing your thighs against his abdomen. “Fuck, fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
You loved to watch Hoseok fall apart. The tip of his tongue poked out of his mouth when he bit down on the muscle as he was concentrating on each gentle snap of his hips against yours. His strong hands squeezed your waist to ground himself once his thrusts became a bit erratic. His messy hair fell into his eyes when he leaned his head slightly forward to watch your bodies collide.
“Hobi,” you moaned, reaching up to pull him into a kiss. “Cum for me, baby. You’ve been so good for me.”
“You,” he took a deep breath, “You are so fucking sexy.”
Your legs fell down to wrap around Hoseok’s waist as he leaned into your kiss. One hand stayed at your waist while another slid down to grip your thigh against his hip as Hoseok picked up his pace. His breathing came out ragged against your cheek, his lips sucking little kisses along your jaw until he was back to marking up your neck.
He squeezed you hard when he came, whimpering and moaning your name into your neck like the sweetest lullaby. When he slowly eased his body on top of yours you welcomed the pressure of his weight, even though it was difficult to breathe.
“Better than tea?”
Hoseok snorted, but you saw his eyes sparkle in the moonlight as he gently pulled out of you and found his spot beside you once again. “Much better.”
His long arms dragged you backwards so you were pressed against each other with chests still heaving.
“Thank you,” you said after a moment. You were beginning to crash from your orgasmic high. Darkness eased your eyelids lower and lower until you couldn’t bear to open them again.
“You know I’ll always take care of you.” Hoseok nuzzled your neck and squeezed you against his chest. “I hope you sleep well, baby.”
You murmured a “you, too” and fell asleep to the steady pattern of Hoseok’s breathing and the knowledge that there was no one else who could care for you the way he did.
-> pairing. idol!jimin x fem!8th member!reader (with some hoseok x reader on the side)
-> genre. fluff, a tad suggestive
-> rating. 13+
-> w/c. 1,200
-> warnings. None!
-> a/n. Guess who’s finally posting her non-songfic BTS oneshots & ficlets… this gal! 🥴 It’s long overdue 😭✋. Going over these older fics is super nostalgic, but I’m also rethinking all my life choices bc why does this read better than all my current work 🥹
-> bts ficlets, oneshots & series m.list
-> started. Jul. 23rd, 2021 @ 22:55
-> fin. Jul. 23rd, 2021 @ 23:56
-> edited. Sun., Mar. 29th, 2026 @ 20:44
-> divider credit. @saradika-graphics
You've been failing to fall asleep and so you decide to do what you do best... review and monitor.
You go to YouTube and watch some performances, one of your earphones resting on your shoulder. You occasionally look up to make sure Hoseok and Jimin are still sleeping, adjusting the volume whenever one of them turn over.
You were supposed to watch group performances to monitor yourself, but—thanks to the algorithm—find yourself watching a Serendipity performance instead.
You have to hand it to the stylists... Jimin's outfit is spot-on: he looks heavenly in his silk shirt and tight jeans. You peek up and over your phone to acknowledge Jimin's sleeping form on the bed across from you, shaking your head in disbelief. The fact that you made it—with the biggest group in the world no less—baffles you.
Focusing again on the video, you can't help but rewind when you see him move his hand up his shirt and mimic the beating of a heart, the shirt so far up that you can see the word 'nevermind' drawn onto his skin in black ink.
Sure, you've seen most of the members shirtless at least once, but it's not like you openly admire them.
You shake your head, watching the particular scene a few time before moving on. No wonder ARMY scream so much. This choreography is devastating!
A slight shuffle from beside you and you freeze up instantly.
"Y/N? Why are you awake?" Hoseok asks in a low voice. His morning voice sends you spiraling but you push it to the back of your mind.
"Sorry. I've been having trouble falling asleep," you whisper, looking nervously at Jimin's bed.
"Again?" The older man grunts tiredly, reaching out to grab his phone and check the time.
02:32 a.m.
Hobi sighs. Your eyes widen when you hear the springs in his bed groan as he lifts himself out of bed with a tired mumble. "Yah—yah! What're you doing?" you whisper-scream, eyes larger than a saucer as Hoseok grabs your phone and gently tugs your earphone out.
He switches off the device, placing it on your shared bedside table before patting your side. When you stare up at him incredulously he simply begins lowering himself onto the bed, before he climbs under the covers, forcing you to shift over to avoid getting crushed.
He pulls the blanket over himself and wraps an arm around your side, pulling you toward him and intertwining your legs. What the fuck are you doing, Jung Hoseok?
"Language, missy—"
"Shit, did I say that out loud?" You chuckle sheepishly, your voice muffling when Hoseok suddenly brings your head into his neck, patting your hair before dropping his hand tiredly.
"You need to find a healthier way of falling asleep. Opening your phone anytime you can't sleep is very counter-productive,” the dancer chides you, voice husky. You sigh. He's right, and you have to admit that you're already feeling drowsy just because of the added body heat and strong hold around your waist.
Your eyes flutter closed after a few moments, Hoseok's natural smell of hot chocolate and warm nights lulling you to sleep.
————————————————————————
You wake up to the blaring of your alarm at seven o'clock sharp, groaning and hiding your face deeper into the crook of Hoseok's neck.
"When did this happen?" Jimin's voice urges you to turn around and open your eyes despite the glaring sunlight, catching sight of Jimin gesturing at the two of you. He stops your alarm, raising a teasing brow with a charming smile.
"Couldn't sleep. Hobi helped." You yawn as you pull away from said dancer, throwing your legs off the side of the bed and stretching.
Jimin laughs, nodding. "Ah, yes. The power of cuddles."
"If you two don't stop talking," Hoseok grumbles, "I'm going to crush you."
————————————————————————
"Wait, really? Hoseok hyung actually threatened you?" Jungkook asks with a shocked expression, looking from you to Hoseok, who’s talking with Jimin and Taehyung.
"I'm telling you, Kookie, Hobi can be really scary when he wants to be!"
"Sleep makes even the happiest of men grumpy," Yoongi sighs dramatically from behind you. Giggling at his antics you nudge him gently, earning a poke in the side.
"Right then, guys! Let's get started!" Your choreographer claps his hands, the atmosphere changing immediately to one of concentration and seriousness.
————————————————————————
"You were what?" Jimin asks now, panting as the two of you lay side by side on the cold practice-room floor. You had gone over the dance a few more times and Jimin had joined you, being the angel he is.
"I was watching the Serendipity performance, but that's not the question!" You sit up and plop yourself to sit on top of Jimin's stomach. He looks up at you with unimpressed eyes.
"I'm serious!" you whine, propping your hands unconsciously on his side.
"You asked if you could see the tattoo," he deadpans, as if that's some sort of enlightening information.
"Yes, and? Can I?"
"The tattoo that's halfway up my side?" Jimin clarifies again, smirking now as your cheeks turn red.
"Okay, yeah. It's kind of weird, it's fine if you don—"
"I'm just kidding, Y/Nie, of course you can have a look." Jimin chuckles cutely, making you pout and hit his chest.
Now that you have permission, the task seems a bit more daunting than you expected. You ghost your fingers over his shirt before grabbing at the hem, looking up at him with nervous eyes. Jimin only smiles gently, giving you an encouraging nod of his head.
You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding as you slowly pull his shirt up, up, up. Until—finally—you can see the black ink adorning his body. Jimin can't help but shiver as the cool air hits his bare skin, his eyes focused on you.
You can't help but gape at him, ghosting your fingers over the letters and failing to notice how Jimin sucks in a harsh breath at the contact. "It looks good on you," you hum quietly, still staring at it mesmerized. Besides the fact that you're adoring the tattoo itself, you have to fight against the urge to drag your eyes over his toned abs... Up his sides and—get your head in the game!
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, definitely. No wonder ARMY love it so much." You chuckle darkly as you look up to meet Jimin's eyes, a bit flustered to find him already staring at you.
He chuckles, nodding with a smirk. "I'm just too hot for them."
You smack his bare stomach, hiding your smile when he flinches, sending you a questioning look. "Gross."
Jimin laughs. You pull his shirt down and get up with a quick pat on his side, helping him up. The two of you make some small talk as you close up for the night, eager to head home and fall asleep.
(Jimin finds it hard to get rid of the feeling of your hands on his skin.)
"If you have trouble sleeping again, can I climb in with you tonight?" he asks hopefully.
You let a small smile creep onto your face. "Of course!"
warnings: mutual pining, hobi is a feet guy, mentions of a partner giving you a cold shoulder and silent treatment, strong tension, praise kink, petting, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, slight dd/lg, raw and rough sex, size kink.
note: SHE'S BACK. HOSEOKSLUNA IS BACCKKKKKKKK. HELLO, MY BABIES. I MISSED YOU ALLLLL SOOOO MUCH AND I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH THAT THIS IS SOMETHING I WROTE IN MY YEARNING TOWARDS THE END OF MY HIATUS. fuck, this is way too hot. and i, again, had to take breaks to do something :D actually, i was inspired to write this at 4 am when i landed in my country after my vacation in dubai and got the weverse notification from hobi. :) yep. he ruined me, destroyed me, and i had to start writing. ENJOY THIS FILTHHHHHH. i missed writing abt dd/lg, too.... hehe. let me know what you think. and if you mayhappsss want part two? I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.
Hoseok, at your doorstep bringing in the moonlight before the midnight hour, was not something you quite expected to see when you heard the bell ring. You were lounging around on your couch, clothed in your new silky pajamas that you bought to heal your wounded heart a little, along with a peachy Korean face mask, a banana vape and a vanilla candle that you lit up as soon as you exited the shower. The creamy white sheet is what you were still wearing on the planes on your face when you stood there, taken aback because the man, clad in his military uniform, was certainly not your friend that visited you often.
Hoseok was a mutual friend. A friend of your best friend Karina… and a friend of your now ex-boyfriend Namjoon. A friend that hated your guts—a friend that could not stand you.
A friend that would let his eyes linger a little while longer on you upon seeing you on regular night outs and then ignore you for the rest of the event. A friend that would lock his gaze on your intertwined hand with Namjoon’s before narrowing it and scoffing in a private way that you invariably saw through.
You weren’t stupid. You knew what his deal was—it’s only that you couldn’t do anything about it. You were Namjoon’s for eight wonderful months that were splotchy with the depth of poetry. Words from his heart that would give your life meaning, keep your head up above the surface. You needed those words as you spent your whole girlhood drowning in the sea of FOMO, rowing your arms through the waves of life that never got you anywhere. Seeing the little beauty of day and night of Seoul with your friends paled in comparison with what Namjoon showed you. You always believed that your life would begin with a man by your side—you prayed for it, you waited for it and it became reality.
But it was not the reality that your body sought in the long run.
Yes, the sex was great. Significant to your mental development, especially to your female one as you truly did become a woman in his hands, letting the lush girlish version of you die in his palms. As well as the museums, the hikes, the dinner dates that let you in on the complexity of Namjoon’s intellect that you found so profound and full of beauty.
But as you nearly reached a year with him, your body began to seek more. The flowers beyond the box of your relationship with him—and you knew that those petals carried the scent of Hoseok.
He liked you. You saw it in the extremity of his purposeful ignorance towards you, in the forced hatefulness he put across, and in the distance he set as a boundary. You saw it, too, in the way he would entertain other women in the bars and glance at you every now and then to make sure you’re seeing what he wants you to see. And it excited you, his interest in you that he kept at bay.
It was a forbidden fruit that you smelt and smelt, but could never bite into—and it drove you insane. And when he got enlisted in the military, it drove you off a cliff.
Missing him made you search for him. Not in Namjoon, but in other men. Privately, in your soul. And it cost you your relationship.
Namjoon was a jealous, possessive man. He would fight with you if you looked at a guy for a beat longer than is necessary and if a half of a smile crept up upon the corner of your lips, he would give you the cold shoulder. An action that cut through you deep enough to make you bleed and you had to put a stop to it.
You thought talking to him about it like an adult would straighten the road you were walking upon, but like the intelligent man Namjoon is—he knew that what he was giving to you was no longer what you needed. He threw it back at you, using the poetry of his words, and all you could do was be honest with him. Nod your head, tell him he was right, that you were seeking something more. And what surprised you was that Namjoon wasn’t willing to go the extra mile.
He didn’t consider it. Didn’t mention it.
He nodded his head, too. And you parted your ways as friends who loved each other and lived an artistic life together.
And at that moment, a door to your mind opened and Hoseok stepped in. Made a bed, fluffed the pillows, and rested.
It seems now he has awoken. Rang your doorbell, bashed his fist against the wood and narrowed his eyes at you in his normal fashion.
An action that weaves a rhythm into that flat, bruised heart of yours.
His military jacket is slung over his arm. His two black dog tags, hung by a silver chain around his long neck, rattles as the breath of the fresh, autumn evening breezes past, scattering goosebumps along your chocolate-buttered skin. You notice, within the brief silence while you look at each other and exchange words long overdue, that his hair is way shorter. Not buzzed anymore like Namjoon showed you on Hoseok’s first day in the military six months ago, but tousled and sticking out in different directions as if he raked his fingers through the strands a million times over. Your own itch, wrapped around your vape, his beauty heightened by his evident newly-gained manliness washing over you like an icy stream of water.
You shiver, blaming it internally on the wind, and not on the lightness of the attraction that you feel sinking beneath your skin, overpowering you.
And that small movement of your body propels Hoseok to speak, at last.
“I come home to find you single,” he scoffs, his voice deep and raspy, marked possibly by his job in the military. And you feel it marking you just the same, opening windows in the house of your body for that wind to blow in and exhilarate you, help you breathe. “He’s drunk out of his mind, crawling on Jungkook’s lap and you’re here. In your pajamas with a fucking face mask on.”
Briefly, you furrow your brows, not understanding the meaning of his words. Is he bashing you for not crying your heart out? Or is he bashing his brother for doing whatever it was. Your heart turns halfway, painfully. Those days are gone—those you spent in bed while that broken muscle wept while your body used that time to repose from all the stress it went through, being in an environment it grew out of.
You sigh, weary of the recollection of that peculiar pain, and show no sight of the turbulence happening within you. “Jungkook must be happy about that.”
Hoseok chuckles, humorlessly. A chilling noise that erects your bare nipples beneath your pajama button down. Awkwardness slinks down your sternum and you shift your weight on your other foot as Hoseok deepens his gaze down on you.
Tension settles between you and you use it. You use it, wholeheartedly, as you should have all those months ago. The only thing you ever took advantage of were the touches Namjoon graced your skin with. You’d grab his hand, while Hoseok watched, and bring it underneath the table. Part your mouth, pretending he was touching a sensitive, private place while he was merely drifting his fingers along your thigh. Hoseok would gulp, but he would keep his gaze locked on yours, very much like he’s doing now. It’s the only form of intimate interaction you ever had, save for the heated debates about different things you two did not have in common.
All else remained hidden in the silence shared between you.
And it no longer shall.
If he came all the way here, unannounced, then you shall let fate, one that is enamored with your body, have her way in your life.
“If you came here to talk about him, then I’m not interested,” you say, letting go of the door and slipping off your face mask, ignoring the hurtful pinpricks along the perimeters of your heart. “If you came here for me, then the door is open.”
And with that bravery, you pivot on your heel and walk back into the living room, not expecting him to follow you and not expecting him to walk away. You let fate do her thing, and you begin to tap in the essence of the peachy face mask into your skin with quick, gentle slaps.
You toss the sheet, along with the packaging, into the trash, your hair clipped away from your face whooshing around you with your movement. Kicking off your slides, you hear them bump into something stable, and when you turn around to seek that strange sound, you see Hoseok standing by your armchair near your couch.
So he did come here for you. You tremble in a different manner, filled with sparks of excitement, and, turning around to sit on the couch, you flush, smiling happily to yourself.
But all those feelings turn to dust when Hobi kneels by the edge of your couch and fixes your home slippers. Aligns them rightly in front of you so you can comfortably slide your feet into them once you get up.
Your stomach drops and your fingertips tingle, all of your nerve endings set on blazing fire by that one act of service.
The first kind thing he’s ever done for you.
He throws his military jacket over the backrest of the armchair, where he nestles himself. Legs spread, elbows propped on his knees. His long dog tag chain swings back and forth in the sudden, atypical calmness of the atmosphere that you cannot adapt to fully. Not when your mind creates an image of that chain hanging over your face, your neck and your chest when you’re bare and ready for him, laying on your back, all for him to take.
You bite your lip, tracing the band of your sleep sock with your fingers, and Hoseok’s eyes fall to it. You quickly lift them, sheepish. Distract your mind by opening a package of eye patches and placing them on your dark circles that just won’t leave. His gaze skims over each motion, studying it, wordlessly, and you can’t take it anymore.
You can’t be the only one who’s brave this evening.
You take a puff of your vape, inhaling its sweetness, and stare right back at him. A smile, a foolish girlish smile quivers upon your lips. One that you dislike because you did grow out of it, but it seems as though the more you swallow the intensity of his shadowed, violent sea-charged energy, the more you transform back into that little girl you were.
And the process soaks your panties.
So much is said in the silence, always has been, but you can’t stand it anymore.
“You should start talking before I go to bed,” you bite, willing your smile to flatten, and Hoseok kneads his hands. His knuckles bear a faint memory of yellow bruises, veiny and strong as they are, and for a moment you wonder how far his ferocity reaches.
He showed you little of it. You know he’s capable of doing things that would change you for all eternity, give you a new form that would not wither with age.
And you yearn for it. Have yearned for it all those months without knowing that was the thing your body sought. The thing Namjoon could never give you.
Violence. Roughness. The licks of an outraged sea.
You’re a witness to it sloshing in the pools of his darkened eyes as he chews the provocation you uttered his way. And you can bet he likes the taste.
“Did he break your heart?” he asks amidst the banana-flavored smoke, his knuckles whitening for a split second as he clenches his fist before relaxing—as if the thought of Namjoon breaking your heart angers him.
It rouses you, and the way your chest lifts with each breath stimulates your stiffened nipples. The candlelight sways, casting shadows on his worn features, and you’d much rather sit on them than talk about your ex.
“Did you not hear what I said?” you spit, throwing your vape on the cushion of your couch. Hoseok’s façade splits as he smirks, dropping his gaze for a moment before lifting it back to you.
He leans back, slouching in the chair. “Answer the question.”
The sedatedness of his tone stuns you. Your heart begins to thump as well as the bundle of nerves between your folded legs. It has been too long since you had your release. Months upon months. And you’re too weak to not get carried away by these new feelings you’ve shamefully forgotten about.
The veins from his knuckles travel all the way back to his arms and your brain empties out. Too, too fucking long. You should’ve fooled around with every guy you found attractive, use them for orgasms, make the best of your womanly years, but instead you dwelled at home—in and out of your misery. And now, now it feels as though you’re a virgin, alone for the first time with an older man that enlivens your body.
And you might as well give him what he asks of you.
Sucking on your vape for a puff of bravery, you don’t blink as you stare at him through the smoke. You elongate your legs, placing them on the coffee table next to him, your toes facing his outstretched knee, and his eyes, once again, plummet to them.
“He didn’t break my heart, I broke his,” you say, your words shrouded by that white mist curling out of your mouth, and you watch as his eyes widen en route to yours.
He didn’t expect that.
Something about that satisfies you. Selfishly.
Hoseok runs the pad of his finger across his bottom lip, his head tilted to the side a little bit. “It was about time you did.”
The searing heat that rushes forward in your cheeks forces your gaze away from him, begs you to look away, but you don’t. A bead of perspiration trickles down your cleavage, one that is visible to him as you couldn’t be bothered to do all the buttons after your shower. But Hoseok’s eyes don’t flick to it. No, he can’t miss this. He can’t miss the gravity of the moment, of the spoken confirmation of the fact that what went on between the two of you for so long is real. You squeeze your thighs together, the thumping in between unbearable, and the longer you bask in his brave words, in the masculinity of his initiative, the more your own poetry begins to rise in you.
If it drags, it’s not meant for you. If it’s fast, it couldn’t wait to meet you.
And Hoseok notices. It is only when you let out a little, barely hearable sigh that his eyes do travel down to scrutinize your bodily reaction. To your nipples poking through, the shine of your sweat in between your bare breasts, to the friction you’re rubbing—the miniscule grinding movements that you make in order to alleviate yourself of the ache of desperation that you feel. And because you’re baring yourself out for him, he does the unthinkable.
He lets you see his true face, his façade collapsing at his big, sock-clad feet.
Hoseok lifts his hips, hides behind the pretense that he’s just making himself more comfortable, but in reality he did it to turn your attention to his lower region. His length, semi-hard yet still long, stands out, protruding from the camo of his pants and you’re hot, hot all over.
The thumping worsens—and you need him, all of him, to make it better.
Perceiving that he’s succeeded in his strategy by the way you just won’t stop ogling him, he blushes and hides it, in vain, with outstretched fingers spread across his face. As if he was doing his signature idol move. It’s a riveting sight to behold, a seemingly cold person growing warm from you gaping at that private part of him.
And you want more. You want to see more places of his body that are flushed. And you want it now.
“It was about time you and I talked alone, don’t you think?” you ask, following on from his previous statement. All that pining, those stolen glances, that distance—all that tension advances forward now, stronger than ever.
Hoseok can feel it, too. At your words, his manhood grows harder and his breathing quickens. He tries to stabilize it, but he fails. He fails even when he returns to his original position with his elbows propped on his knees. That chain of his swings with more momentum, teasing you, and you place your legs even closer towards him, and upon witnessing the light flash in his eyes, you realize that you teased him right back.
The man likes feet.
You draw in a sharp breath when he fists both of your feet in one hand, brushing his thumb over the tips of your toes. The first touch in this lifetime, the first time upon your new virgin body, so intimate, private; he might as well have wrapped a blanket around them with how warm his hand is, secure and trustful. Goosebumps flood your skin, bringing in the iciness that you felt when you took in his beauty against the background of the trees and the moonlight. And its beams must be stitched around his fingers because daintiness clasps you close, the notion that you’re taken care of, in good hands, descending upon you like the most delicate feather tickling you, and you let it—you let it consume you.
And you let his following question consume you just as much.
“Were you in love with him?”
It’s a question you never had the bravery to ask yourself in the two months you’ve been single, but it is here and you welcome it. You hear it whisper to you the hint of your answer and your body is smart enough, capable enough to figure it out.
No need for long nights of overthinking.
No need for long hours of listening to your heart crack.
“No, I was used to him—that’s different,” you hush out and the moon lowers herself, spilling through your windows, bathing you in a milky light that feels as welcoming, as right as your confession. And maybe, just maybe it’s the way the shining stream submerges in your neediness that drives you to be bratty. And briefly, before you do, you ponder over the fact how in your life shared with this person drives, moves forward. There’s never a still time—and you find that mesmerizing. Enough for you to simply brood in greed. “What’s it to you?”
Hoseok flinches. Parts his mouth. His chain rattles and his fingers squeeze the balls of your feet, coaxing a hum out of you that is immediately silenced by his sudden outburst.
“What’s it to me?”
There it is. Another plot point. Your heart hammers.
Hoseok lets go of your feet and you lament the absence. Stands up and towers over you, the moonshine soaking him in divine light that causes your breath to hitch in your throat. A faint layer of sweat has coasted along his hairline and settled there—and you long to swim in his bodily fluids. In the persona of his, in the tumultuous sea of the tension locked within him.
“You’re genuinely asking me this question?” he pressures, lifting your legs in order to step in between them, and the unthinkable visits you once again. He props his hands on either side of your head and those two dog tags swing in your face.
A wet patch forms in the center of your pajamas. Your breath mirrors his—hasty, deep and strained—and you can’t take it anymore.
How far into this road of bravery until the moon averts its opaque eyes away from your sin?
You arch your spine, hook your fingers on his dog tags and pull him a little closer. Breathe his air, breathe in his masculine, musky scent that intoxicates your senses to the point that there is absolutely nothing stopping you from getting dragged in the natural flow of this situation.
“Yes, Hoseok. What’s it to you?”
He pants. Glides, delicately, his fingers along your arm until he winds up at your small fist, clutching it in his as if it was his. And that warmth, you want to dip your head in it.
“I had to watch you sit in that chair and not crack a smile. Sit next to him like an obedient girl, not allowed to speak. To me,” he grunts, tightening his lips, and that anger of his seeps into you, becoming yours. “He didn’t deserve you. You’re not a pretty toy. You’re a person.”
He straightens but, panicking, you draw him right back by that chain. “Don’t fucking walk away from me.”
He seethes and you feel your essence trickling down your thigh. That sea, inching forward, you whimper. And then he spreads that warmth over the crown of your head, rubbing your hairline just once with his thumb before he peels off your eye patches that you have forgotten about.
And this is when your brows curl. This is the time that says there’s no going back.
“I talked to you. We fought, don’t you remember?”
He sweeps that digit over that soaked dark circle of yours underneath your eye. “What do you think would’ve happened to you if I talked to you nicely?”
Cold shoulder. Uncomfortable time of forced aloneness, filled with the abyss of guilt that you had done something wrong. A toy that didn’t move its lifeless limbs right by his will.
“I’ve known him for far longer than you. I know how he treats those he thinks he loves. I brushed it away with the others, but with you… I couldn’t. You were so full of life that was stuck in you because of him. Because he didn’t let you let it out. And I can’t forgive him for that.”
What life? The one you searched for all your girlhood, the one Namjoon molded with his own hands until it no longer recognized the once-familiar lines of his palm? The one that yearned for Hoseok instead?
A film of tears clouds your eyes and as hard as you try to blink them away, they linger, pooling at your waterline like sea foam. You need your vape, you need him inside you—you can’t face the mirror of the reality of that unfair treatment.
How blind you were; how Hoseok has become that guiding stick.
“Don’t forgive him,” you utter, grasping his chain tighter, drawing him even closer, making his breath tremble. The first tear that pours out leaks into the print of his thumb and at the sound of your soft cry, Hoseok topples. Kneels on the couch with your legs on either side of him and you pull, you pull him closer.
“Do you want me?” he asks—a foolish, foolish question. Presses his forehead against yours, cups your face with both hands now while his back shakes and you touch it, you drag your fingernails down those prominent muscles. And he sighs, so desperately, so tenderly. “Do you want me to let out that life in you?”
“Yes,” you whisper, sliding your hands underneath his black shirt, scratching the lowest part of his warm, warm waist before hooking your fingers on the waistband of his pants. It’s his—it always belonged to him. “Take me. Here.”
He brushes his nose against yours, your breath and his singular. “You’re so feisty.” Lips nearly touch yours and your lungs give out on you, your air coming out in pathetic staccatos that make him growl, subduedly. Muscles rigid, bundle of nerves devoutly pulsing. Please, please. “But no.”
The world implodes, the mocking shimmer of that planetary light gushing through—hand in hand with sobriety.
But Hoseok, the prince of the unthinkable, dips your head back into that darkness. Lifts you by your armpits and sets you down on his lap, his hard length against your core uprearing your need for release.
A hand sailing down your neck, your sternum, acknowledging itself with your respiration. “Don’t give it to me that easily.”
Your own cages him there, right at the apex of the fleshiness of your breasts. “Jebal, Hobi.”
Please, Hobi. You drive, in his fashion, your hips forward—ever so slightly. His eyes round at the mellow variation of his name wandering out of your mouth and wrapping around his neck, as if the gentleness you give him pains him, transforms into a noose around his vocal cords and he can’t speak.
He sighs, the noise melting into a soft, low-pitched moan. “Don’t beg me,” he croaks out, so terribly strung out. “I’m-I’m—”
You lengthen your spine, closing your mouth over that one spot on the side of his throat that you can reach, silencing him. He doesn’t need to speak—you’re fine with the tacit language of his hands. And the taste of his skin, that fucking warmth dissolving upon your tongue, you can’t help but to moan just the same against him like that, rocking your hips awfully, awfully slowly, driving him to the point of madness that he stood at the edge of for so long.
“I want you to touch me,” you murmur, tugging his hand lower to the first done button of your silky shirt and it’s him who hooks his fingers over that fabric now. You lick a stripe across the thick vein of his throat, grinding a little harder when you hear him suck in a pained breath. “I want you to feel that life in me and know it’s yours. Jebal, Hoseokie.”
He grunts, ripping you away from him. You expect his eyes to be narrowed in that typical manner of his, but they’re not. They’re soft, round and glossy, looking down at you, unblinking. A face you’ve never seen before, that feels too, too significant—and you’re not sure if you deserve to get a load of it. Of his pinkish cheeks and downturned mouth, of his fingers agonizingly sluggishly undoing the first button of your shirt.
Of his sentimentality that you never thought he was so efficient at.
The sea that has remotely stilled—but you’re still riding the lenient waves, your torso curving with each button popping off as he engraves his warmth into your cold, cold skin. And once he reaches the very last one, he stops. Holds your shirt together, squishing your breasts, waiting for you to lift your head out of the sea water.
And you do.
He inches forward, grazing his lips against yours, making you feebly cry out.
“Did you cry for him?”
Your cry prolongs, vexation splattering over your arousal, and you’ve had enough of it. You flick your eyes between his, drawing back, flattening your lips in that anger of his that seems to be still flowing in you somewhere. No more, no more Namjoon; no more talk of your past relationship. It’s over, it’s over.
“Stop fucking—”
Hoseok doesn’t relent. Sinks his fingers into the roots of your hair at the nape of your neck to make you listen. “Did you cry for him?”
Your heart wept, but your eyes didn’t. The tear you shed in front of him was the only liquid emotion that spilled out of you since the day of the break up. “No.”
He blows a heavy breath of relief that oddly validates you—and light opens in your sensitive bosom. “Good girl.”
And it is now that Hoseok presses his chest, his dog tags against that light of yours and clamps his mouth down on your top lip, hoisting you a tiny bit to sit you right down on his manhood. His strong arm wraps around your back while the other floats down and curls around your bum, growling into the kiss that he deepens. And then he parts your lips with his, slipping his tongue inside, and the dam breaks between your legs—as well as the quick little whines and squeaks that begin to leak out of your mouth and into his.
The life in you throbs.
His cock hardens even more underneath you and he pushes your clit against it, his noises and yours growing louder and louder in tandem until he’s breathless, panting so vivaciously that he needs a moment. A moment to focus on the mess he’s created of you, a glowing ball of rosiness, the prettiest of all flowers—and you feel like it, being looked at like that.
“I knew you were smart,” he coos, peppering feathery kisses upon your cheek, jaw and chin, descending to the base of your neck. You moan out, fisting his shirt below his collarbones, the continuation of his validation for you nesting in your core. “That life in you will always win. No matter what.”
You believe him—in fact, there’s nothing left for you to do, but to submit, submit and submit. And it feels like entering a dream that is kind, a reality that appears to be a dream, but is better. An existence smeared with clemency, where you can be a little girl again.
“Touch it, please.”
Hoseok hums, kissing the cleft between your clavicles. Shifts forward on the couch so you can rest your spine on the backrest, your head against the wall, and he slides his palms upward from your tummy to the apex of your breasts. You whine, torturously, at the contact, and you shudder and double over when he swipes his thumbs over your still stiffened nipples, buzzing shocks of acute pleasure coursing down your body, rooting in your clit that asks for his fingers, his tongue, but he remains where he is. Transfixed, starving, ravaged.
He kneads your breasts like he kneaded his hands, with overpowering strength that quickens your blood flow, your body submitting to him and flushing like his does. A sliver of skin that your shirt exposes catches his attention—and at the sight of the flesh of your breasts spilling through, his cock twitches, his breath ragged, eyes droopy and so, so drunk. He pinches your nipples, still through that silken fabric, as if he was punishing you for causing him this unfair pain.
Knead, flick, pinch. Your noises are obnoxious, his heat in you rising and rising, and you can’t take it anymore. The drum in your clit thuds and you push him away, the pleasure too overwhelming, too good and too arousing.
And he pushes away the fabric, revealing your perky breasts. A glint settles on the edge of his irises and he gives you a coy smile before he smashes his mouth against yours, moving it in a rhythm that reflects the one in your bundle of nerves. And you grind, you grind like your life depends on it, your nipples and your pussy rubbing against him, against his icy dog tags, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. And you would come like this had he not physically ripped you away from him.
Heaving, he focuses, all over again, on the ruination he makes of you. The warmth in you flits so invitingly that you have to touch the places he did—your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. And as you do, you watch his gaze darken, you watch him nod his head, and wipe the corner of his mouth clean, catching his drool.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he rasps, following the invisible traces you left on your body. Your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. “Right here. Life. Beautiful life.” He teases your hardened nub, circling it with the pads of his fingers, sliding it between his knuckles and squeezing, his smile growing with each shudder of your chest, with each response. “It’s time to make you come and let it out, you ready? Let’s take these off.”
He tugs off your pajama pants, throws it behind his shoulder, examines the large wet stain on your panties that he coos at, raspily, petting it with his thumb—and you’re so turned on that even such faint touch like that brings you pleasure. You hold onto his arms for dear life, depending on him, trembling when the panties and the shirt are next, tossed upon the pile of your pants.
You’re bare and he’s still fully dressed. Such titillating unfairness that turns you unhinged, maddened by liveliness your body is diffused with.
Hoseok pins your legs back. Takes one hand and glides his fingers across your entire femininity, soaking them in the dew he has coaxed out of you, moaning gutturally.
“He never made you wet like this, did he?” he asks, pride dripping out of him like his masculine pheromones, and with his wet fingers he palms himself. “You don’t even have to answer that. I know. I need to taste you, baby.”
You don’t even get to fill a lungful of the stuffed, vanilla-scented air and he dives in, keeping your legs glued to your shoulders as he seizes your clit in his mouth, sucking on it briefly before he flattens his tongue all over you. He licks you like a lost man finding an oasis, humming into your heat while he tastes your personal slickness, swallowing everything he sowed. You bang your head on the wall, a numbed pang expanding all throughout your scalp by your claw clip, taking it all, moaning so loudly the whole of Seoul must be hearing you. Even Namjoon in his drunkenness, shameful that he never managed to eat you like this in the eight months you were his to consume.
Your orgasm inches to you quickly. With half-lidded eyes, you watch the candlelight create sublime, eccentric images on his back. And as if he couldn’t handle the warmth anymore, he peels himself away from you just to take off his shirt, adding it to the pile. He doesn’t let you see his muscular body—he plunges back down, tongue outstretched, flicking the muscle on your swollen clit. He pinches your thigh, your mound, your folds, whimpering onto your flesh, hurrying to close his mouth over you to suck your clit.
And within that divine suction, you come apart. The beautiful images on his back advance, fluttering on his smooth skin, and you hold him to yourself. The life in you explodes, saturating him in a dimmed, soft-hued, colorful light that he himself must be sensing because he moans, loudly, sinking his index finger inside your clenching hole. You can’t speak, you can’t breathe—you can only feel, you can only take. Your orgasm continues on, a ceaseless stream of delight untwisting in every part of your body.
And when he begins to fuck you with that finger of his and hits that good spot, your orgasm melts into another one. And this time, you can’t take it.
You shake so vivaciously that you fall off the edge of the couch, but he catches you. Hoseok unclips your hair and lays you down, propping your hips on the armrest instead and when he bends at the waist and opens his mouth, you scream out your disagreement, pushing him away.
He blinks at you, mouth sopping wet. “I wasn’t finished.”
Your oxygen is stuck in your throat, one that gets bespeckled with the beads of your dew. “Hoseokie—”
He traces it, wiping it off, holding you there. Presses his hard, clothed length against your bare pussy, rocking slowly, casting a private, affection-filled shadow with the arch of his body over yours. Hoseok kisses you once, a nasty kiss perfumed with your tangy scent, and you cry out.
“The fact you can’t take the bare minimum personally offends me. He had you all to himself and he didn’t do his job well,” he mutters, squeezing your throat once. Drags his wet hand down your sternum, grasping a hold of both of your breasts, clenching them until they flush, again, like him.
There it is, the saltiness of his sea. You yearn for the physical principle of it coating your tongue—for his cum to trickle out of the tip of it like your dew is off of his. And his words, his anger towards his best friend because of you—it heals you in a way you could never heal yourself. Another person seeing you and telling you that you deserve better, it is the most pristine form of remedy there is and you splutter on the whole beauty and compassion of it all, too weak to accept it at once.
“That’s right,” you agree, as enthusiastically as your dopeness allows you, smiling lopsidedly, heart pounding. “Go slow on me.”
He croons, squeezing his eyes. “My little girl.”
He buries his face in your neck, kissing you there, and along with the life in you—your heart explodes, too. The finality of your detransformation. Tears of joy ache in the corners of your eyes, the rawness of human fulfillment housing in you for all eternity.
He kisses his way down to your breasts. “I’ll go slow on you,” he promises, darting out his tongue and flicking it over your nub, making you tremble. He straightens and dances his fingers along your thighs—up to your knees. “Do you want to stop here?”
You shake your head. Place your feet flat on his toned stomach while you feel your dew dribble down your bum. Hoseok smiles, his mouth curving in that way of his that causes your own stomach to drop. He holds your heels, hooking his finger under the band of your socks and yanking them off.
And his grin blooms at the sight of your dusty-pink toes, an endeared look thawing his eyes. He rubs them like he did at the beginning of this journey, keeps one at his stomach while he lifts the other one to his mouth.
Your poor heart skips a beat.
“Do you want me to fuck you like a little girl like you deserves?”
He kisses the ball of your foot, doesn’t break the eye contact. Watches your mouth part in absolute astonishment and your cheeks deepen in their hue. And when he kisses it again, slower this time, it wakes you up from your stupefaction, and you lower your free foot down to his clothed cock. Hoseok groans, the sound muffled against your tootsie, shutting his eyes at the impact. Your chest flickers with a sense of pride that you made him react like that—and you want it again. You trail your toes across that length of his, but before you could reach the most sensitive part of him, he stops you.
Sucks in that pained breath of his, red all over.
“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”
You mirror him, the idea of being capable of doing that to him pleasuring you. You leak onto the couch. Your blood boils.
“That’s so hot.”
He chuckles, anchoring your foot upon his heart, tapping it with your big toe. “It’s because you have my heart.”
Your body ceases all work, as well as time. Even the candlelight pauses its dance, concentrating its caressing radiance on that chain of his.
And you don’t think as you scurry onto your knees and embrace him, his dog tags no longer icy. He plants his nose into your hair, inhaling you, sealing you into the hug with both of his arms. Your heart reaches its own towards his and they cling to each other, too.
And you’re not afraid to reciprocate his feelings—they’re as clear to you as that very luminescence of the vanilla candle.
“You have me,” you whisper into his ear, his body not quivering but stable, safe. “You have my life. It’s more of a treasure than my heart.”
He had you the moment he so evidently disapproved of your past relationship. He had you the moment he was curious to see if you were jealous when he was entertaining other women. He had you the moment he purposefully put a distance between you and him because he didn’t want you to get hurt by Namjoon.
You just didn’t know it yet, not until clarity arose in front of you in the form of his honesty.
Hoseok kisses your own ear, lingers there. “I want both.”
“Then, have it.”
And he kisses your forehead. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.”
You can see in the ivory mist of his eyes that he means it—and so you tug off his military belt as you begin to pepper kisses down the column of his neck because he deserves it, because he cares for you, because he came to you as soon as he heard that you were single. And when you reach those dog tags, the words of his title imprinting themselves onto the surface of your lips, you clasp his cock in your hand. Too big for your small fist, too warm for you to handle—
“Lay back down.”
You bite into the flesh right above that first steel pendant while keeping your eyes locked on his. “Yes, Sergeant.”
Hoseok curses. Wrings a sharp gasp out of you when he pulls on your hair, giving you a nasty kiss full of tongue. “Don’t call me that when I need to be gentle with you,” he scolds, sucking on your bottom lip to make it better and you disintegrate. “Right now I would bend you over this couch and fuck you until Sergeant and Sir was all you knew, but I can’t do that. Not when you’re not used to me yet.”
Yes, the promise of the sea—you convulse from head to toe, pining after it.
“I want that so bad.”
He nods, marking you on your neck. You whimper and he groans in response. “And I’ll give it to you, you just need to be good now. Lay down.”
You comply, but you take him with you—grabbing him by that chain as you arch your back on the couch. He lets you, grins at you like the utmost sunshine, but that expression of delight breaks when a certain realization dawns upon him.
“I didn’t bring any condoms.”
You huff out a soft noise. “Good. I want you to come all over me.”
Hoseok hangs his head low, sighing, on all fours above you. His chain swings, drawing the memory of this very night on your breasts. He looks up at you from this position, his eyes thin slits that cause you to clench around nothing.
“I’ll give you a big load.”
You beam like the purest angel, in spite of the context. “Yes, please.”
Hoseok rolls his eyes back, his façade cracking, and he beams just the same, his mouth widening in the shape of a heart that moves through you. He kisses you deeply, a long peck that breaks you down into a putty, and when he withdraws, you can still see that smile plastered on his glowing face.
“Good girl. Such good manners.”
And with that praise, he sheathes himself inside you. You both gasp in union, entering a paradise no other human will ever witness in the afterlife. He stretches you out, slowly, careful not to hurt you as he waits it out, petting your hair in the meantime.
“I can feel you stretching around me, fuck. You’re so warm, so tight for me,” he rasps, panting, that smile trembling on his lips as he tries to keep it together. He straightens, pinches your nipple and you feel yourself accommodating him quicker at that sudden electricity of pleasure, at the sight of his toned body and that chain. The shine of sweat, the dance of the candlelight, the width of his shoulders and carmine chest as it heaves in desperate hums and groans. You could come just from that—and the sensation is so dizzying that your eyes droop. Hoseok notices, grappling the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Stay with me, baby, you can take this. I’m gonna make you feel so good and you’re gonna come on this cock.”
Those hums of his cruise all the way to your mouth as he sinks that encouragement into it, kissing you deeply, pinning your hands back above your head and sliding his fingers into a celestial intertwinement with yours. They throb within you, those words of his, where they disperse all around, helping you believe that you truly can take the whole manliness of him. Your mind spins, the pressure of your shared atmosphere ringing in your ears, and he knows, he knows that you’re ready for him.
“I’m gonna start moving now. Talk to me, baby. Tell me everything you’re feeling as I fuck you,” he murmurs, unsheathing himself a tiny bit before he curls his hips forward and upwards, creating a languid, spine-tingling rhythm that replicates the waves of his sea. They slosh to and fro with every slow stroke and he kisses your good spot with the tip of his cock. Your eyes flutter open and close, rolling like those waves, but you can still see the way his jaw is clenched, his gums on full show as he seethes in his self-control, the flush of his neck and the flexing of his abdomen that you can’t help but to touch in your otherworldly daze. He stares down at you, intensely, narrows his eyelids and furrows his brows when he feels your touch, and you discover that the spot, where his V-lines lead to your antidote, is one of uttermost sensitivity.
He moans, burying himself deep in you, and stopping there. Mound to mound, soul to soul.
“Fuck, baby, you just know where all my spots are, don’t you?” he asks, his voice so terribly strained, torso doubled over, and you grin.
“I think I was born already knowing them,” you flirt and Hoseok pounds into you for it—a singular thrust that scrambles all your brain cells. Your smile falls, your brows crunch, your throat utters such whiny noise that he himself grunts at the sound of it, and when you lift yourself onto your elbows to see his length driving in and out of you, he pushes you right down by your throat, kissing you hard enough that it hurts.
And he alleviates the lip lock by licking over your tongue, toying with it—all while he, little by little, picks up the rhythm, fucking into you with a force that coaxes your rawest moans out of you.
“You can’t handle my tongue and I can’t handle it when you flirt with me,” he scoffs, smacking his mouth as he turns his head, claiming your mouth, claiming you. “God, I wanna destroy you so bad.”
Your cry is cut out by another savage thrust and you claw at that sensitive spot of his, inciting him to do it again and again. “I’m yours to destroy.”
He pauses, the crown of his cock teasing the beginning of your heat. Sweat drips down his temple and he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that makes your heart twitch in absolute sensuality and relish.
“Say that again.”
Your breath hitches. “I’m yours to destroy.”
Hoseok curses, driving into you all the way. You whine out, clenching your fists, feeling every ridge and every vein of his cock glide forwards and backwards along your walls. And by tensing your body and focusing on the delight he’s gracing your body with, the build-up of your orgasm announces its presence.
“Fuck, Hobi, you feel so good,” you cry, gripping his forearms as he begins to hold your waist steady. He jackhammers into you so viciously that your vision scatters with a creamy hue of ivory, moaning in ragged staccatos that influence you so much that you naturally imitate them, fading into him, becoming one.
“Whose are you?” he growls without interfering with the gracefulness of his sadism, moving back only an inch before slamming back into you, bruising your cervix—and you lose all brain cells, the synapses blanking out.
But only one thing is clear.
“I’m yours.”
And the following snap of his hips drives you out of this world and out of this universe. The gravity keeps your muscles tense, confining your pleasure and the closeness of your orgasm within. The ringing grows in volume and you’re on the cusp.
Hoseok is, too, because he begins to beg.
“Please, please, baby. Come for me. I’m so fucking close for you. Please, I’m gonna come all over you.”
And with a scream that vibrates through the walls of your living room, you comply. Your core grips him, your skin prickles and you levitate—your back arches off the couch, aching to be closer to him, and Hoseok whines.
Pulls out, straddles you, and fist-fucks his shaft with frantic, frenzied motions. Covers you with ropes and ropes of his cum that ripple on your stomach, your sternum and your breasts as you drift in and out of consciousness. Warm, warm essence of his masculinity that is warmer than the rest of him.
Blood-hot.
And you feel as though you deserved every drop.
Deserved to see the beauty of his orgasm. The flush of his lower regions, especially. The sight you longed to see.
Hoseok lets go of his manhood, his hand shiny and wet, though he’s still hard, reaching the beginning of your parting lungs with how big he is. Bigger than Namjoon, bigger than anyone you ever dated. Their names wither in your mind, decomposing. And they lose all meaning.
They cease to exist.
You’re not his best friend’s ex. You’re not anyone’s ex—
“Look at how little you are,” Hoseok comments, interrupting the surge of your maddened thoughts. He smears the puddle of cum on your stomach that his cock can reach and your pussy flutters in constant motions that ask for him again. “So little under me and all mine, aren’t you?”
His avowal brings a fresh dose of oxygen into your lungs and you breathe it in. Want to breathe it in for the rest of your life with him.
But Hoseok doesn’t stop there. Once you agree with him by the nod of your head and a dopey, gratified grin that casts an affirming light on him, he bends over you, his fists on either side of your head.
“I’ll show you what true possessiveness looks like. The world will burn if it hurts you and if people say one bad word to you, it will be the last one they ever said. But they will talk to you and you will talk to them. You will learn about this life of yours. What it holds, what it looks like. And I’ll be standing beside you and I’ll watch over you. Learn it, live it with you.”
He rubs your forehead with his thumb in a fond gesture. Looks at you with a mute meaning that touches your heart and crawls inside before he kisses you, relaxes his lips against yours, and kisses you again.
Again and again.
Again in the shower. Again in your bed when you’re riding him, tasting the life he let out of you, because you blazed up with desire after you washed his body. And the sex is quiet, smothered with those kisses until your mouth and his is numb.
And again throughout the years you acknowledge yourself with that life and realize that you understand it more profoundly and clearly in the process of getting to know Hoseok than this world.
Hoseok is that life.
And you kiss him and whisper those words onto his mouth when you marry him at the altar, years and years later, connecting your life and his forever.
In honor of Mona Lisa can we get a jhope fic please Mona Lisa inspired ofc😔👉🏾👈🏾
A/n: so sorry for how long this took but ohhhh my god I loved writing this lmao this was good. it was also lowkey intimidating to write this bc I kinda had to write "mona lisa" as closely as hobi describes her in the song but I think I did a pretty good job lol I hope you loved this!!
Mona Lisa, Yeah I Need Ya (Jhope)
Summary: After a painful breakup, Y/N cautiously reenters the nightlife scene, where an unexpected encounter with the charming Hoseok awakens new desires and challenges her emotional boundaries.
Themes: softdom!Hobi, PleasureDom!Hobi, Independent!Reader, Self-Possessed!Reader, Fem recieving oral and fingering, protected sex, alcohol consumption
Word Count: 5.2k
It had been a few months since the breakup, and by the second month, you had started to feel like yourself again—steady, clear-headed, no longer unravelling at the sight of old photos or mutual playlists. Still, you decided to lay low a little longer. There was no rush to be social again, no pressure to be seen. You gave yourself the space to rebuild in peace, focusing on self-care, solitude, and the small comforts that often go neglected in the wake of a relationship’s slow erosion.
The breakup itself hadn’t been dramatic—no screaming, no infidelity, no grand exit. If anything, the ending mirrored the relationship itself: quiet, slow-burning, and far too polite. You’d both simply drifted apart, pulled in different directions by work schedules, emotional needs, and that inevitable, unspoken disinterest. He had been distant for months, and though you'd noticed, you had never demanded answers. You didn’t issue ultimatums or stage a last-ditch confession. You were composed. Stoic, even. So when he ended things on a mild spring evening while the sunset painted your apartment in gold and coral, you simply nodded and offered him a drink before he left.
He had been neglectful, true—but mature enough to do the leaving himself. You didn’t mention that part to anyone. Too considerate. Too loyal, even after the fact. It’s a quiet tragedy: how often women swallow the discomfort in favor of appearing unbothered, offering their partner a gentle exit in the name of dignity. “If you don’t love me anymore, just say so.” But that wasn’t the line you fed him. You simply let go.
By the fourth month, the fog had lifted entirely. And when your best friend Gissele texted you an invite to a party at one of the city’s most talked-about clubs, something in you stirred. Not apprehension—readiness. Excitement, even.
There was a dress hanging in your closet you hadn’t worn yet—bought during an impulsive shopping trip when you’d told yourself you would have something to dress up for eventually. It was sleek and unapologetically bold, black silk and structured seams, still crisp with tags. Tonight was the night.
You and Gissele entered the club hand-in-hand, laughter already dancing on your lips as blue and violet lights swept over the crowd. The bassline of the music thrummed in your chest. A kaleidoscope of bodies moved across the floor, sweat-slicked and electric. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this—the ritual of getting dressed up, the chaos of the night, the sense of belonging to your own body again.
“I am so ready,” you said with a grin, glancing at Gissele.
“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” she teased, dragging you toward the bar. The two of you settled on stools, giggling as you sipped pink Whitney from dewy glasses.
“I’m glad you came,” she added, more serious now, swirling her drink. Her honey-brown eyes shimmered under the strobe lights, and her hot pink lacefront framed her face like a crown. Gissele never did subtle. That’s what made her so magnetic—every movement was intentional, every outfit a declaration.
“I just needed time,” you replied softly, shrugging. “To recalibrate.”
“I get it,” she said. And you believed her.
One of the many reasons you adored her was that she always made you feel safe. She had an eye for detail, a sixth sense for shady behavior, and could destroy a creep’s ego in seconds flat—all without smudging her lipstick. She was your shield, your chaos twin, your anchor.
Tonight, her look was a statement of its own. She wore towering white platform boots that wrapped just under her knees, layered shredded tights in blush and fuchsia, a silky white slip dress, and a structured harness that gave her an edge of danger. She looked like she’d stepped out of a cyberpunk magazine. In contrast, your style was more refined: a black dress with asymmetrical ruffles and heeled boots. Romantic. Reserved. A perfect foil to her explosive palette.
“I swear to god, the men here are insane,” she whispered, eyes scanning the crowd. “Wait—yup. That one’s staring at you.”
You blinked. “Which one?”
But she was already gone, abandoning her stool with a laugh and a wink. “Have fun,” she called over her shoulder, leaving you alone with your drink—and, apparently, under observation.
You didn’t have to wait long.
A few moments later, a hand gently brushed your elbow. You turned, startled, only to meet a pair of warm, expressive eyes and a mouth curved into a smile that was as soft as it was knowing.
“May I buy you a drink?” the man asked, voice velvet-smooth. He slid into the seat beside you—the one Gissele had left vacant—as though it had always been his.
You looked at him—really looked. The subtle shine of sweat on his brow, the warm bronze undertone of his skin, and the twinkle of his grill as he smiled, catching the light like a constellation. Elegant, refined—and yet there was a hint of mischief beneath his charm.
“I’m still working on this,” you said, lifting your half-full pink Whitney and licking the corner of your lip, as if to test his reaction.
A rejection, technically. But not a closed door.
His smirk widened just slightly, like he understood the game. “Fair enough,” he replied, his eyes not leaving yours. The air between you shifted, magnetic. He didn’t press—but he didn’t leave either.
You crossed one leg over the other, sitting up straighter, aware of the way his eyes briefly flicked down and back up. “Your friend seemed eager to disappear.”
“She saw you coming,” you replied, letting a slow smile curl your lips. “Thought she’d give us a moment.”
“Smart woman,” he said, clearly amused.
“I’m Y/N.”
You extended your hand, and instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles—light, gentlemanly, deliberate.
“Hoseok,” he said. “Pleasure.”
You felt your stomach flutter—ridiculous, you told yourself. It’s just the alcohol. But you knew better.
“Is this your usual scene?” you asked, easing into conversation, trying to keep your tone casual despite the way his presence kept pulling your attention like a gravitational force.
“I show up when I feel like dressing up and flirting shamelessly with beautiful women,” he replied without a trace of irony. His gaze locked with yours. “So tonight, yes.”
You laughed. “That a line you use often?”
“No,” he said, “I save it for when it’s true.”
The banter had an easy rhythm, but it was laced with a sincerity you weren’t prepared for. He wasn’t just trying to charm you—he meant what he said. Every compliment had weight, every glance held intention.
And still, there was no pressure. Just presence. Just a man leaning in slightly, his fingers ghosting the rim of his glass as he listened to you speak. You told him about your job, your last girls’ trip, your recent obsession with 90s R&B. He told you about his travels, his work in dance and music, his deep affection for old vinyl records and lavender-scented candles.
The two of you slipped into a corner booth after the second drink. The crowd pulsed on around you, a blur of motion and noise. But the space you occupied felt insulated—separate, private, like a soft secret between the two of you.
He leaned closer.
“You have a way of being still in chaos,” he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. “It’s... rare. That calm.”
You raised a brow, caught off guard by the poetry in his tone. “You talk like that to all the girls?”
“No,” he said again. “Only when I mean it.”
This time, the blush crept to your ears. Hoseok watched the shift in your expression with barely concealed satisfaction, like a man who knew the power of words and wielded them carefully. He didn’t reach for your thigh. He didn’t try to kiss you. But every movement, every word, made it clear: he was interested. And he was in no hurry. This wasn’t conquest—it was intrigue. And the longer you sat with him, the harder it became to look away.
“Come dance with me,” he said, standing and offering you his hand.
You hesitated only for a second before slipping your fingers into his, letting him guide you onto the floor. The music shifted to something sultry and slow, the kind of rhythm that curled around your limbs and made the space between bodies feel charged.
And when he placed his hands—gentle, respectful—on your hips, guiding you to move with him, you felt the heat settle into your skin.
Maybe it wasn’t the alcohol after all.
The music thrummed low and seductive, a steady rhythm that seemed to sync with the beat of your heart as Hoseok guided you into the tangle of swaying bodies. His grip was light at your waist—two fingers resting just enough to suggest control without taking it. You settled into the tempo, allowing yourself to relax into the motion. He moved close, not too close, but close enough to feel the heat of his body through the thin black silk of your dress.
“You dance like someone who doesn’t come out often,” he murmured, leaning just enough that his breath stirred the strands near your ear.
Your lips curved. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” he said smoothly. “It means I get to watch you rediscover it.”
You turned your head to glance at him, amused and a little intrigued. “And what exactly am I rediscovering?”
His eyes flicked down, just once, before settling back on your face. “What it feels like to be wanted.”
That one hit deeper than you expected. But you didn’t falter. You just tilted your head with a coy, polished smile, like he hadn’t just said something that made your stomach twist with heat.
“Is that what this is?” you asked, voice even. “You wanting me?”
“Undeniably,” he said.
A beat passed. You looked away first, the corners of your mouth twitching upward in unspoken amusement.
He didn’t press. Instead, he shifted closer—so slowly it was imperceptible at first. His chest barely grazed yours now, and his hand had migrated, palm resting against the dip of your spine. He kept the movement subtle, his other hand lifting to brush a stray hair from your cheek, fingertips skimming along the line of your jaw. Polite, still. But loaded.
“So,” he said, voice smooth as honey, “what brings you out tonight? You don’t strike me as someone who comes here for the drinks.”
Your gaze flicked up to his, your brow lifting. “I could say the same to you.”
He chuckled, clearly enjoying the push and pull. “Touché. But I asked first.”
You paused, just for effect, before answering. “I needed the reminder that I still exist outside my apartment. Outside my routines.”
“A reawakening,” he said, the word drawn out thoughtfully, like he was tasting it.
“Something like that.”
He nodded, hand pressing a little more firmly against your back now. You stepped forward slightly to keep your balance, and he didn’t move back. Your bodies were close enough now that you could feel the bass of the music reverberating between you.
“And the dress?” he asked, eyes sweeping over you again—but not lewdly. Thoughtfully. “Bought for tonight?”
“No,” you replied, tone playful. “It’s been waiting in my closet for months.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling faintly. “Then I feel incredibly lucky.”
You raised a brow. “To see it?”
“To be the reason it came out.”
Your laugh was soft, reluctant. “You’re smooth.”
“I’m honest,” he corrected. “And observant.”
His hand drifted just slightly lower, the heat of his palm lingering now at the curve where your spine met your hips. You felt the warmth climb your neck, but your expression remained neutral—poised.
“You move like someone who doesn’t just dance,” he said. “You move like you know exactly what kind of attention you command.”
Your mouth parted slightly, caught off guard by the comment, but you recovered quickly, tipping your head in mock consideration. “Is that a compliment?”
“It’s a fact,” he said, voice dipping lower, lips brushing dangerously close to your ear now. “And a turn-on.”
This time, the flush threatened to betray you. Your stomach coiled with something sharp and satisfying, and though you didn’t respond immediately, your eyes met his again with that same unreadable smile.
He searched your expression, but you gave him nothing—just subtle amusement and polished restraint. That only seemed to intrigue him more.
“You’re good at this,” you said at last.
“At what?”
“This slow burn thing. Drawing people in.”
“I could say the same to you.”
A silence settled between you—thick, charged. His hand still rested against your lower back, and your arms had looped, almost instinctively, behind his neck. There was no distance left between your bodies. You were moving in sync, slow, deliberate, the music now secondary to the tension blooming between you.
You leaned in slightly, voice low. “I should probably check on my friend.”
Hoseok glanced across the floor, spotting Gissele leaning against a far wall, already deep in conversation with two girls and laughing over something shared on a phone screen.
“She looks... occupied,” he said, then turned back to you. “But if you want to leave, I’ll walk you both out.”
You studied him for a moment. His posture, his ease, the way he never once made you feel boxed in despite the magnetism between you. He didn’t ask for anything—but the possibility hung heavy in the air.
You took a breath. “I don’t want to go home yet.”
There was a pause—brief, electric.
“My hotel’s nearby,” he said, simply. No edge, no pressure. Just suggestion. “If you’d like to keep talking somewhere quieter.”
“Talking,” you echoed with a knowing smile.
His own smile widened. “I did say I was honest.”
You didn’t answer right away. You turned toward the crowd, eyes finding Gissele again. She caught your gaze immediately and raised a brow, already knowing. You mouthed something across the distance—going to head out—and she responded with a wink and a thumbs up before returning to her new entourage.
You turned back to Hoseok.
“Well,” you said, brushing invisible lint from your dress and adjusting the strap on your shoulder. “Lead the way.”
He offered you his hand again—this time not for the dance floor, but for the descent into something far more intimate. You took it without hesitation.
As the two of you exited the club, the air outside wrapped cool around your legs, balancing the heat that still lingered across your skin. Hoseok pressed the hotel’s location into his phone with one hand, the other still cradling yours like it was second nature.
And all the while, you walked beside him, steady, unreadable—but your pulse betrayed you, thrumming in places he hadn’t even touched.
Not yet.
Not quite yet.
The elevator ride was quiet at first. Not awkward—just charged. A kind of silence that hung heavy between you both, weighted by everything unsaid but fully understood.
Hoseok leaned back against the elevator wall, one hand in the pocket of his slacks, the other running through his dark hair as his eyes traveled over you again, unapologetically this time. The overhead lighting softened his features, casting delicate shadows across the sharp lines of his face. His bottom lip caught slightly between his teeth before he spoke.
“You know,” he began, voice lower now in the confined space, “I wasn’t expecting much tonight. A few drinks, some polite conversation. Maybe a dance.”
You arched a brow, arms folded loosely, your smile just barely present—soft, knowing.
“But then I saw you,” he continued. “And you were… still.”
Still?
“Everyone else was moving, talking, laughing. But you were just there. Still and deliberate. Like you didn’t have to do anything to be seen.”
He pushed off the wall just slightly, not closing the distance between you, but enough to shift the tension in the air.
“You’re beautiful,” he said simply. “But it’s something else. Something about you makes me want more than just tonight.”
You tilted your head slightly, lips pressing into a faint line of amusement, not revealing much. Your posture hadn’t changed—you remained poised, calm, with that same unshakable grace—but the warmth that bloomed in your chest betrayed your exterior.
“I’m not saying I’m expecting anything,” he added, quickly but not nervously. “I mean that. I just want to talk to you. Maybe get to know what it is that makes someone like you walk into a place like that and look like you already own it.”
You glanced sideways at him. “Smooth,” you said, your voice light but your eyes sharp. “Again.”
His grin deepened, dimple flashing. “Told you—I’m honest.”
The elevator chimed, and the doors parted.
Hoseok stepped out first and held the door without needing to look back, like it was muscle memory. You walked past him with that same unbothered elegance, and he fell into step beside you as the two of you moved down the hall toward his room.
Once inside, he didn’t rush. The suite was wide and open, the lights dimmed low and the view of the city glittering through the glass balcony doors. You made your way there without needing an invitation, pushing them open and stepping outside into the night air.
The wind was soft, almost warm, carrying the sounds of distant traffic and nightlife up to the high floor. Hoseok joined you moments later, two glasses of something amber in hand—he offered one to you silently, and you took it without comment.
The silence returned, this time more companionable. The city stretched out before you in every direction, glittering like it existed just for the two of you.
“So,” you said, finally. “What brings you here?”
He exhaled slowly through his nose, sipping from his glass before replying. “Work. Mostly.”
You nodded. “What kind of work?”
He turned to you, leaning one elbow on the railing. “Creative consulting. For artists. A little bit of choreography. A little bit of producing.”
Your brow lifted slightly. “That’s vague.”
He laughed, the sound quiet and unforced. “It is. That’s on purpose. I’m not really supposed to name names.”
You hummed. “Discretion. That’s attractive.”
“And rare,” he said, eyes flicking to yours again. “But I don’t just come here for work. Sometimes it’s a reset. Different city, different pace. New people.”
You sipped. “New distractions.”
“Maybe.” He glanced sideways at you again. “You don’t seem like one.”
You smirked. “No?”
“No. You feel more like a disruption.”
That word hung in the air between you.
You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, resting your elbows on the railing, letting the wind lift the ends of your hair. The glass in your hand caught a glimmer of moonlight, casting tiny golden flecks onto the concrete floor beneath you.
He watched you. Carefully. And when you looked back at him—slow, deliberate—his gaze didn’t shift away.
You held it.
That’s when the space between you shortened.
He didn’t move all at once. Just a step, and then another. His hand rested lightly on the curve of the railing beside yours, knuckles brushing your wrist.
“I’ve been trying not to stare,” he said, almost under his breath. “But you make it hard.”
Still, your smile didn’t waver. You simply turned your face toward his, eyes locked, unreadable.
The kiss was inevitable.
It didn’t happen in a rush—it happened in the quiet pause between glances. His hand rose to touch your cheek, thumb trailing just beneath your bottom lip, eyes watching the way your mouth parted the slightest bit at the contact. He didn’t ask, didn’t need to. When he leaned in, your lips met in a soft, exploratory kiss—slow at first, like the two of you were testing gravity itself.
When you didn’t pull away, when your fingers found the lapel of his jacket and held him there, he deepened it.
The glass in your hand tilted dangerously. You broke apart just long enough to set it down on the balcony table, then turned back to him with a heat now undeniable in your eyes.
He took your hand, no words this time, and led you back inside.
The room was cool, draped in shadows and city light. He paused at the edge of the bed, his eyes scanning your face once more.
“You’re sure?” he asked, quiet now.
You leaned in, your breath warm against his neck. “If I wasn’t, you’d know.”
That was all the permission he needed.
“I want to take my time with you,” he whispered, voice velvet. “Is that alright?”
You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you let your hands slide beneath his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders in one smooth motion. It hit the floor with a soft thud.
Hoseok’s hands were reverent, moving to the hem of your dress but not lifting it—yet. First, his fingertips traced along the fabric, following the curve of your hips, the line of your thigh. His palms flattened over your sides as he leaned in again, lips brushing just below your ear.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been holding back,” he said, exhaling slowly. “How much I’ve wanted to touch you like this… see how far I can push you before you ask for it.”
You inhaled slowly, your lips parted in the half-light, but your expression stayed controlled—poised, as ever. “I don’t ask.”
And that thrilled him.
He knelt then, lowering himself with grace until he was eye-level with your thighs. Your breath caught—not from nerves, but from the gravity of the gesture. The way he looked up at you, hands now sliding under the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric slowly to your waist, was enough to make your knees threaten betrayal.
He pressed a kiss to your knee. Then higher. Then higher still.
“Sit back,” he said, voice quiet but firm, “and let me make you feel good.”
You obeyed without speaking. Still wordless, still elegant—but when you leaned back onto the bed and rested on your elbows, your eyes stayed locked on his.
The pleasure was slow at first.
His mouth on you was deliberate, exploratory, taking his time with every flick, every suck, every drawn-out breath against your most sensitive skin. His hands pressed down on your thighs—not to hold you still, but to anchor you. To remind you where you were. With him.
You bit your bottom lip, hard. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of the noises building in your throat.
But Hoseok could read the tremble in your thighs, the subtle curve of your back arching slightly more with every languid sweep of his tongue. He didn’t need the moans—you were giving him everything already.
He pulled back just briefly, lips slick, eyes hooded with restrained desire.
“You're doing so well,” he praised, voice rougher now. “So fucking beautiful like this.”
Your lashes fluttered, mouth finally parting with a soft gasp as he moved back in and kept going—more confident now, more focused. One of his hands slid up to hold your waist, feeling the way your stomach tensed and relaxed with every wave of pressure he delivered.
And when you finally let your head fall back and exhaled a soft, trembling moan—he smiled against your skin.
It wasn’t about power, not really. Not domination in the way most understood it.
It was about control—his of himself, and yours of how far you’d let go.
You came undone in his mouth, tension bursting like light behind your eyes. Still elegant, still quiet—but shaken in a way that made your hands reach for his shoulders, grounding yourself as you rode the high out in stunned silence.
Hoseok rose slowly, reverently, kissing the inside of your thigh one last time before pulling you gently up to meet him.
He kissed you again—slow and soft—like he wasn’t trying to erase what just happened, but let it linger.
“Not done with you,” he whispered into your mouth.
Then he stood, reaching back to unbutton his shirt, eyes never leaving yours. “But only if you let me keep going.”
You smiled.
A real one this time. No teasing, no mask.
“Go ahead,” you said, voice soft but steady.
He stepped back just enough to pull the shirt from his shoulders, the faint light catching on the hard lines of his chest and the soft sheen of sweat that had started to gather at his collarbones. Every movement he made was fluid, unhurried, as though undressing in front of you was its own performance—one he wanted you to watch.
And you did. Reclined now against the plush pillows, one leg slightly bent and the other stretched long across the bed, you watched him like art. Quiet, composed, with only the slight tug of your bottom lip between your teeth giving you away.
Hoseok crawled back onto the bed, his hands brushing the sides of your thighs as he moved over you. He leaned in to kiss you again—slower this time, deeper. Like he was memorizing your mouth.
“You taste like my name,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “And now I want to hear it.”
Your lips curled in a small, knowing smirk. “Then earn it.”
He laughed softly—low, rich, aroused. “Oh, sweetheart…” he exhaled, trailing his mouth along your jaw, “I already am.”
This time, he didn’t rush. He took his time laying you bare—unzipping your dress with care, helping you shift out of it like he was unwrapping silk. His hands explored in unhurried strokes, tracing the dips and curves of your body with open admiration. Every glance he gave you was appreciative, worshipful, but not the least bit cloying. It was honest. Hungry, but controlled.
He kissed your sternum. The curve of your breast. The space just below your navel. His hands pushed your thighs apart gently, and when you let him, you saw the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.
He spent the next while reacquainting himself with you—like a second act to the performance before, only this time slower, deeper. His fingers were skilled, precise, coaxing out reactions you tried to smother, and his mouth followed wherever your body arched.
"That's it..." he whispered against your skin, lips brushing your inner thigh. "Just like that. Let go." His fingers gently reach deeper.
You were close again—faster this time. You could feel your composure slip, inch by inch, but not in a way that embarrassed you. It felt safe, wrapped in the cocoon of his body, his words, the sheer focus he gave to your pleasure. “Hoseok.” You nearly whined, surprising yourself.
And when you did come, he didn’t rush you through it. He kissed your trembling thighs as they shook, gently massaging your hips with open palms. His voice stayed low and sweet.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Every sound, every breath—you’re fucking perfect.”
You were still catching your breath when he hovered above you again. The weight of him between your legs felt like gravity—solid, anchoring. He was hard, thick against your thigh, and you could feel the tension in him, the restraint.
He kissed you again—deep, open-mouthed, and a little desperate this time.
You pulled back just enough to look at him.
“Your turn.”
That same smirk from earlier flickered on his lips. “Only if you still want more.”
You nodded slowly, letting your hand trail down between your bodies, fingers brushing over the outline of him through his pants. “I want it.”
Those three words flipped a switch.
In seconds, he was out of the rest of his clothes, and you were guiding him back between your legs. He ripped open a metallic packet and rolled on a condom. He pressed against you gently, pausing at your entrance, watching your eyes.
“Look at me,” he said softly.
You did.
He pushed in slow, filling you inch by inch, and your breath caught in your throat. His hands gripped your hips, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered a near-silent curse.
“Fuck—you feel like you were made for me.”
You smiled, eyes half-lidded. “That’s a line.”
“It’s a truth.” He pulled out almost entirely, then pushed back in, deeper. “And I’ll prove it.”
What followed was nothing rushed. No frenzied thrusts, no hurried movements. Hoseok fucked you like he meant it. Like every slow grind of his hips was a conversation. Like every breathless moan from your lips was a secret he wanted to keep in his mouth forever.
He kept one hand at your waist, another tangled with your fingers, grounding you together. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him deeper, and he groaned into your neck.
“I could lose myself in this,” he breathed. “In you.”
The rhythm built—still slow, still controlled, but more desperate now. Like he was trying not to come too soon, and you were trying not to fall apart again. You kissed, gasped, touched, pressed—until the tension coiled tighter than either of you could stand.
When you came again, this time it was together.
Bodies trembling, breaths mingling, hands gripping tightly like you didn’t want to let go. His forehead rested against yours, eyes closed, his mouth parted in bliss.
The silence afterward was comfortable—thick with heat and something else you didn’t dare name yet. He slowly pulled out, then settled beside you, arm wrapped around your waist as you turned into his chest.
Neither of you spoke for a while.
Just breathing.
Just being.
Then he kissed the top of your head, his voice softer than you’d heard it all night.
“Stay the night?”
You let out a quiet laugh against his chest.
“Didn’t realize I had a choice.”
-
The sun was barely up when you stumbled through Giselle’s front door, barefoot heels in hand, hair tousled and lips still tingling but still as put together as you could be. She was exactly where you expected her to be—sprawled on the couch in last night’s chaos of pink and white, a satin eye mask crooked on her forehead and a slice of cold pizza hanging limply from her fingers.
She peeled the mask off and blinked at you. “Oh my god,” she groaned, sitting up. “You look like sin.”
You grinned, tossing your shoes down and flopping onto the couch beside her. “You have no idea.”
She gasped. “Y/N—tell me everything. Who was that man? Where did you go? Did he ruin your life or just rearrange it a little?”
You laughed, burying your face into the throw pillow for a moment before lifting your head. “His name’s Hoseok. And...he’s dangerously charming.”
“Dangerous how?”
“Like—he kissed my hand when he introduced himself. Like, who does that?” You paused, smiling to yourself. “He made me feel like the only girl in the room without even trying. And he didn’t rush anything. He...listened. A lot.”
Giselle squinted suspiciously. “Was he hot?”
You let out a short breath. “He was beautiful. Like warm smile, honey voice, perfectly tailored pants beautiful.”
Giselle clutched her chest dramatically. “I’m gonna scream. Did you kiss him?”
“Giselle.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
You gave her a look.
Her mouth dropped open. “YOU DID.”
You laughed again, hands covering your face. “It was… good. Like, really, really good.”
“I’m so proud,” she said, hugging you from the side like she was sending you off to war. “Godspeed, you emotionally available goddess.”
You rolled your eyes but smiled, still a little dazed. “It was just one night.”
She grinned. “Yeah. But sometimes, one night’s enough to shake you a little, right?”
You paused, thinking of Hoseok's hands, his words, the way he looked at you like there was no one else worth looking at.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “It really is.”
“You should have given him your number.” she sat up.
“Who says I didn't?”
➽ Kpop Masterlist
➽ Main Masterlist
➽ Yoongi Masterlist
➽ G Dragon Masterlist
➽ Buy Me a Coffee
