Hobi Bts - Tumblr Posts

Hobi smile 💫💓

No metter how sad I am, everytime I see his smile I feel like one of the happiest person 😃💜

Olympic stadium, Seoul

💜💫

Hyung line 💫💜

Just some pictures of the hyung line 📷

Hobi in run era 💫

Crush (크러쉬) - 'Rush Hour (Feat. j-hope of BTS)' MV

Woooow, Hobi is 💥💥💥

Learning Flights | JHS

Pair: Hobi x reader 

Summary: Tour life can be difficult and even the strongest relationships can be broken down when one is overwhelmed. Your attempts to voice your concerns about Hobi’s well-being were quickly shot down by the man himself. 

Genre: Established relationship, angst, idol, BTS on world tour

WC: 1155

Hoseok has always been the sunshine of the group and an everlasting burning sun in your life. You have always loved his energy, optimism, and warm, infectious smile. You loved how he could always keep you on your toes and make you laugh. Not a single second with him ever turns boring.

And ARMY feels the same. 

During his tours and performances, fan meets and videos, it was always a memorable experience for them to remember. It was no different for the current world tour that they are on. The tour has been a whirlwind of excitement and energy, with Hobi’s performances leaving ARMY asking for more. But behind those dazzling lights and loud cheers, you could see that something had changed in his usually vibrant demeanour. 

From the packed schedules, late nights, and constant travel, you watched him struggle to keep up with appearances. You could see that the tour was starting to take a toll on him, fatigue creeping in almost after the performance finished. The underlying strain was leaving him more weary and irritable. And as usual, as his partner, you felt a deep concern for his well-being. Worried for him, you constantly try to check up on him but your attempts to voice your concerns have been mainly met with short, clipped responses or irritability. 

One evening, as you sat on the tour bus, the weight of the tension between you began to feel difficult to bear. Hoseok had barely slept the night before and they had rushed over right after the performances. Everybody’s luggage was a mess as nobody had much time to pack due to the packed schedules. You knew that his patience was wearing thin as he had snapped at you for simple questions and comments. 

It hurts to say, but it certainly stung. 

But you didn’t let it show on your face. You knew that he was exhausted and not feeling his best. You knew that it was difficult for him and he needed to save most of his energy for his fans during the concerts. You could understand, but it hurts.

When you finally dared to ask him again, you reached out to touch his hand, “Are you okay, Hobi?”

His response was sharper than usual, edged with frustration. “Can you stop asking me if I’m okay? I’m fine, okay? Can’t you just give me some goddamn space?”

His harsh words hung in the air and you recoiled, blinking back your tears. You quickly sank back into the seat and stared out at the window, feeling the distance grow between you. You were hurt by his reaction and the swooning fans outside the bus had no idea what was happening on the bus. Not wanting to irritate him any further, you smiled at the fans. You didn’t want to disrupt the harmonious image that they have of BTS. 

Slowly as the journey continues, you feel the distance between you grow. The weight of his words was pressing down on you and you weren’t sure how much longer you could bear the silence. After a while, far enough from the fans, you moved to the empty seat beside Jimin. 

Giving you a sympathetic smile, Jimin opened up the blanket and offered you some space. You settled beside him as he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a sense of silent reassurance. 

Just as you were about to fall asleep, Namjoon came over and sat down beside the both of you, occupying the seat that you sat on previously. He cast you a reassuring smile as he said, “I know Hoseok’s been a bit on edge recently, but it’s not your fault. He’s just tired and constant pressure can get to anyone.” 

You sighed in Jimin’s hold as you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. “I know. I just don’t want to bother him when he’s tired.”

Namjoon gave you a knowing look but nodded all the same. “Hobi will come around, don’t worry.”

The rest of the journey continued in sombre silence, the members feeling the tension on the bus and constantly sneaking glances at the both of you. Jimin’s body was like a furnace and with the cold air blasting right above the both of you, it was a nice temperature for a cuddle buddy. 

As the bus reached the next hotel, you waited for Hobi to step off before passing him his luggage. He looked worn out and weary, and for a moment, you hesitated. Placing down your hand that unintentionally reached out to him, you turned your back to him, deciding to retire in Jimin’s room today. The both of you were exhausted and having a conversation on what had happened now would not turn out nice. You hoped that Hoseok would come to you when he had some time to properly rest up and unwind. 

Settling down for the night, Jimin was ordering some food from the staff who were going down to the convenience stores. A knock on the door startled you, and when you opened it, you were surprised to find Hoseok standing there with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. “I’m sorry!” He swung into you, letting his full body weight onto your unsuspecting arms. 

Jimin was standing at the television console, looking like a deer in headlights as he observed the situation between the both of you. 

“I’m sorry! I know you meant well, I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.” Hobi sniffled. “Namjoon told me you were upset.”

He buried his face in your neck, sighing deeply. “I’m sorry I made you cry. I truly appreciate what you do for me, I really do! But… It’s just that sometimes when I get overwhelmed, I don’t always handle it well.”

You welcomed him into the room as you closed the door, giving Jimin a piece of dignity for his half-clothed body. Pulling Hobi into a comforting hug, you stroke his hair soothingly. “We all have our moments and I’ll always be here for you no matter what, okay? But it’s not healthy to bear everything yourself. That’s what I’m here for. Promise to tell me if anything is bothering you?”

Hobi nodded his head vigorously, arms coming around your waist to wrap you even closer. “I promise, promise. I love you.” 

You smiled, rocking the both of you from side to side as his cries turned to sniffles. 

You knew that the challenges of tour life can put a strain even on the strongest of relationships but you were certain that your love and willingness to communicate with each other will make it all worth it. 

“I love you too, Hobi.” 

You almost forgot Jimin was there until he made a gagging sound. “How long are you guys going to be at it? It’s making me feel painfully single.”

You chuckled.

“Please leave my room now that the both of you have reconciled. God, the tension was unbearable!”

Can I get a smut with jhope and a fem reader who’s a virgin for thé time pls 🙏🏾 age gap

Hobi is so sweet but I feel like he’d fuck the shit out of you…yk?

Warning: mentions loss of virginity, Hobi being a cutie, some heavy petting, fingering, oral (fem receiving), penetration (vaginal), CAR SEX

18+ ONLY

The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the city as Y/N walked through the bustling streets. She had just finished her last exam of the semester and was finally free to enjoy her summer break. As she made her way home, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and nervousness. She had been saving herself for the right person and tonight, she was going to give herself to J-Hope.

They had been friends for a while now, but Y/N had always secretly harbored feelings for him. She never had the courage to confess her feelings, but tonight, everything was going to change. J-Hope had asked her out on a date and she knew that this was her chance.

As she walked into her apartment, she quickly freshened up and changed into a cute sundress. She checked her reflection in the mirror one last time before heading out to meet J-Hope. He was waiting for her outside, leaning against his car with a smile on his face.

'Hey, Y/N. You look beautiful,' he said, his eyes lighting up as he saw her.

'Thank you, J-Hope. You look handsome as always,' she replied, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

They got into the car and drove to a secluded spot by the beach. J-Hope had set up a romantic picnic for them, complete with candles, wine, and delicious food. They sat down on the blanket and talked for hours, laughing and getting to know each other even more.

As the night wore on, the conversation turned more serious. J-Hope opened up about his dreams and aspirations, and Y/N couldn't help but be in awe of him. She realized that she had fallen even more in love with him.

As they finished their wine, J-Hope leaned in and gently brushed his lips against hers. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she closed her eyes and melted into the kiss. J-Hope deepened the kiss, his hands trailing down her back and pulling her closer to him.

Their kisses became more passionate, and soon enough, J-Hope's hands were roaming all over Y/N's body. She moaned softly as he kissed her neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He cupped her breasts, causing her to gasp and arch her back into his touch.

'J-Hope, I-I've never done this before,' Y/N stuttered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

J-Hope pulled away and looked into her eyes. 'It's okay, Y/N. I'll be gentle with you. I promise,' he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

With a nod from Y/N, J-Hope picked her up and carried her to the backseat of his car. He laid her down and hovered over her, his lips never leaving hers. He slowly started to remove her dress, revealing her lacy bra and panties. Y/N's breathing became uneven as she felt his gaze on her body.

J-Hope took his time exploring every inch of her body, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites. Y/N moaned and writhed under his touch, her body responding to him in ways she never thought possible. When he reached her core, she gasped as he gently rubbed her through her panties.

'Do you want me to stop, Y/N?' J-Hope asked, looking into her eyes for permission.

'No, please don't stop,' she pleaded, her voice filled with desire.

With a smirk, J-Hope removed her panties and slowly started to lick and suck on her sensitive nub. Y/N moaned and arched her back, her hands tangled in his hair. She had never felt this much pleasure before and she never wanted it to end.

J-Hope could sense that she was close and he didn't want to rush her. He wanted to make her first time special and memorable. He moved his mouth down to her entrance and slowly inserted a finger, causing Y/N to cry out in pleasure.

As he pumped his finger in and out of her, he added another one and soon enough, Y/N was writhing and moaning uncontrollably. She was on the brink of her first orgasm when J-Hope suddenly stopped.

'J-Hope, why did you stop?' Y/N asked, her voice filled with frustration.

'I want to make love to you, Y/N. I want your first time to be special,' J-Hope said, his eyes filled with love and adoration.

He removed his clothes and positioned himself between her legs. He slowly entered her, giving her time to adjust to his size. Y/N moaned and clung onto him, her nails digging into his back.

J-Hope moved slowly at first, giving Y/N time to get used to the feeling. But as their passion grew, their pace quickened. Their moans and cries filled the car as they reached new heights of pleasure.

As they both reached their climax, they collapsed onto each other, their bodies covered in sweat. J-Hope pulled Y/N into his arms and kissed her forehead.

'Thank you, J-Hope. That was amazing,' Y/N said, her voice filled with love and contentment.

'Thank you for trusting me, Y/N. I promise to always take care of you,' J-Hope replied, his eyes never leaving hers.

As they cuddled in the backseat of the car, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for this unforgettable experience. She had given herself to the man she loved and it was everything she ever dreamed of and more. From that moment on, she knew that J-Hope was the one for her, and she couldn't wait to spend the rest of her life with him.

can you please do a moodboard of hobi? 🥺

Here u go<33

⠀got⠀a⠀⠀𝚂𝙷𑁍𝚃⠀⠀glass⠀⠀full⠀⠀o𝑓⠀⠀𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

⠀⠀　⠀⠀𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅⠀𝗆𝖾,⠀𝑖𝒇⠀𝗆𝗒⠀𝐬𝐭★𝐫𝐬⠀𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖾

My babies 🥺🥹🫶🏻

A MILLION YEARS AGO | jhs

pairing: idol!boyfriend!hobi x f. reader 

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 4.6k

summary: when your faith in your healing wavers, hobi is there to go the extra mile for you.

taglist: join | playlist: million | cp: wattpad, ao3 | discord: join

warnings: near car accident, confusion in the body, iffy feelings towards an ex, seeing an ex for the first time in million years, being mistreated, religion, praying, oc smokes, hobi is the perfect boyfriend that i wish i had, oral sex (f. receiving), raw sexual intercourse.

note: i'm crying as i'm writing this because i'm so sad, but i promise this healed me more than i expected. as you know, i write little fics whenever something happens to me—and this is based off what happened yesterday. me and my cousin sat down at our smaller family event (not the one we had on friday, if you follow me on twitter), and she asked me if i were healed. and she told me about what she saw. i think it's meant to move me somewhere forward, otherwise i would've never got to see his face. i don't know. i hope you like this little fic, you know i had to write it out like i smoke out my feelings. i'm proud of this work in terms of the way it's written. think i kinda killed that. i love you guys. and i miss you, terribly. i love you.

side note: sorry for my vulnerability. a smaller side note: this is also for my baby @hoseokkie-caeks. i promised i would write a hobi one shot after berries, and here i am. <3 i love you, baby. miss you.

The night was dark. Too, too dark. 

I sensed it swathing my bones long before I glimpsed at something I should and shouldn’t have—or rather someone, to be proper. 

The trees remained unmoving, despite the summer breeze drifting through the macrocosm that unfolded with each and every footfall I shared with my beloved beside me. Hand in hand, we walked leisurely through streets that were prosaic until our energy imbued them with our intimate poetry. White swallowing, little by little, the dark. There was no one and everyone around us, but we didn’t see them; we merely saw each other, for we were in love and we deserved to be so. Hoseok after his hard, agonizing work regime and unfair treatment from his management and… the whole world essentially. Me after the way I had been treated, handled, tossed aside by the person I found inside the screen of a phone—inside a world that once used to be mine, but now is nothing but foreign. 

Million, million years ago. 

The stars were aligned just right, stringing together a shape of the wholeness and the throb of my heart, and we sat down to eat dinner with one of my closest friends that came to town—one me and Hoseok have settled in within the precious, year-long break that burst open in his work life. Hobi didn’t want to see people, at least not those who didn’t bear familiar faces, and I didn’t want to see the city, so it was the most fateful of compromises, most perfect of the kind that was naturally threaded between us; a conjoined idea that blinked within our brains at the same time. And the laughter that followed after we voiced it out at the same time, the long kiss that spread roots inside the pillows of our lips—to this day, it is a fond memory, or perhaps something beyond that, that embraces me at night before I enter the realm of dreamland, tugging me closer into the snug heat of Hoseok’s safe place that I regard his body to be. 

Though before we arrived, I gazed up at that constellation of me through the windscreen as Hoseok’s car began to make a strange noise that unnerved him. I prayed for its rightness to be true and I prayed for our safe travel, as short as it was. According to our previous plan, we were supposed to wait for my friend, Hyun-Ae, and her boyfriend, Do-hyun, outside of the restaurant because she had a strong yearning to jump into my arms upon seeing me. My excitement for that to happen ripped my eyes away from the nightly heavens, searching for her in the dimmed lights of the mutely lively building, in the shadowed greenery surrounding it, near the trees that didn’t move, yet my hair did. 

Strange, that dark energy. 

I hoped she was peeing somewhere, where the light doesn’t reach. She invariably had a tendency to chug everything she drank and her bladder paid for it each time—but this time, she wasn’t squatting by a bush. 

She almost didn’t get to me at all. 

A driver, merely minutes away from entering our town, nearly swerved wrongly into the traffic lane that Do-hyun was driving through, yanking away the stars from the canvas of the heavens. He had to pull over and take deep breaths in order to stabilize his mental state as the thought of almost getting in a car accident with her being in the passenger seat triggered his long-fought panic attack. And because the woods at the beginning of our secluded town doesn’t have any service, we waited for them for half an hour without any knowledge of their whereabouts. 

I bit my cuticles until they bled. Until Do-hyun’s lungs were lifted of its heaviness with Hyun-Ae’s help, his breathing evened out, and he was able to get behind the wheel and cross the distance. 

Upon hearing what obstacles stood before us, I didn’t understand it at first. Hyun-Ae’s yearning was gratified, we hugged until our necks ached and our arms quivered in our stifling, long-coming hug with her legs wrapped around me, ate the food we always ordered when we were together and not apart while she filled me in—but I didn’t perceive the darkness for what it was until that very last detail. 

One she wouldn’t provide until I promised her, a million times, that I was fully healed and ready to hear it. I didn’t know what she was about to uncoil, sitting beside me as she was, with her hands in her lap. But I should’ve known that those obstacles were put in our path for my preparation. 

Hyun-Ae hinted, before she began articulating her discovery, that it was about my ex-love. I stiffened a little, taken aback. I downed a shot of the spirits that we had left. And I was being tugged in two different directions, thrown to and fro, asked by the lawlessness of life to choose. 

Stay back and not go further—not let her tell me because Hobi doesn’t know the specifics about my last situationship. 

Ask her to hold my hand and give her the consent to proceed as my curiosity was piqued and my wound was healed, a million years ago. 

And in the short dwelling of the manhandling, my spirit of inquiry crowned, my fatal flaw. I chose the latter—because why would I not? I carry my heart in my chest for my beloved beside me proudly, for his waters mine with the fulfilling streams of his laughter and sound effects, gentleness and devotion. He has grown and nurtured monsteras within its past mutilated chambers—and the longer he cradled my life and made it his own, made it his endeared responsibility, the more healing flowers of wild, undomesticated origin bloomed against the verdure. The pair of us—Hobi, the elegant leaves with its perforation symbolizing the dimples above his mouth when he smiles; I, the chamomile that has the gift to make better, but everyone mistakes it for a daisy, tossing it aside. 

Everyone but Hobi, the worker who cultivated it in me. 

And caught in the snare of my pride, I wanted to know if my ex-love still remained in the exile of his emotional unavailability, fucking everything that walks on his solitary Pluto planet while I made love to the Sun three times a day, minimally. 

Hyun-Ae gripped my hand with her lukewarm, refreshing touch as she told me that he was dating someone, fundamentally poisoning the girl with his ways like he did to me. That she didn’t understand what I had seen in him as he looked worse than ever before, a characteristic of the unhallowed set deep within his eyes. My lungs refused to inhale any particles of air; they must’ve taken a break from their work in order to process, at their own time, the information that was given to them. The male who pretended to date me while I edged his planet for years, laboring myself in order to heal him with my prayers and words because I believed him after he said he loved me, but he needed to get right first. Needed to unload his baggage and bandage up the slashes across his heart from his previous relationship. 

All sweet nothing without an ounce of genuineness. He took pleasure from the way I stayed around while he hurt me again and again by entertaining other girls, my feet indented in the soft soil of the planet. It was a form of compensation for him. A some sort of merriment—and madness, unmitigated madness for me. 

I lost my mind, standing upon that edge. And I had to get off in order to find it again, my hands outstretched beyond me—held by the invisible fingers of God while he taught me how to walk again, how to walk in a gravity-filled space of greenery, the rainbows of colors, the rain and the sunlight like a baby. 

And I did. 

I walked until my feet stopped in front of Hobi’s.

At first, I felt a sheer wisp of happiness for the guy that he managed to make such an immense step in that direction, however it flickered in me for mere seconds, replaced by a doom of nothingness that began to swim in me. Heavy, heavy nothingness that felt cosmically peculiar—and my body urged me to go outside and smoke it away.  

But my mouth spoke first. 

Who is she? Show me. 

Hyun-Ae narrowed her chocolate pools at me, her brows furrowing until they darkened. Then, they flicked towards Hobi beside me and I followed her gaze—he was preoccupied with a heated conversation with Do-hyun and he didn’t hear a word shared between us. Hyun-Ae lowered her voice, nonetheless. 

So you could compare yourself to her? No fucking way. 

But I pushed. Driven by that nothingness in me, I desired to feel something. Hurt, pride—anything that would stir my body and give it what it asked. It was used to feeling great clouds of negative emotions in terms of the male, and now it was searching for it, in spite of the million years that have flown by since. And to shut me up and distract my mind from wanting the wrong things, she showed me a picture of him. 

And upon seeing that dark characteristic of his eyes, gone, hollow and dead from the laws and the ghosts of the Pluto planet, my stomach clenched and I averted my gaze. My body rejected him—I couldn’t look at him for more than two seconds. 

My good, smart body. 

I fell into quietness, more gravely than the one this town was weaved with. Hyun-Ae’s eyes returned to their original round size, softening on me, and I held her hand tighter. I needed, vehemently, to smoke the descending nothingness away, and when I asked her to go outside with me, Hobi reached the conclusion of his conversation. Wrapped his slender fingers around my arm, tender sound effects, only for my ear to hear, slinking inside as he rubbed his nose against the place right beside it. 

You wanna go smokie smokie? Hobi asked, gliding his fingers down my arm until he reached my wrist, the belly of his index tracing the blue and violet ‘V’ shape of my veins upon my left arm. 

He grounded me. 

I nodded, my smile natural, my love for him abounding, and Hyun-Ae encouraged me to go, gently slapping the side of my bum. And so I went, hand in hand, with him.

Our inherent, pristine characteristic. 

Hobi stole my lighter once I fished it out of my purse. He didn’t smoke, but whenever he joined me, he thought it gentlemanly and proper to light up my cigarette for me. It’s the least I can do, he had explained and I had kissed him so hard for it that he blushed. 

It’s what he does now, flicking his thumb upon the spark wheel until the small flame erupts and bathes us in a delicate, orange tint. I hold the cigarette steady between my lips with my two fingers and Hobi draws closer, appeasing my inner need. Waits for me to take that first drag before he prepares me for the rush of his enormous affection by heating the small of my back with his palm, rubbing the sensitive place. It’s something that I’ve learned he likes to do; take things slow so I open for him like a bud of flower. It gives him pleasure, the laboriousness of the process and the following harvesting, the dampness of my dew the evidence of his success.  

It’s extremely attractive because he does it more for my sake than for his own. 

He lets me take another drag, our visual connection a string stouter than the constellation up above, and I feel myself, nonvocally, giving over that heaviness of the nothingness with each exhale. I decompress and Hobi can see it, joining his other hand to my loins and dipping his head to my neck. He scatters tiny, weightless kisses upon that tenderness of me and I am lulled by his enticement, soothed and sleep-drunk, his pheromones and the cedarwood of his fragrance unfettering me. 

I want to take him to bed. 

And I tell him, innocently, with my hands that clenched the muscles of his arms rounding towards his pecs and lowering to his abdomen, the ivory smoke following my movement, but never touching him. Hobi knows this is my language of sensuality and his mouth parts as he feels the words. 

“We should go.” 

He lifts an arm and brushes a strand of hair away from my cheek, his fingers lingering upon the shell of my ear—his private obsession. His endeared eyes study my features for a fraction of time before he leans in and peppers a singular kiss to the button of my nose. “Why are you sad, muffin?” 

The trees towering behind him move in a daze at last, but it’s a blurred swaying motion that merely divulges to me that the obstacles, the preparation and the dark energy have been conquered. And it helps me to speak a little. 

“Hyun-Ae told me something I didn’t really expect to hear. Can I tell you on our way home?” 

Hobi nods, cradling my cheek, and I melt. 

“I can leave the car here and we can walk home. And in the morning, we can go grocery shopping in the city.” 

I liquefy in his hold and I finish the last of my cigarette, kissing him feverishly and reciprocating the kisses he left upon my neck, sinking our domesticity into the column of his throat while he holds me and I drip into the fullness of him. 

When we return to the restaurant, Do-hyun is by himself, informing us that Hyun-ae has gone to pee. The familiarity solidifies me and I sense upon me a moonlit energy of joy that cleanses me of the past. Hyun-ae perceives it long before I open my mouth and she jumps into my arms, telling me how she’s proud of me. We say our goodbyes, promise that we’ll see each other soon, and Hobi pays for the whole table, calming every inch of me. 

I pray as we watch them drive off. I pray for their safe travel into the city and I pray over our car. 

We walk through our miniature, unlit version of the city, breathing in the purity of the air, listening to the rustling of the leaves being fondled by the breeze. Hobi mimics the act of love, rubbing his thumb over my hand, and I feel at ease when I tell him about my first love, chain-smoking just to help me infuse poetry into my words. 

With each detail, I forget it has happened to me as I unattach myself from it, consider it an element of the past that no longer has anything to do with me. Hobi lets me speak, doesn’t interrupt me, though I notice that as I venture into the brutality of the pain I waded through, his teeth grit and his jaw clenched, the preceding flush of his cheeks withering and falling beneath his skin, pallidness blanketing it in ashen gray. And it pushes me further into my process of letting go and forgetting for another million years to come. 

He stops in the middle of the road once I finish the story. Gives me a mournful look that penetrates me so deeply that I mourn, too. His hands find my forearms, my shoulders and my clavicles. Prepare me for the treasure of the most sympathetic of hugs I have ever received in my life and I loosen up in his strong hold, bury my face in his black-clothed chest as his palm holds my head to him. And he kisses my crown, kisses my temple; strengthens me when he squeezes me until I can’t breathe and I grasp that he is cleansing the pollution of the monstera leaves and the chamomile petals. 

And then he begins to speak, dampening me with a fresh layer of hydration. 

“You had to walk through hell in order to find me and I shall spend my lifetime bringing heaven to you. I swear on my life, muffin,” he says, for the entirety of the peripheral corn fields and the trees to hear, as he cradles my face and makes me look at him. My vision blears as I regard him more as my savior than I ever have before, nodding my head in agreement as my eyelashes flutter, the finality of calmness settling down in me like we did in this town. “You’re mine. You were mine when you were with him, which is why fate didn’t allow him near you. Mine to find, mine to take care of, mine to love, kiss and dance with. Mine. You’re gonna keep blooming in my hands and you’re no longer gonna pray for him, you’d done enough of that already. You’re only gonna pray for yourself.” 

This, I disagree with, dissolving sugar personified. 

“No, I’m only gonna pray for you.” 

Hobi pouts, his mouth rounding downwards, and his thumbs rub my cheeks, smearing my makeup—and I don’t mind. It’s always been his to ruin. He presses his nose and forehead to mine, breathing with me as the breeze swishes past. I slip my hands beneath the hem of his T-shirt, needing to feel his skin, and Hobi sighs against me. Withdraws a tiny bit and steals the breath he gave me. 

“Teach me how to pray for you.” 

I’m so struck with awe, wonder and my genuine love for him that I cannot speak, my lung failing, though differently this time. They swell up with the essence of my feelings for him, my devotion and my besottedness that my eyes well up before I can halt their rivulets. No one has ever prayed for me, certainly not a male I loved and looked up to. I spent years having my empty prayers echoed back to me and now the love of my life, my eternal beloved one, asks me to teach him how to pray for me. 

Only the omnipotent Listener of my prayers could make this possible for me, and before I know it—my mouth gives my beloved the instructions, the contents of my knowledge that I learned along the trajectory of my somber, otherworldly life and then he’s whispering the voice of his heart into my ear. 

“Dear God, please give my muffin the strength not to be pulled back into the life she had before me. Make sure she’s not influenced by it either. Take her burdens and give them to me because I can bear them. Relieve her heart and make her happy. Use me to do it.” He withdraws and drags his thumbs across my eyelashes, asking me to open them and I do. Once he has my attention, he seeks my guidance. “What do I say now?” 

I huff a soft laugh, endeared. Kiss the edge of his hand. “Say thank you and amen.” 

Hobi grins and the Sun peeks through the night. “Thank you and amen.” 

My laughter gains volume and he wraps his lips around it, shushing me, kissing me madly, and I bury my fingertips into his short hair, reciprocating the different, different madness and expanding it. Weightlessness seizes me and I don’t feel my limbs, stupefaction firing me with enthusiasm and then tongues clash and the kiss gains a verve that forces me to collide my body with his and— 

And then we’re dancing. 

To a slow song he begins to hum with the deep raspiness of his voice. Our bodies are one, singular, intertwined as we move to the rhythm of our unified heart and I weep. 

I weep in my joy. I weep in my contentment—and I weep in my love for him. 

He touches my back all over, cupping my hair as if it was water, leading our bodies in the dance, and there’s no one around us, no cars coming, no animals to watch us—only the trees, the fields, the buzzing of cicadas and the breeze and the moon up above. And then he’s twirling me until I’m dizzy and my soft laughter reverberates through the spaciousness of the road that is ours at this very moment. And the Sun beams at me, my Sun, as he pulls me close and continues to dance with me. I feel the jealous shafts of the light of the moon digging into my back that I soon forget about because his lips pursue mine and I dwindle away into his magnetism. 

His hands, his pheromones and his cedarwood fragrance take me to his bed. 

And he’s feasting on me like the dessert he didn’t get to have at the restaurant, bent over as I am over the foot of the bed, my dress bunched in his fist over my loins and my panties pushed to the side. My hungry beloved, my parched Sun, nuzzling his face in my femininity while I drip my dew and moan his name for him. Sucking my clit, he keeps me hovering on the cusp of my orgasm and I tremble in my vulnerable position—face planted on the bedding while the lower half of my body is raised in the air for him. And once my throat begins to let out whimpers and incoherent pleas, he draws back, closes his body over mine until his lips explore my ear and there, there he teases me. 

“What was that, my little muffin?” 

I whine, grinding my ass into his groin, and he hums. It takes me back to his song and I apperceive that it is the only thing I ever want to be pulled back to. Reminiscent of it, his song is blackened by eroticism, by his enormous arousal, drenched by my dew and I need him. While I feel God, the Listener of my prayers, to be a glaring light in me, I need my beloved Hobi to be interwoven with it. 

“I want you inside me. Please, I need it,” I beg, twirling my hips against his hardness like he twirled me in the middle of the road and Hobi sucks in a breath, exhaling it in the form of a whimper and I stoop in my heady longing. 

Abruptly, he plops me onto my back and yanks my panties away. “I’m gonna marry you, you know that?” 

I can only whisper my overwhelming agreement, my bones and my muscles too overcome with elation to do anything else. I would marry him tomorrow if I could. Go grocery shopping with him in the morning, unload it at home, put on my white silky dress and go to church with him by midday. Spend the rest of the day celebrating our union in bed, round after round until we get so exhausted that we submit to slumber, dreaming of our wedding, reliving it. 

He takes off my dress, kisses my forehead, ruffles my hair around me, his thumb dragging across the skin beneath my lower lip as if he was fixing my smeared lipstick for the special day, getting me ready, and I change my mind. I would marry him right now if I could.  

And I tell him. 

“I would marry you right now.” 

His eyes wet, casting a glimmering light upon my naked form, and a paroxysm of his joy gushes out of him and onto me. Hobi tickles my tummy with butterfly kisses, holding me down with his strong hands that he soon pins above my head, leveling with me, my dew drying on his face—yet he still glistens. Glistens with a gleam of bliss that washes over me. 

“Then, let’s get married,” he murmurs, and seizes my lips with his own, kissing me so roughly that I instinctively open my legs for him, the heated pressure in between unbearable. And then he holds my wrists in one hand while the other unbuckles his pants, fisting his length and tugging on it. My favorite sight. He guides it to my sopping hollowness and with one hard thrust, that he knows I am wholly enraptured by each time, he sheathes himself inside me all the way, completing me. Rests at the delicate touch of our mounds. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve and then I’m gonna take you to church.” 

And he gives it to me. Doesn’t pull out fully, but pounds me into the mattress. One hand gripping my wrists together, the other my jaw—ascertaining that my attention doesn’t fluctuate but remain fixed on him, on the twists of his features, on the guttural moans, his pheromones and his fragrance that trickle out of him and dunk into me while I struggle to take it all. 

“Am I hurting you?” he whispers, kissing my cheek and breathing against it, slowing down his strokes that scramble my brain. The tip of his cock grazes my cervix and I lose, I lose my identity. 

My eyes flutter and he pries my mouth open with his thumb, providing me something to focus on as I intuitively suck on it, keeping my head afloat enough to answer. 

“No, it’s just too big.” 

Hobi hums, rewarding me with a peck on the mouth and the gradual speed of his thrusts. “You can take it, muffin. I know you can. You’ve shown me before.” 

The praise, the belief in me—it all crests in lowest part of my sexuality and again, I edge around the cusp of my orgasm. Beads of perspiration line his forehead, soaking his hairline and he’s a sight to die for, the final piece to the fulfillment of my release. Blush reddens his cheeks, his irises enlarged and digging into mine. He doesn’t falter, continuing with his fast rhythm and I moan out poetry lines that make him squeeze his eyes shut. 

“I’m gonna come for you.” 

He groans. “Uh-huh, come for me, muffin. Give it to me. Show me again how well you can come on my cock. Yes, yes—”

Pluto bursts and ceases to exist. I come so vehemently that my spine arches off the mattress, colliding into Hobi’s chest. I shun out all constellations, all planets, the entire universe collapsing under the weight and gravity of my orgasm and our own marble, green, yellow and white with no one around but us, is called to creation with the bloom of Hobi’s own climax. 

He stuffs me full, my hollowness and my mouth, kissing me so hard that I become dizzy all over again. Moans my pet name as he shoots out his ivory love for me, fucking into me sluggishly while the twitching of his cock enamors me even more. I swallow his voice, swallow his grunts and little curses. My iridescent, entranced spasms caused by his exuberance prolong until I don’t know where my head stands, where my legs are wrapped around or what body part of his my hands clench. 

My savior, my beloved, linked to me for all eternity. 

This must have been our wedding because I shall never be the same again, my mind and my heart swept clean and filled with brand new oxygen. I no longer remember what happened prior to our love-making and when I share that with him, Hobi is possessed with the need to do it all over again. 

And he does, a million times over, until he marries me in the church of our town, with Hyun-Ae and Do-hyun present, mine and his parents and his sister with Mickey. 

A wedding most perfectly extraterrestrial, on our own Hope planet, with nothing hurting, with no thoughts resurfacing. 

Me and my beloved, me and my savior, me and my Sun. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild ,  @jjk7k ,  @parkinglot-nights , @bethvar , @Sexytholland , @yoongibaybee , @crystaleah , @fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan , @euphoricmyth , @jungkoock , @cinmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk .

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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LIFE | jhs

pairing: military!hobi x f. reader (ft. namjoon)

genre: slow burn ; tension ; converse high trope / smut, tiny fluff

word count: 8.6k

summary: hoseok has always had a secret thing for you and once he learns you're single, he doesn't waste time and knocks on your door. 

pinterest board: life / playlist: listen / taglist: join / discord: join

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. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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Seeking the Sunrise 💜 Chapter 1

PAIRING: idol!Hoseok x OC

SUMMARY: Haesun was adrift, her life was happening but she had no idea where she was going. Finding her soulmate was on the wishlist, but it was by no means a priority. Cue in the cutest guy that happens to be a household name in the music industry with his whole life figured out. He's her soulmate, isn't that great? If only he wanted to find love like she did...

WORD COUNT: 4.3k (Total: 32k)

GENRE: Soulmate AU, s2l

RATING: Explicit (for the sexual content in the last chapter)

WARNINGS: angst, tragedy, comfort, minor character death, they're both lost really

(You can also read it on AO3, originally posted June 2023)

A.N. I have this poll I've been meaning to do about my soulmate series and to do so, I thought I should probably introduce those stories first 😅😋Hobi's story is the second of the Soul Palette Series and it serves as the second prequel to Call You Mine. I'm uploading each story's 1st chapter here to give you all a taste 😋

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

The girls burst out laughing and giggling at the boys trying to jump around the classroom while playing some sort of catch game with someone’s pencil case. The guy chasing it was laughing in embarrassment and even some girls entered the game.

“Are you afraid?”

“Wait until Eusun gets here.”

“We’re so going to tell her.”

“Tell her what?” Haesun asked in a whisper to her best friend, Sunyi, who was sitting at the desk behind her. 

She leaned in to whisper back, “He wrote a confession on a piece of paper and was going to give it to her.”

Haesun smiled, “Eusun would say no…”

“He doesn’t care. She’s just too pretty,” she shrugged and Haesun kept her soft eyes as she eyed the game. 

She could understand that, although it defeated the purpose. “If they’re not soulmates, then what is the use?” She asked rhetorically, preparing her notebooks for class.

Sunyi leaned on Haesun’s table, “You know the likelihood of actually finding a soulmate?”

“We’re too young to worry about it,” she scoffed.

“But not too young to date and have fun.”

Haesun nodded, “Sure, I’m just saying that it feels like a waste of time.”

Sunyi pursed her lips, “Hmm… dating someone who is not your soulmate… can still teach you valuable skills.”

“Shouldn’t all your firsts be with your soulmate?”

The girls turned to see Eusun sitting beside Haesun while adjusting her uniform ribbon. Haesun looked around; the boy had managed to get his pencil case back and everyone was talking quietly in a corner, so of course Eusun didn’t suspect a thing.

Sunyi sighed, “Again, the odds. Are you saying you’re saving your firsts for him?”

“Of course,” Eusun answered softly, brushing her long-styled hair behind her back.

“Your first date? First holding hands? First kiss?”

Eusun nodded to all questions and then smiled at Haesun for support, who just smiled back.

Sunyi groaned, “Imagine that! Seriously, what if you have to wait until you're twenty? Thirty? Forty? What if it never happens?!”

“Then it wasn’t meant to be,” Eusun answered, almost with a dreamlike sigh.

Their homeroom teacher entered the room while saying good morning and they all sat properly, ready to start their lesson. Eusun suddenly gasped and sat up very straight and Haesun looked at her in surprise.

“Is everything okay?” She whispered to the side, yet the teacher spoke immediately.

“Listen everyone. We have a transfer student, be sure to be welcoming. Come on in,” she said louder.

Their classroom door slid open and a tall boy entered with their school’s uniform, white earphones around his neck as if he had just put them down, and widened eyes. Haesun thought he looked pretty normal, so she couldn’t understand Eusun’s reaction: she was staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Well, present yourself to class.”

The boy glanced at the teacher before his eyes fell right on Eusun again. “Hello. I’m Ji Sung-hyun. I hope we all get along.”

“You can sit down.”

The teacher was ready to move on to other things, but the boy stopped right in front of Haesun and Eusun, making the latter look up at him as if she was staring at an angel. Haesun was just frowning, what the hell was he doing?

“Hi,” he said, and from that close Haesun could see he was blushing and that his hands were twitching. 

“Hi.”

Haesun raised her eyebrows, Eusun was blushing too! What were those two morons doing?!

“Ji Sung-hyun-ssi—”

Haesun didn’t hear what the teacher said and probably nobody else did either. Sung-hyun extended his hand to Eusun and they both gasped when their hands touched. The whole class entered an uproar then, with gasps and yells, and the teacher tried to keep the order as Eusun got up to stare into his eyes as if nothing else existed.

“Holy shit…” Sunyi gasped from behind Haesun, who turned to her. “They’re soulmates!”

December 17th 2018

Haesun finished typing on the computer right on time as the teacher announced the end of the class and everyone in the auditorium got up.

“Ahh! I thought it would never end!”

She smiled at the boredom overflowing from Sunyi’s voice, who was stretching without a care in the world now that the professor had left.

“I thought it was interesting…”

Sunyi scoffed and leaped to check what she was writing, “Yeah, right. Who are you talking to?”

Haesun grinned and closed her laptop, “No one much.” Sunyi rolled her eyes and turned to get her things in her bag, Haesun did the same. “But there’s a soulmating party next Friday at the Club M2 in Hongdae.”

Sunyi scoffed as they made their way out of the auditorium. “I thought you were dating… oh what’s his name…”

Haesun shrugged and brushed her long black hair that was starting to curl with the humidity of December. “We’re talking and we had lunch once. Besides, he’s not my soulmate so we’re going.”

Sunyi sighed as they exited the faculty, “What’s the use?” Haesun froze and raised an eyebrow. “It’s not like it’s going to happen…”

“It might,” Haesun argued easily with a smile. “If Eusun found hers—”

“So what? She was just lucky!” Sunyi frowned, looking down. “From our class back in high school, how many found theirs by now? Three? Four?”

“So?”

“And now in college, how many in our class have found them? Ten? Fifteen?”

Haesun sighed and turned around, unwilling to miss the bus over Sunyi’s doubts. “Numbers don’t matter.”

“Of course they do—”

“Having fun is what matters. Finding companionship, admiration, support, and love. That’s what matters. That’s what Eusun has, and that you can find with anyone, he doesn’t have to be your soulmate.”

Sunyi looked down as she followed Haesun to the bus stop. “Eusun…”

Haesun turned back once they reached the post with the right number and smiled, “Eusun was lucky, yes, but we have to live too, right? And we won’t find them by staying at home watching soap operas or dramas.”

Sunyi’s eyes were tearing up and Haesun moved closer to rub her arms. “What if we never find them?”

“Then we don’t! But we might find someone else that we like spending time with. My parents aren’t bonded and neither are yours.” 

Sunyi heaved a deep breath, “I just hate it… I hate that people are searching for something that seems impossible to find and that by doing so, they don’t give a real opportunity to other relationships.” Their bus stopped and they got in as Haesun nodded her agreement. “It’s like, my parents met in high school, they were friends for many years and then decided that they wanted to be together. Nowadays it’s like ‘Oh, but I might meet them just around the corner, so I’m not going to commit’. If they were just around the corner, you would have met them already!”

She sat down with a plop and Haesun laced an arm under hers and dropped her head on her best friend’s shoulder. “That’s true… it’s so hard.” She sighed deeply, “But then, what are we supposed to do? If we can’t find our soulmates and we can’t find another person to love, then what? We stay single and die alone?”

Sunyi grabbed her hand to pull their arms closer together, “You’ll never die alone, Haesun. No matter what, we’ll be friends forever.”

Haesun grinned happily, hugging Sunyi’s arm tight, “We’ll be grannies together.”

“Obviously.”

Haesun smiled and they chatted about all sorts of things, from how dumb it was to have classes so close to Christmas, to how cold it was, to wishing there was a first snow soon though they had no one to kiss at the moment, and then to how Haesun would have to work during the break.

“No! Really?”

“Yap, Yeeun is sick, so I’ll cover her shifts for this week and the week of Christmas.”

“That’s insane!” Sunyi gasped as they stepped out of the bus.

“Yeah, but it will pay well.”

Sunyi pursed her lips, “You know, I’m sure your parents, even your aunt would help out if they knew you—”

“I know, but I don't want them to. I’m going home, I need to take tonight to sleep well before the next two weeks of work.”

She waved at Sunyi and turned in the opposite direction. As she walked down the residential street on the outskirts of Seoul, she wondered about Sunyi’s words. 

She always thought that at twenty-one years old she would have her life figured out: her soulmate, a pet, a degree, and her own place. She was twenty and none of those things were true.

After Eusun found her soulmate all those years back in high school, Haesun had actually fallen into the trap of believing the exact same would happen to her and Sunyi. Because why not? They were the trio of best friends, it made perfect sense. 

But life didn’t work that way. Eusun grew up faster than them — at seventeen she was going through things most people they knew never fully understood or experienced. She was maturing faster, seeing things as an adult, and she was with her soulmate all the time. Soon, their trio became a duo and Haesun was forced to admit something she only ever thought happened in dramas was real: society did separate between mated and unmated people.

Not out of malice, but naturally because one side envied or didn’t understand the other. No one shunned anyone, obviously, but there was a rift between them. After all, how could Haesun comprehend the depths of Eusun’s feelings if she had never felt something quite like it?

She kicked a pebble on the road at the memory of Eusun’s words. Pathetic, ridiculous. She had cried so much after that, at losing her best friend, when in reality it was all bullshit. She didn’t have to be bonded to be in love, to experience happiness, passion, companionship, or empathy. And it did look a lot like bonded people lost the ability to empathize with those who weren't.

But Eusun’s attitudes were not enough to give soulmating a bad name. Haesun had read a lot on the subject with her aunt, who was utterly obsessed with the topic, and realized that indeed it was a state of grace. Eusun was just a bad apple she had once called her best friend. Big deal.

No, it was still a nice idea, but at twenty years old she was done waiting. She had started dating the year before and decided to have fun. Odds were she would be unmated anyway, so there was no point in not getting to know a few men and seeing if anyone clicked. 

The pet wasn’t a reality yet because Auntie was taking medication that made her sick to almost everything, so she was not risking her health. She had her whole life to have a pet, no big deal.

She would have a degree in nine months, she just wasn’t excited about it. She wasn’t eager to tell her parents, who busted their asses off working in a shoe factory so she could study, that Literature wasn’t the most employable degree and that after almost three years she was finding that she didn’t enjoy it. Not only that, but the perspective of going into journalism or something else also didn’t excite her. She felt incredibly lost. 

And she would never have her own place. She typed the password of the apartment building on the keyboard by the front door with a small smile. She was happy to have the chance to live with Auntie so she got to be in Seoul and study there, but she wasn’t delusional: having an apartment in Seoul was a luxury someone like her would never afford. Especially now that every penny she earned went to paying the tuition of a course she didn’t like so her parents didn’t have to do it and make her guilty out of her mind.

“Sunnie, you home?”

“Yeah!”

She took off her shoes and jacket and quickly went to the kitchen to help her aunt.

“Woah, it smells so good!” She rubbed Auntie’s arms in support and not even the woolen coat and layers of clothes could hide her thinness. “Let me help you.”

Her aunt was joyous as ever to have her niece spend the evening with her, but her smile disappeared fast when Haesun told her about her shifts.

She frowned as they sat down on the low table to eat. “You don’t have to kill yourself working.”

Haesun smiled, “I know. And I’m not, I’ll be on vacation anyway.”

She served them both as the eldest shook her head. “We should visit your parents for Christmas…”

“And we will, the restaurant closes on Christmas.”

She sighed, “You know that is not what I mean.” Haesun just smiled because that was the way to get away with it. Auntie sighed again, “You should tell them.”

“What?”

“That you want to study something else.”

“And tell them their hard-earned five million won went to the trash? No.”

“They want you to be happy, they don’t care about that. They only paid for one year, anyway—”

“They paid for everything up to that point too and I’m not sure I’ll ever repay them.”

“Hey,” Auntie stopped, giving Haesun a firm look. “Are children supposed to repay their parents? Did you ask to be born? Do you think they do it out of obligation? Or out of love? Because you’re the sun in their eyes? Stop saying nonsense.”

“I’m sorry, Auntie.”

“If only, missie,” she puffed and reached for the water. “Unfortunately, you’re as stubborn as my brother.”

“And you,” she grinned again and her aunt stifled a laugh.

They chatted throughout dinner and cleaned the kitchen together.

“How’s the boy… What's his name…”

Haesun puffed her hair out of her face because her hands were wet with the soap as she did the dishes. “Seriously, we’re just talking, it’s not a big deal.”

Her aunt shrugged as she dried the dishes, “Well, alright. If he’s your friend, I see no reason for not asking about him.”

Haesun shook her head with a smirk, “We’re not really friends.”

Auntie sighed and grabbed the next dish, “You know how I feel about that.”

“And I’ve told you it's a different generation…”

“I understand that, but you’re not settling down with a partner like my brother did. You’re just talking around, dancing around, doing who knows what—”

“Auntie!” Haesun gasped in shock.

“I know, I know! I’m not shaming! I’m saying you should, I don’t know, do something outside of your comfort zone!” Haesun took a deep breath. “Maybe then you’d activate your thread of fate and finally cross his path.”

“Or maybe that’s dumb and I’ll meet him on the bus tomorrow, the same one I always take to school and back home,” she argued with a shrug. Her aunt was pursing her lips in annoyance, yet Haesun just sighed and decided to keep going with the dishes. “You know I dislike the thought that I need to wait or activate my fate. As if my life only starts or becomes valuable if I meet him. I want to live on my own too. What if I never find him? Will my life be worthless then?”

“Of course not! Sunnie!”

“I know, of course not!” She nodded vehemently as she gave her aunt the last plate. “Look at your life, auntie, as an established author who traveled the world and met so many people. Maybe that’s the life I want one day, hm? A life lived for me, not waiting for someone else.”

Auntie dried the plate and placed it on a pile before putting her hands on her niece’s shoulders. 

“My life was filled with adventure, I surely had a lot of fun. I don’t regret much, but I do regret not ever feeling that deep love and connection. The soul that would have matched mine. I’m not saying I would have sacrificed everything I have experienced, but it would have certainly been even more fun and meaningful with him. Not to mention…” her hands went to adjust her headscarf. “Not even for myself, but… chances are he is or is going to be sick too. I wish… that wouldn’t happen, even if I never meet him.” Haesun reached to hug her immediately and she smiled. “I wish no one would feel this pain. Ever.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Auntie smiled and petted Haesun’s hair. Whenever she did that, Haesun always had the impression that Auntie was consoling her, not being consoled herself. Maybe it was because she knew Haesun was so scared of losing someone so important to her. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, life happens. This included.” She hugged her for a silent moment before pulling away. “Now enough babbling, you need to rest if you’re meant to work so many days in a row.”

Tuesdays are not the worst. Tuesdays are fine.

Haesun kept repeating that to herself as a smile was plastered on her face trying to deal with semi-drunk overbearing people. And she wasn’t wrong; usually, Tuesdays were not the worst dinner shifts at all. But maybe because it was the week before Christmas, everyone was out. Every freaking one. 

From students to families to workers, to whoever, it seemed that everyone had decided tonight was the night to go out for dinner. And as she held onto her tray and sought a moment to breathe before taking on the last group, she wondered how she would deal with that chaos for the rest of the week.

Yet as soon as she lifted her head, she felt dizzy. She frowned and pressed her temples, What the hell?

“Haesun, all good?” Screamed the chef and owner from the kitchen, seeing her through the pass.

“Yeah!” She yelled back, surprised he had noticed. She must have stayed like that for a while. “Yeah, I’m… going.”

Of course, she had to move, her boss was watching, but that wasn’t why her feet were guiding her to the last room of the restaurant, the one where the group had been settled in by the host. She was frowning because she felt really lightheaded, but her body was moving on its own because she had somewhere to be. Somewhere that wasn’t the bathroom, in case she needed to barf, or the kitchen to get something with sugar, but somehow… something better.

“Haesun, are you okay?” 

She glanced up right before she slid the door to the room. Her hand twitched. 

The host continued, “Do you want me to handle this? It’s late and you’ve had a long day, it’s a big group—”

“No! No, no, of course not. I got this. Just… this one.”

She tried smiling, but she had no idea if it worked because her fingers were already hooked on the handle of the door to slide it open. Her eyes fell immediately on a random guy with a green beanie and a gray sweater and he got up, so pale she would think he had seen a ghost. Maybe she was pale too?

But… Why was his nose so perfect? His cheeks were high but framed a beautifully round and perked-up nose. And his lips were so full, how?

Wait… Was she staring?

“Haesun?”

She turned to the host whispering her name, but she couldn’t think. All around her, the group of people seemed worried not about her but about the man with the green hoodie standing up.

“Are you okay?”

“Is something wrong?”

His eyes were so wide she feared that maybe she was being an eyesore or something. What the hell was she doing? Why couldn’t she think? Why would she think that? It was because she couldn’t think.

She hugged the tray and bowed to the group, slowly backing away out of sight.

“I think I need a moment,” she confessed to the host, swallowing dryly. 

“Of course you do, take a break, I’ll take their order.”

He entered the room to meet the guests so that should have been her cue, but her feet weren’t moving. Her heart was speeding so fast she could have collapsed, but somehow it was building up to something she did not know what.

A second later someone passed the doorway and stopped right in front of her, as if searching for something. There was no one to the right, but there she was on his left. She thought she should get out of the way but as soon as she saw his eyes, she froze again. No way she could move now.

He turned to her, still pale, still wide-eyed, but this time his chin was dropped a little. He heard the commotion from the room and raised his hands before taking two steps forward. And wouldn’t you know, suddenly her feet moved on their own because her brain surely wasn’t capable of that level of awareness. Her body moved in his tempo as if by just raising his hands she knew exactly what he wanted. 

She swallowed dryly again, nearly deafened by the beating of her heart pumping blood too fast through her brain, so fast it probably wasn’t reaching it at all. That’s it. She had no blood, that’s why she couldn’t think straight.

Wait, what?

He suddenly grinned and clasped his hands as if to contain his excitement, “Ahhh, I can’t really believe this is happening. Right? It’s happening, right? It has to be.”

She nodded. Whatever it was, it was surely happening.

“I’ve never felt like this, so it has to be… right? Ahhh, seriously, woah,” he rubbed his face, then adjusted his green beanie, smoothed his gray sweater, then extended his right hand to her politely, “Nice to meet you.”

She blinked, she was staring at his hands. Totally, from the start, from the moment he touched his face. He was tall, clearly thin despite all those layers of clothes, and his hands looked delicate. He moved delicately, in fact. She wasn’t delicate, she didn’t move like that. Weren’t they supposed to be the same?

“Miss?”

Her eyes moved from his chest to his eyes and blinked. His lips twitched as if he debated on whether to say something else and she huffed in a breath.

“Right! Me, right? Yes!” Her cheeks blushed instantly, but at least she was breathing. At least she had blood again. “I’m Haesun. Shin Haesun.”

She took his hand and bowed deeply, and her whole body tensed like a wire being overcharged. She gasped quietly and looked up with descended eyebrows while he made sure to use both hands to hold hers, making that sensation even more intense.

His joyful smile vanished slowly as his eyes lingered on her and those feelings treaded to their chests. Her heart was beating so happily, now fully with the only reason that mattered, that her whole body warmed and relaxed in successive waves. It wasn’t really a pleasure as one would receive in a massage for example, but it was definitely pleasurable. She would have melted into his arms if there wasn’t a burst of energy that almost had her hopping around, and preferably into his arms too.

“Hobi, we’re waiting for your order!”

Hobi? She furrowed her brow, where had she heard that name before?

“I’ll be there in a minute!” He answered dismissively before turning to her again. She was already too hot and the more he looked at her, the more she was convinced her legs would give in. “We… I have to go back, it’s our Christmas dinner.” 

She blinked with a nod, of course. She, uh… she could… do something else other than hold his hand and stare at him. Surely.

“But you… I need to know all about you.” His thumb brushed her skin absentmindedly and she blinked yet again. Then why not right now? She wanted it right now, she didn’t want to be separated from him now. He reached for his phone in his pocket, “Please, give me your number. Let’s meet again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Please.”

“When?”

“I don’t know, I…” She had to split their hands to take the phone, which was not pleasant at all. She felt like a battery that just got disconnected from the grid. “First thing in the morning?”

“I have classes.”

“Oh, okay, ahm…” She was typing as he hummed. “Tell me when you could make it.”

“Between class and work, so around four to like five thirty… six if I ask for it.”

She extended his phone back respectfully with both hands and he wrapped his around them, not that concerned about the phone. They stayed just like that.

“Hobi!”

“Sir,” a polite male voice called from the entryway and he let go of her immediately. “Should I order ahead without you?”

“Yeah, I will need a minute. Please,” he asked with a bow and the host bowed back. He gave a glance to Haesun with an implicit question and she smiled at him in reassurance. Hobi turned back to her once the host left and took his phone gently from between her fingers. “I’ll text you the address so meet me tomorrow, okay?” She nodded. “It’s a promise.” His tone almost spoke of relief and she smiled. “Can I… can I take your photo? I— All my contacts have their photos, so…”

“Sure!”

She tried rearranging her messy black hair falling off the ponytail, then her black turtleneck that was surely out of place. Her makeup was very bland, but there was nothing to do there. She probably did not look good but that didn’t even cross her mind — her soulmate was aiming his phone camera to take her picture. Her lips curved.

You can go here to keep reading [ao3] (this story is finished) 💜

Soul Palette Series 💜

In this soulmate alternative universe, there are no marks, no strings, and no traces to guide them to their other half. But if they listen carefully, destiny is just around the corner patiently waiting to mix them in the soul palette and create universes - together.

PAIRING: idol!BTS member x (f)OC

GENRE: Soulmate AU (s2l)

RATING: R (for the most part)

Crossposted on AO3 | Should be read in order 💜

✔Carnation

PAIRING: idol!Jin x OC

SUMMARY: In early 2018, BTS were at a crossroads: after working so hard to set foot in the music industry of South Korea, their sudden jump into stardom became something they never anticipated. Jin believed in his dongsaengs but was just as lost as them when his soulmate entered the picture.

WORD COUNT: 25.3k (total)

WARNINGS: mild angst for talks of disbanding, burnout, financial struggles, sickness, society pressures, low self-esteem

The corners of his lips rose the second he predicted she would crash into him, which he absolutely wanted for some reason, but she subverted his expectations. His features went from cheeky to slumped when she dodged him expertly and just walked right past him without even looking up. He turned to widen his eyes at her in a complaint, but she was walking steadily and quickly away without looking back. Well, he scoffed, how could she just focus so hard on her call or whatever that she didn’t see him standing right in her way? One should pay attention to their surroundings instead of— He gasped, Wait!

AO3 | [1st Chapter - Tumblr]

✔Seeking the Sunrise

PAIRING: idol!Hoseok x OC

SUMMARY: Haesun was adrift, her life was happening but she had no idea where she was going. Finding her soulmate was on the wishlist, but it was by no means a priority. Cue in the cutest guy who happens to be a household name in the music industry with his whole life figured out. He's her soulmate, isn't that great? If only he wanted to find love like she did...

WORD COUNT: 32.1k (total)

WARNINGS: angst, tragedy, comfort, minor character death, sickness, grief, tension, smut (in the last chapter: dry humping, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex)

If he was unavailable, why did he yearn for her? Hoped to see her? Was done early just so he could go to her earlier and wait for her with a smile on his face? Went out with his friends at the same time she was at a soulmating party so that he wouldn’t think about it? Wanted to touch her all the time? Stared at her photo and tried to remember her laugh, sighing at the memory of it? Looked at her jaw and wished to brush it softly with his thumbs? Looked at her gorgeous lips like that? Why did he wonder… about what her lips would say next? Or how they felt? Or how they tasted?

AO3 | [1st Chapter - Tumblr]

🚧Monochrome

PAIRING: idol!Namjoon x OC

SUMMARY: ...

WORD COUNT: ? Outline 🚧 15 chapters

WARNINGS: ...

...

AO3 | [Tumblr]

✔Call You Mine

PAIRING: idol!Yoongi x OC

SUMMARY: Freya despises everything soulmate-related, but one day her soulmate shows out of nowhere and turns everything upside down. A slowburn rejection soulmate story to make you fall in love with Min Yoongi (again).

WORD COUNT: 297k (total)

WARNINGS: angst, huge ass story that is an emotional rollercoaster, rejection (happy ending), OC has a strong personality and flaws (all my characters do really), desperation, explicit sexual content, soulmate bond is inescapable and shit happens

She turned around like a tornado, “Why the fuck would I change my life for you?!” He nodded, looking at the floor while choosing his words carefully. “Well… it might be a little selfish of me, but—” “A little?!” “— there isn’t another way, not that I can see,” he finished stubbornly. That stunned her for a moment. She stared at him in utter disbelief. The audacity—! “We don’t have to be together. We don’t know each other!” She closed her fists, voice shaking in anger. “Why should I have to move across the world for you? Why! Cause you’re famous?”

AO3 | [1st chapter - Tumblr]

🚀To Blossom

PAIRING: idol!Jungkook x OC

SUMMARY: ...

WORD COUNT: ? Writing 🚀 Chapter 17/62 (~90k) ➡ snippets

WARNINGS: ...

...

AO3 | [Tumblr]

🚧The Shade of the Cosmos

PAIRING: idol!Taehyung x OC

SUMMARY: ...

WORD COUNT: ? Outline 🚧 9 chapters

WARNINGS: ...

...

AO3 | [Tumblr]

🚧Choice and Destiny

PAIRING: idol!Jimin x OC

SUMMARY: ...

WORD COUNT: ? Outline 🚧 10 chapters

WARNINGS: ...

...

AO3 | [Tumblr]

The Tapestry of Fate

PAIRING: each couple from the previous stories

SUMMARY: ...

WORD COUNT: ? Oneshot

WARNINGS: ...

...

AO3 | [Tumblr]

Reunion

Pairing: Hoseok x Nala

Author Note: Nala is a plus-sized woman. So while there is no fc plus sized women will be selected to show outfits. Also she's dyed her hair a ginger color. So yeah :)

Club Carnival did not disappoint. The music was catchy, rotating between hip-hop and reggaeton. The vibrations could be felt outside when Hoseok was handing his keys to the valet. The exterior was upscale. Red carpet, security carrying firearms, and who looked sharp in their crisp suits. Hoseok flashed his ID before the two men parted, allowing him to enter.

Hoseok noticed the sweet smell in the air. Most clubs he went to had a pungent smell of must. He was pleased. It was clean, another check in his mind.

Hoseok, nicknamed Jay by many celebrity friends, was among the expected guests of honor. Hoseok a game changer in the fashion industry. Four years ago, he launched a clothing line that rivaled many other luxury brands like Gucci, YSL, and Prada. He was a businessman looking for new ventures to invest his money into. The entertainment business was lucrative and showed signs of paying off. But he had a philosophy. Before signing any checks, he had to ensure the venue met his standards. He had to trust management and trust that they can manage a club. As anything attached to his name, he saw himself liable for.

Hoseok is a thorough man who gained lots of respect for it. He exchanged brief pleasantries with the friends he spotted. He hoped to find Seokjin, the man he spoke to on the phone. Hosoek stood on the edge of the bar. He sent a quick text to Seokjin, letting him know he arrived.

From a distance, Hosoek knew his sense of style made him appear standoffish. He frequently wore dark shades that hid his eyes, often wearing muted colors, and rarely smiling in pictures. Nevertheless, those who truly knew the man knew he was approachable. Willing to always assist those in need. Taking a look around, I observed the clubgoers. Many in cocktail attire, dancing freely. The dance floor was spacious and far enough from the bar to not feel overstimulated. Even standing on the bar's edge, he could hear the bartender take an order from a customer. It was genius.

Seokjin: Thank you for waiting. I'm stuck in traffic and will be late.

A grunt slipped out of Hoseok's mouth. He read the message, shaking his head. Tardy manager? Hoseok remembered that little fact in the back of his mind. Now, since he was playing the waiting game, he supposed he could divulge in the club atmosphere. After all, it was a Friday night, a typical way for young adults to let off some steam.

Ordering a strong whiskey beverage, Hosoek sipped, swaying to the music. The song was a classic throwback. A song from his b-boy days in high school. His muscles remembered every movement of choreography. Dance was his first love. A talent that he wished he discovered much earlier. Who knew where he would end up if he devoted the same hours to his clothing brand, to a dance studio. Hmm. Maybe even becoming one of the greatest dancers in the world. Wishful thinking. He finished off his drink, returning his glass to the pair. Rolling up his cuff links to dance when he saw a woman in the corner. She stood alone, her back facing to him. She occasionally turned, showing half of her face. Her mouth moving a mile a minute, Hoseok could tell alone by her body language that she was not in a good mood. Maybe the strong whiskey wasn't in his blood stream right now he would have migrated tot he dancefloor. But the little voice in his head was compelling him to go over.

"Is everything alright?" He spoke clearly, trying not to startle the woman.

Her slicked-back donut bun sat perfectly on top of her head. Wavy pieces shaped her face, dangling beside her lips. She nodded her head at Hoseok.

"Okay, just get here as soon as possible." She sounded defeated before hanging up the phone.

"Yes, I am, thank you." She said, looking into her bag and shuffling around in it. The woman in front of him missed his taken-aback 'shocked face'.

"Nala?"

"Whose asking?" That caused her head to pop up. Her face mirrored Hoseok.

"Hoseok? Oh my goodness! So good to see you." She embraced the taller man in a hug. Breaking out of the hug, she looked Hoseok up and down.

"And you look good."

Hosoek smiled, returning the compliment. Nala also had a good sense of fashion. She could always follow trends yet maintain her own identity, never truly 'copying' someone else. Even six years later, that part about her stayed the same.

"I knew the ginger hair was familiar."

"Oh, you know me, if it ain't broke, don't fix it." She smoothed down the bun. Her stressful phone call was now forgotten. Hosoek was a pleasant and well-welcome distraction.

"Are you busy? I-"

"No. Nope, not busy." Taking her arms in his, she walked Hosoek toward a private section. Laughing at her eagerness, Hoseok allowed Nala to lead him to a section in the club. The area was in a well lit spot in the club. Not toward the discarded hooka smoke, but with a second-floor view of the dancers below.

"Soooo what have you been up to?"

The conversation between them flowed naturally. The six years of no talking didn't make it feel awkward or stale. Nala was charismatic, witty, and most importantly herself.

"It was humbling having to move back home. I tried to stay in the city longer, but jobs weren't hiring. So I started working as a secretary at a medium-sized record label. Hours weren't great, but the money was good so I couldn't complain.

One random day, I was delivering a stack of contracts for my boss to sign when I saw my neighbor in the office signing some papers as well."

"Your neighbor."

"Yeah him." Nala looked around the club, before pointing at the brown-skinned man with blonde locks. He was standing at the center of the floor, rapping. A shiny chain around his neck.

"Lil durk is your neighbor?"

"When we were kids. He was just as surprised to see me. He gave me his business card for his record label, he was looking for someone to manage his friend Von and it was kinda history ever since. With much better pay too."

"Good looking out." Hosoek looked back in the direction of the rapper. Another rapper stood beside him with locs, slightly taller than Durk. He was interacting with the crowd, holding the hand of a female fan. In a similar fashion, a chunky chain with a large 'O' around his neck.

Seokjin: I apologize again. I'm five minutes out.

The notification reminded Hoseok he wasn't visiting this club for leisure fun. He was here to network and expand his business partners.

"Do you have to go soon?" Nala questioned, picking up on the minor shift in Hoseok's mood.

"Yeah, I'm supposed to meet with this Seokjin guy about potentially getting into the clubbing business."

"Oh you're gonna like Jinnie. He's sweet, corny, but sweet."

Nala stood up, and Hoseok followed suit. "May I have your number?" Hosoek asked. He peered over the second floor to see Seokjin enter the club's doors.

"Yes! And let's take a picture, too. I'm glad I saw you." Hoseok, slightly bent down, got in frame. He used his signature 'no smile' pose. Nala snapped several pictures.

"Okay, now don't let six more years go by before we hang out again." Nala joked but was very serious. She would put more effort into ensuring that they would keep in touch, no matter how far either of their work took them.

"You have my word."

J-hope commissioned artwork

Commissioned on VGEN BY: Aka[Skronkl]

Instagram: aka.inku.creator

Tumbler @skronklpus

94's line

Jinyoung Jaebum

(Junior) (JB)

Namjoon Jackson

(RM) (Wang)

Hoseok Taeil

(Hobi) (Moon)

hikaru and kaoru but make it jack and hobi

Happy birthday hobi 🌞❤️❤️‍🩹

Where there's Sunshine, there's Midnight Rain

Pairing: Idol!Hoseok x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of struggle, fluff, established relationship, no mentions of reader's gender.

Summary: J-hope is sunshine in human form, but that makes him the midnight rain too. A short imagine of the reader helping Hoseok understand this.

masterlist

Another night, tossing and turning alone in a big bed. Waiting.. hoping, for the one who is the hope for a million people around the world. Another night spent reaching the cold side of the empty bed, staring at the sky counting down the minutes till daylight, sighing endlessly. Another night hoping hobi would return to you.

He's been home for a week since the tour but he hasn't been home since then. Even the bags were dropped off by his manager, who has visited three times since to collect the things he needed. As far as you knew there was no comeback anytime soon. There was effectively no requirement for him to stay over at the dorms at least for the next two weeks. Especially when he has a home studio set up in the house you both had bought together and decorated.

His not being home has become a routine, a habit even- albeit an excruciating one. What hurts more is the silence, even when on tour he texts or calls at least once a day. Sighing you open the same old chat to see the latest message from a week ago, the same text you have seen a million times till now.

Boarding the plan home. See you soon.

You scroll up the familiar chat screen and see that the messages become less expressive as the tour progresses. You also remember how the news articles and fan tweets raved more about J-hope the idol’s brilliance on stage at the exact same time. Another pattern you are used to, for every emoji his messages as j-hope had, Hoseok's messages became curt and to the point.

Once again, this isn’t new to you or him. In fact, you both met at the peak of j-hope and the absolute low of Hoseok. You might not have been a die-hard fan of the group but you knew enough to know j-hope was not the same shy, anxious and silent Hosoek you’d met by chance in that café. The contrast between who he has on stage and the person you grew to love were stark opposites. Not that you never saw the sunshine hobi, but he was present almost in equal parts as the Hoseok who walks around with a cloud on his head.

But Hoseok never went silent on you in this way. He might be verbally silent for days or weeks together but expressed his feelings in other ways. This time he was completely absent and that simply wouldn’t do. You gave him a week to himself and he still hasn’t returned home. This will simply not do.

And that’s how you find yourself at the door of his studio, at 2 AM, covered in layers of jackets and holding a bag of the dinner you’d made him today- just like you have done every day the past week.

You hesitate outside the studio, looking intently at the door as you contemplate knocking. You know he’s there, instinctively and also because you asked his manager. Huffing out another deep breath you knock on the door.

Silence.

That’s all there is for a minute before you try to open the door yourself, surprised to find it unlocked. You enter the room which reeks of the familiar scent that screams everything hobi- sunshine, flowers and carefree happiness, only to find your boyfriend curled up on the couch hugging his knees with his head down. You close the door slowly and go near him, he's shivering. The sight of him shatters your heavy heart and you reach out to caress him.

"hobi...", your voice comes out as a meek plea.

He shudders for a second and lifts his head up to look at you. His eyes are bloodshot, his usually plump cheeks stained with tears and his heart-shaped mouth in a frown. You drop to your knees and hold his face in your hands, helping him look at you eye to eye. His eyes immediately dart down and he lowers his knees. Just as he can try to push you away you sit next to him on the couch and turn him towards you. You hold his hand with a grip that tells him that he cannot run anymore.

"Please leave me alone." He begs, more tears streaming down his exhausted and ashamed face. You offer him a smile, not one of pity or empathy, just a smile of love.

"You had enough time. I won't let you hurt on your own."

Your voice comes out harsher than you intended but it works as he looks up, eyes now curious. In that second of pure vulnerability, he looks like a child. You reach out and wipe those damned tears away from his face and he leans into your touch.

When he talks again his voice cracks, "I knew I would end up hurting you eventually."

"You didn't hurt me hoba." He looks at me pointedly, "Of course, I did... look at us. I spent a week in the studio because I am too fucked in the head to be with you. All the other guys went home and are happily resting with their partners and I left you alone after months of being away... all because I feel like a fraud. Because I can't figure out why I am this way and why I never have any of me to give you. When I should be giving all of me to the one I love with my whole heart."

By this time he is on your lap, your fingers running through his hair, his hands holding your other hand for dear life.

"Everyone is a little messed up in the head. But it is even harder for someone like you who spends all his time giving every bit of happiness and kindness to everyone around you." You hear him sigh and he starts drawing patterns on your palm as you do the same with his scalp. "I don't really do all that you know..", he sounds unsure and you sense the venom of self-hate dripping in his tone.

"They call you human sunshine for a reason hobi."

He freezes in place for a second and nods slightly. You pause for a minute to look at him, really look at this exhausted, loving human who does so much for everyone around him and so little for himself. He notices the long pause and starts with his patterns again on your palm and settles on your lap. You realise that he needs to see himself for all he is and accept all that as it comes. And you hope he will let you stand with him the whole way.

"Hobi, you are human sunshine. I know it makes you happy to make everyone smile, to take care of your brothers and friends. I know you love being the reason to light up someone's day and being their hope. I also know that you do that because it's what gives you hope for yourself. But...". You pause to gauge his reactions but he shows none and taking that as a good sign you continue.

"But the thing is you are not sunshine... you are human. To be human is to understand that where there is sunshine there is also midnight rain. The more you give, the more you need to. To be sunshine is to burn yourself for others and that is not good for you. So it is okay for you to take your time. To soak in your rain, to be silent and just receive. It's okay for you to rest and pause... Hobi, it's okay for you to receive my love and happiness so that you can give it back tenfolds. You are human and you need your own dose of sunshine too."

He looks up at me with wet big eyes, this time the heart-shaped mouth turned upwards. He slowly gets up, never letting your hand go and moves closer and pulls you in a hug. He holds on to you until there is no space between both of you and rests his head on your shoulder. You reach out one hand to caress the back of his head and hold him by the waist in the other hand.

Time ceases to move as you both sit there, him slightly whimpering into your shoulders and you trying to ease all the pain from him. Hoping that the personification of hope himself will learn to accept himself- one deep breath and a tear at a time. Hoping that he can learn to embrace the rain that follows Hoseok by being the sunshine that j-hope is.

Happy Birthday, Hobi!! 💜💟🎉💟🎉💜

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HOBI

3J BTS

Butter