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boymeetsweevil · 5 years

Text

Watch Yourself

Grouping: Reader x Hoseok

Word Count: ~7770

Warnings/Themes: Peeping Tom-ish/Voyeurism, Hoseok is a closetexhibitionist, (and apparently so it OC) public sex, fingering, so much boob stuff, penetrative sex, too much talk centered around Hob’s hands, this is basically just pwp guys that second p is questionable

Summary: It starts with an invitation from your ex. It ends with Hoseok’s hands down your pants in said ex’s kitchen.

Part of the Masterlist for Group 2 of the @btssmutclub Summer Project

tagging: @jeoneric @betysotelo18

There is something utterly sad about visiting the tiny local strip mall before 11am on a Saturday. Sadder yet is the fact that you are there by yourself, with no friend in sight. Said friend was supposed to come with you for moral support and to give his valued opinion on the swim wear you were there to buy. But, of course, something had to go wrong. Wonho, your fashion student friend, called you this morning to tell you that he pulled a muscle in his groin at the gym that same day and sent you a Snapchat of him in the campus clinic with an ice pack as proof.

As you pay for your tea for the morning from a small kiosk, you take in the fact that even the old ladies power walking around the floors of the mall and the elementary schoolers running to the arcade have their friends with them. You make a mental note to guilt trip Wonho a little bit when you see him next. Which will probably be at the pool party that necessitated this outing in the first place.

When you started attending your university, you came in with a high school sweetheart of sorts. Your ex had been one of the kindest guys you knew, albeit a little insecure. You thought he’d grow out of it, you were sure of it. But once he got accepted into his frat of choice after much ass-kissing, he changed. You endured it for 3 years too long before finally getting fed up in the middle of fall semester of your senior year. Since then, it had been smooth sailing, but also radio silence on your ex’s end.

It’s now the summer following your graduation and this invitation to his pool party seems to be coming from nowhere. Your friend Irene bluntly suggested it wasn’t because he really wanted you back in his life, but because he wanted to show off his new girlfriend to his old girlfriend. Your other friend, Monica, showed you the new girlfriend’s picture. She was pretty, into horses, and did charity on the weekends.

(1 week prior)

“She seems nice,” you sniffed at the image on Monica’s screen before cutting into your pancakes from your favorite brunch spot. They were a little too thick this time and the force of your cutting shook the little table you were all seated at.

“Her style is a little 2008,” Wonho commented as he scrolled through the pictures on the girl’s account. “I didn’t think people still did the tunic and black cropped leggings thing anymore.”

Irene pinned him with a dirty look. “Lots of people still do that. I do that.”

“Yeah, you do,” he frowned disapprovingly.

You and Monica watched Irene and Wonho bicker about statement belts for a moment before she turned to you abruptly, shoving the phone back in your face like a bad omen.

“You know you have to go to that pool party, right?”

“Uh, yeah. We said we were all thinking of going, right?”

“I mean, maybe. But you specifically need to go.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to show him that you’re onto him and that he made a huge mistake losing you.”

“But I don’t care about him anymore,” you said innocently through a bite of eggs.

‘It’s the principle of the thing,” she sighed. “Your bathing suit has to be amazing, none of this—this,” she waved her hands in the air as if trying to conjure up the right phrase, “monochromatic one-piece mess.”

“What’s wrong with my one-piece?”

“It doesn’t do any favors for your body.”

“Wait a second, I—”

“It’s true,” Wonho turned to you, eyes so serious they make you lose train of thought. “You have a great silhouette and you rarely do it justice.”

“Yeah,” Irene chimed in and gestured to your hoodie, “I’ve been meaning to ask you why you have so many of those...shirts.”

“For comfort, maybe? You guys ever heard of that?”

The three of them blinked owlishly at you before Monica reached out to pat your hand. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll figure this bathing suit thing out.”

You follow the various signs hanging down from the mall ceiling telling you the names of various shops and start browsing.

With your friend’s voices in your head, you try not to rely on your basic instincts too much and instead go to the stores you’ve heard Monica praise or seen Wonho shop at when buying clothes as birthday presents. You pass by one store you know all of your friends would approve of. But it positively reeks of sophistication and trendiness, so you circle the entire floor before eventually after coming back empty from the other stores. This one boutique has dim and flattering lighting and there’s an expensive smelling perfume wafting around the place when you push through the front door.

Instantly you get the urge to turn and walk out. All the other people in the store look like they walked out of fashion catalogs themselves. Even the employees refolding garments and waiting at the cash register are all perfectly proportioned, symmetrical, and statuesque. You thank the universe that you chose a neutral outfit: dark jeans Wonho bought for you after taking your measurements with painstaking care and a plain black tank top to beat the heat.

You consider sending a text to the group chat to ask for help when you enter the swimsuit section, but your pride and stubbornness rule that option out. So you just pick a bunch of swimsuits you think would look good on you and head over to the changing room. The attendant there is organizing the rack of returned garments and has his back to you when you enter the changing room hallway.

“How many items,” the attendant asks.

“It looks like I have 3,” you mutter after counting.

“Be right with you.”

You spend the time he takes to finish grouping items to take in his appearance.The back of his head and his voice are oddly familiar.

“Um, this might be a weird question, but are you Hoseok? Jung Hoseok?”

“I thought that was your voice.” The man in front of you turns and nods, a shy, but brilliant grin creeping onto his face. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you.”

Jung Hoseok had been one of your ex-boyfriend’s frat brothers and former “friend”. If there was no one closer around, your ex would hang out with Hoseok and a bunch of other guys not in his inner circle. And when there were closer guys around, you ex would ignore you. So you’d talk with Hoseok. He kept you company many a night when your boyfriend was nowhere to be found and you were alone at the frat parties you were only attending out of girlfriend loyalty.

From what you remember, Hoseok was an architecture and dance double major. He always had good jokes, good weed, and a flirty vibe about him. You’re a little ashamed to admit that you flirted back despite the fact that you were often around him as someone else’s date. But it never progressed into anything more. Not even after you broke up with your ex and were attending the parties to spite him briefly after the break up.

Hoseok would smoke you out and crowd you into the kitchen corner while you passed a blunt back and forth, exchanging banter and heated glances but nothing more. You spent more nights than you’re willing to confess to thinking about the comfortable press of his hand on the small of your back.

Now, he still looks the same as he did half a year ago, but with the addition of a golden tan from the part of the summer that’s already passed. He looks good in his impeccably white t-shirt and uniform slacks with his artfully tousled hair. Among the other model-like employees he fits right in. It’s a little unfair.

“You enjoying your summer,” he asks while giving you the perfunctory little card with a number 3 on it before leading you through a hall of changing rooms.

“Sort of. I moved into a new apartment with one of my friends, and we just finished getting settled. I’m gonna start teaching in the fall.”

“Teaching, huh? Whereabouts?” Hoseok selects one of the large fitting rooms all the way in the back. The ones that can fit packs of friends who are very invested in the outfit picking process.

“You know the Montessori school out by the northern part of the city?” He nods in recognition. “It’s that one.”

He lets out a low whistle at the mention of the small private elementary school that all the city’s most wealthy inhabitants bring their children to. “Sounds like it’ll be a good move, then. You’re living the dream, huh?”

“Yeah,” you duck your head modestly as you linger in front of the changing room door. “What about you? Are you here for the summer?”

“For the summer,” he confirms, “Then I’m moving into the city too. Near the Big Hit park to work with a firm there.”

“Are you gonna be interning?”

“I’m gonna be leading a project with my own design, actually.”

“Oh, Hoseok, that’s great! It’s really early in the game too. You’re going places.”

“Yeah, its—” he stops to look around the area and takes a reluctant step back. You realize then just how close you two were standing to each other. “I don’t want to hold you up if you’ve got friends waiting on you to pick something out.”

“Oh, you’re good. I came here by myself. My friends were supposed to help me get something, but they all...got busy.” You roll your eyes.

Hoseok returns to his station and continues organizing his area once more, but raises his voice so it carries to you. “That sucks. I’ve had stuff like that happen a few times.”

When you don’t immediately respond, he figures you’re busy changing. Almost instantly his thoughts gravitate towards your swimsuit choice, wondering what you picked out. Are you a fan of string bikinis or athletic cuts? His ears subconsciously strain for the rustling of clothes before he cuts the wandering thoughts short. He leaves to go get some extra work from his supervisor and give you privacy.

In the changing room, you’re having a bit of trouble. The first suit is nearly on, but won’t zip past your bust like it's supposed to. You underestimate your strength as you try to force the zipper up and end up ripping the tab off the little sliding bit. You let out a quiet curse before resolving to buy the suit since you broke it. Perhaps it was your fault for thinking you could fit into a size you normally never wear, though it looked like it would fit you when you draped it over your torso earlier. Unfortunately for you, there weren’t any larger sizes either.

Pulling the tag hanging off the side of the suit, you check the price curiously only to find that the suit bandeau is heinously expensive on its own. You have no idea how much the bottoms cost, but you’re fairly certain they’re sold separately. You panic at the thought of having to pay so much for the suit and fumble with the sliding body of the zipper again, trying to get the top off of you, but it won’t budge.

“Hello?” Your voice rings out with uncertainty. You’d heard footsteps leaving the fitting room area earlier, but you didn’t hear them return.

When you get only silence as a reply, you open the door to your changing stall and poke your head out. You’re about to tip toe out to hopefully flag down one of the women working in the front of the store when Hoseok walks back into the fitting room area. He’s busy with whatever is on his phone and doesn’t seem to see you at first. You curse to yourself, hoping he doesn’t see you. To keep an eye on him, you start to walk backwards towards your changing room, but your bare feet squeak loudly against the polished wooden floor.

He looks toward you in that moment to chase the sound. His hand holding his phone drops and eyes linger on your form for longer than could be considered merely professional appraisal and his head turns quickly once he realizes this. Inside his chest, his heart is flutters at the after image of you behind his eyelids. You look good. Really good. While he might think a broken zipper would ruin the look, the fact that the bandeau is only half zipped and straining to contain your breasts makes you look like a classic pinup.

It takes a conscious effort to stray from mentally retracing the path that your curves made in the suit. The voluptuous flare of your hips and shapely legs both grab his attention even more than the bright candy apple red fabric of the suit. He turns abruptly, about to act as though he’s needed in the stock room when your voice sounds out, embarrassed.

“Hoseok?”

“Yeah?” His voice cracks a little, suddenly flustered, and he covers it best he can with a low cough. “What’s up?”

“I’m really sorry but,” you avert your eyes as you walk forward. “I think I broke this suit.”

“Huh?” Your exposed skin looks soft in the gentle lighting of the hallway, and somehow the sight of it is loud enough to muffle your confession. “You broke something?”

“It’s the zipper on the top. I was gonna buy it since I broke it. But the suit is, like, a million dollars. Is there...any chance you can give me a friends and family discount?”

“Oh.” He jumps at the chance to go back to being a helpful professional person again. “That’s okay. I’ll just tell my boss that it broke off in handling. We just put those out today.”

Your eyes go round with hope. “I don’t have to buy it?”

“Nah,” he waves away your offer, eyes now glued to his own shoes. “I got it.”

“Really?” Your face lights up beautifully, relief softening your features. “That’s amazing, thank you.”

He watches for a brief moment while you go back into the changing room. Surprisingly—or perhaps unsurprisingly, with the way his day is going—your ass is amazing, if the way the suit stretches in an almost heart over the cheeks. His throat is suddenly very dry and he nearly downs the entire water bottle he keeps near his station. Hoseok is only allowed a few moments of silence to recover.

“Hey, um, do you...do you think you could come here?”

Faltering in his steps, he walks back down the hallway with a rising sense of suspicion. He’s not sure what will come next, but he knows deep in his gut it’ll be odd and possibly enough to get him fired. Still, he stands in front of the door with uncertainty roiling in his belly.

“What’s up?”

“Come in,” is all you say in a muted hiss.

His hand is sweating when he turns the knob leading into the changing room. He tries to open it cautiously, give himself enough time to peer in and give you time to cover anything you don’t want him to see. But you merely yank him in by the collar and shut the door quickly before locking it. At his wide-eyed, nervous expression you quickly move to make things less awkward.

“Sorry,” you toss over your shoulder while testing the door knob. “I know this is weird, but I can’t get the suit off. It’s too tight to pull over my head and the zipper won’t budge no matter how hard I pull on it. Can you...help?”

Hoseok can only nod in response with nerves halting his tongue. He approaches you slowly, making sure nothing he’s doing seems threatening. Or overly enthusiastic. You’re pressed against the door with your back to the exit and it doesn’t take long for him to close the distance between you two. You’re careful to keep your breathing light so as not to draw extra attention to your chest despite the fact that Hoseok is now eyeballing it like its a complicated puzzle.

“I think the only way to get it off is to just brute force the zipper,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

You wet your lips nervously and let out a shaky breath that you pray he’ll ignore.

“You might wanna, um, hold your...” he gestures vaguely at your ample cleavage. “So they don’t fall out if we get the top to open.”

Gingerly you cup your breasts to hold the fabric covering them together like he suggested. Hoseok brushes your fingers when he finally attempts to pull the zipper down for the first time. He mutters a quick apology and tries as best he can not to graze you again with his knuckles as his hand shakes. The other hand is behind his back, tightly fisted in effort to maintain his cool. From your vantage point, you can actually see his hand and the way the veins in his arm flash by looking at the mirror on the changing room wall.

A few more harsh tugs gets the zipper’s sliding body down the chain about halfway, but it’s not enough to get the straps of the suit off your arms.

“Maybe you should use two hands,” you hedge. He nods and holds the sides in one hand and the zipper with the other.

Hoseok lets out a steady breath before pulling the zipper down as hard as he can without ripping the suit. He can maybe fib to his boss about the zipper coming off, but not the top ripping in two. Luckily, the zipper stutters open wide enough for you to be able to slip it off now. The only problem is that you forgot to keep a firm grip on the halves of the top and your breasts almost spill completely out of the top.

You stand there, still holding your top up, and chance a look up at Hoseok. He’s gazing down at your chest but senses your gaze and locks eyes with you then. Something in the air between you changes, shifts, clicks. There’s an electricity that you can practically feel crackling under your skin and you take a step forward without thinking. Hoseok’s eyes fall closed as you approach, lashes fanning out prettily across the apples of his cheeks. Before you can chicken out, you ghost your lips over his slack mouth. It’s only a fleeting moment, but you still feel a jolt of something from the contact that has you letting out a small gasp.

Hoseok leans in to touch his forehead to yours almost as if he’s about to initiate another kiss, but a woman’s voice rings through the changing room area, letting him know that they need him to help his supervisor comb through the main part of the store and reset all the displays. Something about all the normal folders and floor monitors being out on their lunch break.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute. Just trying something on,” he lies.

He peers down at you again with a look that’s more subdued but still smoldering, eyes hooded dreamily, smoothing tingling palms against his work pants. Your cheeks heat up with the intensity of his stare, but you back away. The atmosphere isn’t quite the same after having the tenuous balance disrupted by his coworker. With your back against the door and so much of you still bared to him, you suddenly feel so vulnerable. Part of you is scared because that does something to your insides. Tying them up with excitement.

“I should go,” you sigh as he backs up.

He looks like he wants to say something, but stops himself. He slides back out while you’re collecting your actual clothes. When you finish changing, you shuffle passed Hoseok and purchase the expensive broken bathing suit with a grimace.

A few days later, Hoseok is in the main part of the store replacing some items that were knocked over by a careless customer when a coworker comes over and taps him on the shoulder.

“What’s up, man?”

“There’s a customer here who wants you to start a dressing room for her. She wants a selection of bathing suits, too.”

“Cool,” Hoseok hands the employee the clothes he was dealing with. “She say what size?”

The guy relays the size information to him and with that Hoseok makes his way to the bathing suit section to pick out a variety of styles in the right size. With his arms laden with different pieces, he heads back into the changing room area. It’s empty but that’s not unusual at this day and time. It was the store owner’s idea to make it so there weren’t ever that many employees working a shift at a time to give off a minimalist, unbothered vibe.

“Miss,” he calls out to the customer, looking for a sign of the woman by looking for her feet in the cracks of the stall doors. “I have some pieces for you to try. I’ll be right outside in case you don’t want anything or you want a different color. Or if you want to check out as well. I can ring you up.”

“Thanks,” your voice sounds from behind the final door of the hallway. You push open the door to reveal your face.

Hoseok’s cheeks bloom rosy from behind the tiny mountain of bathing suits he gathered unwittingly for you. A strong wave of deja vu washes over him as he’s taken back to the last time he saw you here. The memory of the (almost) kiss is still fresh in his mind like it was yesterday because, at this point, he’s replayed it in his mind dozens of times. A couple of those replays involved the tissue box and bottle of lotion he keeps by his bed. During those times the moment was stretched out and embellished thanks to his industrious imagination.

“I’ll take some of those,” you say with arms reaching to a portion of the suits. “You said you’d be nearby?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“Good.”

Like a doting assistant, Hoseok leans on the wall outside your stall, eyes pitching across all parts of the room to occupy his thoughts and time. His gaze bounces from the opposite end of the hallway where his post is normally, to the other stalls, to the mirror lining the wall adjacent to him. There he sees his reflection as well as a reflection of all the stalls. Small movement in the mirror catches his eye, a quick flash of skin. With a hesitant look back at your stall, he realizes the door is cracked. Just enough for him to catch a glimpse of bare arm. A sliver of the mirror inside, through which he swears he sees you looking back at him.

He whips his head back to stare down the hallway, biting harshly on his tongue when the rustling of clothes stops and the sound of the door’s hinge gives a prolonged creak.

“Hoseok?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you give me that green one you have there and I’ll give this one back to you?”

“Oh,” he blinks. Surprised but relieved at the fact that you didn’t tear him a new one for being a peeping Tom. “S-sure.”

He looks away as best he can while handing you the suit you asked for before waiting patiently for you to remove and return the first one you tried. He wants to say something to you, ask about the other day and why you left so abruptly. Why you bought the suit that he said he would take care of. But all of that gets dashed away when his eyes wander instinctively back to your stall and the door is now half closed at best.

With the door angled like this, he can see your reflection perfectly from where he’s standing. You’d be naked if it weren’t for the delicate pair of underwear you’re wearing to safely try on the suits according to store policy. Hoseok can’t drag his eyes away from the sight of you examining the hunter green string bikini’s intricate tie system before attempting to put it on. The green bottoms lovingly hug the curves of your hips but leave little to the imagination with the way they’re bunched up. You skim your index fingers under the elastic of the bottoms to snap them back into place and cover more of your ass. He mourns the change in the view briefly before migrating up the slope of your bare back up to the loose strings dangling from the bikini top.

“Can you help me with this,” you give him a pout that he can’t say no to.

Suddenly he’s scrambling into the changing stall to put the clothes he was holding down on the small bench inside. He comes up behind you and recalls the intended weaving before deftly knotting the strings together in the right place. The end result is a pretty lattice pattern that contrasts with the simple triangles covering your breasts in the front. You test the support and bounce a little, cupping your chest lightly before letting out a pleased hum at Hoseok’s handiwork.

“What do you think?”

He gulps. “It’s, uh, it’s nice.”

“Just nice?” Your voice comes off as coy. You know you look better than nice, but inside you’re fighting the urge to gnaw at your lip self-consciously.

You knew that you were making a big gamble the moment you decided to request Hoseok as your personal shopper not even an hour ago. But ever since you rushed out of the shop a few days prior, the only thing you could think about was Hoseok. Hoseok and the way he looked at you. The way his palms trembled subtly as he reached for you that other day in the stall. The need was palpable and radiated from him like summer heat off dark concrete. It had been a long time since something like this made your breath hitch, and this was the mere memory alone. The memory itself was simultaneously addicting and not enough. So here you are, acting like you were filming a bad porno so you could chase that fleeting moment from last time. His supervisor wouldn’t be able to get you to back down this time even if she was banging on the stall door.

“I like it,” he mumbles quietly after some time.

“Me too. I’ll take it.” Your eyes meet his in the mirror and you watch his expression carefully. “Help me take it off?”

His mouth drops open just a bit. It’s such a small gesture that you might have missed if every instinct in you wasn’t curled tight with giddy lust. His fingers are feather-light against the skin of your back as he loosens the binds he just did. All the while his gaze never leaves yours in the mirror. Almost as if he’s trying to communicate with you. You give a miniscule nod and then he’s giving the final tug.

The bikini top slithers down your front into a cool, smooth pile of ribbon at your feet. You’re bare like the other day, but your back is almost proudly straight this time and you fall back against him easily.

His hand comes up to lay on your shoulder. The weight is bureaucratic and safe enough that for a second you’re expecting a rebuff.

“Are you sure you wanna do this here?” The tip of his nose skims gently near your temple. Your breath hitches in anticipation. “Because once you say the word, we’re doing this. And I’m not closing that fucking door. I wanna see you backup all that strutting around you’ve been doing.”

You nod again. A shaky breath leaves you and you reach a hand back to creep up his front, fingers grazing collar and tugging needy. He takes a few steps forward, forcing you to stumble forward as well, before placing both hands on your hips. His hands push into the plush skin exposed there as if to test your solidness. The grip is warm and firm as he pushes your hips out until you have to lean forward and brace both hands on the full-length mirror on the changing room wall for balance.

“I don’t want you looking around all distracted at the door. Only look in the mirror. I want you to watch yourself and watch me with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh.

With that, he tugs down the bikini bottoms to reveal the underwear you had underneath. While you step out of the swimsuit bottoms and kick them to the side, he slides his hand down the front of your panties. The pads of his fingers part your folds easily with no resistance thanks to the copious amount of arousal already there.

“I’ve been thinking about how the other day would have played out if I never left for two days now,” you explain.

“You been touching yourself to it?”

“Yes,” your breath hitches when he swipes over your clit roughly.

“Me too.”

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck. The sweetness of the gesture contrasts starkly with the obscene wet noises coming from where he plays with your wet center. It's not loud enough to compete with the music playing through the store. And definitely not enough to grab anyone’s if they were seated at Hoseok’s post at the end of the hallway. But you still have to fight the instinct to look back at the half open door of the changing stall to make sure no one will catch you.

“You paying attention?”

Your eyes refocus on the reflection in the mirror and zero in on the way Hoseok’s hand barely fits in your underwear. Still, his middle and ring fingers are obscured by the front of your underwear and all you can really see is the way his hand movements speed up. A second later the tightness of the figure eights he rubs into you registers in your core and the wave of pleasure that hits has your knees buckling slightly. Luckily you’re already holding onto something—the mirror.

The slick noises coming from your center get louder as more arousal leaks onto Hoseok’s rapidly moving fingers. In the mirror, you can see that his brow is furrowed in concentration, or perhaps subtly dialed back lust. Meanwhile, his mouth hangs open slightly in silent, sympathetic moans. He must sense your gaze on his face because he looks up then and locks eyes with you in the mirror.

“It feels good,” you whine out the last syllable when he flirts with your entrance for the first time. Already, you’re clenching around a phantom something, eager for things to speed up.

“That’s good.”

His response sounds nonchalant, but you can feel his hardness nudging against your ass if you push back enough. He’s careful to keep it away from you, though, so he can focus on you. It’s not exactly attention that you’re used to after so many years with your ex, but you welcome it all the same. Hoseok is attentive and competitive in the way that he seeks the things that accidentally draw moans from your parted lips. Soon enough, your arms are shaking from a combination of the effort of holding yourself up against the mirror and your first orgasm’s approach.

Hoseok is now grinding the heel of his other palm into your clit, fingertips pistoning against one spongy area of your walls after seeing the way you had you stuttering and your hands sliding a bit against the glass. The first hand wandered up your torso some time ago. He meandered a path along the soft valley of your stomach before coming to cup your breast. With your arousal still shining dully on his fingers, he tweaks your nipple until it draws up and out. Testing various pressures and grips, he finds a perfect rhythm of rolling and pinching that makes you clench around his other hand. His fingers are elegant and long, but not quite thick enough even in a pair. It drives you slightly crazy and you instinctively push your hips back to grind harder against him, mewling shamelessly.

“Please,” your plea comes out crumpled from in between ragged breaths. “I want you.”

“Hmm?” The sharp curl of Hoseok’s smile appears in the mirror. It matches the mean humor that sneaks in to his cooing tone. “You wanna be full?

You nod, cheeks warming from the begging. “I want your dick.”

“Someone’s greedy,” he pulls his fingers out, marveling at the squelching sound the motion makes. “Don’t want to get off on just fingers, huh? You wanna be stuffed full in the middle of this changing room where anyone could walk in and see you.”

You can only moan in affirmation as Hoseok finally tugs down his own bottoms and kicks them to the side. Your eyes take in his muscled legs, landing appreciatively on the line on his thighs where his tan stops and his shorts must have protected his skin from the sun one day. Hoseok spins the two of you then, while you’re lost in thought about how one of his thighs would feel between yours.

With your back against the wall, Hoseok nods to himself like he’s satisfied with his work and begins laying soft, wet kisses against the skin of your throat. He pulls back only to slowly peel off his work shirt, teasing you with the slow exposure of his equally toned torso. You have a nice view of the way back muscles flex under smooth skin now that he’s facing away from the mirror.

“Watch yourself carefully this time,” he warns you with a hand on your chin to direct your gaze to his momentarily.

When he’s sure you’re watching your reflection obediently, he returns to your breasts. He really does think they’re a work of art. So he recites a soundless sonnet to them, tongue flitting against each twin peak with ardor. Your skin becomes almost blotchy in the heat of your moment. Heeding Hoseok’s words, you take in your appearance.

With a heaving chest and parted lips, you look wanton to say the least. Your eyes are at half mast and fighting against the pleasure Hoseok’s plucking fingers bring. Then you see him reaching down to grasp himself before turning to smirk at the mirror, almost as if he’s giving another audience you weren’t aware of, a show.

There’s not much warning. There’s only the gentle nudge of his knees tapping your already lax ones apart before he’s hitching one of your legs over his slender hips. In his grasp, the head of his erection runs along the length of your center. He’s hot and swollen against you, smearing precum on your folds on his journey to your entrance.

“You’re so wet,” he bites out with the same soft incredulity as a curse. His head pops up so he can pin you with a pleading look, almost like he can’t believe you’re you. “What if someone saw you like this? All spread open and dripping for me.”

“Maybe I—ah—wouldn’t mind.” You watch your own hand come up to thread through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. You tug gently on it like its a lifeline as he lines himself up, excitement bubbling up in your stomach. “Mmh, fuck.”

He takes his time bottoming out to make sure you have time to see your expression evolve as you encounter every ridge and swell of him. The stretch has your eyes rolling back, but you don’t let yourself close them. Instead you take in the way your breasts bounce now that Hoseok has begun pumping into you experimentally. The force of his thrusts causes the walls of the changing stall to rattle loudly and for a fraction of a second you worry someone—a customer or another employee seeking assistance with something—might hear the noise and try to see what the source was.

But then your leg is lifted a bit higher and the angle changes. Suddenly he’s going deeper, stretching you slightly more, all the while your clit is bombarded with the brush of his pelvis with every stroke. The leg you have on the ground shakes from the intense bolt of pleasure and you let out a desperate moan.

“Hoseok, oh my god, I’m—you feel so good,” you do the best you can to keep your voice low.

“I can’t hear you. Louder.”

“I said you feel good.”

“Where?”

“In-inside me. I can feel all of you and I’m so...you stretch me out so good,” you pant out.

“Are you close?” His teeth are gritted with the effort it takes to push back his own oncoming orgasm. “Shit.”

“Yeah, I just need—”

Before you can finish, Hoseok is tapping lightly on your lips, pulling the bottom one from between your teeth. You open up and take his thumb and suck it. Once he’s sure its wet enough, he lingers for a few beats to enjoy the feeling of your tongue lapping at him. Then he’s collecting his hand back with a pop and snakes it down between your two writhing bodies. The effect of his spit-slick finger against your clit while he continues to plow into you is instant. It’s just the thing you needed to really kick things into overdrive. Soon you’re chasing the glorious feeling by bringing him in impossibly closer with two hands on his petite ass and by flexing the thigh you had holding his hips in place. In this position, he’s too constricted to really move in and out, so he adapts and begins a rough, circular grind.

The moans you let out are high and breathy, inappropriately loud, and your eyes dart back to your reflection just in time to see your pornographic expression. Hoseok seems to enjoy it too as he leans in to nuzzle at your forehead before cupping your face in one hand and bringing you in to kiss you sweetly. You’re not sure how he manages to make sweet the amount of tongue he’s using, but it works and you sigh dreamily against his lips.

Your orgasm surges through you again when he surprises you and sucks on your tongue. He pulls back then and watches with awe coloring his face. Or perhaps it's the fluorescents and the light sheen of sweat. Either way, the sight of you has him pulsing inside your already convulsing walls. With quick reflexes, he’s pulling out and replacing his dick with three fingers. He strokes himself—slowly to stay hard but not to bring himself to climax just yet—and watches you come down from your high.

When you’re done, you let your leg flop down from its perch on his hip bone. You’re a little wobbly from holding the pose for so long and you fall to your feet gracelessly, not thinking about how disgusting the floors may be. It’s then that you’re able to really look at Hoseok’s dick for the first time when you’re basically at eye level with it.

“Where do you wanna come?” Your eyes look impossibly large from where he’s standing and for a moment he almost answers ‘your face’ before your cleavage grabs his attention.

He mumbles then, ducking his head as his cheeks flush prettily.

“What?”

“...On your tits,” he gulps, not sure of your response.

You merely cross your arms under your breasts to lift them. A disbelieving little laugh leaves him before he’s kneeling down in front of you. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s better than it was when he was standing. He reaches out then and rubs fondly at the area where your shoulder and neck meet with one hand while pumping himself with the other.

It doesn’t take long. Hoseok’s been rock hard since he realized the changing room door wasn’t closed and the fact that you just agreed to let him come on your boobs almost made him swallow his tongue. They’re really something, he thinks to himself. They look soft and he knows if he stuck his face in between them, they’d smell good too if your perfume from the other day when you walked by him is any indication. They’re the perfect size, too. His hips stutter in their rhythm as he thinks about all the other things he could be doing to them. He could be fucking them while you hold them for him. Or, If you let him, he’d spend hours just lapping at them until they were sensitive enough to have you squealing under him. He bites down on his tongue and speeds up his strokes while imagining nipping at you, sucking bruises into the warm skin of your chest.

“I’m—now,” he chokes out before spilling over your breasts. His eyes closed momentarily when the high first hit him, but he opens them quickly enough to see one of the last spurts shoot out and paint a nipple white. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

He collapses into his own pile of exhausted limbs in front of you and grabs at the boxers he was wearing earlier. Like a switch has been flipped, the environment changes. It’s not exactly awkward but everything feels fragile and tentative all of the sudden.

Leaning forward, his wipes the remnants of his release off your chest. The two of you make shy eye contact a few times while he’s in your personal space. He hesitates a bit before leaning closer to slot his lips over yours. The kiss is heated, but not overly passionate. A simmer. Soon he’s wiping his hands before tossing away the soiled underwear and gingerly cupping your face in both his warm hands. He kisses you so thoroughly, so well that you end up unconsciously chasing his lips once he pulls away.

“Good?” He chuckles when you finally open your eyes. You’re not sure when you closed them.

“It was alright,” you sniff. “But I think you might have to do that again some time, ‘cause I’m not 100% sure.” He grins and swipes a thumb over your cheek.

“Name a time and a place and I’m there.”

“What about Saturday at 2,” you blurt out.

“Oh, uh, that’s very specific—”

“Sorry! I’ve been meaning to ask you if you wanted to go to this...thing with me. It’s a party at my ex’s house and I thought it might be less painful if,” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed at your speediness. You don’t even know if Hoseok wants anything more than hookups and here you are asking him to be your plus one to a pool party.

“It’s specific, but I’m free. Should I bring my swimsuit?” Your answering smile is infectious and he can’t help but kiss at it briefly.

“Of course. I’m bringing mine,” you mumble between his lips. “I gotta pay for it first.”

“You’re really wearing the green one?”

“Yeah. It’s my color and it makes my boobs look nice.”

“True,” he nods seriously. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and I’ll ring you up.”

While you’re clothed and at the register, you fight to ignore the knowing stares of a few of the other people working on the floor. Hoseok seems unphased by their looks and actually seems to be glowing. He hums and smiles to himself while carefully folding and wrapping your bathing suit in some tissue paper. When he turns the little monitor around for your to pay with your card, he’s still humming to himself.

“I get off for the day in half and hour,” he blurts out while you sign for the bathing suit.

“Is that so,” you humor him and raise an intrigued looking eyebrow.

“Yeah, so, uh...” The girl who’s behind the counter with Hoseok and had been collecting hangers snorts to herself at Hoseok’s sudden shy disposition. “If you’re gonna be around, I can show you the best place to eat in the food court. If you’re hungry, I mean.”

You pretend to mull it over while putting your card back in your wallet. “Alright. But I don’t eat mall pizza.”

“Hoseok,” you hiss as he presses himself against your backside while you search your ex’s kitchen for more plastic cups. “Someone will see us.”

“I don’t care,” he grinds against you, displacing your bottoms enough to expose the entire left globe of your ass. “I hope someone does. I hope he does.”

You turn around then, hoping to disrupt his fun, but he just brings both his hands to cup your breasts. The little green triangles do little to protect your modesty and, if anything, made his hands itch even more to touch you. He squeezes them in his hands, and when you don’t say anything, he pushes the material up and over them. Like he expected, your nipples are hard and have been since he started eye-fucking you earlier from across the pool.

“You’re insane,” you gasp. Partly because you’re functionally topless when any one of the partygoers, including your friends, could come around the corner in search of ice. And partly because Hoseok has latched onto one of your breasts and is now suckling at one nipple. “It’s like you—oh—want to get caught.”

He pulls off just long enough to speak. “Why should I care if anyone sees me making you feel good.”

“You know, in hindsight, I should have realized you have a thing about public sex.”

“You really should have. I gave you all the signs.” He has enough manners to shift so he’s covering you should anyone walk into the kitchen. His hand slides into your bathing suit bottoms, fingers immediately getting coated with your slick. “But it feels like you might be a little exhibitionist yourself.”

The sound of Monica and Irene laughing in the next room has your whole body tensing up with nerves, but it also has you sucking his fingers deeper into your center. Footsteps of more people who probably want a break from the sun enter the room, some sounding dangerously close.

“Oh god,” your head falls forward onto his shoulder as the wet sounds of your pussy get louder as he massages your clit. “Hoseok, we’re gonna get kicked out.”

“Not if you’re quiet.” He starts kissing your cheek, making a path to your mouth. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

#bscproject #btssmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #bttnetwork #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenario #bts imagines #hoseok imagine #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic

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westfivestory · 5 years

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This month has been interesting, I was hoping, and I do mean hoping, fingers crossed and everything, that this weather would let up, and some days it did, but quickly reverted back to the depths of hell cold whenever it got the chance. I for one am sick of the weather. I watch my cat for weather changes a lot of the time. We have one that as soon as fall takes a turn she packs on the weight, this year she didn’t as much and it stayed fairly mild, at least up until New Years, clearly her weather vane is not functioning at optimal levels.

Mikayla is finally sleeping better for the most part, the medication the doctor put her on did work for the time she was on it, and upon the end of the prescription her sleep was interrupted again, since then we attempted a few other things since she couldn’t remain on the meds. Physio was one of those things. It is helping with the pulling in her leg, for the most part, but there is still the combination of pillow propping under her knees, under her feet and of course fluffing her pillow under her head. These key ingredients along with her trusty massage pad under her legs is an absolute must. Or we are back to utter exhaustion. Oh and even though she is sleeping better, I have apparently trained myself to wake up at the allotted times that I was getting up with her. Lucky me. So most nights I wake myself up, somehow, at 3:30, 5 and 6 and then at 6:30 the alarm starts and I hit snooze for the next 30 minutes or so just to feel like I can function.

Mikayla and I had read You. Great book by the way if you are looking for something to get completely lost in. Now its a Netflix show. So it became a bit of an obsession. We watched it together, and discussed it, fully analyzing all aspects and differences between the book and the series. There were a few. But all in all, both are great and very easy to lose yourself in if you need an escape.

Mikayla listens to her Spotify most mornings and evenings as we are getting ready for work and school and making supper in the evenings. One evening in particular, she was singing along to something and out of nowhere Parish piped up, “We get it Mikayla, you can sing”, I laughed. She sounded so much like her great grandma that of course they never met. The comment instantly reminded me of the time I was shopping with my grandparents and my grandpa was singing and humming under his breath, but loudly enough that you could hear him. My grandma marched up to him, coughed to get his attention and said, “Art, the talent scout has left the building.” For a moment, it didn’t register and he continued on, until it did and he kind of cleared his throat, coughed and shuffled on.

The washing machine broke down. My Maytag Maxima front load. I have had it for I think 12 years, I could be wrong, but anyway the constant error code E01 and F09 kept coming up and it wouldn’t drain at all. So frustrating. I have fixed this issue once before without warranty and for the cost could likely have paid for 3/4 of a new machine. Not doing that again. Anyway, I weighed the options out there and discussed with friends, co-workers and family. After shopping around I finally purchased a new washer from Leon’s. M took me there with her truck so if we could take it immediately at least we had a way to get it. Luckily, they had it in stock. We took it then and her and my neighbor came and helped install it. We couldn’t get the hoses unattached from the old machine so T came over with a wrench. I have minimal tools.

What I settled on?

Another Maytag, top load, still the commercial technology that the front load had, but I am actually really happy with this so far. I’m hoping that my happiness will continue and I won’t see an error code for a very long time, if ever…fingers crossed.

Gunnar turned 7. My little guy is getting so grown up.

For his birthday, as usual I took the day off and pulled him out of school. After dropping Juno off for a spa day to deshed, bathe and trim her nails, we were off to Winnipeg.

We went to Crock-a-Doodle. I was a little nervous about taking him there since he is a 7 year old boy, is he going to have any interest in choosing and painting a ceramic piece. Clearly I had no reason to worry, he absolutely loved it. We worked on one piece together, a wolf.

He wasn’t too happy that he had to leave it there to be fired, but he was happy he would be bringing it home on Sunday.

From there we went to Za Pizza Bistro for lunch and we shared a pizza, he chose his toppings for his half and I chose mine for the other half. Together we finished the whole pizza.

The one thing he wanted to do for his birthday was go to the Walmart Mall, so off to St Vital we went. There we ended up with a new video game for him and he tried out the Magic 9D place, he wasn’t overly thrilled with it. I guess he isn’t into VR like his brother.

Later that week I ran an event at work where he got to volunteer, he was in his glory getting to have his picture taken and have it printed for him to take home, honestly with that and airbrush tattoos, what could be better.

We came home from this event to the cat having broken into the turtle cage. O’Malley broke in, not to free the turtle, but to eat it. She dragged it out into the living room and thankfully we were able to rescue it and aside from a scratch it was fine. At least for that time.

Fast forward five days.

Amid some house cleaning, the battery charger and battery that we had placed on top of the cage to prevent the cat from breaking in, had been removed and put away, with of course the best of intentions. I didn’t notice until it was too late. The cat broke in to the cage overnight. It has now been a little over a week and there have been no signs or smells of the poor turtle. We think she ate the little guy, shell and all.

That same day, I came home from work and after making supper I proceeded downstairs to do a load of laundry. Half way down the stairs my foot slipped on the carpet and I went down the last half. I think I missed everything until I landed on the last step. Avoided injury to my tailbone and mildly bruised my butt, definitely not the end of the world there, but I did jam my fingers into the bottom step as I landed. A trip to the hospital confirmed that thankfully they are only sprained, so aside from discomfort assisting Mikayla and shaking hands with people I should live. In case I need support, they did tape them up for me, and of course Gunnar and Parish kept me company while waiting at the hospital.

I must have some kind of talent, really, who falls down the stairs and instead of the typical injury of tail bone etc., jams and sprains their fingers. So weird.

Driving back into Landmark after leaving the hospital, we narrowly avoided a collision. To the person who clearly has no idea about the right of way or the fact that there is not a four-way stop at the 206 and 210 intersection where you turned in front of me on to arena road, you are lucky the road wasn’t sheer ice and I was able to slam on the brakes and barely avoid t-boning your piece of shit car. I wanted to follow you home and knock you out for putting my family at risk. Maybe, think next time, since due to quick enough reflexes we are all still here to reminisce.

Next morning, as I am getting ready for work I push the button on my key fob to start my car…nothing. Its attempting, slightly, but nothing. I take the van and head over to Freedom Foods, maybe the battery in the key fob is dead. So back home, I replace the battery and try again. Nope that is not the issue. So I call Giesbrecht Mechanical. A says “can you look under the hood?” Um no, I can’t even get into the car. Then he informs me, there is a slide button on my key fob which releases an actual key. I had no clue, yes I am blonde and did wonder why I had a key hole in the door but never received a key. Oh well, live and learn. So now I can get into the car and pop the hood, but I still have nothing. So he comes over and boosts it, it starts instantly and as I go to leave I realize the reason for the car not starting. When we got home the night before, the passenger door was accidentally not fully closed and the light being on drained the battery. At least it was just a simple mistake and not another repair.

With all that goes on in our lives, its nice to get out once in awhile. I took Mikayla and J to Lorette Bar for a Karaoke Night. They had never been and even though we didn’t sing, they enjoyed themselves. They hung out with friends and I played pool for a bit while we listened to other people sing. There was a boy that was of interest. So unfortunately instead of going and talking to him, the decision was made to send the drunkest of the group to talk to him. I was playing pool against him. He came back to the pool table and just said “I was asked if I was single or gay” cause clearly those are the only options. Girls…I don’t even know what to say.

The next outing brought with it a little more culture. First we sampled some Italian cuisine at Olive Garden and from there, myself, Mikayla, J and her mom attended the Three Penny Opera production at The West End Cultural Centre.

It was interesting. The reason we went was because the cast was not entirely, but a fair portion, disabled in some degree. There were ASL interpreters in the audience to accommodate guests and a couple of the cast members were also deaf. It was a good evening.

The next day F came over for a second play date in a couple of days. This was a rematch. The first didn’t go so well as Gunnar decided to play a single player game with his friend but monopolized the controller and failed to give him a turn. So this time, they selected a two player game, Disney Infinity and his friend brought over some of his characters. They both seemed to have a much better time.

The weather accompanying the play date was awful. So cold and so windy. We got a little more snow on the driveway but no drifting due to all of the trees and direction of the wind. So clearing the driveway at home was easy. Getting into work the next morning was a different story. The parking lot was layered in drifts, I made it through, parked and plugged in before I went to assist my boss, who wasn’t so lucky. He was really stuck in the middle of the entrance drive. It took myself driving, and him and R pushing, after shoveling, to get him unstuck. It was amusing since just a week or so before him and J were discussing how Subarus are such great vehicles and can get through anything. Clearly we all have limits.

Tonight we attempted to Chase the Ace. I didn’t win and apparently it is still up for grabs. The pot is over $11,000. Guess next week the place will be packed again as people sit down to see how lucky they are. This was my first time playing. I can say hanging out and seeing some old friends is far more interesting than playing my ticket. It was nice to catch up, one friend I ran into I hadn’t seen in about 15-16 years. Time sure flies.

February 2019 This month has been interesting, I was hoping, and I do mean hoping, fingers crossed and everything, that this weather would let up, and some days it did, but quickly reverted back to the depths of hell cold whenever it got the chance.

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