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kookiesjoonies · 4 years

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rule breaker — jhs | part ten.

rule breaker | part ten: ramen & froyo.

a/n: this chapter is quite a few days late, but i literally had the worst case of writer’s block of my LIFE. i started this chapter, n then completely scrapped it. and i’m glad i did, bc the first draft was SHIT. LMAO. anyway, come talk to me abt hoseok n yn please. i want to hear your thoughts. especiallyyyy after this chapter! thank u all for reading! xo

main pairing: choreographer!hoseok x idol!reader

side ships: vmin, namkook

word count: 5.1k

warnings: fluff, angst, wet dream (dunno if that qualifies as a warning, but uhhh just in case lmaodskjd), masturbation, squirting

— SERIES SUMMARY

your career as an idol comes first, end of discussion. and to make sure that you stay on track, you implement two foolproof rules to abide by:

rule #1: no distractions. rule #2: no mixing business with pleasure.

and those rules seem simple enough to follow. that is, until you develop a crush on your new choreographer.

Dance practice was over and you felt like you’d just run a marathon. No, wait, scratch that. You felt like you’d run five marathons. Dancing with Hoseok was no joke. He always pushed you to work harder, to do better. And any time you were convinced you couldn’t perfect a move, he’d encourage you and offer you a thousand reasons as to why you could.

Both of you were drenched in sweat. Your grey crop top soaked and dark in certain areas, perhaps revealing a bit too much of what was underneath. Hoseok’s hair was sticky and wet against his forehead, and he’d pushed it back since practice ended.

You’d have been stupid to ignore just how attractive such a simple gesture made him look. Still, you tried your hardest to push such thoughts out of your mind. You shouldn’t be thinking of him in such a way. But you blamed it on the sensual dance routine that you’d just completed with him.

Jimin was just supposed to be late to practice, but he ended up having to skip it all together. Which meant that every single sexy move you were supposed to do with your best friend, you’d done with Hoseok instead.

At first, it was awkward. You didn’t know where to put your hands, and he was hesitant to put his on your body as well. Eventually though, the two of you relaxed into one another. The feeling of his fingertips on the bare skin of your hips was exhilarating, as well as the feeling of his length being pressed against your ass while you pushed back against him.

The way that he watched you in the mirror, the way way his pupils had clearly dilated, sent immediate relief washing over you. You weren’t the only one affected by the routine the two of you were performing. But at the end of the day, it was just that. A performance.

And that’s what you’d keep telling yourself, even if deep down, you didn’t believe it even for a second.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Hoseok began, lifting the bottom of his muscle tank top up to his face to wipe the beads of sweat trickling down, “but I worked up quite the appetite.”

Your eyes shot down to admire his perfectly sculpted abs that were practically begging for your touch, your tongue poking out to wet your lips at the delicious sight.

“Y/n?” Hoseok was speaking again, this time albeit a little louder, which snapped you out of your trance.

Embarrassed, your neck straightened up so that you could now look at the man towering above you face to face. And you willed your cheeks not to turn red, hoping and praying that he didn’t catch you checking him out.

“Huh?” That was all you could muster up, unsure of what he’d even said to begin with.

To your surprise, he offered you a chuckle in response.

“I said I was hungry. You want to go grab lunch?”

The two of you’d never hung out outside of the studio before, so you were a little taken aback by his suggestion.

He could sense your hesitation, and he stuttered as he tried to play it off nonchalantly.

“Or, uhm— we don’t—, we don’t have to. I just figured—“

You cut him off, a small smile creeping it’s way onto your face. He really was adorable when he rambled.

“Hobi, we can get lunch. I just wish I didn’t have to go out in public looking so gross.” You were half joking, half serious.

Your hair felt greasy, you weren’t wearing any makeup, and your athletic clothes were sweaty and sticky. So, you were definitely not fit to be seen in public at the moment.

“You don’t look gross.” Hoseok was quick to reassure you, matching your smile with a wide one of his own.

“No?” You asked, wanting him to compliment you one more time. Even though, you weren’t sure why you wanted him to do so so badly.

“Nope!” he shook his head, “you look like you’ve been working hard.”

You internally groaned. Not exactly the kind of compliment you were hoping for, but it would do, you supposed.

“In that case, did you have a place in mind for lunch? Or..?”

“There’s this place down the street that has the best cooked ramen!” you found it adorable, the way he was so enthusiastic even while talking about food, “Is that okay? I mean— do, uhm— do you like ramen?”

A tiny giggle left your mouth before you could stop it, and you offered him a quick nod of your head.

“I love ramen.”

“Great!” he grinned, “let’s go then!”

Turns out, Hoseok was right. This place did have the best ramen. You were sure you could slurp up at least ten bowls of it.

Your choreographer was sitting across from you at the small round table. The place was quaint, small, and yet surprisingly busy. Various K-Pop songs boomed through the speakers overhead, and the hustle and bustle of the restaurant workers never seemed to cease. The sound of the other diners mumbling bounced off of the walls, and the aroma of the foods being cooked in the kitchen were to die for.

“So,” Hoseok spoke up after practically inhaling a few bites of his ramen, “do you like the place?”

You didn’t hesitate in answering, “Yes! I can’t believe it’s been so close to the studio for so long and I never knew about it.”

“You’re welcome.” He winked at you, a playful gesture that for some reason, had your heart doing flips in your chest.

You gathered a small bunch of noodles with your chopsticks, bringing them up to shove the food into your mouth.

“Aren’t you nervous people will recognize you?” Hoseok questioned, taking a sip of the soda that was sitting beside of his bowl.

You shrugged, chewing and swallowing the bite you’d just taken before answering him.

“It’s just part of the gig, you know?”

“No,” he admitted, “I don’t know. How do you do it? How do you deal with people constantly invading your privacy?”

“It’s not easy,” you answered honestly, “but I’ve been doing it for almost six years now, so. I’d like to think I’ve gotten used to it.”

“You handle it well. The way you carry yourself, even with all of the pressure you’re under, it’s admirable. And the fact that you’re so— so kind, so down to earth, even with the millions of fans you have.. it’s amazing, really.”

His series of seemingly never ending compliments were successful in creating flutters in your stomach. You were sure your cheeks and the tips of your ears were tinted pink, and your spine tingled as you happily took in every single one of his words.

“Hobi,” you couldn’t hide the grin that was now plastered across your face, “you’re too sweet.”

This time, it was Hoseok’s turn to blush. You’d said something so simple, yet it had the apples of his cheeks tinged red. He’d hoped you hadn’t noticed. But you did, which only made you want to continue your compliments further. If it meant seeing him like that, all flustered and shy, you’d compliment him twenty four hours, seven days a week.

Even if, technically, you shouldn’t be trying to make him blush. But at that exact moment, you couldn’t be bothered to give a single fuck.

“I mean it,” you continued, swirling the few remaining noodles around in the bowl below you, “you’re so kind to me, always. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

He glanced away from you then, turning his attention to watch the waiters walk in and out of the kitchen. You didn’t miss the dark shade of red that had taken over his entire face. And yeah, you found it undeniably adorable.

Before you could say anything else to him, a familiar sounding song blared from the sound system above you. You couldn’t help but to laugh, shaking your head as you listened to the low beat of take me.

Hoseok faced you again, a smirk present as his ears perked up to listen.

“Hey, that sounds kind of familiar.”

“Never heard this song before in my life.”

You kept a straight face, for the most part. But Hoseok didn’t miss the glimmer of playfulness in your eyes.

“Ahh,” he decided to play along, finishing up the last few bites of his meal, “a shame you haven’t heard it. The artist who sings it, she’s truly something special. Insanely talented, an incredible dancer.”

“Maybe she’s just an ‘incredible dancer’ because she has such a good teacher.”

“Nope!” he was quick to shut you down, “she’s talented because she’s hardworking and she never settles for anything but the best.”

If you didn’t know better, you could’ve sworn he was flirting with you. And maybe he was. Or, maybe you just wanted him to be? But then, why did you want him to be? Your brain was scrambled, too many thoughts running a million miles a minute.

The sound of footsteps approaching your table pulled you out of your own head, and standing before you was a tall, lean yet muscular man with dark hair. He had a freckle just under his bottom lip, which you were quick to note was quite cute. You assumed he was a fan, but as soon as he addressed the man sitting in front of you as Hobi, you quickly realized he was here for him and not you.

“Here’s that movie you wanted to borrow.” The younger boy handed a disk over to his friend, and you watched the exchange curiously.

“Ahhh! Thank you, Jungkookie! I’ve been wanting to see this for ages!” Hoseok quickly stuffed the film into his bag at his feet.

“Hmm,” you observed, tapping your manicured nails on the top of the table, “Jungkook, I presume?”

He seemed shock at the mention of his name. Or rather, at the sound of familiarity laced in your tone.

“Uhm, yeah..?” he cocked an eyebrow, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Your attention turned to Hoseok, and you pointed a finger at Jungkook.

“Is he the one who thinks I’m a diva?”

Hoseok had a mouthful of soda, and damn near did a spit take at your obvious call out.

“You told her?!” Jungkook slapped his hyung’s shoulder, and you watched as Hoseok soothed the abused spot with his hand.

“It just slipped!” The older male was quick to defend himself, and you couldn’t help but to laugh at the whole ordeal.

“Guys,” you said, “it’s fine! Jungkook, I’m sorry that you think I’m a diva. I’d like to think I’m not, but your own opinions can’t be helped.”

“She is not a diva, I promise. She’s anything but.”

You couldn’t help but to smile wide at the sound of Hoseok defending your name.

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Ahhh, I shouldn’t be so quick to judge, or to assume. I don’t even know you. I apologize.”

He bowed in front of you, and you waved him off.

“I promise, it’s fine,” you assured him, “I accept your apology. Any friend of Hoseok’s is a friend of mine.”

He sighed, relieved.

“In that case, could you get Jimin’s autograph for me? I’m like, his biggest fan.”

Hoseok groaned before bringing the palm of his hand up and dragging it down his face. You just laughed, nodding your head once in response.

“I’ll see what I can do. You should come by the studio with Hobi sometime, you’ll probably run into Jimin there.”

“Really?!” He lit up like a kid in a candy store, and it seemed as though his older friend had had enough.

“Okay!” Hoseok said, shooing Jungkook away from the table, “You’ve fulfilled your purpose of dropping off the movie. Thank you!”

“Awww, but hyung!” Jungkook pouted, “I was hoping I could join the two of you, and you know, tell her a secret of yours since you told her one of mine.”

You perked up in your seat, gaze shifting to Hoseok as you eyed him curiously.

“What secret?” You asked, hearing Jungkook snicker to your side.

“Ignore him.” Hoseok groaned.

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave,” Jungkook held his hands up in front of him in defeat, “but you should tell her, is all I’m saying.”

“Tell me what?” You asked, intrigued and confused all at the same time.

Hoseok shook his head.

“Nothing, he’s just an idiot,” he insisted, laughing the entire situation off, “we should uhm— grab froyo after this, if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“Ugh, the key to my heart.”

He smiled at your immediate acceptance, flagging your waiter down and digging in his pocket for his wallet.

You did the same, unzipping your purse to retrieve your credit card.

“No, no, Y/n. I got it! My treat.”

“Hoseok, I can’t let you—“

Before you could argue further, the waiter was walking away with Hoseok’s money. He was unbelievable.

He paid for froyo, too. Despite your arguing.

The two of you were walking along the river, enjoying your cups of frozen treats. It was spring, nearly summer, so the weather was just right. The sun was shining beautifully on the water beside you, not a cloud to be found in the sky. It truly was a beautiful day.

“It doesn’t shock me that your favorite color is yellow.” You started, dipping your spoon into your birthday cake flavored yogurt.

“Why not?” Hoseok retorted, bringing a spoonful of his own dessert up and to his lips.

“Because it’s a bright, happy color. And you are a bright, happy person.”

He flashed you that big, toothy grin that you’d grown to adore so much.

“Alright then, what’s your favorite color?”

“Red.” You answered without hesitation.

He shook his head, quiet laughter exuding from his throat.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he insisted, “red just matches your personality perfectly.”

You cocked a brow, licking a bite of froyo from the spoon.

“How do you figure?”

“You’re full of fire, full of passion. A force to be reckoned with, you go head first into everything that you do and you don’t stop until you’ve achieved your goal.”

“You got all of that from the color red?”

“Mhm.” He just nodded at you, his smile never once faltering. Your damn heart was doing the flipping thing again and you feared it would leap right out of your chest if he looked at you like that for a second longer.

“Okay,” you said, dipping your spoon into the bowl, “you have to try this. It’s so good.”

You lifted the plastic utensil up to his mouth, and he only hesitated for a moment for allowing the sensation of birthday cake flavor to flood his taste buds. His eyes lit up, and his tone was enthusiastic.

“Mmm! That is good! I’m not usually a giant fan of cake flavored things, but I’d eat that.”

You fake gasped, bringing your free hand over your chest.

“How dare you! Birthday cake is the best flavor!”

“Pffft, no way!” he was quick to shut you down, gulping down another bite of his own treat, “brownie batter is. Here, you try.”

He was bringing his spoon up to your lips in an instant, and you poked your tongue out to give it a test lick. Usually, chocolate flavored ice cream wasn’t your favorite. But this was incredible.

“Aww, man! I like yours better!” You pouted, and Hoseok’s heart sank at the sight.

He knew you were being playful, but still, he couldn’t help himself.

“Here,” he held out his bowl to you, “we can trade.”

You shook your head, refusing the gesture, “I can’t take your food!”

“Yes you can! Please, for me. I want you to enjoy this.” His voice was kind, sincere. How could you say no to that?

“Only if you’re sure.” You said, hesitantly switching your bowl out for his.

“I’m sure.” He smiled at you again, and you felt like you’d been grounded down to the earth once and for all.

You didn’t make it home until the sun was about to set. Having too much fun with Hobi, you decided you could afford to stay out for a bit. He really was wonderful company, he seemed to make even the simplest of things fun. You’d hoped you’d get to hang out with him like that again in the future, the near future, to be exact. It was different than when the two of you were in the studio.

There, you were working. But today, you were out having lunch and enjoying spending casual time together. It felt like it went on forever, yet not nearly as long as you hoped it would last all at the same time.

However, you were happy to finally be in the comfort of your own home. Practice had kicked your ass today, and you were exhausted, grimy, and in desperate need of a shower and a nap.

Taehyung wasn’t home either, so you were home alone and excited by that fact. Very rarely did you ever have time to yourself and yourself alone. Except, you weren’t alone. And you didn’t know that until you walked into your master bedroom and saw Jimin sprawled out on your bed.

He nearly gave you a damn heart attack, had you shrieking like a banshee and clutching your chest.

“Jimin! What the fuck?!”

“It’s your fault for giving me a key.” He was flipping through a magazine, unfazed as ever.

“You could’ve texted me and told me you were coming over!” You scolded, and he just grinned.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I hate you sometimes.”

“Liar.”

You walked further into your room as you rolled your eyes, picking up a pillow and tossing it forcefully at his head.

“Hey!” He whined.

“Why did you show up here unannounced?” You questioned, lying down beside of him on your king sized bed.

“Wanted to see how practice went.” He turned the page, and you peered over his shoulder to see what he was reading. Of course it was a fashion magazine.

“Fine.” You answered simply, and your best friend was shutting the catalog instantly.

“Damn, one syllable is all I get? Must’ve been better than I thought.” His smile was mischievous, and you had half a mind to smack it right off of his face.

“We danced. I learned the routine, and you did not. Which means you’ll have to work extra hard trying to catch up tomorrow.”

He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what you were trying to do.

“Dude, shut up. You know I could learn it in my sleep, and you also know the ‘routine’ isn’t what I’m asking about.”

“Jimin,” you groaned, “don’t start.”

“Was it hot? Did you get off on grinding on Hoseok?” He wiggled his brows, and you flicked his nose with your thumb and middle finger.

“Ow!” He cried out, bringing a hand up to rub over the sore spot you’d just created.

“Don’t ask stupid shit like that.”

“Come on, Y/n. It’s me. You can talk to me about this shit.” He tried to convince you, and somewhere inside of you, you wanted to.

Because yeah, maybe you did get aroused from Hoseok’s hands on your ass. And maybe you did get a little wet when you were grinding against his thigh.

But who wouldn’t have? He was a fairly attractive man, after all. It didn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“I’m going to take a shower.” You quickly changed the subject, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

Jimin couldn’t help but to roll his eyes.

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

“I know. Are you spending the night?”

You heard him sigh, a sad sigh that made your heart clench.

“I would, but... I don’t want to make Tae uncomfortable.”

“I get it. But you’re welcome to stay, you know that. This house is plenty big enough, and we always hang out in my room anyways.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’ve already pissed him off, or whatever. I’m sure me staying here would just add to that.”

You frowned, wishing that you could do something, or say anything to ease his obvious hurt.

“I love you, Chim.”

“Love you.”

Normally, you’d stay up until at least midnight. Tonight, however, you were exceptionally exhausted and were lying in bed by nine.

Your satin sheets felt extra comfortable underneath you, and your eyelids were heavy. Friends played on the big, wall mounted television in front of you, and the sound of your air conditioner running was lulling you right to sleep. Before you knew it, you were slipping into a state of blissful unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how you’d ended up in Hoseok’s apartment. And you definitely weren’t sure how you’d ended up nearly naked underneath him on his couch. You were squirming below his touch, his blunt fingernails lightly scraping down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

His hips were rutting into yours, Hoseok’s hardened length rubbing along your soaked, clothed core. You were a moaning mess, slews of curses and praises spilled out of your mouth, letting him know that you were fucking loving everything that he was giving you.

“Hoseok, please don’t stop.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as you clutched onto his back in an attempt to keep yourself grounded. You felt like you were floating, like you were in a completely different time and place.

“God, I’ve waited so long for this,” he was growling lowly into your ear, his fingers descending south and flicking the thin strap of your thong against your hip, “waited so long for you.”

You yelped at the feeling of the string stinging your skin, your shriek turning into a whiny moan as you felt his hand begin to slip into your panties. You couldn’t wait for him to finally be where you needed him most. You didn’t care if his fingers were inside of you, his tongue, or his cock. You just needed some part of him filling you up. You needed it in the same way that you needed oxygen to survive, and you feared that you would die if he didn’t touch you right here, right now.

His head was hovering above yours now, and you were sure he was about to lean in for a kiss. Which had your pussy clenching around nothing. It had just occurred to you that you’d never kissed him, and all you wanted was to taste him. You were sure he’d taste delicious, sickeningly sweet.

Instead of his lips pressing against yours, though, they parted. And he began repeating your first name over and over again like a mantra, gradually getting louder and louder as the seconds ticked by.

One final yell of your name had your eyelids shooting open, the sound of Hoseok’s voice being replaced by the low tone of your brother’s. You blinked once, and then two more times for good measure. It took you a whole minute to realize that you were at home. In your bedroom, not in your choreographer’s apartment.

“Tae?” your voice was groggy, “what time is it?”

“Past ten. I could hear you from down the hall, it sounded like you were in pain so I came to check on you,” he said, cocking his head to the side as he stared down at you, “must’ve been one hell of a nightmare.”

Embarrassment immediately came over you, and you were thankful for the dark lighting of the room because you were sure your face was similar to the color of a tomato.

“Yeah— uh, just a... bad dream. I’m good.”

“If you’re sure.” His voice was laced with genuine concern, and you almost laughed. Such a protective older brother.

“I’m good, Tae. Swear.”

He nodded, mumbling a goodnight to you before turning to leave your bedroom.

You called out to him before he could shut the door.

“Hey, wait a second!”

“Yeah?” He was confused again, and you worried your lower lip before you spoke.

You weren’t usually one to meddle in his personal life, but this time, you felt like you had to. Or, that you at least had to try.

“You need to talk to Jimin. He thinks he made you upset, or mad. At the very least, you should tell him you aren’t angry with him.”

“Noted.”

That was all he said before he was shutting your door, and you couldn’t stop the dramatic roll of your eyes. Typical Taehyung.

You pushed your hair back and out of your face, grimacing as you felt the beads of sweat pooling on your forehead. In your half asleep state, you’d almost forgotten what you’d been dreaming about. You let out a groan as the images flashed through your memory.

Not only were you dreaming about Hoseok, but it was a wet dream. Surely, you hadn’t actually gotten aroused by it.

You bit down on your bottom lip before sliding your hand underneath your duvet, pressing your fingers against your underwear to test for any dampness. You gasped as you were greeted with soaked panties, hissing through your teeth as your fingertips barely grazed over your clit.

Before you really knew what you were doing, your hips were bucking up and into your hand. You pushed the cotton fabric to the side, letting your middle finger drag along your slick folds. You sighed at the feeling, your head tilting back as your eyes screwed shut. It was almost unbelievable how drenched you were just from a fucking dream. And a dream about your fucking choreographer, to beat it all.

You moaned at the images of Hoseok during practice earlier flooded your mind. He was so hot, and so sweaty. The way his fingers curled around your thighs had you wondering what it would feel like if he was the one touching you right now instead of yourself.

Maybe it was wrong, but you didn’t care. You kept yourself focused on Hoseok as you used your middle finger to circle around your throbbing bundle of nerves, whines and praises of his name slipping out of your mouth.

You dipped a finger down to tease your slit, imagining the entire time that it was him. You slipped a single digit into your heat and keened at the sensation. Hoseok’s fingers were much longer than yours, and you were sure he could have you cumming with them in no time.

Still, you decided to work with what you had and began to fuck into yourself until you were knuckle deep. You added a second finger and moaned at the stretch, your thighs beginning to shake already.

“Fuck, Hoseok!”

You picked up the pace of your fingers, curling once you found that spot that drove you absolutely mad. Using your free hand, you allowed your index and middle fingers to vigorously rub at your clit.

It was too much, too soon. Your walls contracted around your fingers, and your legs convulsed. Your thighs were trying to squeeze together and you were arching off the bed as you felt your lower stomach knot up, fire spreading from head to toe and making your toes curl.

Your orgasm hit so hard that you were practically screaming, Hoseok’s name being the only word left in your vocabulary. This was harder than any orgasm you’d had in a long time, and you could feel your juices squirting out and all over your hand and wrist. You squealed at the feeling, using your fingers to fuck yourself through your high.

Your breathing was erratic, and stars were circling above your head. You groaned as you pulled your hands away from your cunt, wincing at the emptiness.

An arm rested over your eyes as you attempted to stop panting. Slowly, you felt like you were back on earth again and the black dots you were seeing went away.

There was no fucking way that just happened. You did not get off while thinking of Hoseok.

You were furious. And you wished that you were mad at yourself, but the only reason you were angry was because you’d had to get yourself off. You wished it would’ve been him doing it instead.

Against your better judgement, you grabbed your phone off of your nightstand. It was eleven now, and although Hoseok was sure to be asleep, you needed to hear his voice. For what reason? You weren’t sure. Either way, you were scrolling through your contacts to find his name, pressing the call button with a bit too much enthusiasm.

When he answered the phone, his voice was raspy, deeper than usual. You were right, he’d been asleep.

“Hello?”

“Uhm, hi.” You said, voice shy and almost inaudible.

“Y/n? What time is it? Is everything okay?” He sounded worried.

“I’m okay! Uhh, it’s past eleven. I’m sorry for waking you, I didn’t mean to.”

Yes you did.

He was beginning to sound a bit more awake now, and you heard him yawn on the other line.

“It’s alright, I just wasn’t expecting you to call. Or, call this late.”

“Yeah..”

It was silent for a few seconds, neither of you knowing quite what to say. You couldn’t exactly tell him that you’d just made yourself squirt to the thought of him. And he wasn’t about to tell you that he was glad you called.

“What are you doing up?”

“Uhm—“ you stumbled, trying to come up with any excuse other than the truth, “I couldn’t sleep.”

You heard him chuckle, and it was as if all of your worries and nervousness evaporated at the sound of his laughter.

“Not that I’m not flattered, but.. why did you call me because you couldn’t sleep?”

You groaned internally. Why did he have to ask such questions?

“I just... I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you, is all, I guess.”

“Okay.” He seemed satisfied with your answer, and you sighed in relief.

“Hobi?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you FaceTime me until I fall asleep?”

As badly as you longed to see him in person, you figured that this would do for now.

“Absolutely.”

He was calling you instantly, and you smiled as soon as you laid eyes on him. His hair was disheveled from sleeping, and his cheeks were a bit puffy. Suddenly, the other side of your bed felt a bit too empty. And you wondered what it would feel like if he were laying beside of you.

↼ masterlist ⇀

a/n: if you’d like to be added to the tag list, just send me an ask, message, or reply to this post! let me know what you think of the series, i love hearing your feedback. enjoy! xo

tag list: @ppersonna @neouihobi @vanteatj1n @55west81st @jjiminah @cesthoney @vaehyungsworld @ggukiyo @devotedlywriting @consensual-trashtalk @w1tchcraftt @threedecadesofawkward @chocobetterknot @americano-sprite @yoongisabby @hobi-love @justpeachyjoon @excuseme-youpretty @sunkissed725 @amoreguk @koostime @cobbiebaexqueen @imluckybitches @taefect94 @parkmaeri @bts-7-forever @gukniverse @untainted-memories

a/n: tumblr won’t let me tag certain people for whatever reason. so if you’ve asked to be tagged and don’t see your name, that’s why! i apologize. :/

#hoseok #jung hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok imagine #bts #bts smut #bangtan #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #bts imagine #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #bts fake social media #bts texts #bts fake texts #bts smau #jhope #bts reactions

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booksapphic · 7 years

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Summary: Mesta fic based on the prompt "It's 2am, you're craving chocolate cake and neither of us can sleep, so why don't we bake in our underwear?" Mostly fluff, some smut. Length: 2k Rating: Mature Read it on AO3 Notes: This was written for my own personal enjoyment and stress relief, so it’s not as good/edited/polished as it normally would be. ya’ll get to see what my first drafts look like lol. sorry, but also i don’t care bc it’s cute and sweet and i love this and them. ALSO this same prompt was originally written by the light of my life @rileylefae, and i read her cute lil fluff drabble and “....... okay but what if they fuck” “anna-” “too late.” You can read her original here.

Nesta turned over in bed, still awake hours after climbing underneath the covers. It had been a long day of dealing with the worst denizens of the Court of Nightmares, helping Azriel torture them while their queen looked on. Her and her wife had collapsed into bed together once their work was done, falling asleep in their underwear, too tired to put on pajamas. And even though the moon had long since risen over Velaris, her brain would rather think about chocolate cake than sleep.

She sat up with a groan and blinked her eyes in the starlight coming in through the window. Maybe she should admit defeat, bother Cassian into taking her down to Velaris to wile away the night…

Mor’s arms wrapped lazily around her waist, tugging at her until Nesta glanced over. “Hello, moonbeam.”

Nesta brushed a strand of hair from Mor’s face, appreciating her sleepy smile, her soft eyes, the way the sheets and her pink lace underwear only partially covered her mostly-naked body. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She captured Nesta’s hand, pressing a kiss to the middle of her palm. “I was having a dream where Rhys and Cassian and Az were singing and dancing about chocolate cake. I think it’s better that you did.”

Nesta gave a sheepish smile. “That’s my fault too. I started craving chocolate cake hours ago and it’s keeping me up.”

“Well, if you’re craving chocolate cake and neither of us can sleep anyway, why don’t we bake?” Mor said.

Nesta shook her head, smiling, and didn’t protest when her mate pulled her out of bed.

“Do you even know how to make a cake?” Nesta realized as Mor put various packages on the kitchen counter.

“Mmhm,” she said her normal cheeriness dampened by sleep. “We used to do family dinner nights where we cooked the whole meal together, from appetizer to dessert. The thought was always to give the staff off for a night, to do the chores ourselves, but we normally just ended up eating things as they became ready.”

“That sounds… fun,” Nesta said. “Why don’t you do them anymore?”

“We stopped when Rhys-when he had to go. And then he came back, and there was a war coming and we were all still healing from his time gone, and-we never picked it back up.”

Nesta considered that for a second as Mor washed her hands. “Maybe it’s time to bring it back,” she said. “Assuming you can make a cake.”

Mor flicked her with water from her still damp hands, laughing when Nesta hissed. “We’re making the cake. So wash up and start melting this chocolate.”

Nesta did as she was told, pressing a quick kiss to Mor’s lips as she passed to remind her wife who was in charge.

“Wait,” Nesta said, halfway through breaking the chocolate bars. “Why bother making chocolate cake when we can just eat the chocolate?”

“Nesta, wait-”

Nesta popped a square of chocolate in her mouth, and spit it back out a second later. “What the fuck is wrong with this chocolate?”

Mor laughed. “It’s baking chocolate. You have to add sugar to it.”

Nesta looked at her wife, somewhere between horrified and angered. “Why would someone intentionally make chocolate that doesn’t taste good.”

“It gives you more control in your baking, to decide how sweet you want whatever you’re making,” she explained.

“It’s ridiculous,” Nesta said, deeply betrayed.

“It’s why we’re making the cake and not just eating the chocolate,” Mor said, still smiling.

Nesta stopped working the chocolate to watch her mate, the way she seemed softer here, with only the two of them awake. For once the walls she kept up, so bright and powerful like sunlight, so that no one could even see they were meant to keep them out—for once they were down. There was a streak of flour on her cheek that matched the brightness of her hair, the curls rumpled instead of falling in perfect ringlets. It was the Mor that only she ever saw, and even then, it was rare.

“You’re staring,” Mor said, but the words were only just teasing. Nesta didn’t doubt she had felt everything she had been thinking through the bond.

“You like it when I do,” Nesta said, matching her tone.

“I like what it means, more,” she said, love radiating through their bond, and Nesta decided that this Mor, with her hands in the bowl of batter, shining like sunlight not in self-protection but in boundless love—she wanted to see her more.

Somehow, they managed to get the chocolate melted and the batter mixed and the cake in the oven before ending up with Nesta sitting on the counter and Mor standing between her legs, the leftover batter in a bowl between them.

Nesta scooped up her fourth fingerful of batter as Mor took her fifth, and they both licked off the batter at the same time with matching “mmmm”s. Nesta laughed and Mor giggled, drunk on sugar and lack of sleep and the other’s presence. They were still smiling as they leaned over the bowl between Nesta's legs and kissed, all teeth and laughter, Mor's hands spread on Nesta's thighs. They only pulled back, flushed and breathless, when the timer for the cake went off.

Neither of them moved for the oven, instead watching each other in the dim light.

"We could make frosting to go with it," Mor suggested, and Nesta nodded eagerly. Anything to keep us here, in this moment, a little while longer.

Mor was the one to pull the cake from the oven and all the ingredients and materials for frosting from the cupboards so Nesta wouldn't have to move from her perch. It was only logical; she was the one who knew what they needed for the frosting anyway, and the kitchen was small enough that the two of them moving around at once would lead to them bumping into each other. It had nothing to do with the fact that Mor could feel Nesta's eyes tracing over her hips and ass when she bent down to pull out the confectioner's sugar.

They were working more closely together this time, the frosting needing only one bowl as opposed to the many they had used for the cake. Mor switched out the empty batter bowl in Nesta's lap for a clean one, and unwrapped the butter while Nesta opened the container of cocoa powder. She jabbed the tablespoon measure in, and brown powder exploded over the counter and Nesta.

She blinked at Mor, offended. "You'd think for all I love chocolate, it would be a little bit nicer to me."

Mor did her best to force down the laugh threatening to bubble out of her, and instead gave a sympathetic nod.

Between the two of them, the frosting was done quickly. Mor reached for some of the finished product, but Nesta caught her wrist.

"Oh no," Nesta said. "I've learned my lesson. You only get that once it's on the cake." She moved the bowl to the opposite side, where Mor wouldn't be able to reach without going around her first. Nesta motioned for the cake where it was still sitting on the opposite counter.

Mor didn't move. "We can't frost the cake yet; it's still hot. If we try now, the frosting will melt right off."

Nesta frowned. "How long until it'll be cooled?"

"An hour at least."

Why does baking have to take so long? "We’re going to have to find something to pass the time."

Mor smiled in a way that made Nesta's breath catch. "I can think of something."

That was Nesta's only warning before Mor's hand was under her black shift, parting Nesta's thighs with only a touch, her finger against her clit.

Fuck, it felt good. Nesta hadn't been planning on sex tonight, but she didn't know now how she couldn't have, with her mate standing there in that pink lace ensemble that only barely covered her, smiling like a vixen. The suddenness of the action only intensified Nesta’s desire, and she moved her hips against Mor's hand in encouragement.

Mor stopped the motion of her fingers in the same moment, and Nesta whined, but Mor immediately moved to catch and spread her slick, and the whine changed to a moan when she hooked a finger inside Nesta, giving only a single pump before pulling back out.

"Mor-" Nesta gasped. "Fuck, Mor, if I had known you were going to fuck me like this we could have skipped the cake altogether-"

Mor captured her words with a kiss. "And if I had known you would have looked so hot sitting on a counter in nothing but your underwear, I would have taught you baking sooner." She pressed a thumb against her clit to emphasize her words.

Nesta moaned again, and Mor's movements started anew, a finger inside her and another against her clit, her tongue and teeth against her neck. It was too much, all at once, and Nesta was powerless to do anything but fist her hands in Mor's curls and move her hips in time with Mor's fingers.

This female before her, this queen who had fought for years to be no one's but her own—she was Nesta's, too. And even with everything she had done for her freedom—she was willing to share it, if the person she was sharing it with was Nesta.

Even through her lust, Nesta pushed that emotion through past their fallen shields, down the bond. I love you, I love you, I love you, it pulsed, and Mor snapped her head up from Nesta's neck to make eye contact, her fingers stilling.

And even as her body begged for more, they watched each other, both breathless but barely breathing.

"I love you," Mor said, quietly, gently.

Nesta didn't say it back. Mor knew better than to expect she would. Nesta's love showed itself in other ways; through the softness and laughter and smiles, the soft, steady, light shining from her that too often went unnoticed.

"I love you, my moonbeam," Mor said, and kissed her mate.

It started out as soft as the sentiment, then quickly deepened as both of them remembered what they had been doing a minute before. Mor's fingers scraped at the fabric of Nesta's shift, trying to pull it off, and Nesta helped it up and over her head. And when she was naked, Mor stopped for just a moment to look at her and Nesta took the moment to appreciate Mor's silk robe hanging half off her shoulders, the lace underneath the same color as the flush across her skin. It was only when Nesta sent her lust down the bond that Mor leaned in and flicked her tongue against Nesta's nipple, pressed a kiss to her sternum, above her navel-

And then a stroke of her tongue up to her clit.

Nesta fell back against the counter at the sensation. If before was too much, now was just as bad, and Nesta crossed her ankles over Mor's back, pushing her closer, closer—please, closer—fingers scrambling for purchase against the smooth granite, Mor too far away for her to hold.

"Mor-" she gasped desperately. There had been once, when they had first gotten together, that Nesta had been silent in bed, too nervous and closed off to make a sound. It had only been upon Mor's continuous and enthusiastic encouragement—I want to hear you—that Nesta had finally let go. She's been thanking her mate for it ever since. "Mor, please, I'm so close, please, your fingers-"

Mor obeyed immediately, a finger curling inside her as her tongue continued to work Nesta's clit. A few more strokes and-

Nesta's back arched and she cried out Mor's name, her mate stroking her through it with her fingers, pulling her face away to watch her wife come from her touch.

And when it was over, and Nesta was left a breathless, sweaty mess on the kitchen counter, Mor slid her hand out from between her legs and reached into the frosting bowl Nesta had been so bent on protecting. She licked off the glob of homemade frosting with a smile. "Delicious.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfiction #a court of mist and fury #acomaf #acowar #mesta #mesta fanfiction #mor x nesta #nesta x mor #acomaf fanfiction #my fic

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