It’s a little difficult to imagine how Hoseok’s first solo MV will turn out when all you’ve got to go on is the disjointed snippets you’ve watched being filmed throughout the day. He’s told you all about it, of course - about all the different bits of animation that need to be added here and there, all the green screen work that needs to be done - but right now it… well… right now all that there is to see is it a big empty room in which your boyfriend is busily dancing, swaggering laps around a bed which is emitting an electric white glow from beneath its covers.
It looks a little strange, to be honest, but then you suppose that it’s intended to be. It’s meant to look like a daydream, after all - as weird and wonderful as they so often are - and you’re sure once it all comes together it’ll look just as amazing as Hoseok had described it to be when he’d first come home brimming over with excitement and ideas for his ‘hope world’.
Rapping into the camera as he shuffles around the set he looks as effortlessly comfortable performing as he always does. You know he loves every moment of this process despite how tiring it might be, and it shows in the brightness of his smile and the sparkle of his eyes as he makes a slow turn on the spot, gesticulating with his hands and his head tilted back, revelling in the music he’s made. You hope they’ll manage to capture him in all his glory; you’d hate for ARMY to miss out on every a single second of the magic that’s happening before your eyes.
You have to hand it to them, the stylists have done well. This is only the second outfit you’ve seen him in today but it’s by far your favourite; all black save his jacket’s colourful sleeves, the red of which sets off the russet red tones of his hair just so. He looks so handsome that you can hardly believe he’s yours, or that you get to take home this Greek god of a man and actually be allowed to touch him.
Speaking of touching him, you can’t help but bite your lip as he sinks back onto the aforementioned light up bed and then leans forward to deliver in his lines into the camera that’s been rushed forward to capture a shot of your boyfriend looking right down his shapely nose and into the lens. You wouldn’t mind being the one knelt between his feet in that camera man’s place, being looked down on by deep brown those eyes. You wouldn’t mind him spreading his thighs a little wider, either, nor leaning back onto the bed while you make short work of his-
“Ok, let’s take fifteen,” the director announces, his voice loud and jarring enough to make you jump on the spot and flush scarlet when you realise the lewd direction your train of thought had been taking. You pat your palm against the pale pink tinge that’s appeared above the neckline of your blouse, clearing your throat, and as soon as the little red light on the camera disappears Hoseok gives a thumbs up to the director and then rises from the bed, making an instant beeline for you. He flashes you a winning smile, and even from a several metres away it makes your heart flutter inside your chest.
“So,” he begins once he’s close enough for you to hear, “How am I doing?” He’s momentarily distracted by one of the staff who comes scurrying by to offer him a bottle of water which he takes accepts without hesitation but with ample thanks, cracking the lid open and drinking deeply from it; a series of seemingly innocuous actions that somehow still result in your pressing your thighs together on witnessing.
“Amazing,” you gush enthusiastically, smiling so hard that your cheeks almost ache from how insistently your lips are tugging at the corners.
“Yeah?” Hoseok’s answering smile is blinding and when you nod, head bobbing frantically up and down, he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, his pelvis flush against yours. “You look really pretty today,” he murmurs into your temple before he places a kiss there, lips cool from the ice-cold water that’d just passed through them.
“Yeah?” you echo, tilting your chin up to look into his eyes and losing your breath at the mischievous sparkle that awaits you within them.
“Yeah,” he reiterates with a smirk, the hand on your waist slipping lower to grab a generous handful of your ass. He squeezes it, hard, and has to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing at the way you let out a soft, scandalised gasp as your head swivels from side to side, worried that someone might see. “Ah, you’re such a goodie-goodie,” Hoseok chuckles, his palm still planted firmly on your ass and squeezing it again, undeterred. He leans closer, resting his lips against the shell of your ear as he lowly whispers, “How about we go make some trouble, hm?”
“What did you have in mind?” you mumble back just as quietly, glancing over his shoulder to where the staff are all seemingly preoccupied on set.
Your boyfriend doesn’t reply. Silent and smiling, he takes your hand instead and leads you astray, tugging you away from one set to another and setting aside his now empty bottle of water along the way. Hoseok casts a glance back at you so devilish it makes your chest tighten with excitement and your insides quiver, unable to do anything but follow obediently behind.
Hand in hand, you quickly arrive in the set two doors down from where he’d just been filming. This one is far smaller, no bigger than your modest bedroom at home, and has a single bed with blue and yellow covers sat right in the centre, neatly made.
“Hope,” you hiss in hushed tones, letting go of his hand, “We can’t!” He grins, amused by your horrified expression, and then proceeds to grab a hold of your waist, spinning you on the spot, walking you back and then pushing you - thud - back against the set wall.
“Can’t?” Hoseok nudges the tip of his nose against yours playfully, brushing his lips over yours far too lightly to be considered a kiss, “Or won’t?”
“What if someone comes looking for you?” you worry, yet despite any anxiety you may feel about getting caught your hands are still finding their way underneath the hem of his shirt, your mouth chasing after his as he continues to taunt and tease.
“Then I guess we’ll have to be fast,” he grins, already hitching up the back of your skirt, “And quiet.” You gasp as his fingers hook through the waistband of your panties and Hoseok raises an eyebrow at you, mouth twisting into a smirk. “Think you can do that for me, baby?” Your underwear simply falls down your legs once he’s pulled them low enough, crumpled at your feet, and as Hoseok starts to palm your ass once more his lips make contact with your neck, trailing sweet, wet kisses along your skin. “Think you can be a good girl for daddy?”
Coyly, you nod, so excited now that you can feel your pulse thumping exaggeratedly in your neck. It’s amazing how just that one single word has you slipping so effortlessly into the meek, subservient role that Hobi so loves to see you play, the softest groan escaping you when he surges forward and sucks your bottom lip from where the flesh had been bitten between your teeth.
Usually, Hoseok likes to take his time with you - really making you work for each press of his mouth or fleeting touch - but today affords him no such luxury. His lips are hard and insistent, the interior of his mouth just as hot and wet as his tongue as he near crushes you against the wall under his weight, hell-bent on consuming you as quickly and completely as possible, and as his hand gravitates towards the apex of your thighs the anticipation of his touch makes them tremble.
The first exploratory press of his fingertips to your core has Hoseok breaking your kiss in order to groan low in his throat, his eyes closed and lips momentarily pressed together as he tests the waters; welcoming and warm.
“So wet already,” he admires in a breathy whisper, nose brushing yours before he steals another kiss, the pads of his fingers running back and forth amongst the slickness that’s coating your folds, “I think you like being a little bad don’t you, sweetheart?” A stilted breath is all you can manage in reply, but that’s not good enough. “Answer daddy when he’s speaking to you,” Hoseok scolds, and though his voice may still be quiet there’s no missing the sharpness of his tone, especially when he emphasises his point by grabbing a fistful of your hair with his free hand and tugging your head back, your crown thunking softly against the plasterboard wall.
“Y-yes daddy,” you obediently answer, fighting the urge to whimper at the satisfied smirk that awaits you when you open your eyes. His gaze flickers back and forth between each of your features as he continues to tease you by pressing the heel of his hand into your clitoris and grinding the firm surface against it, greedily observing each little surge of pleasure as it enters your expression; jaw going lax and head tilting back.
