#I’m just yearning for a boy that’s near me because I’m so fucking touch starved dude
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Boys in the EST timezone or In Connecticut.. pspspspspsps .. i need someone to kiss me and to hug me. C’mere pspspssp
#cdpup.exe#gay yearning#emo bf#mlm and nblm only#ftm mlm#t4t mlm#gay#trans mlm#looking for boyfriend#but seriously if you live in Connecticut or somewhere near like mass or NYC#please come into my DMs. i would love to meet with you even if we end up just friends#I’m just yearning for a boy that’s near me because I’m so fucking touch starved dude#if we get close#I’ll tell you where to meet me :3c
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[ Classified ]
The full report - Eren Yeager
The following report details all information on Eren Yeager. Contains NSFW content and reader must be over the age of 18 to view this document.
For your eyes only.
Name: Eren Yeager
Birthplace: Shiganshina
Height: 180cm / 5ft 9"
General
[ A1 ]
Appearance & Hygiene practices:
Eren's chestnut brown hair is always clean and fresh. Whenever he pays you a late night visit, he'll have most probably just gotten out of the shower. Coconut scented shampoo of sorts? Whatever it is, it smells so good.
Prefers showers over a bathe. He says it's to save time, but he spends a good 40 - 60 minutes in there, easily.
Once he's dry, likes to throw on jogger bottoms and a hoodie over his bare skin. His bare skin that is now so soft and scented as his favourite shower gel which is either tea-tree oil or Coconut.
If he wants to remain clean shaven, Eren must shave every 2-3 days. Sometimes he likes to grow it out but nothing ever past a long stubble.
Minimal body hair.
Trims the hairs on his pubic bone/lower stomach. Has pleasuring you in mind as he does so. Will take into consideration the friction against you.
Totally clean shaven testicles.
Eren's nails are short but that's because he bites them. [ see section A3 ]
Beautiful set of teeth. Brushes twice daily in a modern AU.
Eren adores it when you brush his hair for him. He finds it extremely relaxing as you massage his scalp. His eyes will close and a small, barely audible hum will emit from time to time.
Eren's skin care routine is pretty basic. All of the steam from sitting in his hot, frequent showers for so long seems to do him wonders - his skin is flawless and worthy of envy.
Due to the healing power of being a Titan shifter, Eren has no scars.
Eren has quite large hands with long fingers. He doesn't wear rings or jewellery as it reminds him of the burden of when he had to keep that damn key on him at all times. Will however, put up with a wedding ring.
[A2]
Body & Love language:
Eren is a pretty introverted person. His hands are usually tucked away inside of his pockets - be it either trousers or hoody/jacket.
He hunches a little too. Likes to feel hidden. He's had enough attention over the years and wants nothing more than to just shrink away in a crowded room. Or maybe, it's the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Brooding, moody exterior. Extreme "resting bitch face"
Shrugs a lot. At first glance, you'd think he was a moody teenager trapped in a grown man's body.
Likes to sit with his feet flat up on the chair with his knees splayed - you'll usually find him like this with an arm resting over a knee while the other is at a 90 degree angle pointing away from his hip.
Fumbles his hands together in formal occasions when he can't sit so casually or tuck them away.
Likes to drape his arm over you without touching you. His arm will rest above you on the top of the chair. A clear indication of "They're mine" and "I will keep you safe"
His hips will usually be swivelled in your direction, regardless of where you are in the room. A subconscious body language of sexual yearning.
Eren likes to hold hands with you when you're walking. He's not huge on PDA but likes the strong yet subtle showings that you're together.
Tends to rub his thumb over the back of your hand absent-mindedly when you do so.
His love languages include physical touch. Can get very needy and touch starved pretty easily. Not in a overbearing way, but even just a run of his slender fingers through your hair is enough to keep him going until the two of you are in a more private setting.
[A3]
Bad Habits & Tendencies:
As mentioned above, Eren bites his finger nails. His toe nails too. It's pretty gross to be honest.
He never does it in public, but he has been known to do it in front of you when he feels comfortable enough to do so.
Get's very fidgety when irritated or annoyed, which is pretty often. Especially if Jean is around.
Short temper. He's learned to tame it more over the years where he doesn't show it so easily. But everyone has their limit and when his is reached, his yell is booming and pretty intimidating.
During an argument with you he has been known to raise his voice, but it's not the frightening roar you've heard him unleash on others before.
Always apologises to you after he's calmed down. Even though it wasn't that bad.
If you two ever have a bad falling out, will lock himself away for days. He'll be pissed at himself for letting it get so bad and depressed that you two are having such problems. But he'll do anything he can to fix it.
[ A4 ]
Common misconceptions:
Obviously everyone has their own cannons and opinions. But I don't personally see Eren as being an abusive partner. Yeah, he has his problems and treats his friends like shit but there's a reason for that we'll probably see in the last chapter. If you're worthy enough to pierce that cold and distant shell, you're a very special person and he'll treat you as such.
Eren actually has a large heart hidden under that huge chip on his shoulder. He cares and loves the people around him unconditionally. Even to the point of carrying out mass genocide to protect them.
Still... He does have a dark side to be weary of at times.
Even though he's gross while in Liberio, usually Eren is actually pretty clean.
[ A5 ]
Food & Drink:
In a Modern AU Eren loves fancy coffees with the weird names. The longer to pronounce, the better. He just likes the fact they give him energy and the fancier ones taste good.
Due to not having meat for so long, a good ol' fashioned beef/lamb stew is his favourite.
Doesn't drink in canon.
Modern AU, his alcoholic beverage of choice is bottles of beer and craft ales. Sometimes is a sucker for red wine.
[ A6 ]
Modern Au:
Eren wears loose clothing. Hoodies, loose jeans, those baggy cardigans too.
His texting style is spam over one long message. Especially if he's pissed off. He's too impatient to sit and type in paragraphs.
Drives a black car. Don't ask me what type, I don't know cars. But it's black, 'kay?
It also has "black ice" air freshener inside.
Likes to ride quads and mopeds along fields. He's a thrill seeker. Rollercoasters, bungee jumping... you name it he's game.
Eren plays the guitar. He took lessons for it but after about a year he just went his own way and self-taught.
If he sees a guitar at a party, he will pick it up and play it. He won't sing though.
He actually hates singing. He finds it embarrassing.
Always has in his air pods/earphones.
Likes any sort of music that is catchy.
Probably streams on Twitch. He won't talk much though.
Could have a wide range of jobs. Coffee shop, could be in college, might be a ride attendant... who knows? It's anyone's guess what Eren is doing. He doesn't talk about himself that much.
Romance & NSFW
[ B1 ]
Crush:
Eren would definitely be in denial he has a crush on you at first.
• “Does y/n seem different to you?”
Armin; “No…? In what way?”
“I dunno… Just, different.”
• His poor stubborn brain would be ticking for weeks as to why he suddenly wants to be near you a lot more often and has urges to touch you, even if it’s just a slight brush against your arm.
• Will find any excuse to do extra training with you
• Once he FINALLY clicks on as to why he’s had these feelings, he’ll be pretty knocked off his feet and a little annoyed at himself.
I’m here to kill the enemy...
• Still though… Can’t seem to keep himself away.
[ B2 ]
First kiss & general kisses:
After the initial denial and keeping himself away, he'll just decide one day he's had enough of feeling this way and decides to to something about it.
He won't shove himself onto you. He'll do some sly probing to see if there is any indication of reciprocation.
Knowing Eren, he'll indirectly piss you off or insult you. He didn't mean to. He's just lacking social skills. Man aint smooth.
You'll slap him, probably, where he'll keep his head away from you for a few seconds, realising he's pushed you too far. Whichever side you palmed him away, he'll stay.
He'll slowly return his gaze to yours before gently holding your arms, apologising and planting his lips onto yours.
His general kisses are quite firm and forceful. Not in an aggressive way, but a "god I want you so bad" way.
Always either slides his arms around your waist or cups your face/head.
He tastes like sweetened tea <3 / Coffee in a Modern AU
Loves coming from behind and snaking his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck when you're doing something. Doesn't like it when your attention is away from him for too long.
When he's feeling soft and tender, will dance his nose with yours and catching your mouth in a caress.
When he's super turned on, he'll suck your tongue, bite your bottom lip and kiss anywhere he can.
[ B3 ]
Sex:
Ha ~~!
Eren is up there with the best when it comes to sex. He knows what he's doing and he does it well.
Extremely skilled with his fingers and tongue. He'll have you crawling the walls with hysteria as he likes to tease you throughout the day. He more than makes up for it, though.
Gropes, nips, kisses, licks, bites, flicks... anywhere and everywhere he can.
Is the most vocal when you perform oral sex on him. Will groan so deeply, his entire body will vibrate.
Dirty talk is this man's second language.
"Look how desperate you are for me." / "Look how desperate for you you've gotten me..."
"Do I feel good like this?"
"Am I making you feel good baby?"
"You're so good at that. Fuck, such a good girl/boy"
"S'so fuckin' tight."
"You're my little fuck thing, aren't you?"
"You're perfect."
"I love you..."
Are some of the many things you'll hear while he's fucking you.
He doesn't really have a favourite position. He'll gladly take you anyway he can. If he's in a rough mood, he'll bend you over the sofa, take you up against the wall... But if he's feeling more soft he'll make slow, passionate love to you for hours.
He does have a strong soft side at times.
Dominic Dominant. He loves seeing you totally at his mercy, the power over you the most arousing thing in the world to him.
Big daddy dilf vibes. He knows what he’s doing and he’s fucking good at it too.
The only time he’ll sub is if he wants to be lazy - letting you ride him and use him to your heart’s content.
Dirty talk. It can get pretty degrading at times. If you’re not into that, he respects that boundary.
Will absolutely ruin you.
Low-key loves it when you claw his back in hysteria. He thrives knowing he can send you absolutely insane, and he can just heal the claw marks in a matter of seconds. Sometimes even during sex (which is the hottest thing ever)
In an AU modern, he would love to fuck you near a large mirror or record you both getting at it to watch at a later date.
A lot of hissing, humming and low groaning, especially when he’s close to unloading.
Likes to watch you masturbate, putting his head close and observing intently. Loses his shit if you moan his name while doing so.
Hair pulling is his overload language. Will tug fistfuls when he gets too turned on.
[ B4 ]
Kinks:
The risk of getting caught. He likes having risky sex in semi public locations. Makes a game of how loud he can get you to moan, knowing someone would probably hear you.
Light Degradation. When he’s in a rough mood, he doesn’t mind calling you a few names. Nothing too extreme. And if it’s not your thing, he’ll respect that boundary.
Loves a good ol’ 69. Having you on his face with your ass in view is just… *Chef’s kiss*
Speaking of ass, he loves to bend you over too, allowing himself in nice and deep with a great view and something Juicy to grab.
[ B5 ]
Aftercare:
Aftercare with Eren isn’t anything special unfortunately. He’s another who gets sleepy after sex.
Won’t ignore you though. Often lazy pillow talk is on the cards and telling you how much you mean to him and how beautiful you are.
Will run his fingers across your scalp to soothe you.
Also will kiss any bite marks or finger bruises he’s left behind and ask if you’re okay.
Relationship with loved ones & becoming serious
[ C1 ]
Friends & Family:
When Eren meet's your friends family he will be polite yet quiet. He wants them to like him but he won't pine for their approval. If they like him, awesome. If they don't...? No big deal.
Same goes with your friends. He'll stay quiet until spoken to at first, but once he's been eased into conversation, he'll flow with it a lot easier.
Again, he'll be polite but don't expect him to kiss ass, because he certainly wont.
[ C2 ]
Marriage:
You couldn’t actually believe Eren had proposed. Although he was down on one knee in front of your very eyes, your mind just wasn’t accepting it. Folks and onlookers watched with bated breath, awaiting your answer. He sure kept this surprise hidden well…
Of course, you said yes and he picked you up by your waist in a spin, colliding his lips to yours.
And now here he was, watching you walk down the aisle, a lump in his throat and his heart racing.
You looked gorgeous, like something from a fairy tale.
And of course, he looked as handsome as ever. His suit was smart and his hair was up in its usual bun.
Armin is his best man, of course; who is standing and beaming with pride.
Eren holds back his chokes and tears as he reads his vows;
“Y/N… From the first time I ever laid eyes on you, all those years ago, I knew you would be in my life forever. Back then, I didn’t think it would be as my wife, but God I am so glad it is. I’m sorry for my stubbornness and irrational behaviour when we were young. But despite that you still loved, and stood by me and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. I vow to always stand beside you, whatever the world throws at us. I vow to hold you when you need support. I vow to remember how you always had my back no matter what. And I vow to always love you, with my heart and soul, until the day I die and after.”
The room erupts in cheers and tears when you seal your kiss.
The reception is wild.
Everyone is drunk (except Levi) and dancing. Reiner and Connie are dancing like weirdos, Reiner's blazer removed and at one point Connie is on his shoulders.
Sasha has too much to drink and is spewing in the bathroom.
Mikasa can’t stop crying with happiness and pride.
He carries you to your room afterwards where you spend all night sealing a special bond that will never be broken.
[ C3 ]
Children:
Eren has a soft spot for children, believe it or not. As seen before the expedition to the forest of giant trees. He sees his old self behind the innocent glint of unaltered admiration within a child's eyes.
He's not super into child play though. He wont pull weird voices or funny faces. He'll sit at their level and speak to them like they were anyone else. Obviously, watching what he says around them.
If they're unchecked and acting themselves, he'll become quickly annoyed as they wreck havoc around him and will have to leave the room or he'll get too agitated.
If his s/o discovers they're pregnant he'll seem to take it well. But inside he's falling apart and freaking out. He won't ever show it to them, but he doesn't know how he could be a father. Would he be like his own? Would he be able to be a good figure to look up to? What if he fails? Is it selfish to bring a child into this cruel world?
He'll be shocked but understandably so. After after a couple of weeks of self-reflection and brooding, he'll start to feel better about the whole thing.
More protective over his s/o than usual. Will make sure they're eating, drinking, resting and god help you if he finds you doing something you shouldn't such as trying to lift something heavy.
Will hold your hair and rub you back, as well as bring you water while you're having your morning sickness.
"Babe? It's four in the afternoon. How come you're still sick?"
"Eren, it's called morning sickness but it can happen any time."
He'll click his tongue. "....That's a dumb name, then."
The first time he feels the baby kick within you, his heart absolutely melts. His eyes enlarge and you could swear you saw them soften with that spark behind his emerald greens he had when you were younger.
His large palm is warm against your stomach as he feels around, the little flutter of your child hitting against his skin making him flinch in surprise at first.
"Woah..." He'll gasp in amazement. "They're already so strong. Hey, y/n? Doesn't that hurt?"
"Sometimes." You'll laugh softly.
He'll gingerly place his face to your skin, a little embarrassed he's doing this; but he feels the need. "...Don't hurt your mom, okay?"
As your pregnancy progresses and you get larger, he will not leave your side. If he has to, he'll be worrying and you'll be occupying his mind. In a modern au, he'll constantly call and text and will get Mikasa or Armin to check in on you often.
Will be so gentle during love making. He's terrified he'll hurt the baby.
One of the only times you've seen Eren panic in his adult life is when your waters break.
You'd gotten up in the middle of the night to pee. Climbed back into bed and felt a strange pressure, followed by a pop. Then a warm gushing sensation. You wait a few seconds to settle your own panic before you nudge Eren awake.
"Eren..."
He'll bolt up, confused. "What? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"
"Eren, my waters have broken."
"Shit. Okay. Shit. What do we do? Shit." He'll leap out of bed and throw the lights on. You get to your feet where more water will start to drop onto the floor. "Shit, shit. I'll get the bag. Do you need help getting dressed? Okay, where's my jacket? WHERE'S MY JACKET?!"
"Eren, honey I need to you calm down."
"Okay, sorry. I'm calm. Shit. Shit..."
Will hold your hand with a worried look the entire time you're in labour. Has water and snacks on hand.
Will watch in amazement as your child is pushed into the world. This magical moment changes something in him, but right now he's not sure what that is.
They will bond immediately. As soon as he holds your son/daughter he can't take his wide gaze off them.
They're inseparable.
Any doubts of being a bad father is washed away as he takes them under his wing and teaches them about the world.
#eren jeager x reader#eren jäger#eren smut#eren headcanons#eren yaeger x y/n#eren yaeger x you#eren jaeger#eren yeager#eren snk#eren s4#eren season 4#eren shingeki no kyojin#eren au#attack on titan eren#snk eren#snk fanfiction#snk headcanons#snk fandom#attack on titan#attack on titan x you
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Home is Where the Heart Is
A Joey/Henry lockdown fic - AO3
Rated: T
Words: 7k ish
CW: RPF, covid, far too much pining?
_______
“I’m sorry, Joey,” Madeleine sighed again, pressing her head into the crook of Joey’s neck, her hair tickling his cheek.
It was pulled back into a messy bun, flyaway strands surrounding her face in a halo, and as the sun shone from behind her, she looked like some kind of angel. Joey wondered, not for the first time, how he’d even been so lucky to have Madeleine as a friend. She truly was a wonder, his favourite person and light of his life. Everyone should have a friend like Madeleine Hyland.
He laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple as he pulled back from her embrace. “Nah, it’s alright, Madeleine. Your parents need you, much more important than little old me.”
“Oh fuck that, you bastard, stop fishing for compliments,” she laughed, swatting him on the arm.
“Aww,” he pouted, “Oi!”
She’d hit his arm again, barely a tap but he pretended it hurt, rubbing his arm and pouting even harder at his friend.
“Come off it, Joey. You’re staying with Henry for the rest of lockdown, that’s hardly a trial,” she teased, poking him in the chest.
Ah yes.
Henry.
The bane of Joey’s existence, mostly because of the fucking ginormous crush he had on his co-star. He hadn’t known Henry had been signed on for Geralt until his audition, really he hadn’t known much at all, just that he’d be auditioning for a bard and that he should probably take his lute to the audition. A spur of the moment decision that had turned his life upside down. He’d gone from a nobody to... well, not exactly famous but people had started to recognise him, much to his despair.
And then there was Henry.
He’d been admiring Henry from a distance for a few years now, watching him in the Tudors had sort of been Joey’s bisexual awakening, and then he’d suddenly been thrust into the most bizarre experience of having to work fairly closely with the man.
Joey would never forget the feeling of Henry throwing him over his shoulder as if he wasn’t almost the same size as Henry.
Fuck, that had been hot.
And now, Joey had to cohabit with said crush for an indeterminate amount of time, preferably without making a fool of himself.
He was doomed.
Of course, he could have said no when Henry had offered his place when Joey was grumbling about being alone during lockdown after Madeleine's parents got sick, but no… Henry had stared at him with such shining hope in his eyes that Joey never stood a chance.
Joey just needed to keep reminding himself that Henry was straight. He was practically the poster boy for heteronormative; classically gorgeous, action star, gymrat, lover of sports and building fucking computers.
Okay, maybe Joey was generalising a tad, but it was a form of self-defence.
Christ, the mere thought that Henry could be interested in men… interested in him.
It was too much.
So here he was, saying goodbye to his best friend whilst waiting for his biggest crush to pick him up. Madeleine bundled into her car with the last of her bags, and Joey was left waiting on the pavement. In all honesty, he would have preferred to drive to Henry’s place himself or at least get the tube, something where he felt like he was actively doing something. The waiting was killing him, making his thoughts run out of control. Maybe he shouldn’t have packed his guitar. He could have at least been tuning it, or plucking out some meaningless melody, anything to keep his hands busy and his mind distracted.
When the black car pulled up, Joey let out a sigh of relief before realising that it was very much frying pan, fire. Luckily, before he could really start to panic, the back door opened and Joey was almost bowled off his feet by a large bundle of fur that Henry claimed was a dog and not, in fact, a bear.
“Kal!” Joey greeted warmly, burying his fingers into Kal’s neverending fur, and letting the dog lick all over his face.
“He’s missed you,” Henry called in lieu of a greeting.
He was wearing a grey henley that looked like it was two sizes too small and his dark blue jeans seemed to strain against his quads. Henry’s arms were crossed in front of his chest and he looked down at Joey with a blinding Hollywood smile that made Joey’s heart flutter. Dark curls seemed to have finally recovered from the weeks stuck under Geralt’s wig and they fell in front of his so very blue eyes.
He was bloody gorgeous, and it wasn’t fucking fair.
So Joey did the only logical thing, and started to coo at Kal instead. “I’ve missed him too,” he trilled happily into the dog’s fur, scratching Kal behind his ears. “Such a good boy! The bestest, cutest doggo.”
“He’s not the only one who’s missed you, you know,” Henry groused, although when Joey looked up, he was still smiling so Joey didn’t feel too bad for paying far more attention to Kal than the gorgeous specimen of a man that is Henry Cavill.
“Aww, you sap,” he chuckled. “Well, I still haven’t forgiven you for those cruel and terrible words you cursed me with the last time we met.”
It wasn’t the last time they’d met. They’d had a few scenes after the argument in episode six. Scheduling had meant that it wasn’t filmed entirely in order, and then there had been reshoots and post-production parties, premieres and the table reads for season two, but it was a sort of in-joke. Joey liked to tease Henry about the argument, they’d both lurked enough online to know that ‘the mountain’ was a big fucking deal to the fans of their characters.
Henry rolled his eyes and opened his arms out for a hug which Joey eagerly returned, inhaling the soft musky cologne that Henry wore and enjoying the strongs arms that wrapped around him. He loved hugs, but most of Joey’s male friends would do that god awful hug and pat thing, then pull away too soon. Henry had never been like that and it was delightful, even if it really didn’t help the not so little crush that Joey had on the man.
It was cliche but it really did feel like coming home.
Fuck.
He was utterly screwed… and not even in the fun way.
The drive to Henry’s place was quiet, Joey spent most of the time watching the streets of London roll past as they weaved through bendy roads that webbed across the city. The traffic was weirdly non-existent, a side effect of a global pandemic, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the ghost towns from films and books.
It was truly haunting, spooky in just the right way. Horror and the Wild had very much had woodland magic vibes, but driving through the dead streets of London, Joey wondered what happened to the fae when a city sprung up near their home. Did they adapt like the wildlife did? Urban spirits that lurked in the shadows, in the alleys, behind the bins and cobbled streets at the back of theatres.
Most theatres were supposed to be haunted, Joey had always wondered just who the spirits were that glided through the aisles when the shows went dark.
Henry didn’t feel the need to fill the silence which Joey was grateful for. On set, with Jaskier on his fingertips, Joey was happy to joke about and laugh and banter, but he was nervous about the move to Henry’s and the silence gave him time to get lost in his own imagination, a reality that wasn’t quite the one they knew.
He was almost disappointed when the car pulled to a stop in front of a rather grand house. It was part of a terrace but that was unsurprising, most places in London were, but it was much nicer than the shitty little flat that Joey shared with Madeleine.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
They were poles apart. Even being friends was unrealistic. How the hell was Joey supposed to even pretend they were in the same league? It was fine. Everything was going to be fine. Joey just had to be a perfect house guest, no clumsy mistakes, no setting fire to any ovens, and no slipping in the shower and messing up his ankle.
He’d just have to spend all his time with Kal lest Henry find out just how much of a walking disaster he could be.
Henry had only offered because he was a caregiver, selfless and kind in everything he did. He would have done the same to anyone else if they’d mentioned spending lockdown alone. Joey was just the lucky one.
Or unlucky.
He hadn’t quite decided yet.
Yes, he would just have to spend his days with Kal and his guitar, stay out of Henry’s way and then everything would be fine.
Right?
___
Joey’s plan went according to plan for almost an entire week. He mostly kept to his room and occasionally the living room. Henry wanted to show Joey some films he liked and it would have been rude to say no, so Joey curled up with Kal on the floor to keep some space between them. That way he wouldn’t be tempted to snuggle up against Henry’s chest the same way he did with Madeleine, only it wouldn’t be the same because Madeleine was his best friend and Henry was… well… Henry.
It was such a mess.
And he was probably being an arse.
They’d gotten along so well on set in between takes, but now, without Jaskier there as a crutch, Joey’s anxiety was getting the better of him, and all because of a stupid crush. This would all be a lot easier if Joey were straight; no awkward crushes, no pining for a man he couldn’t have, no… whatever this was?
He could flirt and tease and banter just like he would with any of his friends because it was harmless.
If only.
No.
He had to do better. The reason Henry had invited him to stay was so neither of them would be alone, and despite all his cuddles with Kal, Joey was really starting to feel touch starved. He’d never gone so long without human touch.
The problem was that Henry was just so fucking sweet. He was so bloody understanding that it made Joey just yearn even harder. There was never any pressure to hang out, just gentle suggestions, and the most amazing home-cooked meals that Henry said could be heated up another time if Joey wasn’t hungry. The wine Henry picked out to go with the meal was heavenly, and fuck, the man could cook.
He felt like he was being seduced; wooed with the most gorgeous culinary delights that were truly to die for.
What was a poor bisexual to do?
So every evening Joey would sit across from Henry at the table, trying to joke and laugh just as they had before, but even to his own ears it felt flat. Madeleine’s voice in his head reminded him that that was probably his anxiety speaking but, of course, he ignored it. They ate their food and then Joey would either retreat to his room with his beloved guitar or Henry would suggest a film.
Until Henry decided enough was enough.
Joey was lured from his room with the sweet delicious smell of pizza, and when he came down the stairs he found Henry already on the couch, two boxes of pizza and a couple of beers already opened and ready to go.
There was no sitting on the floor, not with pizza and a Kal. Joey wouldn’t get to taste the greasy wonders of his takeaway if he sat on the floor, and the pizza box was already being guarded by Henry on the couch.
He had to break his rule.
Fuck.
“Kitchen table not good enough?” he teased with a quirk of his lips.
Henry scoffed. “Who eats pizza at the table?”
It was a fair point and sighed, resigning himself to an evening pressed up against his friend when his cuddle instincts got too much. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing, maybe it would help get him out of his head and into the moment… maybe he should just let Jaskier out of the box and pretend that all was fine?
No.
He could do this. Just… be himself?
“Before I open this box, there is one very important question I have to ask,” he said far too seriously, barely able to hide a smile as he scooped the pizza box into his lap and sat down next to Henry, keeping a safe distance between them.
“There’s no pineapple.”
“Oh thank fuck for that,” Joey laughed and opened the box. It was a standard pepperoni pizza, not his go to, but it was a safe option and one that was always yummy regardless of the restaurant. “Garlic dip?” he asked with a cock of his head.
“Damn, I hoped you wouldn’t like it,” Henry grumbled and pulled a small green topped tub from inside his own box.
“You!” Joey said in mock outrage, “keeping the beloved dip from me. It’s like the mountain all over again.”
“It’s not like the mountain,” Henry grumbled. “I didn’t make the script, you can’t keep blaming me for that.”
Joey’s heart sank as he wondered if he’d taken the joke too far, but when he met Henry’s gaze he saw the man was smiling despite his grousing. “I can,” he insisted.
“Hmm,” Henry replied in his most Geralt-y voice.
And with an internal sigh of relief, everything seemed to be okay. Yes, Joey was pulling some of his energy from his beloved character, but so was Henry, and it seemed to smooth out the edges of his anxiety. The beer helped and everything seemed a lot more relaxed with the takeaway pizza and the film already starting to play on the TV.
“I’m sorry,” Henry whispered after the pizza was finished and the credits had started to roll.
Joey’s head was resting on his friend’s shoulder but he’d managed to keep himself from koala hugging… so far. The vulnerability caught his attention though, and he sat up wearily to peer at Henry.
“For what?”
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by inviting you here.”
Joey wanted to swear, to stomp around the room and tear the place upside down. He’d fucked up. He knew he’d fucked up, his damn anxiety keeping him from being the person he wanted to be, the person he knew he could be if his head just shut up! He didn’t do any of that though. Instead, he slumped back down to lean against Henry and took a deep breath.
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.”
“I didn’t?”
“No. I’m just- it’s hard for me, being somewhere new,” not a lie, not entirely the truth, “and I didn’t want to encroach on your space. This is your home, and I- umm- I didn’t want to get in the way.”
Henry laughed, running a hand through his hair, pushing the curls back off his face, and Joey was entranced for a moment, wanting to reach out and feel the soft hair between his fingers for himself. It was a miracle that he managed to keep his hands in his own lap.
“Joey, this is our home, for now at least,” Henry said with such conviction and warmth that Joey made a sort of strangled noise in the back of his throat.
“Our home?”
“We have no idea how long this nightmare is going to last. It could be months, Joey. I want you to feel like you can relax here,” Henry insisted, wrapping his arm around Joey’s shoulder and pulling him into a sideways hug.
“Right- yeah, no, I know,” Joey mumbled, trying and failing not to blush.
Now that Henry wasn’t really having to watch what he ate and stay dehydrated for dear old Geralt, he was big.
And Joey was weak.
It was like all his wet dreams were becoming a reality, one by one.
He was just monkey-braining over the fact that Henry was one big, large, strong man that wanted to take care of him. It was pathetic. Joey wasn’t exactly small himself, and he could, should the role require it, hold up pretty well in a sword fight with Henry and not look entirely ridiculous.
“And I know Kal is very cute,” Henry teased, nodding to the dog who was sprawled on the carpet in front of them, “but if you ever need a hug, he’s not your only option.”
Joey definitely didn’t squeak this time. Instead, he finally let himself snuggle up to Henry the way he’d been wanting to all evening, every evening since he’d arrived. “Like this?” he teased.
Henry chuckled, and just squeezed his arms tighter around Joey, “Exactly.”
“I’m sorry,” Joey mumbled. “I was being an arse.”
“No, it’s not your fault.”
Joey scoffed.
“I should have been clearer on day one,” Henry sighed, “although seeing as you live here now, maybe you should cook?”
Joey laughed nervously, burying his face into Henry’s jumper. “Neither of us want that,” he muttered. “Trust me.”
“I’ll help?” Henry suggested, which of course brought forth a dozen images of cooking together, dancing in the kitchen to whatever songs fell past Joey’s lips, lazy early morning kisses as they waited for the coffee.
He swallowed, blinking away the fantasies. “How about you cook, and I’ll help?”
“Lazy,” Henry said with a chuckle but just pulled Joey closer.
“Only trying to keep you safe, darling.”
Darling.
Fuck.
“I mean, Henry, sorry, slip of the tongue. I mean- fuck. I call Madeleine darling all the time?”
“Joey, it's okay,” Henry reassured him.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
With a sigh, Joey untangled himself from Henry’s arms and gathered up the pizza boxes and empty beer cans. Booping Kal on the nose as he went past, he busied himself with clearing up. It wasn’t much and didn’t take long, so sooner than he would have liked he poked his head back around the door.
Henry was sitting on the floor, rough-housing Kal, chuckling as the dog kept licking at his face. The sight made Joey smile softly, and he almost didn’t want to leave, but he was getting tired and he really didn’t want to slip up again. He couldn’t blame every mistake on Madeleine. It wouldn’t be fair to her.
“I’m going to bed,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his hair. “See you tomorrow, Henry.”
_______
After that, things started to get easier. Joey would flop down onto the sofa next to Henry in the evenings regardless of what they were doing. Sometimes he’d lie with his head in Henry’s lap whilst they both read a book, other times he’d pluck at his guitar and laugh over stupid limericks that he could make up about his co-star. True to his word, Henry made Joey start helping with mealtimes, although he soon regretted that decision but refused to back down. The food still tasted good but the presentation was lacking. They spent an afternoon trying to bake bread together… Joey’s did not turn out so well and Henry’s attempt was thankfully less than perfect but still edible. The little flaws made Joey feel a little less inferior, and made Henry seem all the more human.
Kal still got a lot of Joey’s attention. How could he not? He was just so fluffy and adorable, plus Joey loved the little pout that Henry did whenever Kal got more hugs than he did. Joey could pretend that his friend was jealous, and that just helped him sleep a little easier at night.
Cuddling on the couch had become their usual routine, and it settled something deep inside of Joey that had been becoming restless. Mornings were spent watching Henry workout. Joey joined in occasionally but usually he would just cheer Henry on from the sidelines sipping his cup of tea. It was a sight to behold, and Joey thanked the lord that the gyms were currently closed otherwise he would never have been allowed to enjoy the view.
Henry’s arse was truly spectacular.
Despite his morning workouts, Henry had definitely gained a rather lovely layer of fat over his previously tightly toned muscles. He looked stronger. He looked cuddlier. Joey’s crush was only getting worse by the day, wanting to run his hands over the broad muscles of Henry’s back, thighs, arms… wherever he was allowed, but he just settled for the cuddling each day.
Joey tried not to think about the fat building over his own stomach and filling out his cheeks, barely noticeable unless you’d had a lifetime of his mother breathing down his neck about his weight. He was cuddlier too, that’s what he told himself whenever the familiar buzz of anxiety started to build up.
And anyway, Henry didn’t seem to mind.
Kal certainly didn’t. The beast of a dog had started to share the sofa with them in the evenings, squishing between them for maximum cuddle potential until eventually he got bored and retreated back to the floor.
It was really starting to feel like home. There were signs of Joey around the house, sheet music left on the TV cabinet, a set of spare lute strings in the kitchen, the bastard instrument tucked away in the corner of the living room until Joey could bring himself to pick it up. Two sets of keys now hung up by the front door so they could both take turns walking Kal without having to worry about getting locked out if the other was busy. A fluffy worn blanket was now strewn over the big armchair where Joey liked to sit during the day. Even the fridge now stocked Joey’s favourite rosé wine.
All in all, Joey wasn’t hating lockdown. It was frustrating but he enjoyed being inside anyway, and well, the company was pretty great.
The two of them were curled up on the sofa watching the Great British Bake Off on netflix, gin and tonics flowing a little too freely, and Joey felt like he was on top of the world. He had the best cuddler in all of England, nay, the world, a big fluffy puppy to boot and some bloody brilliant booze in hand.
The best thing was that Henry’s hoody had shifted up at some point during the evening, and Joey couldn’t take his eyes off the soft but defined muscles that were often hidden under Henry’s clothes. The dark hair that dipped beneath the exposed band of Henry’s boxers was tantalizing, and Joey longed to reach out and touch…
Only he was drunk enough that his inside thoughts had his hand moving before he could realise, landing on Henry’s stomach.
He froze and stared up at his friend with wide eyes.
“Oops,” he slurred.
“That’s my stomach,” Henry pointed out.
And still Joey didn’t remove his hand, relishing the bare skin beneath his fingertips, but he knew he needed an excuse, so he did the only logical thing and launched his attack. Henry was stronger than him, but Joey had the element of surprise as he tickled his friend, fingers dancing across the exposed skin as Henry desperately tried to shove Joey away. They were both laughing, too busy pushing and pulling at each other, that neither of them quite registered that at some point in the tussle, Joey had straddled Henry’s waist in an attempt to keep him pinned down.
Until suddenly their lips were barely a breath apart.
Oh.
“Hi,” Joey mumbled, smiling coyly down at Henry, the longer strands of his fringe falling into his eyes.
“Hi.”
It wouldn’t take much to lean down and kiss him, maybe Henry would even reach up first. There was no denying the sudden pull between them, and god, Joey wanted it. He’d wanted it for so long now.
So close.
The warmth of Henry’s breath brushing against his lips.
Eyes closed.
Hearts racing.
A soft whisper of a moan.
And then a bark rang out in the room, startling Joey and shattering the moment. He cursed as he fell to the floor, the world spinning from the gin and giddy burst of adrenaline. Kal jumped up into Henry’s lap, barking and whining excitedly at his owner, checking that he was okay following Joey’s tyrannical tickle attack.
Joey felt like an ice bucket had been dumped over his head, feeling far too sober, far too fast.
He’d almost kissed Henry.
He’d almost kissed Henry.
Fuck!
“Right,” he slurred as he pushed his hands back through his hair- too long, needed a haircut. “Bedtime, sleep. Yup.”
“Joey?”
“See you in the morning?” he mumbled, although glancing at the clock, he wondered if that was a little optimistic. “Tomorrow,” he amended.
“Tomorrow,” Henry agreed, looking a little disappointed.
Joey refused to think about it. He wouldn’t start to hope. It would hurt too much if this all went wrong.
______
They didn’t talk about it.
Or rather, Joey, didn’t talk about it.
Henry tried to bring it up the next morning but Joey just laughed it off before his heart could get torn to pieces. He didn’t need confirmation that his crush was a no go. He already knew, but he really didn’t need to hear the words. Not to mention his hangover was an utter bitch and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and feel sorry for himself, which is exactly what he did.
After a few days, or was it weeks, months, years? Time seemed to stop existing, all Joey knew was his clothes seemed to be tighter than before and he was in desperate need of a haircut, but after a lockdown-eque period of time, all was forgotten. They fell back into their usual routine, and Joey’s crush continued to simmer just below the surface, unnoticed by Henry.
He’d started to facetime Madeleine most evenings just before bed now that the novelty of living with a bloody filmstar had worn off. He missed her terribly and she seemed to be going crazy at her parent’s house. There was a twinge of guilt stabbing in his chest when he realised he’d all but forgotten about her the first few weeks of lockdown, but it was nice to catch up with her again.
Henry was brilliant, but he was no Madeleine Hyland. He wasn’t Joey’s best friend.
And sometimes Joey just needed to vent about Henry’s stranger habits. Like seriously, why wass there that weird sponsored water just stationed around the house? And what was with the weirdly staged selfies on instagram. It made Joey feel a whole lot better about his own lack of media presence. He’d rather be a mystery online than this boomer energy than Henry had going on.
Venting to Madeleine helped too, he got less frustrated about the shit hole that was life during a pandemic. A little less angry, a little less depressed, and a little less pathetic with his pining over Henry, although Madeleine would probably disagree.
She was probably right.
The sudden cold turn in the weather hadn’t helped. It wasn’t too bad but Joey had mostly brought summer clothes with him because he honestly hadn’t thought he’d be staying more than a couple of weeks. Thankfully he’d thrown in a couple of onesies for comfort reasons so he spent most his days dressed like a tiger and hoping that Henry would find it endearing. The best part was his onesies were a bit looser and fit him more comfortably than his normal clothes. A lockdown diet was brilliant, but not exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d gone shopping all those years ago.
What he hadn’t expected, was for Henry to rock up to dinner wearing the stupid bunny onesie that Joey had left in his room.
“There,” Henry greeted him with a broad smile, “Now we match.”
It wasn’t fair. Joey wanted to kiss him so badly. The white onesie was a little short on Henry, pulling up just above his ankles, and it still managed to stretch at his shoulders, but it was so fucking adorable and Joey could pin point the exact moment his crush tumbled over the edge into love.
It was the crinkles at the corner of Henry’s eyes as he smiled, the slight tilt of his head, the sparkle in his ocean blue eyes.
Except they weren’t just blue. No, there were specks of golden brown in one eye, that were just captivating. Joey felt like he could so easily get lost in Henry. Every time he looked at the man he found something new and exciting.
“Darling, you look adorable!” he cooed, before he could get too distracted by the fluttering of his own heart. “Very cuddly.”
Henry chuckled and opened his arms wide, allowing Joey to barrel into them. “That was the idea.”
“So, what’s for dinner?” he asked, hoping that Henry would have forgotten that-
“It’s your turn to cook.”
“Bugger,” Joey whined. “Cheesy pasta?”
“You made that last time,” Henry teased.
“I’m very good at carbonara!” Joey countered.
“Melted cheese on pasta isn’t carbonara.”
Joey scoffed. “Eh, close enough.”
“Fine, make your cheesy pasta.”
“Carbonara,” Joey said with a wink. “I’ll add bacon this time.”
The pasta was overcooked and the bacon was a little chewy, but it was dinner, and afterwards Henry made them both extravagant hot chocolates made from actual chocolate rather than powder shit that Joey used. It was covered in whipped cream and marshmallows and had a healthy amount of Baileys to top it off. They curled up on their usual spot on the sofa, buried under blankets and held the warm mugs close to their chests.
If it had been snowing, then Joey would have thought he’d walked into a Christmas film, all it needed was a fireplace and some fairy lights. It was cosy and warm, and a little bit romantic, or it would be if Henry was interested in men and Joey was his type.
No, he couldn’t think like that.
They were friends, good friends, good friends that liked to cuddle and almost kiss if the dog hadn’t interrupted.
It was fine.
Everything was fine.
He took a long gulp of his hot chocolate to stave off his anxiety, not noticing when his nose dived straight into the whipped cream until he looked up to find Henry staring at him with a fond expression. Warmth flooded through Joey’s chest as he returned the smile, feeling high on love and sugar.
“Hi,” he breathed, sounding as love sick as he felt.
Henry’s smile brightened, filling the whole room with light and Joey could have sworn he could hear the swell of violins in the soundtrack of his life.
“Hi,” Henry replied easily as if he hadn’t stolen Joey’s breath, heart and soul. “You- umm, cream, here!”
Henry tapped his own nose.
“Oh cock!” Joey hurried to wipe his nose, almost spilling his hot chocolate in the process, “Fuck! Bugger, shit balls!”
Henry, the bastard, just laughed, his arms reaching out to steady the mug and stop Joey from falling to the ground. “I think you made it worse.”
Joey snorted “I got that, yup, thanks.”
This time he could feel the sticky sweet cream clinging to his cheek, the subtle taste of vanilla on his lips. He pouted up at Henry, gazing through his eyelashes in a way that he hoped could be played off as friendly, but also maybe a little bit seductive. His tongue flicked out to lick his lips and he barely resisted the urge to wink.
Maybe there had been more Bailey’s in his drink than he realised.
Instead, he just wiped his face and snuggled back up to Henry, pulling the blanket up to his chin. They settled on watching Always Sunny, so Joey didn’t really have to concentrate. He let the tension drain from his body as he listened to the familiar TV show and then closed his eyes. Warm, happy and wrapped up in the arms of the man he loved-
Joey fell asleep.
He didn’t notice the way Henry was staring down at him as if he hung the fucking moon and stars, or the inner turmoil his friend was plague with as Henry resisted leaning down to kiss Joey in his sleep.
No, Joey was blissfully ignorant, sleeping better than he had in weeks.
________
The rest of lockdown went by in a blur. Their routine started to seem normal and any doubts Joey had about spending so much time with Henry faded away. They bantered easily like they had on set, laughing and giggling over whatever stupid thing one of them had said. Henry would spend hours playing his video games whilst Joey zoomed Madeleine to work on their new album together. When the regulations relaxed they started to walk Kal together, enjoying the quiet summer days and fresh air. The cuddling never really stopped, and some mornings Joey would wake up still curled up against Henry’s chest, their limbs tangled from the night before.
Those were Joey’s favourite mornings. He’d be stiff all day from sleeping on the couch but he could pretend, for just a few moments, that things were more than they were.
The pining never went away but it was truly the sweetest torture that he’d ever had to endure. The domestic bliss being barely a step away from everything he craved.
And when the time came for Joey to return to his flat with Madeleine, he felt like shit. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay in the strange fantasy world he had with Henry, eating too much food and drinking too much wine, cuddling and watching crappy Netflix shows.
Which was why he was sat, staring at a messy pile of clothes on his bed, clothes he’d not worn in weeks. Over the chair were his onesies and a collection of jumpers and hoodies that he’d stolen from Henry over the last few months and weeks. Kal stared up at him from the floor, tail thumping against the carpet.
Joey sighed and ran his hand through his hair, trying desperately to ignore the ache in his chest that was growing more painful with everything second that passed. “I don’t know, Kal. I should be happy about going home.”
Kal didn’t respond, his tail still wagging away just like it always did whenever Joey paid attention to him.
“I miss Madeleine, of course I do, but living with Henry has been great. And you, I love you, big fluffy puppy!” He cooed with a big smile as Kal barked happily and jumped up onto the bed. Joey laughed as he tried to keep his face away from the attack, wrapping his arms around Kal’s neck and pressing his nose into the fur.
“If I tell him how I feel that’s just going to make season two really really awkward, but I just feel like I’m missing a chance, you know?”
If Kal knew, he either didn’t care or just enjoyed watching Joey suffer. There was no reply and Kal just rested his head in Joey’s lap.
“Yeah, right,” he muttered, still running his fingers through Kal’s fur. “You’re no use.”
Kal snorted at that and Joey rolled his eyes.
“But I love you anyway, yes I do!”
“Ready to go?” Henry asked from the door.
“Shit!” Joey yelped. “How long have you been standing there?!”
Henry chuckled, striding into the room and perching on the bed opposite Joey. He reached out to scratch Kal on the head with a dazzling smile. Joey felt his cheeks warm up and he buried his face in Kal’s fur to hide the blush. So many months and he still couldn’t stop his heart from racing whenever Henry smiled. He was pathetic.
And he was running out of time.
He knew it was a bad idea, even entertaining the thought of dating a co-star, but he’d regret it if he didn’t give it a shot. I mean he could always blame the mixed signals if it went wrong. They’d nearly kissed twice and Joey didn’t even cuddle Madeleine as much as he’d cuddled Henry. They were probably the only people that were less touch-starved during the lockdown than before.
So Joey was going to tell him.
Just three words.
He could do that.
Fuck!
He couldn’t do that.
“Joey?” Henry said, reaching out to squeeze Joey’s shoulder.
Joey blinked. Had Henry been talking to him? He’d asked a question so that would make sense. God, his anxiety had gone through the roof, it was like that first day all over again.
“Need to pack,” he mumbled, gesturing at his clothes.
Henry let out a long and heavy sigh, sounding just as thrilled about the idea as Joey did. “I suppose you do, yeah. When is Madeleine due over?”
Joey hummed, glancing at his watch. “Ten minutes ago. Lockdown traffic must be a thing of the past.”
“Pity.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah,” Henry sighed.
Neither of them moved, both staring glumly at Kal who was happily nestled between them. It was strange but Joey had almost begun to think of Kal as his, theirs. Their home, their life, their dog. He would miss Kal very much.
He would miss Henry even more.
“Do you have a start date yet?” Joey asked, the restrictions were lifting and there were talks about getting back to work again, but it was all up in the air.
Henry shook his head. “Should be getting a call from my agent some time this week. I need to make sure my other projects can work around the schedule.”
Joey smirked, “Or my dear witcher will have a new face next time we meet,” he teased.
Henry scoffed. “Not a chance, you’re stuck with me, bard.”
“You still owe me an apology,” Joey shot back, not quite realising how close they’d gotten during their mock argument.
He swallowed and licked his lips, one hand reaching up to scratch the stubble on his cheek. His face was burning right up to the tips of his ears, his heart thumping in his chest. There was a spark of electricity crackling between them, the scent of coffee lingering on Henry’s breath.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Henry promised, voice hoarse and low, making heat spread through Joey’s body and the world around them seemed to disappear.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Henry breathed, the words shaky.
Joey longed to reach out and brush his fingertips along the strong line of Henry’s jaw, to feel the scratch of stubble beneath his skin. He longed to tangle his hands in the dark mess of curls, to see if they were really as soft as they looked. It felt as if there was a magnetic force pulling them closer, a string tying their souls together, binding them as one. Joey couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to, and he was over that. He couldn’t live inside his head any longer, not when there was a chance.
Hope.
Deadly, poisoning his very soul, until he could think of nothing except Henry’s lips on his, hands roaming bodies, pulling at hair, unable to resist the promised pleasures of sin. Tongues tangling. Hearts singing. One breath shared between two. Heat. Lust. Love.
Just Henry.
His love.
Joey closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Henry’s, their lips barely ghosting over each other, you really couldn’t call it a kiss; not yet. One more breath, a millimetre to close the gap.
A horn honked from outside and they pulled apart before they could cross the bridge, past the point of no return.
Joey let out a slightly manic laugh and ran his hands through his hair, whilst Henry went back to stroking Kal as he cleared his throat.
“Bollocks, I still haven’t packed.”
“I’ll invite Madeleine in for some tea,” Henry chuckled, stretching as he stood up.
Kal barked happily and jumped down, wagging his tail as he sniffed at Henry’s socks.
And Joey was left alone once more.
“Fuck!” he groaned, covering his face as he flopped back onto his pillows.
By the time he finished packing, Madeleine and Henry were laughing away in the kitchen like old friends.
Like Joey and Henry had so many times.
He wasn’t special. Henry was just that guy.
Hope.
Dangerous and lethal, stabbing into the heart and tearing the soul apart.
“Ready,” Joey mumbled, holding up his suitcase and guitar. “Might take a couple of trips, I have another bag upstairs and the damn lute.”
“Not sure I ever heard you play the lute?” Henry teased.
“Yeah well,” Joey grumbled and turned away from the kitchen before he could start crying.
He really really didn’t want to cry in front of Henry. What was a little heartbreak between friends? At least he could channel that into Jaskier whenever they finally got back onto set. God, he was a fucking mess.
“I’ll help you,” Henry volunteered because of course he would. He probably just wanted Joey gone sooner.
The poor bloke probably couldn’t wait to have his own space back without Joey’s inedible attempts at cooking, non-stop music and chatter, lazy slobbish evenings in front of the TV.
He wasn’t going to cry.
He wasn’t.
Fuck!
Joey sniffed and stumbled out the door, his hands gripping his suitcase so tight he thought he might break the handle. Back home with Madeleine, to his life, and his bed, and nights spent drinking too much wine and lurking on social media.
He’d just about managed to throw his suitcase into the boot when he heard a loud bark behind him, followed by Henry grunting. Joey was almost knocked off his feet as Kal bundled into him, circling around as he jumped up, winding the lead around Joey’s body and pulling a poor Henry with him.
Not that Joey was particularly complaining about having Henry pressed up against him, but did it have to be when he was crying?
Henry cursed, struggling to keep hold of the lead. Their faces were close and they had to wrap their arms around each other to keep steady. Joey laughed through his tears, reminded of a similar moment from one of his favourite Disney films.
Only Kal was a lot bigger than a Dalmatian.
“I don’t think he wants you to leave?” Henry said, smiling sheepishly.
Joey smiled back despite his broken heart. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“I- I don’t want you to leave either,” Henry whispered so quietly that Joey wasn’t sure whether he’d heard it at all. “I- umm, I like having you here… with me.”
“Oh,” Joey replied stupidly.
“Fuck, I- Joey… Can- can I kiss you?”
The world turned upside down. Joey's heart stopped and everything started to spin. He tried to process the words but nothing seemed to make sense. There was no fucking way that Henry had said that, that he wanted to- wanted to…
Fuck!
“Oh,” he repeated, blinking at Henry as he licked his lips. “I mean. Fuck. No, I mean… Christ. Yes. Please. Yes.”
Henry chuckled and cupped his cheek, pressing their lips together in the most tender of kisses, taking Joey’s breath away right there on the pavement. Joey just giggled when they parted and then swooped back in for another kiss, and another-
And he never wanted to stop.
He didn’t need to breathe, he just needed this; Henry’s lips on his.
Henry had other ideas though, pulling away with a blinding smile.
“Stay with me?”
Joey nodded and threw his arms around Henry’s neck. “God, yes.”
And then they kissed some more. They had months of lockdown to catch up on, after all.
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What it’s like falling in love with him 💓💓🥺 *check venus*
Based mostly on personal experience
Aries Venus- falling in
love with him was like always remembering the feeling of his loose red tee shirt even if you just felt the cotton warmth as it grazed your arm lightly as you walked past in the hallway. He’d stare right through you and make your body go cold, or sometimes he’d lightly smirk and you’d feel the burning of a million suns as they rolled and rolled
into the pit of your stomach without mercy. Loving him was like constant tension, an endless dark corridor. Loving him was like heartbreak that you begged for. He would say he just didn’t want you, and leave, disappearing through the trees and wistful breeze. But he would come back forceful and angry everytime he heard that your arm may be wrapped around another man, he’d ask you where you are and he couldn’t handle the thought of your fingers intertwined into other hands. Loving him made you angry and loving him set you free. You realized that the two of you were just not meant to be.
Taurus Venus- Loving him was like forgetting what it once felt like to be touch starved. Some days he’d let his fingers dance lightly on your leg, other days, he’d kiss your neck as you moaned and begged. Either way you knew you were home, you knew you were safe. There’s nowhere you’d rather lay, than under the sun and in his arms. Both sensations brought warmth and love. You’d laugh as he seemed to make your parents fall in love with him even more than you, he was so scared to lose you. He would cook for you, feed you hot soup when you were sick. sometimes, you’d disagree on things and he’d be kind of a dick. You will miss the golden summers in his eyes, the loyalty in his fingertips. You will miss the sun as it rested in the peaceful sky, the sweet honey in which you’d dip your feet in gently.
Gemini Venus- Falling in love with him was like laughing about the crude joke he made whilst being entranced with his sly smile as he wrapped his mouth around a beer bottle. You wanted him to savour you in his mouth and drink you like he did that Miller lite. He loved to make memories with you, even if memories is all that they are. A faint recall of true love, a remembrance of his smile. Butterfly’s are beautiful but are almost always gone by Sunday morning, he always brought a rude awakening without realizing. You will remember the fresh grass as it tickled your backs and not the sound of your heart as it cracked, you will remember staring at the stars and wanting to bathe in galaxies above, and while you looked up at those stars all he did was stare at you, and you’ll remember how the staring was slightly intrusive but nonetheless mischievous, innocent and cute. He was in awe. You will remember the nervous smiles, the cold bathroom tiles, the time worthwhile. You won’t remember your heart breaking.
Cancer Venus - Falling for him was like finally being cared for. You were an abandoned child left on a door step and he took you in and cradled you tight, he loved you even as you tried to fight, he loved you even when it didn’t feel quite right, he loved you through your darkness, through your stressful nights. As soon as his soft little heart decided you were family, he’d never ever leave your side and you’ll feel his wrath if you dare try. You were sick and broken and he held you, god, he was the only one who held you. He’d be moody and jealous and influence the entire mood of a room, he sometimes made you feel sad and wanting to find somewhere else to hide, crawl back up inside your mamas womb. He always made you comfortable, wrapped you up in a blanket full of love and he would show you there is warmth in not only the sun but also the moon and the stars. With him you didn’t feel unloved, no, love was always all around you and you didn’t have to search very far.
Leo Venus- A love with him was not a love that felt detached, no, you were the centre of his universe and that you were sure. He’d come home and tell you stories, some that made you laugh, some that made you cry. But they captivated you. God, he always captivated you. He was your gleaming star and you were his night, you were just perfect together, the shoe fit just right. He would get jealous, grabbing you and kissing you in front of everyone, you’d say “what the hell?” he’d chuckle and say “I wanted to claim what’s mine”. maybe that was too possessive and annoying or maybe you began to fall in love with it just as you did with his touch that gleamed and burned. people said when they heard you both giggle, the sound resembled two lovers as they intertwined, people would let out an “aww” as you two danced goofily in the living room after a few too many glasses of wine. He gave your heart exotic life under party lights and he let you win everytime at beer pong just because he wanted to please you. It took him a while to really reveal but one day he glanced at you and said “I really need you”.
Virgo Venus- falling for him was like finally being important. He worshipped you in a way that was quiet and soft. He criticized himself he never felt he was enough. He was always on his knees calling you an goddess as you sipped your fresh mint tea. You laughed and you said “I’m nothing of the sorts” he grabbed your face and told you, “ you absolutely are”. He helped you learned to love yourself and taught you so many things you never knew, theres so many things about the world and you really had no clue. He’d fix his hair and never know where to put his hands and you’d laugh and put them on your body and softly say “if you’re not sure where to put your hands; this is where I think they’ll stay”. He‘d shake with a nervous tremble and giggled with excitement. He picked the lint of your sweater and ran his fingers through your hair, he had an angelic type beauty, skin pure and fair. He would get grumpy when he was tired and sometimes it felt like he didn’t care, but he always gave his heart to you, he was always willing to share.
Libra Venus- He loved with a heart that was open and naive, a heart recklessly worn upon his sweater sleeve. He was so kind and soft he was almost unreal to you, he had hair like golden waves and a smile soft and true, he was delicious like candy, a body that was like a meal to you. And he was always read to be devoured as long as he could devour you too. There was red wine, roses on the bed, and fancy dates just for you two, the romance completely swept you away and never failed to enthral you. He was the prince and you were the princess and you giggled because you never knew that in a couple years would be living out a cheesy Taylor swift song in real life but here you were. Kissing the boy of your dreams, drinking champagne, and making love on the satin sheets. “Here we are baby, it’s just you and me.” He softly whispered in your ear, there’s no other words you’d rather hear.
Scorpio Venus- He loved you because you had a deepness about you, you had a sad soul and it struck him the right way. He never fucked with chit chat, no, he had a soul that yearned for more. He was destructively emotional, a mind that was at constant war. He wanted to change but only when he was with you, he could finally see good parts of himself, that he’d never seen before as you kissed along his scars and broken heart. He hated how much he loved you. some days he’d disappear and you wouldn’t hear from him, other days he couldn’t keep his hands off of you as he caressed along your body and wiped away your tears. He’d punch the wall and you hugged your knees, you’d scream as he crawled on the floor and cried, feeling weak. He taught you that love is something to fear. Love isn’t always clear. True love isn’t always comfortable and you felt that as his presence grew near.
Sagittarius Venus- He had eyes, full of lust honesty and fire. Two broken souls looking to move on, Bonnie and Clyde, forever on the run. Who said romance couldn’t be fun? He’d grab your bum and kiss you quick, soon the flame would burn out of the candle wick. He left you crawling for more, ugly, needy on the bathroom floor. You still recall the 3 am calls when you two felt like riding into the night and seeing where the stars take you, you touched the sky with your fingers tip, and then touched eachother and found meaning in the universe. Love can be true even when it is fleeting, a quick and passionate love can be just as defeating. Before you know it, he’s on a train, and you’re wondering why he ever went away. He’ll explain that his gods told him to go where he feels free and he can rest his head because down there he is authentic and true, and that he loves you so, but that place isn’t with you.
Capricorn Venus- He wants the poster image girl, someone sensitive and sweet to balance out his cold exterior. You were the only one who could make him feel truly warm. Before he knew it, he was in love. Perhaps it happened with a little playful nudge or a giggle in the wind. You were perfect for him, a match made in heaven, he was the wish you had been waiting for, your 11:11. He’d be quiet about it but as soon as he felt comfortable he told you about his dreams of picket white fences, lawn parties and kids learning how to play baseball in the yard. He told you he saw your face, Ivory and soft, blurry and faint in every one of those dreams. He worked till his hands hurt and you’d massage them at home, he had a serious look, stern to the bone. You’d kiss him and add the perfect softness to his life, it wasn’t long till he asked you “will you be my wife?”
Aquarius Venus- He wouldn’t dare say the word love, and he covered his ears as soon as the thought struck your mind and the word touched your tongue. Because you were only his best friend, a best friend that wore his stylish blue sweaters and he said you made them look better. You were just a best friend he couldn’t stop thinking about, a best friend that had a mouth he loved to taste, a best friend that he’s seen in only her lace. And you’d say “that doesn’t seem like a best friend to me” but all he’d do is laugh and disagree. Hed say “who’s to say what’s love and what’s lust, what is and what isn’t meant to be.” It hurt you because sometimes he was cold and almost alien like, but he was electric to the touch, he was neon lights and an addicting drug, so this so called “best friend” wasn’t someone you would give up.
Pisces Venus- once you are in love you saw him turn automatically soft, suddenly his hands melted into icecream and you couldn’t help but be addicted to how it was so sweet. He would tell you reminders of his love everyday, it was way of begging you to stay. He would tell you how sometimes you remind him of the flowers in may, or this really heart wrenching song he heard the other day. You would feel special and loved, like you two were angels or specks of stardust continuously falling. His love for you pours out like a waterfall and all you want to do is lay underneath and choke on it and let it drown you in the most hauntingly beautiful way. He is your saviour, your soft reminder of sunny days. He is what you never knew you needed when you always felt defeated, he was a wonderful sparkling surprise, he was more of a god than simply a guy.
#venus#venus signs#astrology#astro#love astrology#venus pisces#venus aquarius#venus capricorn#sagittarius venus#venus scorpio#venus libra#virgo venus#leo venus#gemini venus#cancer venus#taurus venus#aries venus
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Take care of you
Summary: “No I’m a surprise,” you say sounding all sassy and smiling where your cheeks fluff up and you look like a pufferfish and it always gets Namjoon. His eyes are crescents, dimples peeking from his cheeks.
“What would they say if they saw the big bad Kim Namjoon like this?” you ask raising your brow not as good as Namjoon but it gets the job done.
note: Hello, I am back after months with this piece. Feedback is always appreciated! Thank you for reading.
��Mafia!Namjoon x reader
➡Warnings: 18+, Mentions of sex, reader’s family not letting her eat
Namjoon hates parties. Sure he’s the CEO, of one of the biggest crime syndicates in the world, the biggest and most feared in South Korea so he could have sent his associates or one of his brothers to attend this party but he was there for a very specific reason. Y O U.
With a frontal name of BigHit Inc., run by the most fearsome mafia BTS behind it, the most fierce crime lords and not by the old fashioned guns and murders way well, that sometimes yes, but mostly financial crimes, stealing money and intellectual property theft done so well they’ve been thriving the last few decades when their fathers, mafia bosses, seven families joined hands together to be sworn allies promising to take down and gain power over the corrupt government. Now run by their sons seven men, most of them educated in Ivy League schools. 5 of them even hold dual degrees, their leader Kim Namjoon or RM even holds a fucking Ph.D. A born genius, his IQ only amplifying his true potential. His members' capabilities, work ethic complimenting the jobs they pull off together as a team. This team was perfect and solid in all ways made to rule. As if fate had brought them together.
The party was boring as usual. All of the crime lords and mafia bosses with their families were here. It reminded Namjoon of the party, similar to this where he first laid his eyes on you. His gaze traveling from the bar section of the huge ballroom towards you at the opposite end where you were forced to make small talk. You stared back at him with the same intensity. Your eyes catching his gaze, latching onto his dragon eyes drowning in those dark orbs that stared at you. You weren’t afraid, not even intimated. No sign of a blush. You weren’t swooning like those other girls. You simply stared back at him equally fierce taking his presence in. Your own doe-like eyes even if not as sharp as his, held enough power to not only draw the attention of the most powerful, eligible bachelor, most feared CEO of an empire himself but also spark something in him. And ever since then your life and these parties have been different. You solely come here to see him. And the same for him. To see you.
What Namjoon and you shared was special. With your family owning amalgamation of big companies, reputable among the mafia bosses and crews it came with lots of curfews for you the heiress to your father. You were an asset. One that would be traded someday. To a man that would be chosen for you, based on his family, money and what value he can derive for your father and his business. And you shall be his dutiful wife, produce an heir and then wait for death inside some mansion. This was your fear. You were disgusted whenever any thoughts of how your future would be like crossed your mind. Amidst all the chaos, uncertainty and lack of control in your own life, you met Namjoon, your Joon. The man changed your entire perspective on love, intimacy and boy he had you pining for him even yearning. But what you didn’t realize is he was yours since he saw you for the first time two months ago.
Namjoon’s at his usual spot. By the bar. Waiting for you. With a drink in his hand. There was no way he could take you on dates given your family. The curfews. And that bullshit about what girls and women can and cannot do. He hated the way women were treated. He was lucky that his father was not as stupid as the others. He made sure that his sister was sent away to Switzerland to study, and live her life the way she wants to like any normal girl. And she was happy and so was his mother who lived in Japan with her own small business, even enjoying life. He hoped one day he can go away somewhere with you. Away from all this. Take you on dates. Hold your hand while he walks next to you. Kiss your cheeks whenever he wanted to. Make you giggle with all the cheesy compliments and then make out till his heart's content. Right now he had to settle for stealing glances in between. Carefully brushing his hand whenever he walked near you. This is all the affection or physical contact he’d get. On a good day, when people at the party would be preoccupied with taking some political party member down or something like that Namjoon would sneak you out to the roof, or to the parking lot inside his car to steal kisses. Heated kisses. Passionate kisses. One where he’d drag your soft lips between his teeth just to hear that moan. Running his hands all over your body while you clutched his torso, held on to his pecs and squeezed his biceps for dear life gasping for air. His plump lips swollen, his shirt buttons open, neck and collarbones littered with hickeys and marks you’d leave every time you had one of your little adventures. Namjoon would give anything to mark you just one small hickey but he couldn’t and he won’t risk your family finding you out. You have stylists and beauty consultants that will scan every inch of your body and he couldn’t afford to get you in trouble. So he holds back and tells himself that he’ll wait for the day, that one day you’ll be his.
All these thoughts suddenly clouding his mind made him feel so empty his forehead sweaty. He decided to step out to the balcony a little disappointed that he’s not seen you yet. He made sure your family was invited. He knows you’ll be there with them as your parents like to show you off like some diamond jewelry piece or an ornament they possess. The thought of you being married to someone else makes Namjoon’s blood boil. And even at these parties the way the other men scan your body, while you’re in your tight-fitting dresses draping your body perfectly makes him want to take his gun out and shoot them all. He looks over to the night sky sighing and drinking his third glass of scotch. Namjoon suddenly feels a pair of hands right above his navel and he’s ready to smack that person but he hears your voice and jolts instead trying to turn.
“Boo!”
“Were you supposed to meet me here?” Namjoon asks with a grin, lifting a brow as if he didn’t just get scared and pulls your wrist around his waist towards his back so he can hug you.
“No I’m a surprise,” you say sounding all sassy and smiling where your cheeks fluff up and you look like a pufferfish and it always gets Namjoon. His eyes are crescents, dimples peeking from his cheeks.
“What would they say if they saw the big bad Kim Namjoon like this?” you ask raising your brow not as good as Namjoon but it gets the job done.
“If I didn’t hear your voice, but only felt hands and if it weren’t you, they’d be dead princess” he responds voice deep and low holding that timber, his the last four words whispered into your ear. His breath making you feel ticklish so you giggle. He looks around to check if any eyes were on him and then, quickly pulls you into a hug. You smell divine as usual. Namjoon dips lower and places his chin near your neck. He loves it. The smell of your perfume, your shampoo combined with your own sweet natural scent. Makes him feel like some kind of animal, primal instincts kicking in and he knows if he keeps his head there he’s a goner. But what he feels now is different than usual. Your body is warmer to his touch. He’s used to how you normally feel. And right now you feel warm, your skin hot when he slots his fingers on your forehead brushing your hair to the side.
“Looks like you’re running a fever are you okay princess?” he asks his voice suddenly all serious, brows furrowed his gaze boring to where his hands meet your skin.
You want to say that you’re okay, but you’re not. You feel sore everywhere. Your legs hurt from wearing heels. Your dress is too tight and you’re hating the way it feels all over your body. It’s making you feel uncomfortable. The material just feeling torturous against your feverish skin. You haven’t had proper meals because your family starved you so don’t look bloated for today’s event. They wouldn’t even feed you when you were sick. You threw up twice but they still made you come here. You need an IV probably. You thought you’d text Namjoon but since they were going to make you attend this party anyways might as well be here and get some serotonin from seeing him. You were always trained to say you’re okay. Making yourself seem strong. Your needs were never to be put first. But right now the way Namjoon looks at you, with so much care and concern makes your heart ache so you give in, tell him and you just want to sit down because you don’t know when your dizziness will be back. You want to cry because you’re so annoyed and irritated your brain a mess.
“No” you squeak out. You eyes now glossy and Namjoon’s heart just breaks at that. Only after a few seconds does he realize how your face gives away the exhaustion after he looked at it a little longer. The bags under your eyes can be seen. Even if the concealer did a good job of hiding the dark circles Namjoon can see how truly tired and exhausted you must be feeling. Your cheeks more hollow. Your posture barely making you stand straight or still. Fidgety. Weak. You lean into his arms. Your forehead meets his shoulder. His black blazer feels so soft. You sigh. you want to just stay there. Namjoon carefully pulls you off him while he cups your cheek and tells you that you both should move somewhere more private. You nod and sneak out of the room. Thankfully the party today was at a hotel, one of Seoul’s biggest and Namjoon makes some calls while you’re walking his hands securing you by his side while you make your way out. Namjoon notices how it’s hard for you to match his stride today. Even though the man is 70% legs you usually keep up with him by walking faster or leaping. But today you’re barely able to keep up with his slowest smallest strides. You walk for what feels like an hour but it’s just been two minutes. You’re back at the reception lobby and you see someone guide you and Namjoon to the elevator. The next thing you know you’re in a hotel room.
Namjoon leads you towards the bed once you’re in the room and the door is locked. A few seconds later you hear rustling and you know they’re the guards placed outside the door for security. You sit on the bed your legs finally catching a break from carrying you and the stupid dress around with those stupid heels. You loved wearing heels but not today sis. In your hazy state you try to pull them off only that you forgot to remove the strap first through the small metal buckle. The dress making it a struggle to bend over and reach for the straps. Namjoon sees your struggle and can’t help but let out a small giggle. You look up at him with those doe eyes, confused and there it goes his heart sinks again. He makes way his towards you, leans down on both his knees. He gently takes your right foot into his palm and with the other hand makes quick work to get you out of your heels. Within seconds he was able to accomplish what you were trying so hard to do. And with one of your problems gone, you just fall back onto the plush bed all grace forgotten. Once the head hits the soft cloud-like mattress you let out a sigh of happiness and then a groan. Your feet are still hanging downwards to the floor, your back was on the bed arched so you can rest your head down. But more comfortable than standing or walking right now but you’ll take it. Too tired to move you give up fatigue finally settling in.
“Move up sweetheart you’ll hurt your back” you hear Namjoon say but you have no energy. You don’t even respond sleep already taking over you. Especially now that you were safe, away from those eyes, your parents probably thought you’ll be talking to some guy impressing someone but little did they know you’d be here a few floors above the party with Joon. You don’t know what to call your little arrangement or these little sneaking out sessions are. You don’t know what Namjoon is to you. The two of you haven’t talked about it. It’s weird because you’ve talked about fate, why Namjoon hates seafood and how much you love the rain, the fraud patterns in his business but never about what Namjoon is to you. Not that you need a label, and not that maybe calling him your boyfriend would be a label like that, you’d actually like it. All you know is Namjoon likes you, for sure I mean he wouldn’t be kissing you like a starved man, you shoving your tongue down his throat or else. You know you love him but you don’t know if he loves you yet. It’s too much to ask for. Given the circumstances. You’re just glad you found him. And whatever moments you’ll get to share you’ll cherish them now and forever. You start thinking about all these moments while sleep pulled you in completely and you don’t hear Namjoon call your name again. You don’t hear him trying to wake you up. You don’t feel his hands cupping your cheek. You sure as hell don’t even feel his lips peck yours which is the first time in a while now. You don’t feel him undo some buttons and zips to get you off that dress. You don’t even feel the way he tucks you in.
All you now know is you wake up in a blanket nest. Soft blankets against your cheek, your hands, your legs. You sigh at this feeling smiling to yourself. You’re moving and stretching. Feeling like a new person. You’re fully awake now even though you haven’t opened your eyes and that’s when you hear him
“Can you hear me now sleepy head?”
you know he’s only teasing you but you pout before opening your eyes to see him at the other side of the room with an amused smile.
“New person who dis” you reply only making him laugh. Namjoon’s shirtless. He’s wearing his dress pants, his blazer hung at the corner neatly next to your dress. And that’s when you realize you’re wearing his shirt while you napped.
“What time is it” you ask yawning. and when Namjoon says you register you’ve napped for three full hours. He makes his way towards you. He slowly climbs on the bed stretching his arm out for you and you waste no time in jumping to his embrace with your new-found energy. Namjoons smiling at that. He can never get used to how perfectly you fit against him. He’s the one sighing in comfort now. Sometimes Namjoon can’t tell if you know that he loves you or not. The way you make him feel. The way you make him crave your heart.
You peek up from his shoulder to look at him, his eyes never leaving you.
“Hi” you whisper smiling at him
“Hii” he replies back matching your hushed tone dimples on display and you can’t help but poke them. From here you can see how versatile Namjoon is. His expressions outside the usual are deadly. His sharp dragon eyes, jutted jaw, furrowed brows he looks dangerous and lethal. But now all you see is a soft dimpled giant with the cutest button nose and crescent eyes. His eyes hold so much warmth.
He gently cards fingers through your hair asking if your feeling better to which you nod. You reach up to peck his lips. And once you slot your lips onto his plush and soft ones you want more. You move your hand to the back of his head lightly carding your fingers through his hair spurring him on. Namjoon takes this incentive and slots his lips back to yours. You look so damn good in his shirt and now his mind is going crazy. Thoughts racing. He tilts your head so he can angle himself better. Little sucks and swipes of his tongue against your lips and mouth have your knees weak. He knows how to claim his jackpot already knows what makes you react and what you like. One hand reached down to knead your ass. You moan against his mouth breathless as you take him in. Lips swollen, luscious and glossy. Your eyes are unrelenting. And he decided it is at this moment, he has to tell you. He fears the worst will happen. That you’ll say no. And he might never get to see you again. Ever. But the way your body molds in his arms, the way you only always react to him, the way you make his heart always beat faster.
“Y/N I really re-really like you” there it was. That slight stutter. To Namjoon each second felt like a minute now but your eyes become wide and yoU smile a million-watt smile a second later. His hopes are back up. A warm feeling in his chest. Like a lightbulb inside him was lit. You can see him glowing. Now that the weight of his worries is halved. You cup his cheeks. And he thaws in your affection.
“I like you too Joon” you say voice barely above a whisper. You feel like a teenager confessing to her crush. You cheeks are painted red and Namjoon hasn’t seen a beautiful sight before. And now it’s actually your turn to get something off your chest.
“Heck I might even love you Kim Namjoon what are you doing to me” you say before you can think more and it has Namjoon visibly gasping and he pulls you in for another kiss. This time softer. Truly holding you against him. The way you belong to him. And the way he belongs to you. No more unsaid words. No more doubts.
“fuck baby girl be mine I love you too” he whispers inbetween kisses. You want to say something back but his lips are back on yours, molding them, tongue exploring. Leaving kisses at the corner of your mouth. On your chin. Your jaw. Slowly making its way down to your neck. You’re already so far gone you’re a whiny mess. Your body jolting backwards each time his lips touch the skin on your neck. fuck, you were so sensitive and that had his mind filled with filth. Moans dripping when he sucks and licks so gently. Your hand on his pecs, gripping his biceps or at the nape of his neck. Gentle touches, gets him so riled up and you know it. Moments with you like this lets him break his facade. Dive into his desires.
“So sensitive for me” Namjoon mutters to himself continuing his ministrations. One hand at the back supporting you, holding you strong. Another rubbing circles at your stomach for a few seconds, then holding you by the shoulder the next few seconds or groping your breasts softly making you whimper and suck in breaths.
Only when he slips his hand under his shirt on you does he realize the added warmth to your skin is from your fever reminding him of exhausted state and whatever you have going on will only make it worse if you don’t get to rest. Namjoon feels how flaccid and sunken your tummy feels. Not the way it usually does. He can easily notice all the inches you’ve lost. And suddenly there’s a change of energy.
“Those assholes, fuck princess let me take care of you” he says letting you go. His eyes have already changed. The hurt and anger you could see in them made a shiver run up your spine. You can never get used to his eyes. The anger he is actually capable of. He’s always so kind, gentle and sweet to you but that’s just one side. Within minutes there’s food at your room. Everything that you like is here. Gimbap but with extra cheese. Kimchi-jigae with egg-fried rice rather than normal rice because you like it that way and even some dessert. This man really put in everything he knew about you. You looked at him with so much adoration it only made his face turn red while he looked down and scratched the back of his head. Kim Namjoon was shy right now all dimples and smiling. You giggled and pulled him towards you so the two of you can enjoy this meal. You don’t know when your phone will start blowing up. You don’t know when you’ll have to leave, go away from Joon, his warmth, his comfort and his solace. So you take in this moment with everything it has to offer. Grateful that even the few minutes you spent awake with this man made you feel loved to the extent where you're always at a loss of words.
divider: @graph1cs
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Set my soul on fire (make me wild) || Hui/Reader (M)
➣ I was originally going to write a LOT more smut (I had so much planned that I never got to!!! ugh).. Maybe I’ll have to do a part 2 or something 👀 the amount of time i spent looking at pics of his studio just so that one scene would be accurate is insane Title from the song ‘Queen of Disaster’. Very briefly proof-read, so please feel free to inform me of typos!
➣ Hui/Reader | Hui drunkenly kisses the reader without explicit consent but owns up to it bcs I’m tired of every other fic that includes this trope just glossing over it | Smut warnings include: masturbation, fingering, hair-pulling (implied), biting (mostly implied), oral + snowballing, slight pain/masochism (implied), some humiliation/degradation + some praise, referenced submissive headspace, and all of them apply to Hui lmao. Also it’s mentioned that Hui isn’t strictly heterosexual and if that bothers you then idk what to tell you
➣ “He is hanging off your every word and you suddenly feel like you have a choice to make - it’s one you don’t think about for more than a second, because you realize that you don’t need to.”
Hui knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you had completely ruined his life just by existing in it.
It wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily. The feeling he got whenever you smiled at him, for example, was definitely not a bad thing. The way his skin tingled whenever you brushed against him was.. bothersome, but not a bad thing. The way his heart sped up and beat almost painfully hard whenever he indulged in his regular skinship with you wasn’t particularly bad, but he’d stopped doing that recently just as a preservation strategy so he didn’t die in the next year from a heart attack. (He was a naturally touchy person, and he wasn’t completely sure how he felt at having to stop that with you specifically.)
The way his mind constantly drifted to thoughts of you was starting to become an issue though, as was how he tensed up whenever you got even moderately close to him. You’d started to notice, and he had no idea how to tell you that it was happening because of that one time the rest of the boys had ‘accidentally’ forced the two of you to be pressed against one another in an elevator, and that just the knowledge that your breasts were pressing against his arm had him fighting to not get hard like some sort of teenager. He wasn’t totally sure how successful he’d be the next time if something similar happened.
Still, you were, as far as he was concerned, completely unattainable, and that in itself was a problem. He’d experienced his fair share of heartaches and heartbreaks before, but this was.. different. At least in those circumstances he’d gotten a definitive answer.
With you though, he couldn’t even bring himself to ask, had resigned himself to pining over you like a kid with a crush.
If you hadn’t ruined his life then you sure as hell had made it harder.
.｡..｡.
When Hui gets a knock on his studio door around six pm he’s not particularly surprised – lately his members had taken to dropping in to make sure he had eaten something that day. (Usually he had not.)
He is surprised to see you standing alongside Yuto when he opens the door, so he glances at the maknae suspiciously – Yuto seems perfectly innocent, but Hui wasn’t exactly sure how much of that was an act.
“Hyung, did you eat today?” The younger boy holds up a bag as an offering – it doesn’t look like the regular convenience store food the boys would usually grab for him, so Hui accepts it hesitantly.
“I was originally just going to bring food for Hyunggu, since he was apparently starving in his studio or something, but then he mentioned that you never ate either, so..” You’re looking at him like you’re vaguely disappointed, and it makes a funny feeling tighten in his chest so he pretends to be completely absorbed with looking through the bag. He’s not sure where you got the food from, but it was mostly stuff that he actually liked. “I went to a place Hyunggu wanted, but he told me what he thought you’d like from there – I hope he was right.”
“This – you didn’t have to do this.” It’s nice not being the one buying things for once, he has to admit that to himself, but he still felt a bit bad that you’d felt the need to bring him anything at all. “Thank you, though.”
“You’re right, I didn’t have to. I wanted to – just like I wanted to bring Yuto food too when Hyunggu told me he was also here.” You’ve perched on the edge of his small leather couch and he wonders if you’d ever been in here before – he honestly can’t remember, though with how hyper-aware he was of you it was pretty safe to assume you hadn’t been. Yuto’s lingering near the door quietly, watching you and he interact, and he feels like the younger is analyzing what was happening.
“Thank you for it – I should go eat it now, while it’s still warm.” Yuto’s gentle bass of a voice is almost soothing, but Hui shoots him a look anyway because he suddenly knew what was happening. His maknaes were downright masterminds when it came to plans like this, and he can’t think of any way to get Yuto to stay before you bid him a cheerful goodbye as the Japanese boy smiles at the both of you as he carefully closes the door.
“Should I go too? I don’t want to distract you or be a bother or anything.” Your question is so sincere that he just looks at you for a few moments, tries to figure out a way to say ‘Yes, you do distract me and bother me, but definitely not in the way you’re thinking’. He finally settles on a single head shake, clearing a small portion of one of his desks to place the food on.
“Did you already eat?”
“No, but I’m fine.” Your answer is quiet, and he glances over to see you gazing around his studio – he feels vaguely embarrassed, though he’s not particularly sure why. His studio is remarkably small, it’s true, but he’s not actually ashamed of anything in it.
“You’ve never been in here before?” He’s pretty sure you haven’t, but there’s no harm in confirming it. You’d been focused intently on reading the names on his soccer jerseys, but once he speaks you turn all that intense concentration on to him and his mouth goes dry.
“Nope. Not that I remember, anyway, and I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.” You’re smiling at him and he doesn’t know why that’s something you’d remember, but your smile makes him not really care about the particulars. “Now eat, Hui.”
He raises his eyebrows at the parental tone you’ve adopted but says nothing, knowing there was no way he could get out of it now – and honestly, he didn’t really want to. He was really fucking hungry, and the meat you’d brought him smelled delicious.
It’s only as he’s taking his first bite (which is excellent by the way, Hyunggu apparently had a very good taste in restaurants) that he remembers what you said about not eating and makes a stupid split-second decision. (He’s never been one to think about things like this too much before blindly doing them, which was probably a problem, come to think of it.)
“Here –“ He holds the strip of bulgogi out towards you, one hand underneath, the sound of his heartbeat a constant background theme song. “Say ‘ah’~” And it’s so easy to pretend, to act like he’s just being friendly, to tinge everything he says with a bit of aegyo – you roll your eyes at him but accept the food anyway.
It’s not easy to ignore the intimacy of an act like this, to ignore the way he’s hit with a sudden yearning deep in his chest to be able to feed you food whenever, like a real significant other could.
“Thank you, but no more! This food is for you.”
“Okay, okay.”
The silence that slips back afterwards is mostly comfortable – you seem determined to make sure he eats, so while he does so you go back to gazing around his studio. Hui feels like there really wasn’t that much to look at, but you hadn’t looked bored yet, taking in the contents of his desk and then computer monitor. He realizes belatedly that he still had the windows open for some of their unreleased tracks, but when he glances at you again you’ve already moved on from them, so he leaves them where they are.
“Are you still seeing that one guy?” It’s easy conversation, light and carefree even if the topic makes him feel a bit bitter – as much as the knowledge of you seeing other people ate away at him he knows it would bother him more if you didn’t feel comfortable talking with him about it at all. Being able to be a close friend you confided in was something he cared more about than not feeling jealous.
“Oh – no, I’m not.” Your tone is carefully disinterested, but he can see through it well enough by now. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just turns so he’s fully facing you, focused and listening. “We just had a – confliction of interests I guess you could say.” You laugh softly at your wording and he laughs too, even if he doesn’t totally understand what you mean.
“And that means, what, exactly?”
“He thought women should be submissive during sex, and I disagreed.” ..Oh. Hui’s gaze darts away as he tries to process that – it wasn’t that you talking about sex was surprising. He was used to talking with you about intimately private things like this, though that was before this annoying infatuation with you had manifested into the tiresome nuisance it was now. Still, you’d never exactly stated your.. affinities towards any one thing.
“Ah.. is that so?” He sounds much hoarser than he’d meant to, like he’d choked on something – he still can’t look at you, because suddenly all he can think about is what that meant, if it meant leather and pain or lace and sweetness, if it meant scathing words or saccharine praises.
“Are you blushing?” You’re leaning forward off his couch, grinning and trying to get a look at his face, one of your hands on his knee to keep him from turning away from you - and he realizes that yes, he is fucking blushing, and the place you were touching him felt like it was blistering with heat. “Well, at least you’re not getting all upset with me for injuring your masculine pride or whatever by being a woman who doesn’t like to –“
“Okay! Okay okay, please take mercy on me!” His slightly exaggerated whining is met with your laughter, and his face feels like it’s on fucking fire, but he can’t look away from you now that he’d accidentally met your gaze.
“Sorry – you’re just so cute when you’re flustered!” And he knows he shouldn’t take this as anything more than friendly teasing, just like whenever Hyunggu would call him ‘cute’ whenever he got scared of something, but your words still make something short-circuit in his brain and he swears to everything that you will be the death of him.
“I’m – sorry things didn’t work out with him, but you’re really going to kill me if you keep this up.” And it’s not even a lie – he is ninety-eight percent sure that if you keep talking like this without giving him time to recuperate then he was just going to over-heat and pass out.
“I should go anyway, I’ve distracted you long enough – I didn’t go too far, did I?” You’ve stood up now and are looking down at him with a worried smile, so he just shakes his head because he’s pretty sure if he tried to talk he’d say something stupid like ‘No, I definitely didn’t mind hearing you say that, and while you’re at it please tell me some more’. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Make sure you eat it all!”
He manages a “goodbye” that sounds sort of like he wasn’t dying, waving to you until you leave and his studio door beeps to signify that it was locked again.
“For fuck’s sake..” Hui forces himself to breathe deep, tries to will some of the heat to leave his face. He really didn’t know why he was getting so flustered over something like this – he wasn’t usually the type. Was it just because it was you? Because he definitely wouldn’t mind if you preferred to be dominant?
Hui curses again, a quiet ‘fuck’ that doesn’t really encompass everything he’s feeling but seems to be the best he can manage. Fuck indeed. He was so fucked.
.｡..｡.
The next time Hui’s in his studio he does his best to forget about the conversation the two of you had had last in there, tries to forget the way his entire body had lit up when you touched his leg, tries to forget the way you’d smiled so sweetly when he fed you.
It doesn’t go well.
To be honest, he didn’t do things like this often – he was busy most of the time, and if he was in his studio then he usually had something he needed to work on instead. But being in this room less than twenty-four hours after you had off-handedly mentioned that you liked to take a more dominant approach in the bedroom had him unable to concentrate on anything else, though he had made a valiant effort for an upwards of fifteen minutes.
With an agitated huff he’s pushing his chair back from his desk with more force than necessary, moving to make sure his studio’s door was locked before taking a seat on the edge of his couch. For a moment he contemplates if he’s really going to do this, runs an aggressive hand through his dyed silver hair and then curses the tingling pain it brings that he doesn’t quite hate as much as he should in the moment.
There’s a lingering feeling of shame and a much stronger feeling of embarrassment covering his body when he reaches for himself, though it only lasts for a few moments until the feeling of the rough friction of his palm through his jeans overpowers anything else.
Hui tips his head back with a soft moan before he remembers he needs to keep quiet, bites his lip when he unzips himself so he can wrap his fingers around his cock more easily. He’s rough, impatient, wants to finish fast but also likes the slight bit of pain – he full body shudders when he finally tugs the waistband of his briefs down and feels the cold air hit him, falling back onto his forearm. He knows, for a fact, that there’s a small bottle of lube in one of his drawers somewhere, but he doesn’t bother looking for it – he’s slick enough as is, and the slight pain keeps him grounded, keeps him from getting into it enough that he wouldn’t be able to monitor his volume.
There’s a slight urgency surrounding it all that is always there when doing something like this in a semi-public place, and he gives into it this time and allows it to urge him on quicker, fucking into his fist like he was going to get caught at any second.
He wants to drag this out, wants to get this over with, wants to think about anything else or feel the need to pull up some dirty video on his phone to finish, but all he can think about is you, you, you – he wonders what it would be like if you were the one stroking him instead, if you’d take pity on him or would be ruthless, if you’d whisper sweet compliments into his skin or humiliate him with biting words, if you’d bite at his neck, he really wanted you to bite at his neck and mark him up –
He orgasms with a choked off cry, hastily shoves the back of his wrist against his teeth to try to keep quiet as his hips buck sloppily into the loose circle of his fingers. He’s never been particularly quiet, and another wave of arousal washes over him as he imagines you telling him to keep it down, warning him that you’d have to gag him otherwise. He whimpers pitifully at the thought and tries to shut his mind down, feeling overstimulated both physically and mentally.
His fingers are sticky, the warmth quickly drying on his skin, and he feels much too hot, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin alongside a layer of shame. He’s not totally sure why but he feels like he’s just made everything worse, like somehow he’d crossed a line and now being around you was going to be ten times harder.
He also feels like this was inevitable though, that his attraction to you had been building for so long that if he hadn’t found a release for it somewhere then he would have gone insane.
Or maybe he’s insane now, now that he’d done something this dirty and depraved. He really didn’t know, gaze still just a bit glassy and unfocused.
What he did know was that he was completely and utterly fucked at this point, collapses onto his back and lets his aching forearm finally take a break as his eyes slide shut in defeat.
.｡..｡.
“You’re not serious.”
“Of course we are, hyung – why, do you have a problem with it?”
Hongseok is taunting him, like he always does, and Hui would usually play along and tease him back but he feels completely thrown off guard and does nothing more than blink at all of them incredulously. His lack of a playful reaction in return has Hongseok softening a bit at the edges, but Hyunggu isn’t nearly as merciful.
“What’s the problem with it? You’ve been wanting us to do something bonding like this for a while, and now we have a time to do it, a reason to do it, and someone to make sure we don’t screw it all up by doing something stupid when we’re drunk.”
“We didn’t force her, hyung, she offered when we asked.” Yuto’s trying to alleviate Hui’s concerns, but he’s way off base – still, he’s trying, so Hui manages what he hopes is more smile than it is grimace in the Japanese boy’s direction.
“We want to drink, she doesn’t like drinking, and we have a few days off because Road to Kingdom ended – what are you so worried about?” Changgu asks him, kind and sincere as always – Hui doesn’t trust him for a minute, but he can’t fight the natural urge to tell everyone what his issue was anyway. God, he hated them sometimes. (They were his family, and he supposed sometimes you just had to hate your family.)
“You all know my – my problem with her.”
“Yeah, we know you want to –“
“Date her.” Wooseok cuts Shinwon off at the last second, modifying whatever it was his hyung had been about to say – Shinwon looks both annoyed and scandalized that Wooseok had thought he was going to say anything else. Hui does his best to ignore them.
“You really thought I’d be okay with her being the one watching over us while we drank? Knowing that none of us can drink well?” He swore he could literally feel his stress levels rising – it wasn’t like he was an embarrassing drunk or anything, but he knew he had an incredibly low tolerance for it, and he also knew that if the entire group was drinking then they were just going to end up egging one another on until everyone was truly smashed.
“Well, you’re going to have to be okay with it, hyung.” Hyunggu, always the hard-ass, insists forcefully – he doesn’t say it unkindly, but he says it in a tone that brooks no room for disagreement. It’s more Kino’s voice than it is Hyunggu’s, scarily similar to when they’re in the practice room.
Hui knows he could override it with hyung or leader seniority, knows Hyunggu is watching him carefully to see if it’s actually something the elder couldn’t deal with.
He ultimately says nothing, just sighs in a way that lets everyone else know he’s acquiesced – the resulting cheer brings a small smile to his face, even if he still feels uneasy about how the planned drinking night would go. He knew that when it came to both his members and you in one building with alcohol involved there was no way he wasn’t royally fucked.
.｡..｡.
The night goes exactly as you expected it to – none of the Pentagon members could hold their liquor particularly well, which meant that after an hour and a half they were all at their limits. (It was honestly kind of funny to watch. They were all so intent on getting one another drunk that they weren’t really even paying attention to the way everyone was sabotaging each other by constantly keeping the cups full.)
Still, that meant you were mostly trying to make sure they didn’t kill or injure themselves somehow. It wasn’t too hard of a task, though you did have to threaten both Wooseok and Hyunggu to keep them from climbing on top of the only coffee table Dorm A had. You were pretty sure the glass would just shatter under their combined weight. Hyunggu had targeted you with an impressive pout after that, but he’d lost interest pretty quickly when Yuto had fallen asleep - not that you blamed him, the rapper was sort of adorable when he slept.
It also meant that when Hui got up to get water – he swore that’s what he was getting, at least – you followed him. The man was a menace in the kitchen when he was sober, you were almost afraid to imagine what he’d manage to do when he was drunk. Just his presence alone might cause the stove to burst into flames or something. He was seriously cursed.
“Why are you following me?” His question is just a bit slurred together, almost sounding more like he was incredibly sleepy instead of drunk – you figure it’s because he hadn’t had as much to drink, but you weren’t really sure. You hadn’t been monitoring how much any person drank, more concerned with keeping them alive. (They could manage to injure themselves sitting on the floor sober, so being drunk just made your job several times harder.)
“Just checking.” You murmur – he raises his eyebrows at your comment but doesn’t say anything else, turning to grab a glass from one of the cupboards. You watch him for four whole seconds before you decide he’s about to knock several of them to the floor, stepping forward to reach for it instead. Maybe you’d been wrong about how much he had drank.
“I could have gotten it..” His petulance makes you smile, doing your best not to laugh at the little “hmph” he gives you when you inform him that no, he probably could not have.
“Just let me take care of you, you big baby. At least this way I can make sure you’re getting only water.”
“That is all I was getting..” He’s still sulking when you hand it to him, face flushed from the culmination of everything he’d drank tonight. You force your gaze away when he begins to drink – even drunk off his ass he was still an infuriatingly confusing mix of handsome and cute, and you resolutely did not want to watch his throat when he swallowed.
The sound of glass hitting a bit too hard on a solid surface startles you – Hui’s set his glass down incredibly close to your hand, depth perception just a bit fucked. You want to open your mouth to scold him for the close call, but his body heat is incredibly distracting, and he’s raising one of his hands and your breath catches in your throat.
He cages you in against the dorm’s sink, one hand on the side of your neck – to angle the kiss better or to steady himself you weren’t sure – with the other bracing himself as he presses his lips to yours. He’s so ultra-hot against your body, tastes of the same fruity drink Shinwon had been pressing into his hand all evening, the metal of his belt buckle biting into your stomach.
It’s not until he gives a soft breathy moan into your mouth that you realize you’ve been kissing him back for the past thirty seconds in his own kitchen, heedless of the rest of his members in the adjoining room or the fact that he was drunk enough he could barely stand without assistance. You press at his shoulders with minimal force, missing the pressure of his lips when he instantly moves away.
“What..?” He looks immensely confused, and you feel awful for kissing him back when you weren’t totally sure he was even aware of what he was doing. “Why’d you push me away?“
“Hui –“
“You kissed me back, so why’d y –“
“I just don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret later, Hwitaek.” You hope the use of his full name will get through to him – it seems it does, in some regard, because while he chokes out a half-disbelieving and half-tormented laugh he still pauses and blinks at you slowly like he was trying to carefully choose his next words.
“You act like I haven’t wanted to do this since the first time I met you.” And oh, his voice is just a bit huskier, a bit slurred on the syllables, but he says them carefully and you know that, at the very least, Drunk Hui meant them.
The problem was that you didn’t know if Sober Hui would agree.
“You should go to bed, Hui.” You say this instead of saying all the other things crowding the tip of your tongue, instead of grabbing him by the collar and kissing him again – alcohol took away a person’s consent, and you weren’t about to take a chance to pressure Hui into doing something you weren’t sure he wanted in the first place.
“No one else has gone to bed yet..” Now he’s sulking – but this is normal, this you can deal with. You can pretend like your lips didn’t still tingle where his had been touching, can pretend like you weren’t already addicted to the feeling.
“That’s not really a valid argument considering Yuto’s fallen asleep twice already.” You counter, watching the way he bites at his bottom lip in frustration – you know it for what it is, and it still seems coy to you instead, like he’s trying to seduce you.
God, what was wrong with you? He was just pouting now, brow furrowed, and you feel absolutely pathetic for seeing his current actions as anything other than what they really were.
It didn’t matter how attractive or desirable you found him, you couldn’t in good conscience do anything while he was so inebriated.
“Come on, Hui – let’s get you to bed so I can get back to the other boys to make sure they haven’t done something stupid, like coercing Hongseok into wrestling Changgu shirtless. Again.”
“It wasn’t that stupid –“
“They literally broke a bookshelf with their bodies, be quiet.” The banter comes easily, is normal and comfortable – it’s easy to pretend like he hadn’t just been kissing you, like you hadn’t just been fantasizing about him seducing you of his own free will. His skin is warm underneath your fingertips, flushed from the alcohol, as you direct him by the bicep down the hall and to his room.
You’re rarely in here – he’s rarely in here, actually, considering how much time he spends at his studio, how often he sleeps there. Because of that his room is sparsely decorated, an incredibly faint lingering smell of the cologne he occasionally wore clinging to the edges of some of the surfaces. It’s a heady scent that you do your absolute best to ignore, because it brings to mind images of him whenever he bothered to get extra dressed up, devastatingly handsome.
He lets you guide him over to his bed with zero fuss but turns back towards you when his knees hit the edge of it, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. It’s a deceptively gentle action, and you know you should really stop him, but you don’t move when he leans in to kiss you again. Underneath the flavor of alcohol there’s a distinctive taste that is purely him, and you know if you weren’t addicted to kissing him before then you definitely were now.
When you nip at his bottom lip and he lets out a shuddering moan you realize what you’re doing, try to pull away as fast as you can – this wasn’t fair to him, when he wasn’t in his right mind – but he catches you with a hand frantically landing on your waist, dropping his head to litter kisses along your jaw and then throat. You try to ignore the way your legs go weak at the feeling.
“Please –“ It’s more of a whine than a plea, but you feel it against the skin of your neck all the same, the words dragged along your pulse-point like a searing flame. “If we don’t now, then I don’t think –“
“You need to sleep.” It takes every ounce of willpower inside of you to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs, the insistent hard press of his cock against your thigh, the way his whimper when you push at his chest vibrates along the skin of your shoulder where he presses one last desperate kiss. “We can – we’ll talk about it in the morning.” You continue to push him gently back until he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, gazing up at you through his eyelashes, flushed and looking five different kinds of wrecked. Your entire nervous system threatens to shut down at the sight and you’re not sure that you can keep your promise about talking about it tomorrow.
He’s apparently not sure of it either, expression pinched and distraught when you press him insistently by the shoulders back onto his bed. His hair is ruffled and his eyes are glazed (from the alcohol or lust, you weren’t sure), his lips slick and kiss-bruised –
You tear your gaze away and force yourself to breathe again. When you look back Hui’s thrown a forearm over his eyes, bottom lip snagged between his teeth, breathing labored.
It takes ten seconds before you’re out of the room, clicking the door shut as quietly as you can, trying to erase the imagery of tears staining his face.
.｡..｡.
When Hui wakes up it’s to a pounding head and the vaguely disgusting feeling you get when you sleep in your clothes on top of your covers. His entire body hurts and he makes the same promise he always does when he wakes up like this, the same one he’s never kept – he’ll never drink again. Or, at the very least, he’ll never drink that much again.
His whole room spins when he pushes himself up, groaning softly at the way he feels like the world tilts dangerously on its axis as he slides his legs off the edge of his mattress. It’s only because of this world-shifting that he notices Wooseok asleep on the other side of his bed, all his long limbs drawn in as close as possible, his brow furrowed in his sleep.
He wonders when the maknae had ended up here and how they’d decided on rooms while he goes to the pain-staking process of draping one of his extra blankets over the tall boy. The world is still too bright (even with his blinds shut) and every step he takes feels a bit like walking through mud, but when he sees the way Wooseok slightly relaxes after being covered it all feels worth it.
The trek from his room to the kitchen feels like it takes much longer than it should, but at the very least the suspiciously long stretch of the dorm gives ample time for his headache to shift from excruciating to manageable. He was going to find the bottle of Aspirin, take all of them, and then go the fuck back to sleep. (Okay, maybe one of those was an exaggeration, but it sure felt like he could use that many painkillers.)
“Good morning.” He almost chokes when he hears your voice, a sudden onslaught of memories causing his face to heat up – you weren’t even looking at him, busying yourself with the small skillet Hongseok kept religiously cleaned. Hui wasn’t sure if his nausea was due to the smell of food or the way all he could think about was how he had – stupidly, why the fuck had he done that – kissed you and then tried to get you into bed with him.
“..Morning.” He hopes you take his lackluster response as a product of his hangover, sliding into one of the chairs at the kitchen table so he can bury his head in his hands.
“That bad, huh? You’re going to have to learn to tell Shinwon ‘no’ when he offers you drinks, you know.” He looks up to see you placing what he assumes is an Aspirin down on the table in front of him, already turned back to grab him water. He’s not sure if he’s glad you mistook his suffering as the results of a hangover or not.
“Thanks.” He waits until you hand him the glass before he takes the medicine, downing the rest of the contents when he realizes just how thirsty he was. He can feel the weight of your gaze still on him and it makes the blood in his veins feel like ice, knowing you had to remember the exact same things he (suddenly) did.
“If it makes you feel any better, Hongseok is way worse off than you right now. I honestly can’t believe he’s such a lightweight sometimes…” Your tone is sympathetic, but all Hui feels is a slight smug happiness at there being someone else who was, at the very least, suffering more than he currently was. At least Hongseok hadn’t had the chance to do anything stupid with someone he liked last night, like Hui had. “Honestly, it’s sort of impressive.”
“Huh?” He’d stopped listening to you by pure accident, forces himself to refocus on you – which just causes his eyes to instantly lock on to your lips, face heating up because not only does he remember kissing them, he remembers what they felt like and tasted like and he has to fight to tear his gaze away. God he was so fucked.
“How many lightweights you have in your band. In a group of nine you’d think it’d be more even, but, like.. almost all of you can’t hold your liquor. It’s kind of impressive.” You’re back to focusing on whatever it is you’re cooking – he only just now notices you also have ramen boiling in their small stove to the side, the dull bubbling of the water having blended into background noise long before he’d realized it had been there.
“Are they okay?” He’s sure they are, but there’s some deeply ingrained part of him that feels required to check – the soft smile you give him in response makes him feel like he’s in high school again whenever his crush would focus on him and him alone, and he isn’t sure what to do with that feeling now that he’s twenty eight years old, so he looks down at his empty cup instead.
“They’ll be okay. Wooseokkie ended up in your room – I’m sure you noticed him.” You wait for him to glance at you and nod before continuing. “Hongseok and Changgu ended up in the same room together, which worked out well considering Changgu’s probably the only one who could sleep through Hongseok’s pitiful whining about his hangover anyway. Hyunggu and Yuto shared a room, I think – which I guess means Shinwon ended up alone. Any guess on whether he’ll be happy or upset about that?”
“It could be either.” He responds, mostly because it’s true (Shinwon’s moods were hard to predict sometimes) but partly because talking about his members was something he could easily do, something that felt familiar and normal. It felt safe and far away from the topic he didn’t want to think about. (But he was thinking about it anyway, could remember your warmth when your body was pressed against his, could remember the way you kissed him back bruisingly and made him want nothing more than for you to wreck him every day of his life.)
“Oh, right – Yanan’s in China, by the way, and Jinho’s in the military.”
“Thanks.” His response is a dry remark at the way you were trying to tease him – like he didn’t know where Yanan was and wasn’t constantly in contact with the soon-to-be actor, like he didn’t think about Jinho every single day and wonder if he was doing well. “What would I do without your incredibly timely information.”
You just roll your eyes at him and turn to the ramen – he wonders who you’re making it for before realizing it was probably for whoever woke up hungry. That realization makes a certain spot in his chest warm, and he tries to ignore it because for fuck’s sake, not now.
“I knew it was going to go badly..” He mutters to himself – you hum questioningly and he blinks, surprised you heard him and instantly trying to reach for a half-truth that you’d believe. “Drinking so much, I mean.” Not totally a lie, which meant he could say it and have it sound mostly believable. To his relief you seem to take it at face value.
A silence stretches out between the two of you – it seems comfortable for you, but he feels like his skin is crawling, waiting for the moment you spring the dreaded conversation on him. He can’t think of any more topics to bring up to stall it.
“Hwitaek.” The tone of your voice makes his heart drop into his stomach and freezes over any warmth he’d been feeling because he knows the conversation that is now seconds away from happening is going to be one he didn’t ever want to have. “I think we should talk about what happened last night.”
“What happened?” He tries to brush it off like he didn’t remember, but his voice wavers just a bit and he can’t meet your gaze and he knows that you don’t buy it for a second.
“We have to.” Your voice is soft, gentle, and he hates it because he feels like you’re trying to be as kind as possible, and that didn’t bode well for how the conversation was going to go. “Did you do what you did because you were drunk, or because you were drunk and wanted to?”
Your gaze has him pinned to the seat, his own eyes wide and brain trying to stutter through any excuse he could think of, and when that didn’t work, trying to think of some way he could play it all off as a joke, or as him just being an overly friendly drunk.
You won’t believe anything but the truth, he can tell, and he was a shit liar even when he wasn’t hungover and panicked.
“I –“ He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, probably something stupid like ‘I love you, and I don’t know when I knew that but I’ve always wanted to kiss you, I was drunk but it let me do what I always wanted to do’ but he’s saved by Hyunggu walking into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes and looking a bit less like hell than Hui felt.
“I think I’m dying..” The maknae grumbles, and your attention shifts to him and getting him something to help his headache. Hui tries to feel relieved that the conversation had been dropped, but the look you send him once over Hyunggu’s shoulder says, ‘We’re not done talking about this’ and he feels sick all over again. He was so fucked.
.｡..｡.
It isn’t until he escapes to his studio later that day, having basically inhaled an entire cup of coffee to try to fight off both his hangover and his exhaustion, that he realizes that aside from all his personal problems with how the night before had went he had essentially pushed himself on you and then not allowed you an avenue to talk to him about it.
And that makes him feel even more sick, because there had been a chance you’d just wanted closure of some kind considering he had basically drunkenly assaulted you, and all he’d done was avoid the issue entirely when you tried to talk to him about it.
Fuck. Fuck, he was the worst.
He’d been so worried about rejection that he hadn’t even thought about the fact that you’d never consented to being kissed – or, fuck, being propositioned for sex – in the first place.
He runs both hands through his hair aggressively, ruffling it in the slightly painful way he usually did whenever he did something he wasn’t happy with – he feels anxiety sitting cold in his stomach, fear that not only would you hate him but that he’d ended up hurting you or breaking your trust in him all because he’d gotten stupidly drunk.
Pushing down the steadily rising nausea, he reaches for his phone and almost calls you, deciding at the last moment to text you a simple ‘You’re right, we need to talk’ instead. He’d already fucked up once, he didn’t want to force you into the conversation by calling you unexpectedly. As an afterthought he adds a quickly typed ‘I’m sorry I tried to avoid it before’, because despite how nervous the thought makes him, he is genuinely sorry. (Sorry for everything, in fact.)
He tries to busy himself with unfinished tracks while waiting for you to respond, listens to the same snippet of some demo Yuto had sent him six times without really ever hearing the notes, does his absolute best to ignore how one of the last times he was in here he’d ended up touching himself to the thought of you. With everything that had happened since he feels fucking disgusting at the thought of it.
When his phone vibrates he essentially lunges for it – it wasn’t like he’d been making progress on anything anyway – heart hammering in his throat as he opens your messages.
‘It’s okay. In person or by a call?’
He wants to fucking cry at how nice you’re being, at giving him the option to choose a less personal route – but he knows that you were the one who’d taken the brunt of the incident, that all he was really worried about was rejection and being embarrassed. His fingers tap out ‘I’m embarrassed, but it’s up to you’ before deleting the first part before sending. He didn’t want you to feel like he was trying to pressure you into one choice or the other at this point.
‘Knowing you, and seeing how you reacted this morning, I think you’d die if we did it in person lol I’ll call you’
He tries to fight the weak smile your text causes – you always make him smile, and this is no different, but he can’t tell if you’re genuinely okay or not through text and it worries him. You’d seemed fine this morning, almost painfully nonchalant – too nonchalant? He wasn’t sure if he was overthinking things now or not – but he’d been hungover and tired.
You don’t call right away, and he resigns himself to waiting out another five or so minutes in this sickening state of anxiety, selecting and re-selecting the exact same clip of audio over and over just so he can pretend he’s doing something, so he can try to occupy his brain.
When his phone does ring he slams his knee into the table in surprise, high-strung and nervous. He barely even feels the tingling pain.
“I’m so sorry.” He blurts out the instant he answers, muttering a soft fuck under his breath afterwards. He’d wanted to give you time to speak, but he was buzzing with an anxious and guilty energy that had him speaking before he even realized he was.
“What?” Your question sounds more surprised than legitimately confused, like you hadn’t expected him to just start talking immediately. He rakes a hand through his hair again and then keeps it there, fisted, trying to ground himself with the tiny bit of pain as his breathing speeds up.
“About last night – I’m so sorry, I just – I was drunk, and that’s no excuse for what I did, I wasn’t thinking and I’m so fucking sorry. Are – are you okay? Am I allowed to ask that?” He feels like he’s right on the verge of panicking and he hates it, because you were the victim here, not him.
“I –“ You only pause to collect your thoughts for a heartbeat, but he feels the moment stretch on endlessly, sees ninety different scenarios play out and discards every positive one immediately. “Hui, you’re – god you’re so sweet.”
“What?” It’s more of an exhale than a word, because you didn’t sound angry, or hurt, you just sounded slightly amused and grateful, and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up but you didn’t sound upset.
“You’re right, what you did was wrong and shitty, and you suck for doing it.” You pause to breathe, and it reminds him he needs to breathe, his gaze darting along one of his computer monitors without really seeing anything. “But it’s sweet of you to apologize. You should, but most people wouldn’t.”
“I should have this morning.” He murmurs quietly, fingers gripping his phone so tightly they’ve begun to ache. “I was selfish and didn’t even think about it. I really am so fucking sorry.”
“I know, Hui. I believe you. You suck at lying anyway, if you weren’t sorry then I’d be able to tell.” You’re laughing again, and he tries to join you, but it sounds weak. His entire body feels like it’s melted into nothing – he didn’t even care if you rejected him at this point, you didn’t hate him and that was good enough. “But I kissed you back, Hui. Multiple times, actually.”
“…..what?” He can’t think of anything else to say – he had remembered you kissing him back, of course he did, but it all sort of blurred together at one point and he wasn’t sure that any of it had definitively happened. “I – I know – I mean, I thought you did, but you could have just, I don’t know, been trying.. to.. get me to go away by not resisting..?” Some drunks became irate when told ‘no’, and while he knew he wasn’t one of them – and he had a feeling you did too – that didn’t mean you hadn’t just been trying to protect yourself.
“God you’re sweet.” Your sudden, repeated statement is quiet, almost like you hadn’t meant him to hear it – he doesn’t say anything, doing his best to just breathe, doing his best to act his fucking age and not like some kid who needed instant reassurance. You were the one who deserved reassurance in this situation. “I kissed you because I wanted to, Hui. It’s very kind of you to be so concerned, but you’re about the least threatening drunk I’ve ever encountered. I could have probably pushed you off me with one hand – actually, I did push you off me with one hand, when we were in the kitchen.”
“I – you – you wanted to.” It’s a statement because he’s stuck trying to process this new information, because this wasn’t a rejection (he thinks it’s not, at least), because you didn’t hate him, because the way all the anxiety induced adrenaline had leeched out of his body was leaving him feeling even more exhausted than before.
“I actually wanted to tell you that I was sorry – since I kissed you back and all, but you were drunk so it wasn’t really like you were –“
“I wanted to – I wanted you to.” He says the words too fast, trips over them, but he knows you understood by the way you went silent on the other end. He appreciated the apology, really, he did, but not only did he not think it was needed, he also couldn’t stand listening to you apologize for kissing him back when he had been dreaming about this moment for way too fucking long.
And he wants to tell you that, but you’re still silent and he’s beginning to wonder if he somehow read this entire situation wrong.
“..I don’t know what to say now.” You admit softly, and he lets out a silent exhale when he realizes you’re just being shy. He wasn’t used to that side of you, but already he knew he found it adorable, just like the rest of you.
“You can’t be more embarrassed than me, if you are then neither of us will be able to talk.” He’s laughing quietly now, feeling.. not quite comfortable yet, but definitely on the way there. You hadn’t really made any declaration of love for him, but you had reciprocated his kiss, at the very least.
“Oh, you need me to be confident?” There’s a teasing tone in your voice that is more commonplace than the shy one from before, and he already knew just by the sound of it that whatever you’re going to say next is going to affect him in some way.
“It’d be helpful.”
“Then I’d say we need to try that whole kissing thing again, but without the alcohol. It really ruined the experience last time, don’t you think?” He suddenly can’t breathe again, mouth opening and then closing at your statement – not that you care about his lack of a response, since you continue without him saying anything. “It could have led to so many fun places if you hadn’t been drunk.” A pause, where his heartbeat pounds in his head and his mouth has gone dry. When you speak again he can tell you’re doing your best to keep up your confident façade. “..Is that okay with you?”
“Yes.” He says this on a relieved breath, face still hot but body covered in excited, adrenaline filled tingles. You were really putting him through an emotional workout this morning, but at this point he wouldn’t dare complain. “Please. I’ve wanted –“
He cuts himself off before he can say anything more embarrassing, about how long he’s wanted to do something like that, to hear you say something like that, how he’s fantasized and day-dreamed about it for way too long. He flushes even more when he can hear your gentle laughter on the other line.
“You mentioned something like that last night. I wanted to ask about it actually –“
“Oh, wow, I am super busy right now doing leader things, just.. so busy. I couldn’t possibly talk to you anymore, I’m just so extremely busy.”
“Jerk.” This time when you laugh he laughs with you, a real laugh instead of the weak one he’d offered you earlier. “Okay, fine, go do your suddenly important work – but I’m definitely interrogating you about that later, it’s just too interesting to pass up. Bye Hwitaek.”
“Bye.”
It’s so like you to cut the conversation short whenever he mentioned his work – you never wanted to genuinely distract him, and it was one of the things he liked about you.
Loved about you.
Fuck. Fuck.
He can’t contain his laugh of disbelief and giddiness, setting his phone down on his desk so he can cover his face with both of his hands, running them through his hair and pushing it back away from his eyes.
You said you’d wanted to kiss him. You had kissed him. He hadn’t imagined it.
You’d said you wanted to kiss him again.
His phone vibrates and he lowers his hands to glance at it, sees it’s a text from you, and already he can feel that warm, lightweight feeling in his chest just at the sight of it.
God, he was so fucked – but with how this had turned out, he really couldn’t complain at all, nor did he want to.
.｡..｡.
Trying the ‘kissing thing’ again, as you had put it to him on the phone, turned out to be a nebulous concept – not that Hui really expected anything else, but it was a bit disappointing to finally get an answer (a positive one at that) only to be unable to meet up with you again. Not that getting to text you often wasn’t wonderful – it was, and he felt the need to make that abundantly clear (though he was pretty sure you knew that, considering he actually paid attention to his phone now just so he could respond to you) – it was just a bit frustrating to finally have permission to do the things he’d been dreaming about, like kissing you, and then be barred from doing it by forces outside of his control.
As it was, it was nearing the end of the second week since the ’confession’ had happened, and he was only just now finding time to head over to your place after working all day. It was late (nearing four am, he noticed with a groan) and his muscles ached from practice and his eyes ached from composing all day but he would be damned if he’d let another chance to spend time with you slip by him without leaping for it.
“You look so attractive.” It’s the first thing out of your mouth when you see him at your door – Hui laughs the soft sort of laugh he does when he’s a bit nervous, bending to unlace his shoes. It’s not rare of you to compliment him – in fact, you usually did, because it was true and he deserved all the kind words you could heap on him – but something about the circumstances makes it feel different this time, charges the air with a sort of excited, nervous tension.
“Really? I came over right after practice, I can’t look that good..” He trails off, shy, and you look him over again. It’s true that he looks a bit tired and run down, but the dim low lighting of your entryway paints his skin golden and throws his profile into a mix of soft shadows and gentle lines, illuminates his silver hair into a gradient of golden blonde to dusky gray.
“You look good, trust me.” It’s all you can say – everything else gets stuck in your head, muddling itself before it can get to your tongue. You hope to one day be able to properly put into words just how beautiful he is to you, but you’re in no rush to do it now, you have time. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay tomorrow?”
“If I passed up on this chance then I might legitimately die.” He says it so seriously that you laugh, and the way his expression smooths out into a warm smile has your heart beating erratically. God, he didn’t play fair at all.
“Well, if you’re sure..” You take the chance to step closer to him during the slight lull in conversation – he blinks at you once, still smiling, but the smile freezes on his face when you nonchalantly place your arms around his neck. You can feel the way he’s tensed at the new, intimate position, and it’s absolutely adorable how he clearly wants to reciprocate in some way but resolutely keeps his arms at his sides. “You –“
“Can I kiss you?” He says it all in one breath, interrupting you, rushed and embarrassed but also like he craves it, like he might die if he didn’t get your permission to do so. It’s the cutest thing in the world and a surge of heat floods your bloodstream at the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes. “Please.” He tacks it on at the end, a quiet whisper, so fucking good and sweet and perfect.
“Of course, baby.” The words are barely out of your mouth before he’s surging forward to connect your lips, his hands landing on your waist and a soft sound of pleasure escaping him as a sigh. The pet-name of ‘baby’ is one you learned that he liked recently, and while it had been deliciously fun to tease him with it through text and over the phone it was something else entirely to see the way he responded to it in person, the rich sunset color of his eyes softening into something more gentle and pliant.
The way Hui kisses now is slightly different than when he’d been drunk – it’s more assured, more precise, and while it still holds that level of desperation from before there’s something a bit less rushed about it, something more confident and not as nervous as before.
There's something infinitely better about doing it this way, Hui thinks, better than anything he'd fantasized about or hazily remembered from when he'd been drunk. Every single one of his senses is attuned to you and you alone, and nothing exists outside of the two of you kissing, the weight of your arms on his shoulders, the feeling of your nails lightly scraping at the nape of his neck, the rough feeling of your clothing beneath the pads of his fingers at your hips. Your lips press and slide against his constantly before parting for a few brief seconds, and he chases the faint swipe of your tongue against his bottom lip with his own, whining when you don't instantly give in to his demands.
By the time you nip at his lip he's completely given up on leading the kiss, opens his mouth and moans high and sweet when your tongue leaves a blazing trail of pure fire in its wake. His lips are kiss-bruised and tingling, the sensation imprinting on him that this was real, you were really kissing him, he wasn't going to suddenly wake up and realize it was all a dream.
When you pull away from him he follows you for a moment, stopping only when you cup his cheek in one hand and slide your thumb across his bottom lip. His gaze is glazed and he looks so thoroughly wrecked from simply getting kissed that you feel another surge of heat flood your system.
"Good?" Your whispered question barely makes it through to him, but when it does he blinks a few times to force the haze from his mind and nods, grip on your waist tightening, grounding him. You’ve never seen someone look more adorable.
“Yeah.” His voice is slightly hoarse and you give in to the urge to kiss his throat tenderly – when he tilts his head back with a sigh you trail your lips up to his jaw. “Yeah, it’s – great.”
You can feel the heat of his skin against your face, leave open-mouthed kisses from the spot under his ear (which makes him shiver in a way that you immediately catalogue in your mind) in a line down to the collar of the light-weight hoodie he’d worn for practice.
“I wish I could mark you up here..” Your lamentations are met with a literal fucking whine from Hui, one of his hands coming up to grip unsteadily at the crook of your arm like the mere comment had made him unsteady. “Oh? Is that something you’d want? For me to bruise you up so prettily that there’d be no way you could cover it?”
He nods, not trusting his own voice, head full of fantasies where you could do that, where you’d be able to sink your teeth into him, suck dark marks into his skin that wouldn’t fade and that his members would tease him about. (But even in his fantasies his members are there, a constant, and he knows that there’s no other timeline better than the one he’s currently living in.)
“Hwitaek.” You say his name softly, wrap a hand around the back of his neck to make him look at you – his gaze is disconnected, lingers on your lips before your silence registers as he meets your eyes. “I think we should talk about what we both want out of tonight.”
“Yeah – okay, okay.” Fondly, you watch as he takes a small step back and forces himself to become more present, a bit of clarity re-entering his eyes. You notice that he hadn’t stepped far enough away that either of you had to stop touching one another though, and it makes a part of your heart warm with affection. “That’s probably a good idea.”
He lets you lead him further into your house, glances around in interest but doesn’t stop you – he thinks (hopes) he’ll have more time later to become acquainted with this place.
“So, Hui –“ He perks up at you speaking to him, and it’s so cute that you have to stop just to recollect your thoughts. He peers around your room with thinly veiled interest but keeps glancing back at you like you’re the most interesting thing in existence. It’s flattering and adorable. “Considering we’ve talked about it before you know that I prefer to be more dominant, and you –“
“Find it incredibly hot?” He finishes your sentence for you, a happy little smirk on his face at your surprised expression as he darts in to kiss you once, quick and chaste and filled with delight.
“I – I was going to say, ‘you’re okay with it’, but what you said was so much better.” You’re smiling now too, still a bit shell-shocked – really, what sort of luck did you have for an incredibly attractive and sweet guy to also be down for being submissive for you? – but definitely not complaining. You cup his face in your hands and draw him towards you again for a sweet kiss – it lingers just on the side of ‘too passionate’, but neither one of you have enough self-control to reign it back in. You can feel his flush underneath your fingertips. “How did I ever get this lucky?”
“Should I say the cliché thing about thinking the same thing?” His voice is soft, one of his hands coming up to slip underneath your own, fingers curling around your palm. “Because I was.”
“You really are a hopeless romantic sometimes, you know that?” You couple your rhetorical question with another kiss – you were one hundred percent addicted to them now, you knew that for a fact. “We should really talk about what you’re comfortable with happening tonight, Hui.”
He must not be thinking clearly (he’s not, all he can think about is you and how you keep kissing him and how it’s all he’s ever wanted in his entire life) because he says “anything” in a strained whisper, breathless and needy before anything has even happened.
“Anything?” You can’t hide the surprise in your voice, though you try to soften it at the last second – he flinches anyway, like he was embarrassed with how eager he had come across, his gaze somewhere at your hip now. “’Anything’ is a dangerous thing to say, Hwitaek. What if all I wanted to do was finger-fuck you?”
He knows you were joking – he can hear it in your voice, the way you’ve tried to lighten the mood to make him more comfortable. He appreciates it, but it does absolutely nothing for him considering the effect your words had on him. “…I wouldn’t mind that.”
“Really?” Again you’re surprised, but this time you seem slightly eager – he raises his gaze to assess the situation, and yes, you did look interested. The excited, nervous little fire burning in his core feels a bit stronger suddenly. All he can do is nod, mute in the face of your presence, your power, your effortless aura that has him sinking down gratefully onto your bed at the slightest push of your hand against his chest.
Your fingers press at him, hard, and he feels breathless when they slide underneath his hoodie and t-shirt both in one go, hitch it up to above his navel. He thinks about all the marks you could leave on him there, hidden under clothing between promotions, and the sly grin you share with him when your fingernails rake a teasingly shuddering line down his side makes him think you have the exact same ideas he does.
Those two articles of clothing are lost quickly, dropped somewhere over the side of your bed as you kneel between his legs and kiss him until he can’t breathe, a wonderful feeling that has him drifting along in hazy bliss until he realizes what you’re doing.
“You’re a bit more dressed than I am, suddenly..” He tries to make it teasing but it comes out as something soft and reverent, and your lips when they smile at him are a slash of color that he can’t tear his eyes away from. He can feel your curious fingers dipping under the waistband of his athletic joggers and he does his best not to lose his fucking mind at the connotations of it.
“That’ll come. Later. Let me focus on you first, Hwitaek.” And how could he even argue with that? Why would he argue that? He’d have time to see your body later – and to be completely honest, he was perfectly happy with seeing however much of you that you were comfortable showing him.
(Still, he thinks, as you gently push him to lie down on your bed, he hoped you weren’t too uncomfortable with showing your body. As you drag the fabric of his briefs slowly down his legs he thinks about how much he really wants to eat you out, and what a shame it’d be if you weren’t comfortable with that. Regardless, he’d find some way to pay his respects to you and your body, even if his regular go-to’s turned out to not be an option.)
“You’ve done this before?” He doesn’t sound nervous, just questioning, having slung a forearm across his eyes. You let him leave it there for now, knowing he must feel a bit vulnerable in his current position.
“Mhm, I have – and you?” It’s almost laughable how casually the two of you are speaking, like you hadn’t just been feeling him up and wasn’t currently in the middle of warming lube on your fingers. When he nods you hum and use your clean hand to grip him under the knee, pulling it up high enough you can place a kiss on the inside of it. An amused laugh leaves him in the form of a surprised exhale at the surprisingly tender action.
“I have – don’t worry, I’m not new to all of this.” You can’t see his eyes but you can see the rest of his face, see that he’s still smiling – you keep a close eye on his expression as you circle his rim teasingly, watching with rapt attention the way the smile disappears as he tenses with a soft sound that’s not quite a gasp before forcing himself to relax again.
“With women or men?” You keep it casual, careful to keep your voice unaffected, and he laughs again but it’s more disbelieving this time, pulls his legs up so his knees bracket you on either side.
“Yes.” Hui simply answers, and it’s your turn to laugh, your free hand smoothing soothing circles into his bare hip. You think he looks absolutely beautiful like this, spread out just for you and you alone, a small notch in his brow from the way his expression has twisted as you carefully slip your first finger in.
“You’re really cute like this, all vulnerable and naked for me.” You’re teasing him, testing the waters – from the way he flushes though, the little hitch upwards that his hips make, you think you might have just discovered something fun. “Hui, do you like me talking to you like that?”
He doesn’t answer you right away, moves his arm so he can look down at you between his legs. Something about it must get to him, because he just looks at you for a moment or two, like he was trying to imprint the visual in his mind.
“You can add another.” He says instead, all breathy and soft like you’d already ruined him, wrecked him into pieces. It’s incredibly endearing, you think, dropping your gaze to where his cock sits red and shiny and untouched against his lower stomach, a small mess of pre-cum already smeared onto his skin. That was also endearing.
“I’ve barely even stretched you yet..” Your disbelieving murmur is clearly heard by him, and you raise your gaze to meet his as you test the waters with a second finger. It’s definitely tight (tighter than you would have preferred, if only for his own safety), but Hui just moans and shifts his hips more towards you, digging into your pillow as he tips his head back. “Oh – Hui the size queen, huh? Is that it?”
He laughs, but it tapers off into a sound closer to a moan than anything else. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.”
“Does it suit you?” You keep one hand splayed flat on one of his hips – he’s doing a wonderful job at not moving overly much, but by doing this you can feel every small tremor that goes through his body, can feel his muscles tense each time he forces himself to stay still. “If I end up fucking you one day am I going to have to make sure it’s sized big enough to totally wreck you?” Your question is coupled with an inquisitive upwards quirk of your fingers, and he nearly kicks you in surprise at the liquid arousal that floods through his body at the feeling. (You teasingly bite at his lower calf for it, and the soft sound he makes as you press your teeth into him is definitely something you file away for later.)
“I know you’re just teasing me, but -“ He licks his lips, tries to gather his focus again as you add a third finger. It burns in such an exquisite way that it’s hard to concentrate on anything else except for the current points of contact between you and him.
“Do you want me to stop?” A pause. “Hui, look at me.”
He obeys, meets your analyzing gaze and offers a slightly strained smile as he thinks about your question – though he doesn’t think for very long, a burst of wonderful, embarrassed heat curling across his chest and through his stomach when he lets his upper body drop back down to the bed, shaking his head ‘no’.
“Oh, Hwitaek..” You sound vaguely pitying, and he hates it, but he loves it. “You’re just a little boy who likes to be teased and humiliated, is that it?”
He feels so small with you talking to him like that, like his body was three sizes too big for his skin and he was burning up from the inside out – whenever the heat becomes too much all he has to do is open his eyes and see you looking at him (you’re always looking at him, and it takes his breath away because the way you watch him makes him feel like he’s something special, something that should be treasured) and suddenly everything was okay again. It was like you were the one stoking the flames of his desire, but you could also cause that blistering heat to ebb away whenever it became too much.
He realizes he hasn’t answered you yet and frantically nods, heart threatening to dissolve into something sticky and sweet at the way your expression softens.
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we’re not going to delve too deep into that tonight without talking about it in more detail later.” He nods, because he really does understand (despite the slight burst of disappointment) and he appreciates that you want to talk out what his limits are first. “Besides, how am I supposed to talk to you like that when you’ve been so good for me this entire time? So pretty and vocal.”
He can’t help the whine that tears itself from his throat at your phrasing – it didn’t matter what you were saying to him anymore, every single word embedded itself into his skin and worked its way through his body like an electric shock.
“Oh? Sweet boy - are you an adorable whore for both degradation and praise?” He doesn’t even bother saying anything this time, just shuts his eyes tight - he knows you already know the answer, can read him so well it’s almost like his desires were written out on his skin in black ink. “That’s so cute. You’re just so responsive to everything, aren’t you? I love that - anything I say or do I’ll get a direct response to, won’t I, Hwitaek?” You wait until he nods, his eyes still shut, before taking the opportunity given to you. Your lips press a teasing kiss into the line of his pelvis, giggling softly against his skin when he gasps above you. “Yeah, just like that. So beautiful, Hui, and all for me.”
Yes, all for you he thinks, and even his thoughts are getting mixed up and hazy now because you’ve wrapped your fingers around him loosely and he is so slick already, the feeling of your thumb swiping across the head of his cock, tracing the lines of precum down the shaft to where they’ve collected on his skin causing his entire body to twitch in a mess of stimulation.
“Oh, baby, you’re so wet for me already.” He can’t focus on anything, can’t think of anything, hears your voice through the haze like it’s faraway and he’s drifting underwater. He tries to force himself to be more present, tries to physically drag himself out of those depths, but you’re cooing at him sweetly and running your fingers over his cock softly, and any amount of shame he might have felt at having fallen so far into this headspace is eradicated by the sugar-laced kisses you press into his side.
“You really can’t keep quiet, can you?” Your voice is sweet but laced with amusement, and you can feel the way he throbs in your hand at the slightly degrading comment. “You sound like you’re going to cum just from three of my fingers – are you, baby? You going to make a mess of yourself before we even get to do anything?”
“Fuck..” Hui’s entire body feels like it’s on fucking fire, and when you duck your head to suck a bruise onto the inside of his thigh it’s all he can do to keep from crying out even louder. You were right, he couldn’t keep quiet, his head swimming and his fingers curled so tightly into your sheets that he could barely feel them anymore. “I’m – you’re –“ He can’t concentrate, can barely speak, and he knows his words come out more as whines anyway.
“Do you think it’ll be okay if you cum now?” You’ve stopped moving entirely and his whole body feels like it’s buzzing, his hips trying to rock back onto your fingers or up into your hand with no real success as the haze slowly recedes from his mind enough for him to be able to form full sentences
“Y-yeah.” He pushes himself up onto his forearms to be able to look down at you, groan catching in his throat when he sees the way you’re peering at him openly, watching him with beautiful eyes and a graceful flush on your face, one of your hands slick with his pre-cum and the other still wickedly deep. He’d never been more sure of the fact that he loved you than this exact moment. “If – if you give me a little bit afterwards, it’ll be fine.” He knows he sounds breathless and wrecked already, but you smile so sweetly at him anyway, like he was something precious to you, and he feels like the ground and the bed he was lying on had just suddenly disappeared at the sight.
And then you’re lowering your head and wrapping your lips around him and it’s all he can do to keep his eyes open – you hadn’t eased him into it, hadn’t given him any indication of your plans at all. One moment you were asking him about his refractory period and the next you were doing things with your tongue and mouth that he couldn’t even begin to fathom, your fingers once again brushing against that spot deep inside of him that has him keening.
He’s not going to last much longer; he knows that with a sudden certainty that has him trying to warn you but is more disjointed pleas for you to not stop than they are anything else.
One of his hands grasps for your shoulder blindly when he hits his peak, fingers curling into your skin as he spills himself onto your tongue. It’s blindingly hot and you can see the way he fights to keep his eyes open to watch, brow furrowed and mouth open almost like he was in some sort of pained ecstasy as you continue to finger-fuck him through it until he’s trembling.
When you stick your tongue out at him tauntingly and show him the mess he made Hui groans from deep within his chest like you’re torturing him, sits up abruptly and crashes his mouth into yours. It’s messy and dirty and he licks into your mouth aggressively, chasing all essence of himself off your tongue and onto his own with a moan that rattles your bones. You do your best to withdraw your fingers as gently as possible but he whimpers at the feeling anyway, drops his head to begin kissing a sloppy trail from your jaw down to your neck.
“You’re so dirty..” Your head is spinning and you feel short of breath - each time you inhale his chest knocks against yours as he heaves his own breaths, though he refuses to pull away from your skin for long enough for him to be able to recover as quickly. You think you feel him murmur a soft sound of agreement to your statement against your collarbone.
As soon as you can wrest a big enough part of yourself back under control you lean back, holding him securely away with your thumb and forefinger gripping his chin. Hui looks at you with an expression of wrecked reverence, the perfect picture of debauchery, and you know that right here, right now, at five something am in your bedroom, he would do literally anything you asked – that at this point in time it was no longer your room, with the window showing glimpses of the outside world, the sounds of cars going past. This place, this moment in time, it was now something disconnected and intangible, where he had given you explicit trust (perhaps foolishly, considering how inchoate your relationship was) to control and lead him. To take care of him in whatever way you see fit.
And you know that right here, right now, in this nebulous place that the two of you occupied, you would strive to make sure he never regretted giving you that permission.
“Hwitaek.” Your voice is breathier than you expected – you sounded like you’d been kissed hard. You sounded like you were in love. “Hwitaek, you are messy and crude – you are such a dirty boy, and you’ve hidden that from me for years.” He is hanging off your every word and you suddenly feel like you have a choice to make.
It’s one you don’t think about for more than a second, because you realize that you don’t need to.
“And, Hwitaek – you are so perfect for me.”
.｡..｡. .｡..｡.
“You know something?” Hui says it casually, out of nowhere, hand still rubbing nonsense patterns into the skin of your lower back after having crept underneath your shirt some twenty minutes ago just for the skin to skin contact. He’s not focused on anything else but relaxing in his bed at the dorm with you, thoughts about producing and writing lyrics and being a leader far from his mind.
“Hmm?” Your head rests on his chest, listening to his heartbeat – it’s a comforting sound, if not slightly faster than average, and when you close your eyes you can hear it mix with the soft (and sometimes not so soft) sound of some of his boys arguing or laughing or just living somewhere else in the dorm, outside his shut door.
He still hasn’t spoken so you lift your head and gaze at him, admire his features as he looks back at you with an expression so tender you’re almost afraid to have the weight of it on you. His hair is back to brown now, cut a bit shorter than before, and you stretch an arm out to run your fingers through it lazily, watch as he leans into it but keeps looking at you.
“I think you’re perfect for me, too.” His voice is warm, probably what sunshine would sound like if it was an auditory thing, and you blink at him in confusion for a few moments before you understand what he’s referencing, press your smile into his until it turns into a gentle, surging kiss.
It’s not quite an I love you, something adjacent to it, almost there but not exactly.
And neither of you say those words yet, just smile and look at each other and press kiss after sugared kiss into each other’s skin, interlace your fingers and marvel at the way affection seems to blossom for one another in both your ribcages at the simplest of actions.
The two of you weren’t in any rush. You had time.
#hui x reader#hui smut#hwitaek x reader#pentagon x reader#pentagon smut#hui#pentagon hui#pentagon hui x reader#hui x reader smut#pentagon x reader smut#sub!hui#triple h#triple h hui#hui scenario#hui reaction#hui imagine#hwitaek#hoetaek#how do people most often spell his name wtf#lee hwitaek#lee hoetaek#huitaek#i forgot about that one#lee huitaek#sub!pentagon#smut#tw: alcohol
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Wolfstar for the soul
Sirius lay on his bed in Gryffindor tower, twiring his wand in his long, slender fingers and staring up at the canopy. Remus wondered what he was thinking about. He seemed to be wondering things like that a lot recently. What Sirius was thinking, where Sirius was going. Why Sirius made his heart flutter just by looking at him.
No, stop it. He’s your friend. Nothing more. Just a friend.
Remus’ internal conflict was interrupted by the sound of Sirius sighing. “Hey, Rem, I think I’m gonna go down to dinner. James said he wants to talk about a prank and I’m bloody starving. D’you wanna come?”
For a second Remus forgot to answer as he looked at Sirius, standing there with his tie hanging loose around his neck and that bloody leather jacket that fit him so well.
“Remus?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be down in a minute. I’m just gonna do some tidying up around here first”, was all he could manage to get out. It wasn’t a bad lie either, as the dormitory had become less of a room and more of a pile of assorted clothing, wrappers and other, less savoury items over the last few weeks.
“Kay” Sirius turned and walked out of the dormitory. Remus sank down onto his bed. God that boy took his breath away. With his long dark hair and his handsome grin, he could see why he made all the girls go crazy.
Girls, Remus. He’s straight. And even if he wasn’t, he’d never go for someone like you…
Remus shook his head as though trying to make the thought fall out, but thoughts like that had a peculiar way of sticking in Remus’ head with stubborn determination. So, he got up and started putting things away. First, he did the laundry, then he started to strip and remake the beds. He’d done his, James’ and Peter’s, and was turning to do Sirius’ when he noticed something. The corner of an open book was poking out from underneath Sirius’ pillow.
Filled with curiosity, he picked it up.
Oh, shit.
It was a diary. Remus knew he wasn’t meant to read this, and went to put it down, but something caught his eye. A little heart that seemed to be absentmindedly doodled in the top left-hand corner of the page. Remus’ heartbeat quickened.
So Sirius did like someone. Was there a chance… No! As much as Remus tried, he just couldn’t bring himself to believe that a beautiful specimen like Sirius would ever fall for an ugly, scar-covered, royally fucked-up werewolf like himself. But some part of him never stopped hoping. Ever since Remus had realized his feelings for Sirius in 3rd year, a small piece of his heart had always kept yearning for the sound of his voice, for the touch of his fingers. Maybe it was this part now that drove him to start reading, instead of putting the diary down as he knew he should.
I think I’m in love with him. I don’t know how to handle it. I’ve tried so hard to convince myself otherwise, and I almost manage, but then I look up and his fucking eyes are there being so goddamn beautiful, and I can’t lie to myself anymore. I love him.
Remus’ heart dropped like a stone. So he does like boys. And I’m still not good enough for him. He threw the book down on the floor and sank to his knees next to it. A single tear rolled down his cheek and dropped onto the page, smudging a single word. And that word changed his life.
Remus.
Hands shaking, he picked the book back up and began to re-read that sentence.
I’m in love with Remus.
He read it over and over again a thousand times. Then he read the rest of the book. It was all about him. About how Sirius had loved him since 4th year. About how his heart quickened whenever they touched, about how he couldn’t get him out of his head. And about other things too. Things that broke Remus’ heart.
I gave up today. I was sitting at the breakfast table and Remus came and sat down next to me. He looked breathtaking, as usual, but I tore my eyes away from him with great difficulty. Fuck, I have no clue what I’d do is he found out about how I feel. Anyway, just then, some first-year girl I didn’t recognize came and sat in an empty seat near us. She had clearly been crying and looked like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Without hesitation, Remus got up to see if she was okay. He just stood up and strolled around the table to her side. Just like that. And they talked for about 10 minutes, and then she thanked him, and left.
That’s when I realized that I should give up on any hope that he’d ever love me. Because Remus if the most wonderful, loving, kind person in the world, and I don’t deserve him. I’m lucky enough to be accepted by him as a pure-blood and a Black. If he found out that a fucked-up mess like me had feelings for him, I might just lose him. And I could never deal with that. I couldn’t lose Remus.
My parents were right. No-one will ever love me. I’m worthless.
Remus didn’t know how long he sat there crying. Sirius found him lying on the floor, sobbing, his whole body shaking almost to the point of convulsion.
“Remus! Remus are you okay?”, the boy rushed over to his friend. Remus jumped up, wiping away his tears. “Re, what happened? Who did this to you? I swear, if it was Mulciber, I’ll fucking kill hi-”
That was when he noticed the book in Remus’ hand. His face collapsed. The anger was gone, but so was the handsome twinkle in his eyes. Remus was left looking at a picture of pure despair.
“Do you really love me?”, was all that Remus could say.
Hanging his head, Sirius slowly nodded. “I’m so sorry Remus. I tried to push it down, I really did, but I just couldn’t get you out of my head. If you never want to see me again, that’s fine. I’ll ask if I can transfer to another dorm”. Sirius slowly raised his eyes, and Remus saw that they were filled with tears.
When he raised his arm, Sirius flinched, expecting Remus to hit him. So he was shocked when instead he was pulled forwards by his tie and Remus’ mouth smashed into his. For a second, he was paralyzed, but then years of pent up feelings took over, and he kissed Remus back.
Wrapping his arms around Remus’ strong body, he tangled his hands into his hair and secured himself there like he never wanted to let go (which, in honesty, he didn’t). Remus’ tongue slid into his mouth as the taller boy picked him up and walked over to the bed with ease. Neither of them knew how long the kiss lasted, but it felt like and eternity of them just trying to be together. Exploring every inch of each other, becoming familiar with the smells and tastes and warmth of their partner’s body. When they finally broke apart, Remus was dizzy. It took him a second to come back to his senses.
Resting his head against Sirius’, he whispered 3 words that belonged to the beautiful black-haired boy now.
“I love you too”.
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Hey y’all I was feeling super depressed today and then I was yearning for some wolfstar so here u go! 1252 words of pure wolfstar. Hope u like it!!
#wolfstar#wolfstarfanfic#marauders#maraudersera#siriusblack#maraudersfanfic#remuslupin#remus x sirius#sirius x remus
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Lend me your love
Read on AO3
Billy loves having his hair played with. When he was a child, his mother used to ruffle his hair in passing, or caress it when he was watching TV with his head on her lap. After she leaves, no one but himself or the occasional hairdresser touches his hair for a while. Not until Max comes along and wants to practice her braiding skills on Billy. He protests, at first, telling her to practice on herself instead of pestering him, but he ends up surrendering, as he has wanted to since she first asked.
He would never admit to her that he likes it when she styles his hair, but he can at least admit it to himself. He’s not in denial. He doesn’t even care when she tries something extravagant that ends up making him looks stupid, because by the time she’s done he’s always relaxed and somewhat absent.
-
Once they move to Hawkins, Indiana, their relationship has deteriorated so much that Max never asks him to be her guinea pig anymore. As pathetic as it sounds, Billy’s pretty sad about it.
In Hawkins, to appease Neil after what happened in California (that is to say, Neil finding Billy making out with a boy), Billy flirts with a lot of girls. He even takes some of them to bed. They don’t do much for him sexually, but sometimes, when he eats a girl out, her fingers grip his hair as she’s looking for something to hold onto. Billy likes that. He likes it so much that it nearly makes him stay afterwards, in the hope she will caress his curls as they lay in bed together. But Billy can’t do that. He doesn’t really want to, anyway: he’s just touch-starved.
-
After he finally grows some balls and apologizes to Steve for the fight at the Byers’, they become closer. Billy sometimes wishes he’d never apologized because, with him, Steve brings questions, questions about the bruises and scars adorning Billy’s body, questions that Billy always deflects.
Steve also makes Billy want him even more than he used to before they started being friends. One day, during the summer, after Billy has had to sleep under the stars because of his father, Steve sees a leaf tangled in Billy’s curls and takes it off himself. For a second, Steve’s long fingers are in his hair and Billy nearly faints. Once they’re gone, far too soon, Billy wants them back more than anything, but it’s not like he can just ask for it. He’ll just have to make do with the reminiscence of that brief touch. It’s all he’ll ever have.
-
After Starcourt, Billy’s body is so messed up he can barely wash his hair on his own. Raising his arms hurts like a bitch. He tries to power through it, but he’s fed up after barely a week. He’s got to do something about it. He’s not happy, but he’s got no other choice.
He goes to Steve, whom he now lives with, and hands a hair clipper.
Steve takes it and looks back and forth from Billy to the clipper with his big Bambi eyes.
“What are you giving me that for?”
“I want you to shave my hair.”
Billy would do it himself, but he’d better not take that thing anywhere near his head if he doesn’t want it to end in a catastrophe.
Steve’s speechless for at least ten seconds, mouth agape.
“What? But, why? I though you loved your dumb mullet.”
Billy sighs. He doesn’t feel like explaining himself, but Steve probably won’t do what Billy asked if he doesn’t answer.
“I can’t wash my hair properly ‘cause my arms are fucked up. It would be easier if I just had it shaved.”
“But… but that’s… are you sure you won’t regret it?”
Steve is now staring at the clipper as if it had personally offended him.
“I don’t know… I don’t have much choice, anyway.” Billy shrugs.
“Well… I could wash your hair for you, if you wanted…”
Steve looks up at Billy tentatively, and then looks down almost immediately.
Billy would say yes in a heartbeat if he didn’t already feel like a burden to Steve.
“Thanks for the offer… but you’ve done enough for me as it is.”
“I really wouldn’t mind, I swear… I don’t feel comfortable participating in the murder of your hair, to be honest.”
Billy ponders Steve’s proposition a while longer, biting his lip, before finally accepting. Steve beams at him.
“Great! Do you want them washed right now?”
“Ugh… if you’re free. If not, whenever is fine.”
“Now’s good.”
Billy understands very quickly that he has not thought this through at all. As soon as they enter the bathroom, and Steve asks: “how do you want to do this?”, Billy knows he’s fucked.
Filled with dread, he stares at their tiny shower.
“Don’t know…”
“You can just stand in the shower and let me take care of the rest.” Steve said.
“Should I… uh… take my clothes off or… ?”
“Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”
Billy hesitated. He used to show off his body at every occasion and Steve has seen him naked countless times in the locker room after basketball practice when they were in high school. His body doesn’t exactly look the same as it did back then, however.
Steve knows that, though. He’s seen Billy’s freakish scars already. He probably doesn’t care whether Billy’s body looks good or not. Steve is straight, after all. Plus, Billy doesn’t feel like dealing with his wet clothes after his shower, so he might as well undress. It’s going to be fine. At least, he probably won’t get hard in front of Steve, which might be the only benefit from his meds killing his libido.
His yearning is still as strong as ever though, so Billy is far from safe.
Steve turns the shower on and Billy tenses up as the water comes in contact with his skin.
“Is it too hot?”
“Yeah, a bit.”
“I’m sorry… I take my showers really hot, so I couldn’t tell.”
“’s fine.” Billy mumbles.
He’s been possessed by a monster who hated warmth. He wishes he could take his showers as hot as Steve’s.
Steve wets Billy’s hair carefully before turning the shower off and grabbing Billy’s shampoo. Steve’s hands are in his hair before Billy can brace himself. He shudders under their touch and his whole body goes pliant. He can barely stay on his feet and ends up needing to support himself on the tiled wall in front of him.
“Are you okay, man?” Steve asked, stopping his movements.
“Yeah… just tired.” He lies.
“Do you need to sit down or something?”
“No, no, it’s okay. Keep going.”
Steve resumes washing Billy’s hair and then rinses. Then, Billy’s left to deal with the rest of his shower on his own. Thankfully.
Like clockwork, Steve goes with Billy to the bathroom every three days to wash his hair for him. Billy feels gradually better, and his doses of meds get smaller and smaller, until he’s entirely off some of them. However, Billy doesn’t tell Steve he’s able to raise his arms again. He would answer honestly if Steve asked him. But that’s the thing: Steve doesn’t ask. He keeps helping without complaining, and Billy’s too weak to admit he’s fine when he’s not been prompted to. He wants to wring every last drop of joy out of this situation until Steve catches on and puts his gentle hands away from Billy’s hair forever.
It could have lasted a lot longer, if Billy had not given himself away like a dumbass. In his defense, it’s too early for reflection when it happens.
Billy has just woken up and finds Steve rummaging through one of their kitchen drawers.
“What the hell are you doing, Pretty boy?”
“I can’t find the whisk.”
“That’s because it’s not in there.” Billy says, as he reaches for it.
He could have simply told Steve it was on the top shelf over the stove, but no. He had to get it himself, because he hasn’t had his first cup of coffee yet and is therefore deprived of his ability to think for even a second.
He notices Steve starting at him and freezes mid-reach, but it serves no purpose except further highlighting he can now raise his arms pretty high. Higher than he would need to wash his hair properly.
“Here you go!” He all but throws the whisk at Steve before retreating from the kitchen, kissing his coffee and his breakfast goodbye. Escaping is now his priority.
He avoids Steve all day long, so he’s definitely perplexed when he is waiting for him in front of the bathroom door the next morning.
“What are you doing here?” He asks before his brain can tell his big fat mouth to stay shut.
“Well… helping you with your hair, as usual…” Steve replies, staring intently at Billy.
“But…”
“I know.” Steve interrupts him before he can say something stupid once more.
Billy is at a loss. What is Steve playing at? Why does he want to indulge Billy? Is it pity? Does he… actually like washing Billy’s hair? Why?
Whatever the reason is, Billy is not enough of a fool to ask. In fact, he doesn’t say anything, undressing in silence and hopping into the shower cubicle.
With Steve so close, and his hands touching him, it quickly becomes clear to Billy that his libido has chosen that day to make a comeback. He does everything he can so that it does not become clear to Steve, in addition to himself: he tries to focus on the least sexy images he’s able to conjure, but he can still feel himself getting hard. His dick has refused to get hard for months, and now it won’t stay down no matter how badly Billy needs it to. His own dick is betraying him. How sad is that?
Steve is now in the cubicle with him, his chest so close to Billy’s back that his now soaked t-shirt brushes against him. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed.
“Do you…” Steve clears his throat, but his voice still sounds strained, “do you want me to lend you a hand with that too?”
Billy opens his eyes right in time to see Steve’s slide down his chest and stop right above his crotch. They should talk about it, clear the air before doing anything, but Billy can’t bring himself to turn down Steve’s offer.
He can only whisper “please” in between two labored breaths. When Steve takes him in hand and starts stroking him, Billy’s knees buckle under the onslaught of pleasure, and he has to lean against Steve’s chest, which makes his hard-on rest against Billy’s ass.
“Fuck, Steve.”
Billy grinds against him, pulling a moan from deep inside Steve’s chest. He can feel the vibration of it go through his own body.
“God, you’re so hot.”
Billy isn’t sure he agrees, but he’s in no position to protest. He’s on the verge of coming already. He wishes he could hold on a little longer, but he hasn’t been touched in ages and the fact that Steve is the one touching him is not helping him stave off his orgasm.
“Steve”, he groans, “I… I’m gonna…”
He can’t even finish his sentence. His voice has failed him.
“I’ve got you” Steve assures.
That’s what sends Billy over the edge. He comes hard over Steve’s hand and his own chest. The still running water cleans it off in a heartbeat. As soon as Steve lets go of Billy, he turns around and kisses him.
He doesn’t know if kisses are on the table of their tacit agreement, but he’s going to find out. It turns out that they are indeed on the table, according to the way Steve kisses back eagerly and winds his hands in Billy’s wet locks.
They have to separate when Billy peels Steve’s t-shirt off him and passes it over his head. After throwing the piece of clothes carelessly on the bathroom floor, instead of putting his lips back on Steve’s, Billy starts trailing kisses down Steve’s neck and chest. He stops on his way to give some attention to Steve’s nipples, delighted to note that they’re sensitive enough to get Steve panting in no time at all.
Steve’s hands are already back in Billy’s hair, and Billy’s living for it. He keeps going down, down, down. Slowly. Until he reaches the elastic band of Steve’s old gym shorts which have been converted to pajamas. He pulls them down swiftly and takes Steve is his mouth, reveling in the gasp it gets him to make. He would have loved teasing Steve some more, but he’s been wanting this for too long. Billy looks up as he slides down Steve’s cock. Steve is staring, seemingly in awe, his brown eyes nearly black with arousal and his lips slightly parted. The sight, added to the weight and taste of the dick in his mouth, nearly gets Billy hard again. It would surely have if his cock had not just recovered from all the meds.
Surprisingly, it does manage to harden again a few minutes later. Billy doesn’t really have the time to analyze the situation, he just feels a spike of arousal when Steve pulls hard on his hair. A choked moan leaves his throat, half from surprise and half from pleasure, as he’s hauled off Steve’s dick. Then, Steve is coming all over him, nearly silent apart from his raspy breathing. Once again, the water, which is now uncomfortably cold, does its job and washes the mess off.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Steve apologizes, his voice shot to hell as if he were the one who had just had a cock down his throat. “I wanted to warn you I was going to come but I was literally rendered speechless”.
He’s now gently massaging Billy’s abused scalp and Billy closes his eyes to enjoy the feeling.
“It’s fine”, he assures after a while, as Steve helps him up.
In fact, it’s more than fine. The hair pulling really got Billy going. He can’t believe he’s only discovering this. He’s known he likes his hair being played with for as long as he can remember, but he had no idea getting it pulled could feel that good. Well, until now that is.
He can’t wait to explore that, preferably with Steve.
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Cracks open a can of worms with the boys
I just about had it with the whole "aww you single" thing so let's spill the worms and get this over with, eh?
So I haven't seen a peenus weenus since January, and I been mostly just yearning on main and being touch starved occasionally.
It's not always the biggest fucken fun, being single, and yeah I shed some tears like the dramatic beech I am. And sometimes I looked at couples with envy and disgust, because it fuckin be like that sometimes!
But mostly I have been just trying to do better.
For the majority of my life (so far) I was the sad gal, that wanted to be in a relationship So Badly. This was mainly because my traumatized, self-hating, "I am unlovable" ass thought that being loved would solve all my problems.
A lot of us do this, we get hit and beat enough in our early lives, and the entire self-worth thingy gets warped and fucked up. So that's that on that!
And ever since I made that realization, I have been making a very big hard fucking effort, to develop a normal sense of self, fix my shit, find enjoyment in life regardless of my relationship status.
It has been extremely hard, especially since I had my heart nuked from orbit.
That did not work out in my favor, at all.
And lemme tell you, when you get hit like that, the compulsion to Find Someone To Fix You is on turbo drive. And I did eventually succumb to that, and no it was not a good decision.
Funny how that works, being in a relationship when you actually wanna be with someone else is not beneficial for anyone involved! Wow, shook.
So I took my lesson from that, and turned to back to work more on myself.
I still felt lonely, and sad, and yearned, and cried, but tried to find comfort in healthy ways.
I think it's very fucking sexy of me, that I'm not trying to fix my problems with other people. I think it's real cool, that I can realize my wrongdoings and try not to repeat them. And on top of that, like the absolute madlad I am, I can recognize amd respect my limits.
I don't love being single. I don't have to love it. But I am absolutely sick of the people around me acting like it's such a horrible thing for me. Oh poor me. If I could only find someone. If only I would submit to the mortifying ordeal. If only I tried harder.
I'm begging you to stop. Let me fucking be. If I crack a joke about being single, it's not an invitation for you to turn it into a pity party for me.
I wish I could gently grab my relatives, and acquaintances (is that how u spell it?) and through my gritted teeth, tell them to stop.
Maybe if I tell y'all that I am still not over my ex, you're gonna stop? Will you be fuckin considerate then?
Do I really have to bring that up, and open up my sensitive little soul for you, to stop the bullshit?
If I tell you, honestly, that I have a shit ton of internalized shame over my own gotdamn feelings, and I hate forcing a smile and pretending over my hurt, will you shut up and let me have this.
Let me have my good and bad days, let me have my complicated feelings, and fucking respect me as an adult. I don’t want your fucking pity anymore.
I am nearing fucking 29, I been through some Shit, I am very fucking tired.
I am just trying to make the best of a trainwreck situation.
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