#often times my face will flush but its just my nose and idk why | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slashxrose · 3 years

Text

Surprise, love -Duff Mckagan-

Title: Surprise, Love.

Warnings: explicit content.

Summary: I don’t use to do summary of my stories, y’all is gonna love it anyway; enjoy.

Dirty reading~

Duff Mckagan is the last person I expect to see on my doorstep, wet from the San Francisco mist, a faded green duffle bag at his feet.

Even years removed my heart still clutches at the sight of his hair, the boyish grin on his face. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes the way it used to, but I’m not able to catch much more of him before he’s pulling me into a bear hug and lifting me off the ground.

To put you all in context, Duff was my best friend ... and the best boyfriend someone could ever had, for most of my life, he was my neighbour when we were just born, little kids, getting to know each other from there and living a whole life together; I watched from when his first tooth fell out to when he had to take his first flight to go with the band to San Francisco, the place where I currently live now.

It surprises me, and it shocks me to see him, so changed after so many years, so many years without looking him in the eye, without knowing anything about him; today he is finally here, standing in front of me.

Trying not to break down in tears the emotions hit my being in a wave; remembering the day he left me at the airport and then never see him again; exactly in 1991, after his great "Use your illusion." I never heard from him again.

“Babe,” he breathes, I press my face into his neck, a laugh bubbling up out of my throat, “I missed you.”

“Yeah,” I manage.

I can feel my eyes pricking because I have missed him, too much. We’ve kept up as much as we could over the years, but with him overseas and my steadily making my way around the country, it had gotten difficult. I haven’t heard from him in a few months, and I haven’t seen him in a few years – probably eight, if I think about it. Instead of thinking about it, though, I wrap my arms tight around him and try not to let myself cry at the feeling of him engulfing me.

“I missed you too, Duff.”

I get him up to my apartment and let him settle onto my couch before I ask him any questions, mainly because I can’t quite find my voice and I can’t believe Duff is in my apartment, right now. He beats me to the punch, settling back into my couch and peeking over at me in the kitchen.

“This place is really nice.”

I nod, filling a glass up with water for him and then looking up at him, a smile on my lips.

“It’s alright,” I shrug, shutting off the tap and making my way over to the couch, handing it to him before I sit down, one leg tucked beneath me. “I got lucky.”

Duff sips the water and looks around, shaking his head. My apartment is nice – it’s got floor to ceiling windows and sleek, modern appliances and a killer view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

“Not luck,” he shrugs. “You deserve it, you worked your ass off for this place.”

I swallow, smiling over at him and feeling my cheeks flush – in part, because he’s right, and in part, because he’s wrong.

“Duff,” I laugh my voice soft. I tuck some hair behind my ear and looks up at him. “How’d you find me?”

Duff shrugs, setting the water glass down on my coffee table and turning to face me, leaning his arm over the back of my couch.

“I went home, first...talked to your mom, she gave me your address for if I ever wound up out west. Figured,” he shrugs, laughing, “It’d be more of a surprise if I didn’t tell her I already knew I was coming out this way.”

I shake my head, pressing my fingertips to my face.

“Oh god… I cannot believe my mum did that after all the things I told her, honestly.” I sigh, dropping my hand and raising my brow. “So, she didn’t know you were coming out here...but you did?”

Duff nods.

“Yes, I did… I’ve gotta come back to the hotel in a couple of hours… We’re flying to Europe, we’re gonna start a new tour I guess, we don’t really know, but I figured I could make a stop before I check into my hotel.” I swallow, watching his fingers flex against the couch cushion.

“Another tour?” I raise my brows. “You’ve been on tour the last eight years.”

“That’s what happens when you’re a famous rockstar babe, you never stop….” he laughs, his voice low. “I’m thinking I’ll be out here a bit, actually, trying to convince the boys to stop a little, I want to see you more often.” I try not to let my reaction show on my face, but this is Duff, so I know I’m not exactly subtle.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I think about it, about Duff, just half an hour away instead of across the world.

“Wow,” I breathe, smiling over at him. “I’d get to see you, then?”

“If you want to,” Duff shrugs, and I roll my eyes at him, reaching over and swatting at his arm.

We cover the basics with his hand on my knee: I moved to San Francisco alone, I work for a newspaper, and I’m a runner now. He’s been back on tour and he’s not going to go so far away again, and he’s thinking about stop touring a little bit.

Wow.

I slide my hand over his and look down at it, brushing my thumb against the back and humming softly as I look up at him, a smile on my lips.

“So you’re telling me,” I say, my voice soft, “you’re a big enough deal the boys to stop touring, what they’re supposed to be doing?”

Duff rolls his eyes, glancing down to our hands and then back up to mine, his gaze soft. I try to focus on anything other than the look in his eyes and settles on his mouth, chewing on the inside of my cheek, because I know it’s a mistake immediately. Bad things tend to happen when I look at Duff Mckagan’ mouth.

“I’m telling you I could do it,” he shrugs, and I watch intently as he runs his tongue over his lower lip, his fingers pressing lightly against my leg. “We’ll find out, I guess; Steven’ planning to go to rehab…” He probably saw my intrigued face, so he immediately keeps talking. “I’ll tell you in a bit about it.” He smiles at me and I nod. “Slash has two little annoying but cute kids… so he’s gonna be busy with that, and Izzy… Well Izzy fucking left the damn band, so there’s no problem with him.”

I nod, feeling my lips shift into a soft smile, Wow, it’s surprising how everything changed since the last time I saw him, every one of them were idk… almost 30 years old, playing and joking around, being drunk and high as fuck, I never… I mean, we never thought that the band was gonna become this famous.

“Well,” I say, “I’m happy for you, Duff. You’re all grown up.”

Duff laughs, pulling his hand from my leg and rubbing his hand over his jaw slowly, swallowing.

“We’re both grown up, honey,” he chuckles, and I let myself meet his gaze. I stuck in a slow breath, feeling how heavy his eyes are on mine, letting the feeling wash over me easily. “Easy to see that, right?”

I nod and sit up a bit, settling my hand on Duff’s forearm, brushing my thumb slowly against his skin.

“Easy,” I say my voice barely above a whisper. “Too easy.” I don’t know why sitting here with him like this makes me feel like I could cry.

I squeeze my eyes shut, sighing out a slow breath and tightening my grip on his arm.

“I really missed you. I know we,” I shake my head, “I know we covered that, kind of, but...god, Duff.” I swallow, heavy, keeping my eyes shut so I don’t have to look at him as the words tumble out of my mouth, “I really didn’t know if I would ever see you again, you know? No matter how safe you told me you were, you almost had a fucking overdose… too much alcohol, too much shit.”

Duff doesn’t say anything, but I feel him shifting on the sofa. I feel him scooting closer to me. His breath wisps over my skin, and I feel like I might be shaking. I should stop him – I knows I should, I knows it’s the right thing to do with all of us history, all of the feelings that stretch out between us – but there’s an ache in my chest that I don’t think will let me. I squeeze his forearm, holding onto it with my fingers and hear myself let out a soft noise as his nose touches mine.

“Babe,” he murmurs, and I nod, my eyes still squeezed shut. “I’m good; you don’t have to worry anymore.”

“I know,” I breathe out, and I slide my hand off his arm and slip my fingers into his hair. I pulling him towards me, kissing him in the way I had imagined doing for years, for a lifetime, even. I’d never kissed him like this, so tender and slow, so intentional, so full. I whine into it, feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

It feels like my heart is whole, even for just a moment.

Duff’s always been the boy I turned to when I was hurting, always been the person who knew me the best, who could make me feel good. This, though, is different – this kiss isn’t sweet, childhood tenderness, its gut wrenching in the most wonderful way. My stomach twists into a knot and then settles as his arm wraps around my waist, my ears rush harshly as his tongue moves against mine, my heart pounds in my chest as I feel both of our cheeks, touch against each other.

This is Duff, the man, safe in his arms, telling me he’s here, telling me I’m his. He hasn’t said it, but I can tell...I can tell from the way he’s kissing me that this was him, standing on her doorstep, asking me to let him in and keep him.

For tonight, at least, I can do that.

I crawl into his lap and press my fingers into his hair, my thumbs dragging along his face, my breathing ragged against his skin.

“Duff,” I whisper, brushing my lips against his, “I have a bed.”

Duff’s breathing is possibly more laboured than my own as he slips his hand beneath the back of my t-shirt, his fingertips pressing lightly into my skin.

“I assumed,” he mumbles, his mouth praying for mine, “This is a big apartment.”

I nod in a smile, grinning against his lips;

“Want to,” I tip my face down, my forehead pressed to his as I move slowly in his lap, my lips just out of his reach, “take a look at it?”

Duff lets out a low laugh, nodding and mumbling,

“Smooth,” against my mouth as he keeps his arm locked around my waist. He stands up, lifting me with him, I wrap my legs around him as he settles me in his grip.

I direct him to the bedroom, settling my feet down on the ground and swallowing as my eyes fall on a picture frame settled on my nightstand.

“Shirt,” I breathe, looking at Duff, who’s sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at me with a dazed smile on his lips, “shirt off, rockstar.” He lets out a low laugh, and I takes a moment to flip the picture frame face down while his shirt is obstructing his view, then tugs at the hem of my own shirt before taking a step forward, pulling it off as I stations myself between his legs.

I settle my hands on his bare shoulders, dragging my hands down along his skin slowly, then moving it back up and cupping his face in my hands. I slide my thumb over his lower lip and hiccups, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“God,” I whisper, letting my eyes move over his face, taking him in. I’d never felt so full before. My vision blurs as I watch him, feels his hands settle over my waist.

He had changed, years without seeing him… without feeling him, I missed his touch, his kisses, I missed him so bad.

“Honey,” he says, and his voice has that lilt to it – the what are you crying for lilt, and I don’t have an answer. I bit down on my lower lip, shaking my head and trying to stop myself. His hand reaches up to my cheek and I lean into his touch, feeling my tears seep onto his skin.

I want to tell him...about the photo, about the man in the photo, about the way their timing is truly, continually, terrible. Instead, I lean my face down and kiss his palm, swallowing hard as I hear his own breath going wet.

“Come here,” he says, his voice thick, low.

I don’t need him to say it twice. I crawl into his lap and he shifts them back onto the bed, his hands moving shakily along my skin.

He flips them and undresses me carefully, his eyes moving over every new part of me as it becomes exposed. He unhooks my bra and pulls it slowly down my arms, unbuttons and unzips my jeans and tugs them over my hips, hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties and tugs at them, slowly, his lips pressing to my stomach as he does, the gasp tearing from my throat involuntary, I swear.

Something in my brain tugs, that I should be embarrassed, being so naked in front of this man who’s known me for my entire life, but no. I can’t be, with the way he’s looking at me, with the adoration and want in his eyes. I let my hands slide along his arms, breathing slowly as he looks at me, takes me in, and then I settle my fingers against his belt buckle.

“I can’t be the only one naked here, baby,” I say, my voice soft, and the smile on his lips is so soft that I feel my cheeks flush.

I unbuckle his belt shakily, watching as he gets himself out of his pants, pushes off his boxers. I bites on my lower lip at the sight of him, half-hard for me, then drags my eyes up to his face, smiling at the way his cheeks are flushed. I sit up a little, wrapping my hand around him gently, dragging my fingertips lightly along his length and shutting my eyes, leaning my forehead against his chest because I don’t think I can take the look on his face, the pure emotion rippling through him.

“Fuck,” he bites out, and his hand slides to the back of her neck, his thumb dragging along the base of it slowly. His voice is shaky when he says my name, and I twist my wrist slowly, smiling as I feel him growing harder in my hand.

Yes, honey, I know you like this.

He shifts my back on the bed, pressing my legs apart so he can settle between them and leaning down to kiss me, drawing his tongue slowly over my lower lip as his thumb drags over my inner thigh. The mixture of sensations has me shaking, already, and he hasn’t even touched me where I want him to yet.

He’s gentle with me, at first. His fingers press lightly against my wet folds, testing the waters, working slowly as I breathe out heavy sighs to keep myself calm.

He’s driving me crazy.

His lips press over my collarbone lightly, dragging against my skin slowly as he dips a finger into me, then another. He hums against the hollow of my neck as his thumb circles my clit lightly, and I feel my hips lifting off the bed to find more of him, knowing he isn’t giving it to me yet.

“Oh god-” I groaned.

I come apart on his fingers, shakily, one of my hands gripped tightly into his hair. His mouth is on my neck and I whine, searching for his face.

“I need you.” I breathe, and he lifts his head slowly, grazing his lips over mine.

“You keep driving me crazy as the first day we met.” he murmurs.

I stop him, slipping my tongue into his mouth. I can’t hear him, like this, not right now. I need him to fuck me, need him, before I get too rational and stop him entirely.

This is too much, I can feel it – I’m going to break the both of us, but I can’t possibly end it before I feel him, before I know what it’s like to have him inside me, again.

“Duff,” I moaned against his mouth, lifting my hips and hooking a leg around his waist, trying to pull him closer. “I need you.”

He nods, slow, just once, and I love him for it. I love that he isn’t trying to tease this out, that he’s listening to me, that we both want this so badly that dragging it along isn’t appealing at all. I slide my hands up to his face, holding it and keeping my eyes on him, my heart still hammering. He locks eyes with me as I feel his tip pressing at my entrance, and I suck in a hard breath, watching his face.

He cracks the softest smile, and I feel my resolve breaking.

“Duff,” I breathe, my voice full, my eyes stinging, “please.”

I want him in a way I can’t understand – it’s something about the way he knows me, I think, absently, as his eyes trail over my face, down my body.

It’s about the way he held my hand when I fell off the jungle gym and broke my arm when we were six, it’s about the way he shoved an old friend of mine for calling me a bitch when we were eleven, it’s about the desperate way he kissed me back in her car when we were sixteen, it’s about the way he made me and makes me feel right now. It’s about the fact that he’s the same Duff he’s always been, but something else altogether, too. The boy I’ve always known, and the man I’ve always wanted, hovering above me, about to make me his, even when I belong to someone else.

But I didn’t care.

One of his hands brushes my cheek, and I slide my own to press over his, to keep him there. I hold his gaze as he pushes into me, slow, filling me. I let out a soft laugh, turning my face into his hand and rolling my hips.

“Please,” I murmur against his skin, “I want to feel you, Duff.”

He’s slow, but not in a torturous way. His eyes stick on mine as he rocks his hips into mine, as the fingers of his free hand trail along my leg, over my hip, tracing little shapes. I feel him, all of him, and my legs tighten around his hips to keep him as close as I can. His strokes are long, deep, and I know neither of us is going to last long, regardless of the speed.

“As my queen commands.” Duff softly replied, smirking before kissing my lips deeply as he thrust deep inside me.

The sudden feeling of being filled with a cock as big as him made me cry out in pleasure breaking the kiss as my back arched, I felt his fingers holding my hips lightly, making the movements to go harder. His own groans of pleasure mixed with mine as they filled the room, he started to move slowly, taking his time as our lips re-joined together with our tongues dancing and warping round each other, as our hands roamed each other’s bodies just feeling blindly in a that need to be close.

I feel my walls constricted around him, he started to move faster and found that bundle of nerves that made me touch the sky with my hands, his moans made an echo in my ear, they were loud, he was really enjoying this, making me instantly lose all the control, all sense of who and where I was, right now it was just the two of us; the world outside didn't matter, the day ahead didn't matter everything I can focus on was in him and nothing was going to stop that.

“Oh shit babe, yes.- ” I moaned. “Keep doing that oh god-” I wrapped his curlers in my fingers holding him, his thrusts collided with my body causing a lack of control in all my senses, damn I had missed this.

His movements were wild and erratic but so perfect precise, he knew all the right buttons to press. I open my eyes again to see him above me, his face the clear picture of pleasure and need, I never had seen anyone become so desperate and undone for me. A man like him with such talent showing a side of himself only to me that so few ever got to see, but in truth he would only ever truly become this undone and this vulnerable for me.

My hands slid down from his hair, trailing down his back across his slightly sweating skin as they found that perfect ass of his. His lips moving to my neck again as tears of happiness, love and pleasure fell.

“Oh my sweet babe.” Duff moaned shakily as he continued thrust deep into me, all I could do was cry out with pleasure and need.

“Oh Duff I love you.” I gasp thrusting up to meet his own movement's.

He’s nothing like I’ve ever felt, before – there’s something about the presence of him, of his body over mine, of his eyes watching me, his breath mixing with my own.

“Babe,” he breathes, his face tipping down, his lips finding mine. I sat up a bit, my hips shifting to meet his, to hit at a new angle. I weave my fingers into his curly hair and grips onto it as I kiss him, our tongues pressed together as I feel the heat pooling in my stomach, knows I’m closer than I’d even like to admit.

His hand moves from my leg to dip between them, pressing against my clit slowly, tracing over my nerves delicately before finding a pattern. I can tell he’s close, too, his breathing getting heavier, his thrusts more erratic.

“C’mon babe” I murmur against his mouth, “I want to feel you, Duff, I want to know what you feel about me.” my words fade into a whine as I feel him pressing more firmly to my clit, rolling it between his fingers.

I come hard, around him, feeling him spill into me moments later, our moans mixing together as he presses me down into the mattress.

“Oh damn.” He moans loudly in my ear.

We lay still, for a long while. I scratch sleepily at the back of his neck, Duff start kissing my neck softly as we cling to each other, trying to calm down. He pulls out of me slowly, smiling to himself as I groan at the loss, and I hum as he lays back down, still pressing his weight down against me.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere,” I whisper, my lips pressed against the side of his head, “until I say so.”

Duff nods. “Got it, you’re in charge,” he murmurs, “so nothing’s really changed, huh?”

I laugh, but I feel the pang in my chest, knowing the truth – because yes, almost everything really has changed, and he doesn’t even know the half of it.

I must fall asleep, because when I woke up it’s dark outside and I hear him moving around...somehow, I just knew in that moment that he knows, now. I sit up slowly, pulling the sheets to my chest and pressing my hand over her face.

“Duff?”

He pokes his head out of the bathroom and smiles at me softly. When he steps through the door, he’s got his boxers on, and I feel my heart clench in my chest.

“What’s his name, babe?” He sits on the edge of the bed and pull my hand from my face, lacing his fingers with mines. “He’s got some nice pomades, in there...expensive.”

“Duff,” my voice is hollow, I look up at him with pleading eyes. “I can explain all of this, okay?”

He nods, brushing his thumb over mine.

“I know,” he swallows, his voice thick. “What’s his name?”

I sigh out a breath and casts my eyes upwards, trying not to cry.

“Daniel…” I answer, quietly. “We’ve been...I moved in a few months ago, but it’s been a little over a year.”

I don’t let myself close my eyes, making myself look at him as he swallows, processing my words and looking around the room.

“You love him?”

“Duff,” I don’t know how to answer that question, not right now.

He’s been away for a while, and came here making me feel lost and complete at the same time, now I don’t even know where or who I am.

“Does he make you happy, hun? That’s,” he lets out a soft, wet laugh, “that’s really...what I’m asking you.” I nod, looking down at our hands. “Good.”

“I didn’t,” I croak, and I hate myself for it. “I didn’t know when you...if you,” I shake my head. “I didn’t know, Duff. I didn’t know if I...if–,”

“I didn’t want you waiting for me,” he supplies, shaking his head and looking at me, straight on. “I’m glad you didn’t, I... I slept with a lots of girls too… I can’t blame you for this.”

I feel desperate, scoots myself closer to him and settles a hand on his cheek.

“I’m not,” I breathe, wanting to press my face to his and hesitating. “You’re here, now, Duff.”

Duff nods, and bridges the gap. He presses his forehead against mine, finding my eyes.

“I’m not leaving,” he says, his voice low. “I told you,” he swallows, “I’m not gonna go away without you next time. If I convince the boys…damn.”

I nod.

“And I’ll be here,” I murmur. “But someone else is gonna be here with me…”

He shuts his eyes, squeezing my hand.

“For now,” he shrugs, “and maybe for good, but,” he opens his eyes and looks at me, fully.

My feels tear pooling in my eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere. I...I believe in this, babe. I wouldn't be here if I didn’t.”

I take a long breath, nodding slowly. I realize he doesn’t mean here, my apartment – he means here, in San Francisco...that he wouldn’t be considering this job if it wasn’t for me. I understand his meaning, here: I’m in charge.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and he shakes his head, but I stop him. “No, I should’ve told you.”

“His shoes were by the door, babe, I saw them.” he says, his voice soft. “I’m not an idiot.”

I feel something break in me, and I find Duff’s mouth, kissing him softly.

“God,” I laugh, my voice low, my lips pressed to his, “we really can’t get it right, huh?”

Duff kisses me, soft and slow, his tongue tracing my lip before he pulls away. He stands up from the bed and I watch, my eyes wide and soft as he moves around, grabbing his clothes and pulling them on.

“To be determined,” he decides, as he’s buckling his belt.

I chew on my cheek, getting out of bed and finding my robe. I wrap it around me and follows him out into the living room, watching as he grabs his duffel bag.

“You can stay,” I say, my voice hoarse, and he looks over his shoulder at me, shaking his head.

“I won’t leave,” he swallows, and I shut my eyes for a moment at his words. I nod.

“Okay,” I whisper. “So when will I see you?”

Duff sighs out a breath as he pulls the bag over his shoulder, then wraps his arm around my waist. He walks me over to the door before he pulls me against him, leaning his face down, kissing me softly.

“I’ll be here another week,” he says, his voice low, “and then...depending on things, I’ll be here for good. So,” he finds my eyes, “up to you, okay? You call me.”

I nod, my head spinning.

“Don’t disappear on me, okay?” I beg.

He shakes his head, softly, kissing me lightly.

“Promise, I won’t.” He replies.

I feel him pull his arms away, and I wrap my own around myself so I don’t do something stupid, like pull him back into my bedroom. I watch as he grabs the doorknob, opening the door and taking a step through it.

“Call me when you get to your hotel?”

He nods, leaning down and kissing me gently.

“I will,” he breathes against my mouth.

By the time I open my eyes, he’s gone. My phone buzzes on the kitchen island and my heart drops, but when I flip it over, it’s Duff.

‘Miss you already, you know that?’

I press it to my chest and shut my eyes, taking deep breaths – in part, to calm down, and in part, because I did.

102 notes · View notes

jamaisjoons · 4 years

Text

love alive ⤑ jjk | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party. 〞post break up au. exes to lovers au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: jungkook x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 17k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: mentions of alcohol, swearing, so much angst, pining? i guess, they’re both broken up but still love each other so there’s that lmao, reader emotionally cheats a fair amount, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, sub!reader, pussy eating, hair pulling, fingering, dirty talk, this was supposed to be soft sex but idk what happened, okay it’s kinda soft but also feral, tender feral sex, aka the seraphjoon vibe, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, multiple orgasms

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: YEEEHAW LOOK I DID SOMETHING !! i had sudden inspo for this fic and while it HURTS it doesn’t hurt too bad i dont think. anyway, i hope you enjoy it but its like 3am so i’m going to bed now hawyeet

⇥ part of the mixtape series

⏤ edited by my wonderful beta @shadowsremedy

One late Friday evening, Jungkook finds himself in his apartment. He’s currently sat on the sofa, simply staring off into space as he waits for his date to return. Jungkook doesn’t really remember much about her, they’d just been to dinner and try as he might, he just hadn’t been able to focus on the conversation. One reason being none other than it had been a completely stilted conversation - first dates were always awkward - but paired with the fact he barely knows her, and that he’d been on about seventeen different first dates in the last three months, he’d found himself unable to really keep the conversation going.

Of course, the second - and more major - reason, would be that she’s not you.

But Jungkook would rather not think about that right now.

“Do you have any wine?” Jungkook’s date calls out. Breaking out of his daze, Jungkook’s eyes come back into focus as he trains his attention back onto her. Eyebrows slightly furrowed, he scrambles for her name. Jiha? Jihyo? Jihye! That’s it. Jihye looks at him expectantly, waiting for his answer.

“Uh, maybe. I don’t know,” comes Jungkook’s distracted answer, “there may be some in the bottom cupboard on the left-hand side,” he continues nonchalantly - not really thinking about it. He thinks he remembers seeing an open bottle there, but again, he doesn’t drink wine all that often so he doesn’t really care. He watches Jihye rummage around in his kitchen, her short black dress riding further up the backs of her thighs - and Jungkook knows he should feel some sort of attraction towards her - she’s incredibly beautiful - not to mention her body’s practically perfect - and yet, he feels… nothing.

Why is he on a date with her again? Oh yes, because she frequented the same gym as he did and had asked him out randomly earlier in the week. Jungkook lets out a little sigh, his head falls back onto the back of the sofa. Staring up at the ceiling, his mind casts back to all the dates he’s had recently. Most of them approach him and he doesn’t really know why he keeps saying yes - but he has an inkling it’s to do with the fact that he’s still not over you. Though, that doesn’t really matter.

You’re long gone, and the last Jungkook had heard about you, was that you’d met someone else - someone willing to give you more than he could - someone willing to give you what you want. His heart constraints at the thought of you, but he shakes the thoughts out of his head. He needs to move on - it’s been long enough. Almost a year. Well, it’s been exactly seven months, twenty-three days and nine hours since you walked out on him, but who’s keeping count? Certainly not him.

“Oh! I found some. It’s already open - do you mind if I have some?” Jihye asks, and reflexively, Jungkook finds himself rolling his eyes. If he hadn’t wanted her to have some, he wouldn’t have told her where the wine was. Biting his tongue, however, Jungkook just lets out a non-committal hum. Once done pouring herself a glass of wine, Jihye returns to him while taking a sip of her wine. Suddenly, she stops, her face twisting in disgusting as she spits her wine back into her glass. Own features twisting in disgust, Jungkook regards her through guarded eyes, wondering what was going on.

“Gross! Why does this wine have pieces of cork in it? Also, I think it’s gone off - it tastes weird,” Jihye gripes as she takes her glass back into his kitchen. Barely paying attention to her words, Jungkook stares in unsettlement at the bottle. The dark green glass glints under the warm kitchen lights, his heart lurching as he recognises the bottle.

With unfocused eyes, he stares at the bottle, unmoving as his mind buzzes with what feels like static. Hazily, he registers that Jihye is speaking, but through the thick fog of his memories, Jungkook’s mind barely notices what she’s saying. Nonetheless, the exact moment Jihye begins tilting the bottle over the sink, attempting to flush its contents, Jungkook jumps to his feet.

“No! Don’t throw it out,” Jungkook’s voice thunders, his long legs carrying him into the kitchen swiftly. Jihye startles, looking at him in dumbfounded incredulity.

“What? Why? It’s got pieces of cork in it, and it tastes funny,” Jihye replies, turning back and beginning to pour the wine again. Abruptly, Jungkook snatches the bottle out of her hand, causing Jihye to jump.

“It’s not off, it just tastes like that. It’s bad wine,” Jungkook mutters as he puts the stopper back in the neck of the bottle.

“All the more reason to throw it out?” Jihye suggests, Jungkook’s jaw flexing at her words.

“I’m not throwing it out,” Jungkook replies, his voice hardened. Jihye cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Come on Jungkook, I think you should throw it out,” Jihye says coyly, a smile crawling onto her face. Imperceptibly, Jungkook’s eyes narrow. The flirtatiousness in her demeanour isn’t lost on him, nor is the fact that she likely thinks he’s joking. But Jungkook isn’t joking. He’s not throwing the wine out - whether it has pieces of cork in it, whether it tastes bad, or even if it had been off, he’s not throwing it out.

“No,” Jungkook says, his voice full of resolve. Jihye startles as she realises he’s not being playful. She raises her eyebrow once again, cocking her hip to the side.

“What’s so special about it? It’s just a bottle of wine,” Jihye points out. Of course, to anyone, it would be just a bottle of wine - but to him, it’s so much more.

It’s the last thing he has left of you.

When you’d broken up with him, ending your five-year relationship, you’d moved everything out of his apartment. The stupid cushions Jungkook hated - really, they only took up more space on the sofa, meaning he couldn’t lounge about properly - your hundred and one towels, even the sheets: the ones that had smelled like you. They’re all gone, along with all your clothes and belongings, leaving a half-empty apartment, and a hole in Jungkook’s heart. Every and any trace of you had slowly been removed from his flat and consequently his life. And now, he’s left with just this bottle of wine. - the one you’d forgotten about because it’d been hidden at the back of the cupboard.

“Jungkook? Are you listening to me? What’s so great about this bottle?” Jihye asks. Once again, however, Jungkook’s mind wanders to you. Unable to pull away from the bottle, Jihye fades from the world, her voice becoming distant and hazy as he recedes back into his memories.

Flashback - three years ago

A knock resounding at Jungkook’s door, he takes a deep breath. Looking at himself in the mirror one last time, he brushes the non-existent lint off his blazer. Then, running his fingers through his hair, he nods at himself and leaves his bedroom. Approaching the door, he swings it open, a large smile painted on his face as he spots you.

“Hello, beautiful,” Jungkook greets the moment he spots you. However, the moment he actually sees you, he finds himself stopping. Dressed in a flowing sundress, a dazzling smile on your face and bright, twinkling eyes - you look positively radiant. A loud whoosh of air escapes his nose, his eyes softening at you, “you look gorgeous,” he breathlessly says, his voice low.

Your smile brightening, you grin up at him, “Happy third anniversary!” you call out cheerily. Jungkook bites his lip, and unable to stop himself, swoops down and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Happy anniversary,” he mutters back, his lips brushing yours with every movement. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you chew on it while giving him a smile. Even three years into your relationship, Jungkook still managed to set butterflies aflutter in the pits of your stomach with the slightest touch.

Swiftly, you step into his apartment, easily navigating your way towards his kitchen as you place the bags of food and wine onto his counter. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” you ask curiously, peering at your boyfriend through the corner of your eyes.

However, Jungkook only steps up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Nope!” he happily replies, popping the ‘p’ sound, “you said you’d rather just have a quiet night in. Besides, we went out for the cruise-ship dinner thing last year,” Jungkook continues, humming in thought at the memory. A smile curls on your own lips and you twist in his arms, winding your own around his waist as you place your head on his chest.

“Mmm, that was a good anniversary. But if I remember correctly, someone ended up being seasick from drinking too much,” you say pointedly, tilting your head to look up at him, your chin resting on his sternum. Despite his cheeks flushing a rosy shade, Jungkook scowls.

“It’s not my fault… the alcohol was stronger than I thought it was,” he mumbles under his breath. You shake your head in fondness, but then, your lips curl into a slight frown. Every anniversary, Jungkook had taken you somewhere - your first, he’d taken you on a ski trip, your second, he’d taken you on a weekend break to Jeju island, and of course, your third had been a cruise-ship dinner. This year, however, you’d been recently promoted to the department head of your company, but that had meant additional stress and weight to an already heavy workload. As a result, you’d asked Jungkook if he was okay with just a quiet night in - because there was nothing you wanted more than to just spend some time with your loving boyfriend.

“Are you sure this is okay? If you want to go out or something, we still can,” you ask. However, Jungkook only shakes his head once again while pulling you closer into him.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. Honestly. I just want to spend some time with you. Whether that’s here in my apartment, or in yours, or on an expensive date, or even in a garbage dump, it doesn’t matter. I just want to be with you,” Jungkook grins before smacking a sloppy kiss on your forehead. Face twisting in disgust, your earlier doubt about Jungkook being happy with your choice of date fades away, and you playfully smack him before pushing him away.

“Ew gross! You just slobbered all over me,” you gripe, rubbing the wet spot on your forehead.

Waggling his eyebrows, “and there’s more where that came from,” Jungkook playfully teases. A light snort escapes your lips as you shake your head before turning around.

“Yeah, whatever. I bought wine and steak for dinner. It’s not much but I don’t know, I felt like being classy,” you casually shrug while turning to the bag of groceries Jungkook hadn’t noticed. Head cocked to the side, he grimaces at the bottle of wine. Suddenly, you stop, your lips curling in a frown, “Although… in hindsight, I should have bought more food - knowing your bottomless stomach,” you sigh, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, you probably should have,” Jungkook deadpans. Lips twisting into a pout, your shoulders deflate at his words. Jungkook sees your disappointment, his heart dropping in his chest at the thought of upsetting you. He’d meant it as a joke - really, he had - but you’d clearly taken it seriously. Stepping up to you, Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist once again, his chin resting on your shoulder and hands clasps around your belly.

“I was only joking, sweetheart,” Jungkook says lowly, his face nuzzling into your hair while he presses a kiss to the outer shell of your ear. “Wine and steak sound good. Very classy,” he continues, pressing another kiss to your flesh - this time the column of your throat.

Instantly, your lips curl into a victorious smirk, “Okay, great!” you say, your shoulders immediately perking up. Jungkook blinks at your sudden change in demeanour, his nose scrunching when he realises what’s just happened.

“Hey! Did you do that on purpose?” he asks, his eyes narrowing into slits, his gaze full of accusation. Face twisting into a picture of innocence, you smile at him coyly - and if he didn’t know you as well as he did, he’d buy it - but Jungkook sees the sparkle of mischief in your eyes.

Before he can open his mouth, however, you’re already cutting him off, “Where’s your corkscrew?” you ask, rummaging through his drawers. Jungkook watches you search through the utensils, your lips curling downwards in concentration.

His own lips twisting, Jungkook approaches you, helping you look for the corkscrew. However, after a few moments, “Oh. I don’t think I have one,” Jungkook finally says. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, Jungkook wonders if he ever even bought one, but he doesn’t think he has.

“Kook! How are we supposed to drink this now?” you whine, a pout forming on your face again. Shrugging, Jungkook whips out his phone.

“I’m sure we can like, find another way,” Jungkook replies, already googling a way to open the wine bottle. Curiously, you peer over his shoulder, Jungkook’s arm instinctively wrapping around you as he scrolls with one hand. Head tilting upwards, you smile at your boyfriend, his features slightly scrunched in concentration. Unable to help yourself, you lean up and press a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. The moment your lips brush his skin, the corners of Jungkook’s lips twitch before he twists his head and presses a kiss to the temple of your head.

Arms wrapping around his waist, you lean your head on his bicep, “find anything yet?” you ask, Jungkook humming in response.

“We could use a blowtorch,” he replies casually.

“Do you have a blowtorch?”

“Fair enough. We could smack it against the wall using something to cushion it.”

“And risk breaking the bottle? No thanks.” Like that, Jungkook continues reading out suggestions: from pumping it out using a bicycle tire pump, all the way to slapping it out with a shoe, only for you to refute them. Eventually, however, with no other option, you and Jungkook eventually try using a screwdriver. Which brings you to now, almost fifteen minutes later.

“Oh my god, I think I’ve got it,” Jungkook yells in triumph. You’re currently sat on the kitchen island, your legs dangling as you watch your boyfriend struggle with the bottle. About five minutes after attempting to open the bottle, you’d conceded defeat. Your boyfriend, however, is much more competitive than you are, and he’d downright refused to let the bottle win. Thus, for the last ten minutes, you’d watched your boyfriend futilely dig, and twist, the screwdriver into the cork.

Quirking your eyebrow at your boyfriend, your eyes rove over him. He’s currently stood with a victorious grin, the apples of his cheeks bunched up around his eyes. He’s holding out the wine bottle, the metal head of the screwdriver stuck into the neck of the bottle. Hell, the cork isn’t even in one piece anymore - bits and pieces of it littered on the floor around him from where Jungkook had dug it out in an attempt to bury the screwdriver into the wood stopper.

“Have you now?” you drawl sarcastically. It certainly doesn’t look like he’s got it. For one, the cork is still in the bottle.

Sneering at your snide tone, “Watch this!” Jungkook calls out, and then, grabbing the handle of the tool, he pulls as hard as he can. A loud pop resounds through the air and you startle slightly, watching as Jungkook holds the screwdriver - with half the cork attached to it - in the air.

“Oh my god! You did it!” you call in surprise, jumping off the table and walking towards him.

Puffing out his chest, “and you didn’t believe in me! But I did it anyway,” Jungkook says proudly.

You roll your eyes before gesturing to the half-broken cork, “yeah barely.”

“Tomato, tomato. Potato, potato. The point is, I did it, and we can have wine now” Jungkook replies. With another roll of your eyes, you cross his kitchen and pull two wine glasses out of his cupboard.

“Yeah, yeah. My knight in shining suit. Now come on! I’ve literally been waiting twenty-five minutes to drink this,” you say, holding out the glasses towards him. Nodding, Jungkook pours the wine, filling the tumblers halfway before placing the bottle back on the island.

He takes the glasses from your hand, placing them on the dining table and you follow him, placing the plates of food onto the table. The two of you take seats opposite each other, Jungkook raising his glass towards you in a salute. For a few moments, the two of you tuck into your food, the muffled sounds of your joint chewing filling the air.

Then, “this steak is cold,” you grumble, a grimace settling on your face. In hindsight, after spending all that time trying to open the wine, the two of you should have heated your food - but in the triumph of actually opening the wine, you’d both forgotten.

“Yeah, and this wine is fucking gross,” Jungkook gripes, his own features twisting in disgust. Blinking owlishly, you reach for your own glass, sipping the burgundy liquid. The minute it washes over your tastebuds, you find yourself gagging. It’s sour - the acrid stench of it only burning your nasal cavity and intensifying the bitterness of the wine.

Forcibly, you swallow it down before spitting and sputtering into your hand, “yeah, and it’s got pieces of cork in it. Gross, what a waste of a hundred and fifty thousand won,” you scowl. Immediately, Jungkook baulks.

“A hundred and fifty thousand won? For that trash?” Jungkook yells in incredulity. You look at him in surprise, the two of you simply staring at each other. Then, all of a sudden, the two of you burst out laughing. Neither of you has any real reason for why you’re both laughing. Perhaps it was the ridiculous price of the incredibly poortasting wine, perhaps it was that Jungkook had spent a good fifteen minutes struggling with said wine or perhaps it was because even after all that struggle, neither of you could stomach the taste. Either way, the absurdity of the situation isn’t lost on either of you, and you both can’t help but laugh hysterically.

“Man, I can’t believe you spent that much money on that shit,” Jungkook giggles, wiping away at his tears.

Lower lip pulled between your teeth, you grin at Jungkook, “I can’t believe you spent so much time trying to open it,” you quip. Shaking your heads, you both resume eating your food, forgoing the wine.

Once the two of you are done, you help Jungkook clear the table. Jungkook watches you throw out the leftovers before placing the plates into the sink. The kitchen lights are dimmed low, the amber light reflecting off of your skin and silhouetting you in its glow. The bright walls off his kitchen only help to highlight your body, the hem of your dress swishing around your thighs with every movement. His darkened, lust-filled gaze rakes over you and he can’t help but swallow thickly when his eyes rest on the smooth curve of your ass.

Helpless against his desire for you, you feel Jungkook’s arms wrap around your body. Loosely, his hands rest on your hips, the pads of his fingertips gently digging into your flesh. “Do you wanna head to bed?” Jungkook asks, his voice breathy as he begins peppering kisses along the column of your neck. You raise your eyebrow at his sudden change in demeanour. Nevertheless, you’d be lying if you said his light, attentive touch wasn’t clouding your head in hazy lust.

“All of a sudden?” you ask, your tone light and teasing. Jungkook responds by digging his fingers harder into your hips, pulling them back so your ass is flush against his crotch.

“If I’m being honest, I’ve wanted to get you out of this dress as soon as I saw you in it. You look beautiful. I love you so much,” Jungkook rasps in response, lightly nipping at the sensitive flesh just below your earlobe. Twisting in his hold, you wind your hands around his neck, carding your fingers through his hair at the back of his nape before lightly playing with the locks.

“I love you too,” you breathe out, “take me to bed and I’ll show you how much,” you breathlessly whisper back. A shuddering exhale escaping his lips, Jungkook’s mouth descends onto yours. Instantly, the two of you lose yourselves into each other; the wine bottle long forgotten.

“Jungkook? Are you even paying attention to me?” Jihye suddenly calls out, her hands waving in front of his face. Blinking blankly, Jungkook’s vision comes back into focus. He looks around his apartment - it’s still the same as it was two years ago. The kitchen lights are still low, and his walls are bright, and that same bottle of wine sits on his marble counter - practically mocking him - but you’re not here. It’s not you standing in his kitchen.

“I- you need to leave,” Jungkook chokes out, his voice hoarse and his throat thick with emotion. Jihye looks at him in dumbfounded bewilderment. She opens her mouth to argue, but then stops, her words dying on her lips. Taking in Jungkook’s distant gaze, Jihye notices his attention is once again on the bottle. With a scoff, she rolls her eyes before snorting. Then, grabbing her purse, she stalks out of his apartment - but not before slamming the door.

Jungkook doesn’t care.

Instead, he stares at the dark bottle of wine. His reflection glints back at him, his distorted face mirroring the despair and sadness etched onto his face. Once again, he loses himself into his memories. Memories of when the two of you were still together, memories of you smiling at him, of you kissing him, memories of the two of you, when you were both happy - and together. But not anymore. Now, those memories that he’d once cherished - once taken for granted - are tainted: bruised and tarnished with the restless memories of you leaving; of you walking out of this very same apartment and leaving him all alone.

The warm memories that had once been his saving grace, now leave him cold, with a deep ache in his chest.

With one final glance at the bottle, Jungkook buries his head in his hands, and then lets out a heartwrenching sob.

In the comfort of your own home, you lie in your bed, staring up into nothingness. The bedroom is completely bathed in darkness, not even a single sliver of moonlight peeking in through the blackout-blinds you had installed. After your third anniversary with Jungkook, you’d moved in with him, and your ex-boyfriend had hated any and every inkling of light while he was trying to sleep. He simply couldn’t sleep unless he was in complete darkness. Of course, after two years of living with him, you’d also gotten used to it - and now, you aren’t able to sleep without complete darkness either.

Yet, you still aren’t able to sleep. There are many reasons for your lack of sleep. Many of them are to do with your ex-boyfriend. It’s been just over half a year since you and Jungkook broke up. Almost eight months now since you walked out of his life. Eight months since you reluctantly broke off your five-year relationships. But you had no choice. You and Jungkook had wanted different things in life and though heartbreaking, you knew it was best for the two of you to go your separate ways then and there.

Of course, knowing that didn’t make it any easier. Nor does it help qualm the crushing bitterness, nor the misery, you feel at Jungkook’s absence in your life.

Though, you figure, those feelings are a given. After all, the two of you had been together for five whole years. Five years is a long time to spend with someone - and for the entirety of those years, Jungkook had been your one and only - the man you had loved with your entire heart. The man you still love with all your heart. It’s not like you could just forget five years of love in a day - nor in eight months. Hell, you don’t think you could forget him, nor the love you feel for him, in your entire lifetime.

Thus, in the absolute dark of your bedroom, you stare up at the ceiling. Though, you don’t really see it. No, all you see is darkness. A low sigh escapes your lips and you shift on your bed, trying to find a comfortable position. But try as you might, you simply can’t find one. And it has every reason to do with the man occupying your bed - if you remove your residual feelings for Jungkook out of the picture. Tilting your head slightly, you turn to your side. Even in the darkness, you can make out the obscure outline of your current boyfriend’s - though you use that term loosely, because really, he’s a family friend you’ve known a while and your mother had set you up with - face as he snores lightly. With another sigh, you turn your head back to stare at the ceiling.

Other than thoughts of Jungkook, one of the main reasons you can’t sleep is: you’re on the wrong side of the bed. For as long as you’d been with Jungkook, even before you lived together, Jungkook had always slept on the left, and you’d slept on the right. It wasn’t like you’d purposely decided on that, it’s just how it had worked out. Jungkook always slept on the left, and you on the right - before the two of you had even met. And after you’d met? Well, it had just clicked - as if the two of you were made for each other.

But now, you’re on the left.

And Minhyuk is on the right.

And it’s not right. Nor does it feel right. In more than one sense of the word.

Shifting once again, you lowly groan when a sting of pain shoots through your lower abdomen, bringing you to another reason you can’t sleep. You’re on your period, and with your period, comes the cursed cramps. No matter how much you try, you simply can’t seem to find a comfortable position to lie in. That, paired with the fact that you’re on the wrong side of the bed, and the plaguing thoughts of Jungkook, has insomnia gripping at your head. Momentarily, you’d considered getting up and heating up a hot water bottle to soothe your pain, but you simply can’t find it in yourself to get out of bed - not when moving only seemed to fuel the fire in the pits of your uterus.

Once again, you turn to Minhyuk. Briefly, you consider waking him up and asking him to bring you the hot water bottle, and you even open your mouth to call him. But then, you pause, the words dying on your lips as your throat constricts. This scene is almost too familiar to you, and in the dark of your bedroom, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the past.

Flashback - two years ago

Shifting uncomfortably, you’re woken from your sleep by the searing pain in your lower abdomen. Through the haze of your sleep, you let out quiet whimpers and continue shuffling in bed, trying to find a comfortable position to fall back asleep in. However, try as you might, you simply can’t seem to find one. This time, when you shift again, you feel Jungkook’s arm lazily wrap around you.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jungkook asks while shuffling closer towards him. His words cause you to still, your shoulders relaxing as you feel his warm presence surround you. Your boyfriend moves his head to just over your shoulder, his hand sluggishly rubbing circles over your stomach. He nudges your t-shirt to the side - really, it’s his - and presses a tender kiss to the skin of your shoulder that he’s just exposed. Before you can even say anything, or alert him to exactly what is wrong, “do you have bad cramps again?” he sighs out. Despite your pain, you find your face softening, a soft smile curling on your lips at the sleepy tone of his voice.

“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t wanna wake you up,” you reply lowly. Jungkook only shakes his head, his long hair tickling the flesh of your collarbone.

“Tis okay,” Jungkook slurs sleepily. Then, before you can tell him to go back to sleep, Jungkook is already crawling out of bed. You hear a loud thud, followed by a pained groan, “I’m okay. I just- didn’t see the end of the bed,” Jungkook mumbles through the haziness of his sleep. Instantly, his words cause concern to well up in your chest, however, before you can ask him if he’s okay, he’s leaving your bedroom.

Left alone, you flick the lamp on your bedside table on and sit up in bed with a wince. You take in short, deep breath, trying your best to soothe the vengeful cramps in the pit of your stomach. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think your uterus was tying itself into knots. Another sharp sting and you let out a low whimper, doubling over in pain as you clutch your stomach.

Moments later, you feel a hand soothingly rub your lower back as your boyfriend - now more awake - crouches down beside your side of the bed. Large, doe eyes stare at you in concern as he passes you your hot water bottle. “Here you go, baby,” Jungkook says softly, placing the fuzzy bottle on your lower stomach. The warm heat instantly soothes your cramps, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you feel the pain begin to subside.

“Thank you,” you rasp out, but Jungkook only shakes his head. Then, he thrusts his hand and a glass in front of your face.

When you quirk your eyebrow at him, “painkillers,” Jungkook merely responds. Your face crumples, your heart speeding up in your chest. Gratefully, you accept the pills from him, popping them in your mouth before chugging down the glass of water. When you’re done, Jungkook takes the glass from your hand and places it back onto your bedside table. Once done, he helps you shift back down into a laying position as he tucks you into bed. Then, he crawls under the sheets himself.

You feel the left side of the bed shift before Jungkook slides in. Rolling closer to you, he presses his chest against your back while throwing an arm to rest loosely over your waist. Lazily, he rubs his hand over your hips, soothingly massaging the skin while pressing tender kisses to the back of your shoulder. “Are you feeling better?” Jungkook mumbles. His voice is low, heavy with sleep, and you can’t help but shudder as it reverberates through your eardrum.

“Mmm. Much better. Thank you,” you whisper back, more than grateful at his thoughtful gestures. If there was one thing you absolutely adored about Jungkook, it would be his utter thoughtfulness. More often than not, you just wouldn’t need to tell him what was wrong; after almost four years together, he could simply read you like a book. He knew what you wanted and when you wanted it. He knew when to leave you alone, or when to help you. He could read your moods as if he was well versed in all things that surrounded you. More than anything, however, Jungkook was simply empathetic towards you - and it made you fall for him all the more.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words easily falling from your lips. You feel Jungkook’s lips curl against your shoulder, an indolent smile playing at his lips.

Without even a moment of hesitation, “I love you too,” he mumbles back. Then, the two of you fall back into silence: with you clutching the hot water bottle to your uterus, and Jungkook genially rubbing circles into the flesh of your hips.

Another sharp pain ricochets through your uterus, pulling you out of your reverie. A low whimper escapes your throat and you shift in bed again. However, unlike Jungkook, Minhyuk stays fast asleep. Once again, you contemplate waking him up and you don’t want to, but the pain is almost too much. Before you can stop yourself, “Minhyuk?” you whimper out while gently shaking him.

Minhyuk lets out a groggy groan before, “what’s wrong, ____?” he asks, his voice heavily laden with sleep.

“C-can you go into the kitchen and get me my hot water bottle, please? I’ve got really bad cramps,” you whisper hoarsely. Minhyuk only groans in response.

“____… I’ve got to wake up for work in three hours. Can you not get it yourself?” Minhyuk asks sleepily. There’s no malice in his tone, nor upset or anger, just drowsy question - and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it - but still, you can’t help the way your stomach drops at his words. Biting your lip, you suck in a sharp breath, the movement making you whimper in pain again. Clearly, Minhyuk hears the sound escape your lips, because he’s sliding out of bed - albeit begrudgingly - and leaving your bedroom.

Five minutes later, he walks back and passes you the hot water bottle. With a small voice, you thank him, Minhyuk grunting in response. The right side of the mattress tilts and you feel Minhyuk slide back into bed. “Goodnight,” Minhyuk mumbles, though you can tell he’s already falling asleep again. Briefly, he pecks your cheek before turning his back towards you. Short moments later, his light snores fill the quiet air of the night, leaving you alone once again.

Chewing your lip, you place the hot water bottle onto your stomach, allowing the warm, soothing sensation to assuage the pain of your cramps. Your mind casts back to Jungkook, and the way he took care of you on nights like this, and then you turn to Minhyuk once again. You can still feel his lips on your cheek - from where he’d kissed you - but it’s not the same. Minhyuk is nice, and though reluctantly, he still got out of bed to get you your water bottle.

But it’s not the same.

It’s not the same when he kisses you on the cheek, or brings you your water bottle. It’s not the same when he buys you flowers, or takes you out to dinner. It’s not the same when he kisses you, or when you sleep together. It’s not the same, because while nice, all of his gestures are empty. There’s no love in them, no thoughtfulness, no passion. Minhyuk is nice - and he does things out of nicety - but he also does them out of obligation.

And it’s not the same.

Because there is no love in them.

Because he’s not Jungkook.

Because he won’t ever be.

A month and a half later, you find yourself nervously staring at the brass-gold number plates of your brother’s apartment. You haven’t seen Hoseok in a few months - well, nine months to be exact. Nine months on this day. Wow. It’s really been nine months since you broke up with Jungkook, huh? It definitely feels like it’s been longer. If anything, it feels like an eternity. Though, you suppose, it must, since you’d gone from spending almost every day with him to suddenly not seeing him. It had been hard, and multiple times, you’ve wondered if you should just go back - but you know you can’t. You’d broken up for reasons - serious reasons - reasons that had meant a lot to you.

All these months, you’ve tried avoiding him as best as you could. Anything and everything that was within your power, you had done: from avoiding all of your friends because they reminded you too much of him, to moving to a different part of the city just to avoid running into him by chance. It had been hard, and god had it hurt - stillhurts - but you knew you had to do it. But now, standing in front of your brother’s apartment, you know you can no longer run from him anymore. Today is Hoseok’s birthday - and you know he’d be heartbroken if you didn’t turn up.

But you also know Jungkook will be here - because there’s no way Hoseok hadn’t invited him.

Funnily enough, you’d met Jungkook because of Hoseok. The two of them had met at the swimming club in your university, and the two had gotten along well. At first, you’d been fearful of admitting to Hoseok that you were seeing Jungkook - but to your utter surprise, your older brother just hadn’t cared. He liked Jungkook and he trusted Jungkook to treat you right - and he had. For five years, Jungkook had been the best, sweetest, most perfect boyfriend anyone could have asked for. Until that day. That fateful day, nine months ago, when you’d walked out of his apartment - and consequently his life.

“____? You okay?” Minhyuk asks, waving his hand in front of your space. Pulled out of your thoughts, you stare at your boyfriend - though once again, you use the term loosely. Minhyuk stares at you in confusion before gesturing to the door. The very same door you’d been blankly staring at while reminiscing about your brother and boyfriend. Looking at Minhyuk, you can’t help the way your stomach tosses at the sight of him.

Momentarily, you wonder what Hoseok would say. Hoseok absolutely adored Jungkook - to the point where you’d find your brother cuddling with your boyfriend, or kissing his forehead. You shudder just thinking about it. That had been a funny day. One day, you’d decided to surprise your boyfriend by spontaneously turning up at his apartment. However, to your utter surprise, you’d turned up just to see your boyfriend and your brother snuggling while watching Netflix. Sure, it was a cute sight, and ordinarily, you would have been touched. If it weren’t for the fact that your brother was cuddling your boyfriend.

So yes, suffice to say the least, Hoseok absolutely loved Jungkook - and throughout your entire relationship, he’d completely rooted and supported the two of you. Even when you and Jungkook would fight, even when you’d drive each other crazy, Hoseok would speak to the both of you and calm you down and make you see reason. Reason being that you both loved each other. Which is why, dread settles in your stomach as you stare blankly at Minhyuk. Once again, you wonder what Hoseok would say. You know he knows that you’re seeing Minhyuk - your mother has to have told him.

But knowing and seeing are two different things and you have no idea how he’ll react to Minhyuk. You love your brother, you really, really do - but Hoseok has a bad habit of not being able to bite his tongue - and that paired with the fact that he absolutely loved Jungkook - and still does - has trepidation settling deep within your stomach. It doesn’t help that it’s so soon after you and Jungkook broke up either. Nor does it help that Hoseok already knows Minhyuk - he is the son of your mother’s friend after all. But you’re twenty-seven now and you’re not getting any younger and you have to move on with your life. Whether that be with Jungkook or not. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely distraught that it turned out to be without your sweet boyfriend. Or well, ex-boyfriend, you remind yourself.

Once again, Minhyuk looks at you expectantly. Drawing in every ounce of courage you can muster, you take in a deep breath and then knock on your brother’s door. You don’t know how long it takes Hoseok to answer. Realistically, you know it’s only mere moments - but that doesn’t stop it feeling like an excruciating eternity.

The moment Hoseok’s door swings open, you’re met with the sight of your brother. Smiling shyly at him, you awkwardly wave, “Hey Hobi,” you greet. However, Hoseok isn’t looking at you. No, he’s looking at the taller man stood next to you. Shuffling from foot to foot, your gaze flits back and forth from your brother to Minhyuk. Minhyuk for the most of it, looks a little lost and unsure of himself or what to say. Oppositely, your brother simply stares at Minhyuk, looking him up and down, his face a picture of passiveness and his usually warm gaze completely guarded.

“H-Hobi?” you choke out, clearing your throat as you try to get your brother’s attention. Hoseok blinks for a minute and then turns to you.

Momentarily, he regards you with his passive gaze before his lips quirk, and then suddenly, he’s beaming and pulling you into a hug. “____! I’ve missed you!” you brother practically screams, and despite the slight wince as he almost bursts your eardrums, you find yourself letting out a breath of air you hadn’t even known you’d been holding. The minute your brother envelops you in his arms, you feel yourself getting choked up - you’d missed his warmth. You’d desperately craved his affection when you’d broken up with Jungkook, but you had no idea what to say to him - or even how to approach him.

“Come on in. It’s a pretty quiet thing. There’s booze and snacks in the kitchen just help yourself to it, music’s mainly in the living room if you just wanna chill but if you need somewhere more quiet, the balcony or spare bedroom are available. ____ will tell you where to hang up your coats,” Hoseok says, smiling at Minhyuk. You bite your lip at Hoseok’s tone - it may not be obvious to others, but you know your brother like the back of your hand, and you can see the stiffness in his smile, and the chilled politeness in his tone. “Let’s catch up later on, yeah?” Hoseok says, turning back to you. Stiffly, you nod at him, already knowing he wants to talk about Jungkook.

Both you and Minhyuk enter Hoseok’s apartment and you can’t help the dismay that streaks through you. Hoseok wasn’t kidding when he said it’s a pretty quiet affair. About twenty people are milling about, the low thrumming bass of Hoseok’s music vibrating through the air. It’s loud enough to be heard throughout the apartment; not enough to cause the neighbours to complain, but more than enough to not really be able to have a decent conversation with someone.

Scattered about the crowd are a few people you recognise - Namjoon: Hoseok’s best friend from high school, and of course, Seokjin and Yoongi - his other best friends from college. Momentarily, you spot Jimin and you find yourself reeling at the familiar face. He’d been Hoseok’s friend from dance school when your brother was still in middle school. Your eyes continue scanning over the crowd before you find yourself stopping.

A rush of heat courses through your veins, the rushing of blood resounding through your eardrums when you spot Kim Taehyung - Hoseok and Jungkook’s other friend from swim team. But it’s not Taehyung that has you stopping. No, it’s who he’s speaking to.

Jungkook.

Knees buckling at the mere sight of him, your face crumples with the weight of your emotions. It’s only been nine months, and yet he looks so different from the last day you’d seen him. His hair is much longer now - so long that it falls into his eyes and you watch how he flicks the soft strands of hair out of his face. The motion of his hair practically mesmerises you and you can’t find it in yourself to look away from him. With his smooth caramel skin, soft features and gently sloping lips, he has your heart constricting between your ribcage.

Then you spot it. The black leather jacket. The same one you’d gotten him as a birthday gift four years ago. It’s still preserved beautifully, not a single piece out of place. The leather still shines like it’s brand new, and it still sits on his body as well as it did the first time you gifted it to him. Taehyung says something and Jungkook laughs in response, and the moment that he does, you let out an inaudible gasp. His head falls back, his features twisting into an expression of pure joy while his bunny-esque teeth are put on display. He looks happy - carefree - and you can’t help the sting of nostalgia that spikes through you. The music is loud, and you can barely hear anything. But somehow, his laugh resounds in your ear: ingrained in the memory of your eardrums as it plays like a record, over and over, while you watch him.

“You wanna get a drink?” Minhyuk asks. Instantly, your world comes crashing around you, and you turn to your current paramour. Blinking owlishly, you stare at him in confusion. He’s awfully close to you - a mere hair’s breadth away from you and instinctively, you find yourself backing away. Minhyuk looks at you oddly, and with a sheepish look, you nod to him. You’d gladly accept something to drink - you know you’ll need it if you wanted to survive the night.

An hour later, you find yourself standing over the Seoul city skyline. Leant up against the glass railing of Hoseok’s balcony, you simply stare at the sunset painted across Seoul. The large skyscraper buildings obscure most of it, the artificial bright lights dimming the dusky colours of twilight - but you don’t mind so much. Even obscured by the towering modern glass buildings, the dark shades of amaranth, copper and violet vividly paint the sky enough for you to take it all in.

“You okay out here?” comes a soft voice but you don’t need to turn around to see who it is. You could recognise your brother’s voice in a heartbeat.

Humming non-committally, “fine. I just... needed some space, I guess,” you mumble out with a sigh. If you’re being completely honest, you wanted space from Minhyuk. The minute he noticed your gaze on Jungkook, something in him changed - he’d become a tad overbearing, not to mention that he hasn’t left you alone all night. His sudden attachment wouldn’t have been a problem - if it weren’t the fact that you’d been maudlin about seeing Jungkook again. Thus, while he was busy entertaining a small crowd of Hoseok’s friends, you’d slipped out from under his nose and isolated yourself onto the balcony.

A loud chorus of laughs rolls across the quiet balcony and you let out another sigh. Hoseok leans against the railing next to you as he faces his apartment. “Minhyuk seems to be doing well,” comes Hoseok’s casual voice.

Another sigh, “please don’t,” you whisper. You already know where Hoseok’s going with this. Turning his back to his apartment, Hoseok joins you in basking under the quickly setting sun.

“What happened? You never told me, and Jungkook… well, Jungkook refuses to talk about it. To talk about you,” Hoseok sighs. Through your peripheral vision, you note the almost defeated look in Hoseok’s eyes. Heart clenching at his words, you grip your beer can tighter while staring dully into the distance. You don’t blame Jungkook for not talking about you - you haven’t spoken about him either. Sure, you think about him. Every. Single. Day. But thinking about him and speaking about him are two different things - the latter of which is far too painful.

When you don’t respond to his question, Hoseok simply sighs. “Okay fine, we don’t have to talk about that. But-” he begins.

Before he can continue, however, you turn and look at him, “Hobi, can we just not speak about this?” you ask quietly. Your brother looks at you pointedly, his eyes scrutinising you. With your slumped shoulders and the desperation in your eyes, Hoseok finds his eyes softening. Instantly, he wraps his arms around you, pressing your head to his chest. Automatically, you own arms wrap around him and you bask in your brother’s comforting embrace.

“You still love him,” Hoseok breathes out. There’s not a single hint of accusation in his tone, just plain understanding. More than that, it’s not a question; it’s a statement. One that has your fists curling tighter into his shirt, your shoulders tensing. You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t say anything else. Rather, he just holds you, letting you seek as much solace as you need from his hold. Frozen in his hug, you breathe deeply as you try to hold yourself together.

Eventually, you find the strength to pull away. Hoseok looks at you with gentle eyes. “Are you happy, at least? With Minhyuk?” Hoseok asks. Opening your mouth, you move to reply, but find yourself stopping. Eyebrows furrowed, your face contorts marginally as you consider Hoseok’s question. Are you happy? Honestly? You have no idea. You haven’t felt any real happiness since you walked out on Jungkook - but you’d chalked it up to the fact that you were still getting over him.

Hesitancy evident in every fibre of your being, Hoseok looks at you pointedly. “Alright. You don’t have to reply because I already know the answer to that,” Hoseok sighs. He pauses for a moment, and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. Yet, he continues anyway, “I know mom pushed you towards Minhyuk,” Hoseok begins, causing your eyes to widen. You open your mouth to reply, however, he cuts you off once again, “But I trust you to do the right thing. Not for anyone, but for yourself. You’re strong, ____, but you’re also smart. Smart enough to know what you want,” Hoseok finishes. Before you can reply to him, however, you hear the balcony doors sliding open.

The two of you turn around to the newcomer, your heart fluttering when you see Jungkook. “Oh. Sorry, I’ll leave,” Jungkook quickly says, already turning around. Abruptly, however, Hoseok walks up to Jungkook before clapping him on the back.

“Nah it’s okay. I was just heading inside. You can keep ____ company if you want,” Hoseok says brightly. Internally, you despair at your brother’s words. What the fuck was he thinking? Nonetheless, before either of you can say anything, Hoseok disappears back into his apartment, consequently leaving you and Jungkook alone.

Jungkook turns to you nervously, and you can practically feel the hesitancy exuding off of him in thick waves. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you send him an awkward smile before gesturing for him to join you. Jungkook looks at you in a mix of worry and trepidation, but ultimately, takes Hoseok’s space beside you. The two of you stand in silence, facing the Seoul city skyline as you stare at nothing. Frazzled by his presence, you internally grasp for something to say, anything to break the thick awkward tension that surrounds the two of you.

Then, all of a sudden: “How have you been?”, “So, what’s up?”, you and Jungkook ask at the same time. You stare at each other in surprise for a couple of moments. Then, all of a sudden, you both burst out laughing.

“God, this is so weird,” Jungkook says, running a hand through his hair. Biting your lip, you nod in agreement before turning back to look at the cityscape.

With the tension broken, “so, how have you been?” you find yourself asking. From the corner of your eye, you notice Jungkook shrug listlessly.

“I’ve been… okay, I guess. How about you?”

“Fine. Alright. I guess,” you reply, mirroring his previous sentiment. They’re simple niceties - and you both know there’s a hint of deception in both your words - but neither of you says anything about it. Once again, the two of you fall into silence. Though, this time, the atmosphere isn’t thick with floundering awkwardness. Rather, it’s thick with confusion and uncertainty. Where do you go from here? What do you even say to your ex-boyfriend - one you still have feelings for?

Deciding to take a chance, “how’s work? I saw that your company released a new game,” you finally say. Jungkook’s head snaps towards you, his eyebrow rising at your question.

“You keep up to date with my company?” he asks. The incredulity in his voice surprises you and you look at him pointedly.

“Of course I do. That company means a big deal to you,” you reply easily. Despite the situation, Jungkook finds himself chuckling, even as his heart constraints at the thought of you checking up on him - even if it’s from afar.

“Yeah. It’s doing really well. Made me a lot of money. How about you? Dohyun from your department still being an ass because you’re the one who got promoted or?” Jungkook questions casually, causing you to laugh.

“Ah, man. Gotta love Dohyun. No, yeah. He’s still being an ass - but at least he doesn’t openly question my authority anymore,” you reply with an easy smile. Then, “actually, I have you to thank for that,” you softly say.

Jungkook looks at you in surprise, “me?”

Nodding, “yeah. I took your advice and threatened to fire him if he ever publicly undermined me again. That shut him up pretty quickly,” you chuckle. Jungkook snorts, the two of you laughing.

“Good! He deserves it. I know he has a problem working under a woman, but man, you deserved that promotion. You were far better qualified than him,” Jungkook compliments. Ducking shyly, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears before smiling gently at him.

“Thanks. It means a lot,” you mumble under your breath, making Jungkook shake his head.

“No. ____, I’m serious. No one deserved it more than you. You worked so hard for it. There were days I was even worried about the stress you were under because you’d forget to eat, or you wouldn’t sleep. But I guess it was worth it in the end, because you got the promotion,” Jungkook responds. Then, he pauses, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips, “even if it meant there were days you’d ignore me,” Jungkook sighs dramatically. That causes you to snort, and before you can stop yourself, you playfully smack his arm.

“Hey! I gave you lots of attention. Or did you forget that time when I skipped work just so we could play hooky and go snowboarding?” you ask. Jungkook bites his lips, a tinkling giggle escaping his lips at the memory.

“Oh, that was good. You were terrible, and you fell so much I was worried you’d break something,” Jungkook reminisces, a soft sigh following his words.

Giggling to yourself, “Yeah, well we can’t all just pick up a sport and instinctively be good at them,” you snort in response.

“You’re right. Really, it’s a curse being perfect at everything,” Jungkook nods sagely in agreement. Jaw dropping, you look at him in amazement before the two of you burst out laughing.

Suddenly, a new voice breaks “What’s going on here?”

Turning around, you freeze at the sight of Minhyuk. Alternating between looking at you and Jungkook, Minhyuk’s face is a picture of passiveness, his lips set in a thin, grim line. At the sight of Minhyuk, you sense Jungkook deflate, the easy atmosphere once again thickening with tension.

“Minhyuk… this is-” you begin, ready to introduce the two. However, Minhyuk snorts.

“Yes. This is Jungkook, your ex-boyfriend. I know. Which begs the question, why are you alone out here with your ex while I’m inside?” Minhyuk asks. You reel at the accusatory tone in his voice as you double-take.

“Excuse me? We’re just out here speaking,” you exclaim and once again, Minhyuk snorts.

“It looked a little more than that,” he points out. Jaw dropping in bewilderment, you scoff at him, your eyes narrowing into thin slits.

“Uh, I think I should leave the two of you alone,” Jungkook says quietly as he begins making his way towards the balcony door.

Seeing him walk away breaks your heart, and you want to tell him to stay. Nevertheless, you know you have no right to. Not now anyway, when you have bigger problems at hand. Bigger problems namely being Minhyuk. “What’s your problem?” you ask, directing your attention to your boyfriend.

“My problem is that despite the fact that you’re going to be marrying me, you’re out here with the ex that you were seeing for five years. How do you think that makes me look?” Minhyuk argues back. At Minhyuk’s words, Jungkook finds his blood freezing as he’s brought to an abrupt halt - just before he can escape the balcony. You, yourself, are at a loss of something to say.

“We’ve barely been seeing each other for two months! Why are you bringing that up now?” you cry in astonishment. Really, where had the come from?

“But isn’t that why our mother’s set us up? Because we’re both looking to get married? Isn’t that where this is supposed to be going? Yet, here you are. With your ex-boyfriend. Who you’ve paid more attention to than me this entire night, by the way,” Minhyuk points out. Spluttering at his words, your cheeks heat as you know you’ve been caught. The hairs on your arms stand erect, and immediately, you know that Jungkook is staring at you - but you refuse to look at him. You don’t want to see the expression on his face right now.

Instead, you decide to keep your attention directly on Minhyuk, “yes, this is where it’s supposed to be going, but-” you reply, only for Minhyuk to cut you off once again.

“But nothing. I like you, a lot. And I know we’ve only known each other two months, but I can see us having a life together. Is that not what you want? Isn’t that the reason we’re together in the first place? Do you not want to marry me? Say you’ll marry me and I’ll drop this right now,” Minhyuk finally says, his previous anger and insecurity at seeing you and Jungkook together dissipating. He levels you with his sincere gaze, the unanswered ultimatum heavy in the air.

Unable to help yourself any longer, you momentarily shift your gaze to Jungkook. It’s brief - barely a second - but it’s all you need. The utter look of despair is clearly evident on his face, a mixture of heartbreak and anguish painted so very clearly across his features. It reminds you of the day you’d broken up with him; reminds you of how he’d looked when you’d walked out on him.

Flashback - nine months ago

One lazy Sunday, you find yourself in the apartment you share with your boyfriend. The two of you are sprawled on the couch, barely dressed: Jungkook with only his boxers and socks, and you in his large t-shirt and panties. You’d both considered getting dressed, but had decided against it - especially since neither of you had any plans to leave the house. Hence, you find yourself pressed against Jungkook, your back comfortably flush against his strong chest, your head easily finding the perfect resting spot in the crook where his collarbone meets his neck.

Absentmindedly, Jungkook plays with the hem of your underwear, fiddling with elasticated lace as you scroll through Netflix. The film titles pass in a blur as you look for something to watch. Catching the attention of one title, you can't help but fixate on it for a bit. "Kook?" you call out to your boyfriend softly. You angle your head to look up at him while shifting your head onto his shoulder, so you can see him clearly. Jungkook hums non-committally as he glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

"What's up, sweetheart? Wait- if this is just to ask me if we can watch Zootropolis again, you know my answer is always yes," Jungkook says, his eyes twinkling in excitement. A light giggle escapes your lips but you shake your head.

"No. I just- we've been together five years now, yes?" you ask, turning your head back to stare at the TV. Jungkook's eyebrows furrow slightly, and he moves his head so he can better look at you.

"Yes? What about it?"

"Well-" you begin. Briefly you pause, worrying your lower lip, "do you think we'll get married?" you breathe out. Jungkook stills, the hand that had been mindlessly playing with the lace material of your underwear coming to a halt.

"What?" he asks, his chest rumbling under you.

"Well, have you thought about us getting married? Like, we've been together a while now, but I don't think we've ever really spoken about it," you sigh out. Ideally, you wanted to marry Jungkook - because, after five years, you're sure he's the one for you.

"Honestly?" Jungkook asks. Anxiousness pools in the pits of your stomach as you hear the slight trepidation in his voice. It's barely there - but you know Jungkook well enough to spot the tell-tale sign of his worriment.

"Honestly," you reiterate his statement, letting him know you want nothing but the truth.

Jungkook sighs, "honestly, I've never really thought about it," he breathes out. Immediately, you jerk, sitting up as you twist to look at him. Shifting so you're in a more comfortable position, you sit on his stomach, your thighs straddling his waist. Instinctively, Jungkook's hands fall onto your thighs. You look at him in a mixture of shock and disbelief, Jungkook returning his own expectant gaze.

"You've never thought about us getting married?" you sputter out, completely baffled by his words. How has he not thought about it? You've been together five years now. That's an awfully long time - surely, he's thought about it at some point. Not to mention, you're both twenty-seven now, almost thirty. So how has he not thought about it? You know you have. In fact, you dream about the day you walk down the aisle, Jungkook on the other side. Hell, you dream about a life with him; a family - because you know he's all you want.

"Sweetheart-" Jungkook starts, and you look pointedly at him, "listen- it's nothing to do with you. It's just, we're still young. I do love you, you know that, but I just never really thought about it," he continues. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you cock your head in question.

"Never?" you enquire. Jungkook simply shrugging.

"Not really," comes his simple reply.

“How?” you question, looking at him in confusion. Distinctly, you remember having light conversations with Jungkook. Conversations where you’d joke about being married, conversations about your wedding or your future together.

“What do you mean how?” Jungkook asks dumbly, causing you to frown.

“I mean- I know we’ve joked about it before. I’ve mentioned wanting to get married before, I know I have,” you point out.

“Yeah… but I thought you were joking and other than that, I’ve never seriously thought about it,” Jungkook says casually. You suck in a sharp breath at his words. He hadn’t ever seriously considered it? Fear settles in your stomach at his words. You’d always just assumed you and Jungkook would eventually get married - but he hadn’t ever seriously thought about it?

"Well... do you want to get married?" you ask plainly. Jungkook smirks at you, the corners of his lips twisting into a teasing, lop-sided smile.

"Are you asking?" he jokes. However, you're in no mood to play games. This is important to you - because your boyfriend of five years just admitted that he hadn't ever considered a future with the two of you together.

"Jungkook, I'm being serious," you say - your voice is soft, yet firm. Sensing the seriousness to your tone, the smile on Jungkook's face falls and he sits up. His movement displaces you from his stomach, and you find yourself moving to sit on the couch while looking at him expressionlessly.

"____, I don't know. As I said, I've never really thought about it," Jungkook reiterates.

"Well think about it now! Do you want to get married or no?" you ask, anxiousness bubbling in your veins. This conversation certainly hasn't gone the way you had expected it to. When you'd first asked Jungkook, it had just been an off-handed question, because really, why wouldn't he have thought about getting married. Now? You're not so sure.

"I- I don't know," Jungkook mutters. Face falling in despair, you get up off of the couch and walk into your bedroom. What did he mean he didn't know? Five years. You've been together five years, and he still doesn't know? Without a second thought, Jungkook follows you into your bedroom, watching in confusion as you begin getting dressed.

"Sweetheart? Are you mad at me?" he asks, causing you to snort derisively.

"Are you really asking me that right now?" you snap in response. Jungkook reels back at the irritation in your voice.

"Why? Because I said I don't know if I want to get married? Why is that a problem? I still love you- you know that," your boyfriend argues.

"The problem isn't that you love me Jungkook. It's that you just admitted you haven't thought about our future together," you cry back. Sensing your upset, Jungkook quickly walks up to you. He places his hands on your arms, gently rubbing up and down as he cooes gently at you.

"Baby, that's not what I meant. It's just, we're still young you know? And it's not like we have to get married to each other to prove anything. I love you, and you love me, isn't that enough?" Jungkook asks softly, trying his best to placate you. Tears forming in your eyes, you shake your head and push his hands away.

"But I want to get married Jungkook. But you don't even know if you want to get married," you reply back, your bottom lip quivering. You take in a deep breath in an attempt to hold yourself together.

"But I could... maybe," Jungkook replies. Though, you both hear the clear uncertainty in his voice. His words, paired with his tone, only has your heart breaking.

"Do you? It doesn't have to be now, but do you see us getting married? A simple yes or no. That's all I'm asking for," you breathe out.

Through tear-filled eyes, you watch your boyfriend contemplate your question. One minute passes. Then two. But he's no closer to giving you your answer. With every second that passes, your anguish grows into grief-stricken distress. Multiple times, Jungkook opens and closes his mouth, and each time, hope blooms in your chest, only to die when he closes his mouth. Long, excruciating moments pass, and you all but abandon hope, when finally he says something.

"I don't know," Jungkook replies. The very moment his words ring in your ears, that small inkling of hope within your chest in crushes. A sob escapes your lips and you feel your knees buckle. Distress painted on Jungkook's face, he reaches out to comfort you, but you back away from him, causing your boyfriend to flinch.

"Will you ever know?" you whisper hopelessly.

"I don't know," comes Jungkook's answer once again.

"Then I don't know if I can do this," you whisper back. Jungkook's head snaps up to you, his eyes wide as he looks at you in disbelief.

"What? What do you mean?" he chokes out, barely able to get the words out. Throat constricting, you swallow thickly as you choke back a sob.

"I don't know if I can still do this. Jungkook, I want to get married. I want to marry you. I dream about walking down the aisle to you, I dream about children - our children. I dream about a life with you. But you-" you stop as your voice cracks with emotion. Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself together once again, "but you don't know if you even want to get married and that... that just tells me you haven't thought about our future together," you finally manage to say, your voice strained.

"We're still young. We have so much time to think about that," Jungkook argues, causing you to shake your head.

"We're twenty-seven Jungkook. We've been together for five years. That's a long time, so why haven't you ever considered us getting married? Not even moments ago you admitted that you've never thought about it. How do you think that makes me feel?" you cry.

"I don't know! It wasn't on my mind. I think about you but I- I just don't know if I want to get married. Why is that a big deal?" Jungkook asks, even as anguish colours his veins at the sight of your heartbreak.

"It's a big deal to me! It's a big deal because like I said, that's what I want!" you practically yell. Taking another deep breath, you sniffle, "I don't think I can do this," you repeat once again. Again, your voice cracks, but Jungkook despairs at the resolution in it.

"What are you saying?" he chokes out, not wanting to believe it. You can't mean it. You can't be saying what he thinks you're saying.

"I'm saying- I'm saying we should break up," you finally say. You practically have to force the words out of your mouth - because, despite everything, every fibre of your being is still in love with Jungkook - still wants to be with Jungkook. But this isn't something you think you can compromise on.

"No," Jungkook blurts out. "N-no. Please, no," he practically begs. Once again he steps up to you, and once again, you step away from him - desperately needing the distance between you. "W-why? Why can't we wait until I know? Please, why can't we wait until I'm ready?" Jungkook pleads. Sucking in a deep breath, you shake your head as you look away. You want to. You desperately want to take his word for it, want to fall into his arms and forget this conversation. But you just can't.

"I c-can't," you express, "because what if we continue for another two, or three or five years, only for you to tell me you still don't want to get married? I don't want to start all over again in my thirties, Jungkook. I don't want to be in love with your a few more years, only for you to eventually decide you still don't want to get married," you reply softly.

"But we don't know if that'll happen!" Jungkook tries arguing and this time, you turn to him. Jungkook freezes at your face, the resolute sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. His heart constricts in his chest as he sees unwavering stubbornness, mixed with heartache and sorrow, in your eyes.

"Exactly Jungkook. We don't know. If you don't know now, after five years of being together, I don't know if you'll know in another few years. And I can't take that chance," you finally utter.

"____, please don't do this. I love you," Jungkook sobs brokenly. Unable to look him in the eyes anymore - unable to stand the utter devastation written on his face - you look away.

"I'm sorry," you whisper softly.

And then, you walk away.

By the time you’re drawn out of your reverie, Jungkook is long gone. In his stead, stands Minhyuk, who looks at you expectantly. ‘Say you’ll marry me.’ Minhyuk’s voice once again rings through your head and you can’t help but feel queasy at the statement. You had broken up with Jungkook because you wanted to get married - and you do. But, is Minhyuk who you want to marry? As harsh as it is, marrying Minhyuk feels like… you’re settling - and that doesn’t sit well with you. But what do you do now? What if this was your only chance? You’re twenty-seven now and you hadn’t lied to Jungkook when you said you didn’t want to wait another five years only for things to fall apart if he decided he still didn’t want to get married.

But this doesn’t feel right.

You and Minhyuk stare at each other, Minhyuk patiently waiting for your answer. Except, you have no idea what you want to say. Your skin flushes with heat and you feel panic set into your bones while your stomach flips. Blood rushes through your ears, the sound drowning out everything else as you simply stare at Minhyuk. Though, you’re not really looking at him. No, because even now, with Minhyuk standing in front of you and Jungkook long gone, there’s only one person on your mind.

The same person who’s been on your mind the entire night.

Abruptly, Hoseok’s words ring through your head. ‘You’re strong - but you’re also smart. Smart enough to know what you want.’ Your brother’s voice plays over and over in your head - like a broken vinyl - until it’s all you can hear. Then, a spark of epiphany courses through your head, and the dawning of revelation washes over you.

You do know what you want - more than anything.

And you know what you have to do now.

It's almost two in the morning when Jungkook finds himself outside of your apartment. He doesn't know how long he's sat there, back against the wall and knees up to his chest as he stares at your flat door. After he'd left Hoseok's apartment, he found his feet walking to a bar, and after about an hour of drinking, he'd walked home. Well, he'd meant to walk home. But, somehow, in his tipsy-fogged mind, he'd automatically walked to your building and then up to your flat. A while after that, he'd just sat outside your door, contemplating whether he should knock or not. The largest part of him desperately wanted to knock - and multiple times, fueled by the courage of the alcohol - he almost had. However, each time, the smaller part of him would stop himself, unable to actually follow through. What if you'd said yes to Minhyuk? What if you didn't want to see him? What if you're with Minhyuk? Jungkook doesn't know what he'd do if he knocks, only to find Minhyuk on the other side of the door.

Head repeatedly banging against the wall behind him, Jungkook stares at the gold plated numbers of your door. With every second that passes, the alcohol in his system slowly fades away and Jungkook finds himself sobering. But still, he doesn't leave. He can't bring himself to get up and walk away. It's late enough that sleep should begin fogging his mind, but again, not knowing whether you said yes or no to Minhyuk would eat away at him - and he knows he'd be restless and unable to sleep until he finds out. Yet, he just cannot bring himself to knock. So, instead, he just sits outside your apartment. Waiting for something. Anything.

For you.

Another hour passes and you still don't come. Jungkook lets out a shuddering breath, his head falling into his hands. Mentally, he draws up a pros and cons list of knocking - and yet, each time, he scraps them all. Even with all the cons: you could be engaged to Minhyuk, you could be with Minhyuk, you could be moving on with Minhyuk; Jungkook can't help but consider the pros: you could have said no, you could be alone, you could be waiting for him. It's that last one that he dreads. There's a small chance you couldbe waiting for him and that has hope flaring in his chest. But in this situation, hope is the most crushing thing in existence - because it's only a small chance - and his hope could be crushed the minute you answer the door.

A part of him believes you had to have said to yes - you just had to have - because that's what you wanted, wasn't it? You wanted to get married. So, what reason would you have to say no? But that small, niggling voice in Jungkook head won't stop speaking - won't stop telling him that he's a reason you would have said no. Nevertheless, Jungkook knows that voice comes from his hope - and as he's mentioned - hope is the worst thing he has right now.

"You can't keep doing this, Jungkook. It's been nine months. You should move on- like she is," Jungkook mutters to himself out loud. He has no doubt that if anyone sees him, they'd think he was some sort of crazy person, but Jungkook also doesn't care. Over and over, he repeats the sentences to himself and eventually, he gets up, ready to leave.

But then he stops.

Turning back to your door, he takes in a shuddering breath, and before he can stop himself - or even rethink his spontaneous decision - he finds himself knocking. Because he desperately needs to know if he's lost you once and for all. Then, he waits again.

And still waits.

Time moves excruciatingly slowly - the seconds agonisingly passing away. Momentarily, Jungkook considers knocking again - maybe you're asleep, maybe you didn't hear him. But the adrenaline-induced courage has long since faded after he knocked, and once again he finds himself turning away.

However, then, he hears it: the clinking of a chain.

The door creaks open slowly, Jungkook sucking in a sharp breath as he spots you. You're dressed in a large hoodie - and hope flares in his chest as he recognises it. It's hishoodie. He thought he'd misplaced it a while ago - but no, apparently it was just with you. But why? Why hadn't you returned it to him?

As soon as the door is wide open, you stare in disbelief at the sight in front of you. Rubbing your blood-shot eyes, your mouth drops slightly as you realise you're not imagining it. Jungkook is standing in front of you. Why is Jungkook standing in front of you?

"J-Jungkook?" you stutter out, bewilderment heavy in your voice.

"I'm sorry," Jungkook blurts out. Taken aback by his sudden apology, your eyebrow furrows.

"W-What? Why are you sorry?" you ask, unsure of what's happening. You'd just been crying in bed - desperately wishing for Jungkook - so, when you'd opened your door only to see him, you'd thought you were dreaming. And now? Well, now you're just confused. What does he have to be sorry about?

"I made a mistake. You were right- I didn't- I never thought about our future together. I never considered getting married, or whether we'd have a family together and it's because I was comfortable. I grew comfortable in our relationship and I took it for granted. I took you for granted," Jungkook breathes out. His words fall so quickly from his lips, he practically rambles, and you really have to strain to understand his words. "After five years together, I just got so used to us. I thought I'd always have you, and so, marriage or a family didn't even cross my mind - but it should have. I should have thought about our future together. I'm sorry that I didn't, and I'm sorry that I thought about it too late," Jungkook continues. Once again, he pauses, taking a deep breath as he thinks about what to say next. But if he's being honest, he doesn't really know what else to say.

Shoulders deflating, Jungkook runs a weary hand through his hair, and suddenly, he looks more harried than you've seen him in a long time. "I'm just- I'm sorry I didn't think about it back then. I'm just sorry," Jungkook finishes lamely. There's more on the tip of his tongue: I miss you, I want you, I love you; but he can't bring himself to say them. Not when you could be happy with Minhyuk. He can't do that to you - he'd broken your heart that day - when he'd openly admitted he'd never thought about a future with you - and now, you have a chance with someone else. And he can't take that away from you, even if it breaks his heart to let you go. Left reeling by his words, they play over and over in your mind, and it takes all your brainpower to reallyunderstand them - but in your stunned daze, you don't say anything - and Jungkook doesn't know what to make of it.

So, instead, "I guess, that's what I wanted to say. I- I hope you're happy with Minhyuk," he chokes out. Sluggishly, you realise that Jungkook is walking away - and that's all it takes to restart your brain.

"W-what if I'm not happy? What would you do if I wasn't happy?" you rasp, your voice straining. Jungkook freezes at your words, his blood running cold. Then, he whips around so quickly, you fear he'd get whiplash. However, Jungkook doesn't care. Rather, his eyes swiftly rake over your face, searching for something, anything to confirm what'd he'd just heard. He finds it in your eyes; in the way they silently beg him to continue, plead with him to say everything on his mind.

Helpless under your imploring gaze, Jungkook finds his tongue unravelling as he lays his feelings at your feet. "I'd ask for a second chance. A chance to make you happy and give you what you want," Jungkook breathes out. Your eyes widen in the slightest at his proclamation.

Is he saying what you think he is?

Incredulity painted as clear as day on your face and sliver of hope evident in your eyes, Jungkook's face softens slightly. He wasn't lying - when Minhyuk had proposed the ultimatum, Jungkook had felt his heartbreak - and when he'd sat in the bar, all he could think about was you. More importantly, all he could think about was the missed opportunity. He imagined what you'd look like on your wedding day. How happy would you be? Would you look as radiantly beautiful as he imaged you to be? Would you smile in that carefree, captivating way that you did? But then, he grew maudlin - because he realised that if you did, it wouldn't be for him - and that broke his heart. It broke his heart to imagine you marrying someone that wasn't him, smiling for someone who wasn't him, creating a family with someone that wasn't him.

Nothing but sincerity in his voice, Jungkook continues, "I'd ask for you to take me back and to marry you. Because that's what I want - as long as it's with you," Jungkook finishes.

Throat clogged up with the heavy weight of your emotions, you swallow thickly, "then ask," you choke out. Your words are simple - and practically inaudible - but in the stillness of the empty corridor, and the quiet of the night, Jungkook hears it as clear as day.

"But- But what about Minhyuk?" Jungkook asks, unsure about whether he should or not. Hope flares in his chest at your words - but he doesn't want to believe them. Not yet, at least.

"Ask anyway," you simply say.

"Will you-" Jungkook begins, but the instant he opens his mouth, you're cutting him off.

"Yes," you reply - not even waiting for him to finish. It doesn't matter what he said. It doesn't matter if the words to follow are 'give me a second chance' or 'marry me' because all that matters is that he's back. All that matters is that he's willing to think about your future together - and right now, that's enough for you.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say-mpf," Jungkook begins, only to be stopped short when you pull him in for a kiss.

The instant his lips touch yours, you feel your entire body become electrified. Your veins are set afire with love, Jungkook's soft lips pressed against yours in a sweet kiss. Instinctively, Jungkook's arms wrap around your waist, his hands pulling your body flush against his as he feels you for the first time in months. You taste the same as you always have - temptingly sweet - and your body against his feels exquisite: your curves and contours fitting perfectly against his body. Sinking into this kiss, and consequently Jungkook, you sigh against his lips while you let your hands wander across his broad shoulder, before carding them into his hair.

Brief moments later, Jungkook breaks off your kiss; his forehead falling to rest against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. His hands move to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek tenderly as he lazily peppers soft kisses against your lips. Despite the softness of the moment, Jungkook can't stop wondering about Minhyuk - a sentiment he expresses to you in concern.

"I couldn't do it. I couldn't say yes," you reply, your eyes holding nothing but the truth. Jungkook's eyebrows knit together, and you find yourself giggling at the adorable expression. After a light peck against his lips, you move to rest your head against his chest, your eyes slipping shut as you feel his steady heartbeat under your ear. "I couldn't do it, because even then, you were all I could think about. I thought I wanted to get married, and I did - I do - but I realised, I didn't want to marry just anyone. I wanted to marry you," you confess. Jungkook's heart soars in his chest and helpless under your spell, he finds himself pulling you in for another kiss.

However, this time, it's different. This time, your kiss isn't slow, or soft. No, it's needier - Jungkook’s pouring out his entire heart into your kiss as he bruises his lips against you. Gasping against his lips, your fists clench around Jungkook’s leather jacket - using the material to pull him closer into you. You pull away from Jungkook’s lips, breathing heavily against his lips as you stare up at him through the thick of your eyelashes.

“Do you want to come in?” you breathily ask. Jungkook pauses for a moment.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to-” he begins refuting. However, you’re already pressing kisses against his jaw - lightly nipping the sensitive spot just above his Adam’s apple.

“I’m sure. I’ve missed you,” you rasp out, your voice coming out breathier than you anticipated. Jungkook’s eyes dilate at your words, and before you know what’s happening, he’s leading you into your apartment.

The both of you barely make it into your apartment, before Jungkook is slamming the door shut and pushing you up against the hard wood. Caging you between his arms, Jungkook’s lips fall upon yours again, his lips moving in a frenzied fashion this time. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer into you. Jungkook lets out a soft growl against your lips before pulling away. Peppering kisses along your jaw, he trails down the column of your throat before nuzzling his face into the juncture of your shoulder.

“God- I’ve missed you,” Jungkook whispers as he breathes in your calming scent. Own hands threading into his hair, you lazily play with the locks at the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too. A lot,” you moan out as Jungkook begins to suckle bruises onto the tender flesh of your throat.

“Is that why you’re wearing my hoodie?” Jungkook asks, curiosity winning out on him. Not that you don’t look good in it - in fact, seeing you dressed in his clothing is one of Jungkook’s favourite things.

“Maybe,” you reply coyly, “what are you going to do about it?” you continue. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath at the teasing lilt to your voice and immediately, drops to his knees. You jerk at the sudden movement, your eyes widening marginally at the sight of Jungkook on his knees.

“If this was any other time, I’d teach you a lesson. But right now, I’ve missed you too much, and you look good enough to eat,” Jungkook groans out as he runs his nose along the exposed flesh of your inner thigh. Your breath hitches at his words, Jungkook’s large hands slowly wrapping around your thighs before he parts your legs. Tenderly, his hands run up the back of your thighs, and gripping the flesh of your ass, he pulls your hips further into him.

Running his nose against the cotton of your panties, Jungkook takes in a deep breath before groaning as the heady scent of your arousal runs through his nose. He pushes his hoodie further up your hips, his lips gently tracing his way up the length of your thigh. Positioned just over your hip, Jungkook places a tender kiss above where your bone is. Then, he bites down on the waistband of your panties before slowly sliding it down your legs. When he gets to the crooks of your thighs, he lets go of it, letting the material drop to the floor.

You step out of your underwear and spread your legs - making more room for Jungkook. Gripping one of your thighs, he pulls it to rest over his shoulder, exposing your pussy to his gaze. Dark, lust-filled eyes rove over your folds, Jungkook shuddering as the scent of your arousal deepens. Your sex is slightly dewy, glistening in the low lighting of your living room. Biting his lip, Jungkook edges closer to your folds before tentatively licking a line: all the way from your core to your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you groan out, your head lolling back while one of your hands shoots out to tangle into his thick hair. Hearing your low groan, Jungkook smirks against your pussy before repeating the action. Spikes of pleasure run up and down your spine, your eyelids fluttering as you lose yourself into the pleasure he brings upon your body.

Moving one hand, Jungkook presses two fingers against the petals of your sex before parting his digits in a ‘V’ shape and consequently your folds. With your pussy exposed, Jungkook once again licks a thick line from your dripping, honeyed entrance, all the way to your engorged bud. He licks harder this time, his tongue lapping in a broad line as he gathers your heady essence onto his tongue. Your arousal bathes his tastebuds, and with his nose pressed against the hood of your clit - all he can taste, all he can breathe is you.

Soft lips wrap around your clit, Jungkook pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth before lightly suckling on it. His ministrations cause you to gasp - the sound quickly morphing into a heavy moan when his nips your throbbing clit. Tangling your fingers further into his hair, you slowly undulate your hips, pushing them further into Jungkook as you tug on his hair, trying to get him to move fast.

Sensing the urgency in your movements, Jungkook rakes his teeth over your clit in warning once again. Then, breaking away with a pop, “Be patient, darling,” Jungkook breathes out. The lusty fog of your desire rolls thickly into your head, clouding your mind and setting your flesh aflame with want and through your wanton need, you barely hear Jungkook’s words. Instead, the feel of Jungkook’s warm breath wafting over your wet folds has you shuddering in pleasure.

“Kook,” you whine needily, desperation heavy in the high pitch of your voice.

With his face buried between your thighs, you can’t see his face. But you don’t have to. You can feel the smirk on his lips. Not that you really care - because he’s currently swirling his tongue around your clit tantalisingly and subsequently driving you to the brink of insanity. Lightly, he moves the two fingers that have you spread open. You shudder at the featherlight touch, feeling him softly ghost his fingertips over the outline of your folds before circling your entrance. His touch has your core clenching, your pussy walls fluttering around his fingertips.

“Fuck- I forgot how fucking sensitive your pussy is,” Jungkook moans against your clit. His words are slightly muffled, and the vibration of his voice shoots straight from your clit to the pits of your belly. Loins heating with pleasure, you feel your stomach twist and knot as Jungkook laps kittenish licks against your clit. Teasingly, Jungkook continues circling his fingertip against your entrance, feeling the way strings of your sticky wetness drip out of you before they cling to his digit.

Drawing away from your clit, Jungkook slowly pulls his finger away; his throat drying as he watches the thin, filmy strings of your arousal drip from your pussy and onto his finger. The thick rivulets stretch as he pulls away - and the moment one of them snaps - Jungkook is unable to stop himself from pressing his head back between your thighs. Tongue plunging into your core, his swirls his wet appendage around your cunt, groaning as thick streams of arousal drip onto his tongue.

“Oh fuck- Kook,” you mewl, your head falling back and hitting the door with a light thud. The pain barely registers in your mind, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as your pussy flutters around his tongue. Helpless against your needy whine, Jungkook pushes two fingers into your depths, your body jerking at the sudden intrusion as you tug at his hair reflexively. Twisting his fingers into you, Jungkook pumps his digits in and out, relishing in the feel of your silken, pulsating walls around his appendages as he continues eating you out - almost ravenously.

Gripping his locks tightly, you gyrate harder into his mouth. Waves of pleasure flit over your skin, your blood boiling with ecstasy as you feel the warmth in your belly begin to heat up. When Jungkook spreads your entrance using his fingers, his tongue plunging deeper into you, you let out a cry of pleasure. God, you’d forgotten just howgood Jungkook’s mouth was. Mouth and throat running dry, you swallow thickly before panting out his name over and over again. The once dull warmth begins burning your loins; searing, white-hot pleasure running up and down your flesh, your skin prickling with goosebumps as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“Please-” you groan out, the guttural sound intermingling with the wet, sloppy sounds of Jungkook eating you out. Thighs quivering against his ears, Jungkook pushes his fingers deeper into you. Expertly, he finds the sweet spot inside you, his fingers crooking at the knuckle as he strokes the spongy spot. Reflexively, your hand tugs his hair harshly while your knees buckle under the euphoria of your approaching orgasm.

“Are you cumming, baby? You wanna cum on my tongue?” Jungkook taunts, a teasing lilt to his voice. Swallowing thickly, it’s all you can do to simply rasp out his name. Knowing he has you on the verge of ecstasy, Jungkook doubles his efforts - his fingers pistoning inside you quicker as he wraps his wet lips around your clit.

“God, your pussy tastes so fucking good. I missed you - missed the way your pretty little pussy feels around my tongue,” Jungkook grunts out. Another whine of pleasure escapes your lips, your hips jolting into his face when the pads of his finger stroke your g-spot.

“Cumming-” you gasp out, your voice cracking under the pleasure.

“Then cum baby- cum all over my tongue. I wanna taste you- wanna drink you up,” Jungkook urges. The filthiness of his words, paired with the way he harshly sucks your clit, instantly has you cumming.

A loud mewl escaping your lip, you whine out his name. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your visions filled with white spots as your orgasm ricochets through you. Feeling you come undone above him, Jungkook rips his fingers out of you, his hands gripping your flesh and fingers digging into your skin as he holds your violently trembling thighs. The scent of your arousal thickens deeply, and Jungkook watches with dilated eyes as thick ropes of cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs.

Placing his lips against your entrance, Jungkook slurps at your cum, swallowing it thickly and relishing in your taste. You whine out his name, your knees buckling from the power of your orgasm - and if it weren’t for Jungkook’s strong grip, you’re sure you’d drop to the floor. Gasping for air, you slowly come down from the high of your orgasm, Jungkook patiently waiting for you to descend down to reality.

Tenderly, your boyfriend places affectionate kisses along the length of your thigh, softly cooing at you while he whispers sweet nothings against your flesh. A soft smile tugs at your lips and you untangle your fingers from their vice-like grip on his locks. Instead, you softly play with the strands, marvelling at their silk-like texture. Jungkook always had beautiful hair, but with how long it is currently, you can reallyadmire it.

“Kook- want you,” you mew. Jungkook chuckles at the soft neediness in your voice.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Jungkook says before he gathers you in his arms. Gently, he brings you to the floor with him. Still swimming in the haziness of your orgasm, you feel Jungkook swiftly divest himself off his clothing, until he’s left naked. Once done, Jungkook gathers you into his arms once again. He shifts you so your thighs are straddling his, your body propped against his strong chest as his back rests against the door to your apartment.

Unable to help yourself, you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands indolently running over his skin as you finally feel him under your touch. You trace every muscle of his upper body - from the corded flesh of his biceps, to the taut skin of his abdomen; and then towards his broad, defined shoulders. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, his hands running up the hem of his hoodie and flitting up your skin before he divests you off the article of clothing - leaving you both naked.

Shuddering at the feel of the night’s crisp air against your skin, you snuggle closer into Jungkook’s warmth, letting his presence wash over you. “I missed you,” you mumble against his skin. Jungkook’s face softens and he nods, his head dropping so he can press a kiss to your shoulder. His long hair tickles your skin and you relish in the featherlight touch.

Not wanting to wait any longer - and more than desperate to feel him inside of you - you flex your thighs, picking yourself up. One hand feels out for Jungkook’s cock, and easily finding the shaft, you grip the base before pressing it against your entrance. Feeling the bulbous head push against your entrance, you let out a soft whine before slowly descending down onto him. Slowly, he spreads out your walls, his thick girth stretching you out for the first time in months. It’s been a while since you’ve had Jungkook and the sheer size of him has a dull pain stinging at your pussy walls - but you don’t mind so much. No, in fact, you cherish it - because you’d sorely missed how transcendent he’d felt stretching out your pussy to its brim.

“Oh fuck- God, you’re so fucking tight. You feel so good,” Jungkook groans out, his cock twitching with every inch he sinks into you. Jungkook’s arms wrap around you, holding your naked chest flush against his as you continue your descent onto his cock. When he finally bottoms out, his balls resting just under your ass, you let out a little whimper, your fingers clawing into his shoulder.

“You good, baby?” Jungkook asks, his lips skimming the outline of your collarbone.

“Yeah- you feel- so good,” you gasp out. Jungkook gives you a couple of moments to adjust to the feel of him - and then, he’s gripping your hips before lifting them up for you. You cry out in pleasure as you feel his cock retreat out of you, only for Jungkook to thrust upwards, plunging the entire length of his shaft.

The two of you begin moving in tandem with each other: Jungkook helping you move on top of him while simultaneously impaling his cock into you. With every one of his movements, you feel pleasure run through your veins. Every time he plunges the entirety of his cock inside of you, you let out short gasps, your toes curling in pleasure. Moving slowly, you take the time to simply feel each other - the ardent fire of your lust and love burning bright in the pits of both your bellies as you sink into unadulterated pleasure.

Your slow, sensual pace continues for a little while longer - but you can slowly feel Jungkook’s desperation increasing with each thrust. His hands begin wandering over your hips and around to hold your ass. Fingers digging into the soft flesh, he grips your ass tightly before bouncing you harder ontop of him. Need fills his every movement - Jungkook’s thrusts becoming rougher. You bounce on top of him, your entire body shaking as Jungkook thrusts harder and harder into you. Changing the angle of his hips, Jungkook plunges his cock against your sweet spot, the head of his cock brushing it with every impalement of his hips.

“I’m cumming, baby,” Jungkook warns. Not that he really needs to, you can feel his cock throb erratically inside you, twitching every now and then as your walls clench rhythmically around his shaft - massaging his entire length.

“Cum, baby. Cum in me. Wanna feel you deep in me,” you say softly, your hands softly massaging his shoulders. Jungkook lets out a little groan, pulling your hips harder down onto him as he tries to push his cock as deep as he can into you.

“Cum with me. Play with yourself. Wanna feel you cum around my cock,” Jungkook urgers, and you find yourself growing wetter at the authority present in his voice. Unable to deny him anything, you twist one arm between your body and begin expertly playing with your clit. The additional pleasure has you crying out in ecstasy. All of a sudden, you feel heat rush through your veins, your lips parting in a silent scream as you cum for a second time.

Feeling your walls clamp around him tightly, paired with the gushing of your cum around his cock, Jungkook let’s out a little groan. “Oh fuck,” he moans. Then with two stilted thrusts, he plunges his cock as deep as he can into you before cumming with a soft roar. His cock twitches inside your walls before he shoots rope after rope of hot cum inside you. You groan at the feel of his warmth, your toes curling in pleasure as the base of your spine tingles.

Jungkook holds you to him tightly, clutching your body to his as you both gasp and pant for air. The haziness of your euphoric high slowly abates, until you’re both left clinging to each other. Eventually, the white spots in your vision clear and you slowly pull away from him. You take in the sight of Jungkook, completely spent and sweat-soaked locks clinging to his forehead. Hearing you giggle, Jungkook opens one eye to peek at you.

“Stop laughing at me,” he pouts. Once again, you giggle at him, and then let yourself fall against him. Exhaustion weighs down your muscles and you find yourself snuggling into Jungkook’s chest, sleep already replacing the lust-filled fog that clouds your head.

“I can’t help it if you’re so cute,” you mumble sleepily. Jungkook bites his lips, lightly snorting through his nose. However, he simply doesn’t have the energy to argue with you. Instead, he sits quietly while attempting to catch his breath.

Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of a rest - but when he turns to you, you’re already deeply asleep, a small smile on your lips. Tenderly, Jungkook tuts, but there’s no real ire in it. Gathering you in his arms, he picks you up, wincing when his muscles protest the movement. Ignoring the pain, he carries you into your bedroom before gently depositing under the cover.

Fatigue quickly overcomes him, and it’s all Jungkook can do to not collapse beside you. Holding off, however, he manages to sluggishly pull himself under the cover. Once under the thick sheets, Jungkook shifts closer to you before he pulls you into his arms. You’re both sticky - your skin covered in a light sheen of perspiration - and it’s slightly uncomfortable, but Jungkook doesn’t care.

He’d be damned if he spent one more night without you in his arms.

a/n: owo i hope you enjoyed it! please don’t forget to tell me what you thought 🥺

⇥ Masterlist

7K notes · View notes

twst-campos13 · 3 years

Note

ah hello!! i'm literally so excited to see a blog for enby and male readers sodjfoijf,,could i maybe request a scenario where male reader is a staff member (idk?? like a librarian?? a nurse??? do they need nurses over there???) and is crushing on crewel but is too scared to confess because he's both Too Dense to pick up any signs of potential reciprocation and also just isn't sure if crewel likes men??? maybe. maybe with a happy ending though because i am a fool,, thank you very much!!

One hopelessly cheesy scenario coming up!! Thank you for requesting! I hope you don’t mind I made reader a librarian who may or may not be a bit of a romantic because i listened to a particular playlist while writing this- (commentary in notes!)

Warnings: none! Tags: male!reader, fluff!

A simple man such as you live a simple life. As simple as life can be in Night Raven College, that is. A prestigious school that holds a student body that can barely tolerate each other. It would be typical for a librarian to be the observer than the observed, but hey, if it means getting out of trivial matters of the school and enjoying the show in your personal bubble, then you have no complaints.

This attitude of yours did come to have its own consequences. You were seen as timid by most students as you were quite closed-off, taking it as a reason to poke fun at you sometimes. You proved them wrong when they step out of line with their fun. Most of the time you choose to ignore them. However, you lived up to your introverted nature, especially when it comes to him.

Tall, dark, and handsome. Approachable but also not at the same time. Sharply dressed and sharp attitude. This man that visits the library ever so often had become your daily motivation to keep on working at this school despite the wage that Crowley gives you.

Divus Crewel, feared and admired by staff and students—also known as the man who stole your heart.

You feel so small compared to him. That would not be so farfetched. He is a remarkable man, and what about you? You are just a librarian at this school. You are like mere dust to him.

Yet, despite this, you continued yearning for him no matter how ridiculous it seems. Perhaps you have fallen too deep in romantic fiction that you make hopeless wishes. You are known to be excellent in reading people but for some reason, you find it hard to read Divus. His perfect posture whenever he would scan the Applied Sciences aisle showed that he is focused on his reading. However, it is his expression you find hard to decipher. He looks dashing as ever, of course, but his thin lips and neutral gaze makes it hard for you to know what he is thinking.

If your life is a novel it would be so easy to know what runs in his mind. What he feels for you. Maybe he could even know what you feel for him. In a story, what makes characters likable is knowing what their emotions, their feelings, their ambitions, and their dreams are, for they are already laid out in ink on pages. Implicit or explicit information, simple or complex structure of personality, it does not matter. You would easily know about them for they are just sentences away from understanding.

And in romance novels…oh, how dreamy they are. How easy they make it seem to fall in love, to confess, and to achieve a happy ending. However, as a librarian, you know the reality of your situation. Your relationship with Crewel is a professional. Strictly, if you were to add an adjective. Is it really strictly professional? Your right brain points out the moments in your life where you interacted with him. At faculty meetings, reunions, at the library…moments like those just feel surreal you almost believed that you made those up on your own. Probably because you initiated each of those interactions yourself.

The only time, where Crewel would come to you himself, are rare. One time he came to the library and checked out a book to read in his spare time. His voice distracted you. It was like cherry wine. Sweet, smooth, enough to make your throat dry and your cheeks flushed. Oh, you could listen to him talk for hours in that tone of his, and he could even make you do anything he pleases.

You greet each other good morning or good afternoon when you pass by each other, and he would smile a teasing one at you as if you two shared a secret with each other. Well, technically you did, for one time you bought him coffee under the pouring rain, and he repaid you for your kindness. Soon enough your coffee exchange became a routine for both of you. It was sweeter than the cream in his coffee. It was more refreshing than the rainy day you shared with each other.

His gaze. His posture. His voice. His smile. Despite those small interactions with each other you are still troubled by what he thinks of you. A friend? A colleague? A special someone? Why is this so hard? Why was it so easy to fall in love? And when things could not get worse for you, your left brain argued that he might not be interested to mingle with a man.

Well, you could find out for yourself, but that would be creepy. Your workspace is in the library! You could not just leave when you please just so you can observe him. You could not use the staff files to your advantage—that is being a borderline stalker. Whatever Crewel’s orientation is, is his to keep and his to disclose to you. Oh, but still. If this were a novel, you could easily analyze the situations that give off evidence of him liking men. Or liking someone like you.

If that were the case you would not have a hard time trying to decipher his words, his gaze, his tone, and his actions towards you. If that were the case…if that were the case…then…well, there’s no then. Divus Crewel is not a fictional character to analyze. He is your coworker, your colleague.

It is hard to know what he thinks of you, at all. You really wished that you could…but the thought of knowing what he thinks to scare you, as well.

Rejection is not that far from reality. Who are you compared to him again? A nobody. A simple, ‘timid’, librarian that enjoys reading romantic and fiction novels and inserts himself in scenarios he makes up for himself just so he can…find the happiness he wishes to have.

But Divus is your happiness. Became your source of happiness. Ironic how he colors the muted floor of the library with his monochromatic appearance. Maybe it is better that you keep your feelings to yourself. You avoid the risk of rejection and humiliation as well as ruining whatever it is your current relationship with Crewel is.

You barely registered the visitor in front of your desk until a familiar red leathery gloved hand rested atop of yours. The contact of the leather sent a spark of electricity through you that you snapped your head up to meet alluring silvery blue eyes. There is only one person in this college that owns those distinct, beautiful, silvery blue eyes.

Divus.

“Have I interrupted your moment of peace, sir?” He asked in that cherry wine voice of his. It made your throat dry up and your face warm. “N-No—no!” You squeaked, shaking your head to brush off the embarrassment. Quickly, you fixed your composure and appeared presentable. As presentable as you could be under his stare that is. You just hope that he found some amusement in your haste. “D-Div—Mr. Crewel, what can I do for you?” You smiled as you speak in a professional tone. The edge of his lips curled into a familiar smirk and still you could not determine what was running through his mind at the moment.

“I came to return the book I borrowed last week,” he said, placing down the novel on your desk. Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austen. Right, he borrowed that last week. It is not your place to judge whatever it is he desires to read. “Of course,” you nodded, “did you enjoy reading it?” You started on a small talk as you take out your logbook for the check-ins and outs of books. “Somewhat,” Crewel shrugged, “I had my eyes set on another book I would like to borrow.”

“Oh? What is it? I’ll go get it for you.” You stood up after sliding the logbook back to its drawer. Crewel did not leave from where he was standing. His eyes were simply on you. You had to hide your nervousness under his gaze. “I had my eyes on it ever since that rainy day, when you offered me shelter in the library until the rain passes,” he mused. “General fiction, I believe, was the genre.”

“If that’s the case then you better tell me the title,” you joked, taking a stool to the genre’s aisle. “Are you certain you can find it?” Crewel coolly challenged. You almost laughed but did not fight the smile on your lips. “Mr. Crewel, I spend most of my time in this library. I know every book and I still have the Dewey Decimal system memorized…” You kept your eyes distracted by scanning the spines of the books on the shelves. You are aware that he is still looking at you that is why you refused to look back at him. You are not sure what will happen if you look back at him while conversing.

“If that is the case—” why does he suddenly sound a bit close? “—may you find ‘How to Ask your Dense Colleague Out to Dinner?’”

What a lengthy title. It sounds very basic and almost like a rule book than a novel. Well, that is General Fiction for you. Though you are quite unsure if such a book exists in the library. “Hm…” you hummed, a finger on your chin, as your eyes scanned the shelves. “I don’t think I have that here…Crowley pays me enough to support my rent and meals, but not enough to buy new books. Plus, the students…”

You heard him chuckle beside you and fought the urge to turn to him. “I believe I was not frank enough. Ah, well, I will put all subtleties aside, then…”

His warm breath tickling your skin was what made you finally turn to him. The proximity of your noses startled you that you nearly stumbled out of your stool if it were not for Divus’ hand grabbing yours to pull you to him. You gasped, shocked, as you landed close to his chest. His other hand supported your waist, and your eyes widened his silvery blues. You can feel your heart hammering against his. Your legs feel like putty when he gave you that teasing smirk. Your name—your first name—sounds surreal from his lips. Your entire world was a confusing mix of vertigo and bright lights.

“Will you go to dinner with me?”

You stared. You stammered. You are flabbergasted and flustered. You were unsure how to react to such a forward question that your brain completely shut down. But you cannot embarrass yourself—you must not. Not when…not when…not when…!

Oh, he will he stop saying your name with such sentiment?

“Is your silence a rejection or a consideration?” He rose a brow and your face flushed even more. “No! I mean yes—I mean—no, it isn’t a rejection—”

“Then you have been anticipating this?”

“Divus!”

He laughed. He laughed at your state. He laughed at your awkwardness. But most importantly his laugh sounds so pleasant. Like he was teasing you and you liked him teasing. You grew shy, averting your gaze from his and fidgeting with your fingers. “I mean…I mean…why?”

Crewel stopped laughing and looked at you. “Why what?”

“Why…me? Out of all people?” You asked as fear and denial keep you from grasping the fact that this is all real and not another scenario you made up during rainy days. Crewel’s face remained passive. Neutral. It was eating at your heart and you just wish what is going through his mind.

“Is it not obvious, puppy?” He raised a brow at you. The hand holding your wrist now tilted your chin in his direction. “It is not by fate or destiny, but a mere law that dictates the gravitational pull of similar atoms that is programmed by the need to chemically bind together.”

You suddenly felt stumped. “W—What?”

“I like you, puppy,” Crewel clarified, adoring the way your confusion turned to pure surprise, “and I would like to have dinner with you. Perhaps another, if the first went well.”

You need some time to process this. Your head felt so light you might pass out in his arms. Actually, you would not mind that in the slightest. His coat is just so soft it feels like heaven. A proper response of agreement failed to come to your mind so instead, you asked him again, “And what if the first does not end well?”

Crewel smiled at you. “Then we shall try again with the next dinner. Mind you, puppy, as a man of science, I am not afraid of failure if trying means more chances of perfecting my goal.”

“And what’s that goal?” You asked and physically stopped yourself from combusting when he leaned closer to you that your noses touch and you smell his cologne, and his bold scent.

“The goal to become yours.”

390 notes · View notes

waitimcomingtoo · 5 years

Note

Heyy are you taking requests? If you are can you please write a fic with Tom where they do that plank over me challenge thing in bbc radio except he's planking over the reader??? Idk tysmmmm💞

Plank All Over Me

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: you have to keep your cool while the incredibly flirty Tom Holland planks over you

It’s a series now!

Masterlist

Requests are CLOSED

“Hello everyone, welcome back to BBC Radio 1. I’m Tom Holland from Spider-Man Far From Home.” Tom said sprightly into the camera.

“And I’m regretting being here.” You said in the same tone, making Tom laugh.

“She’s only kidding.” Tom gave you a fond look before looking back at the camera.

“Is she though?” You said with a scrunched nose.

“Aaaaaand we’re doing the Plank Over Me Challenge.” Tom pointed to the camera like he was a game show host.

“And I’m Y/n L/n from Venom.” You lamely added with equally lame jazz hands. “What is this game? Like how do you even play?”

“Its called Plank All Over Me. I plank over you while you ask me questions, and then we switch.” Tom explained while the crew got the cameras and microphones into position.

“Seems pretty intense for a game between strangers.” You commented as you rested your hands on your hips. It was true. You’d never met Tom before. But you were both in the Marvel field and BBC Radio 1 contacted you asking if you’d like to do an interview together. While you thought you’d be sitting on a couch next to him while someone asked you questions, BBC Radio 1 had something else in mind.

“I can assure you, we won’t be strangers after this.” Tom smiled cheekily and gave you a little nudge. Damn, if he wasn’t cute. His British accent and boyish face were enough to knock you off your game. You had to remind yourself that the cameras were on you, and you couldn’t let anything show.

“What if I can’t think of questions?” You asked the crew.

“There’s a little card with questions on it.” A man behind a camera handed you a small white card filled with questions. You scanned the card and nodded.

“This can’t end well.” You looked up and Tom and laughed. “Like, you’re gonna get my elbow full force into your clavicle and there’s nothing I can do to stop that.”

“That seems like a reasonable price to pay to have a pretty lady on top of me.” Tom shrugged, then squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. God, we’ve just met and I’m already blowing it.”

“Don’t sweat it.” You smiled assuringly at him and brought all your hair to one side. “And I can already tell there’s gonna be way too many innuendos.” You chuckled as you got on the ground in between the microphones. You laid straight and gave Tom a nod. Tom stood over you lordly and gave you a thumbs up.

“I’m coming down.” He told you.

“Timber.” You said weakly. You immediately grimaced. “I’m so sorry. Oh my God, cut that out of the video.”

“Leave it.” Tom pointed at a camera and gave them a fake stern look. “It was cute.”

“Are you gonna come or not?” You asked him, dying from the anticipation and already blushing over him calling what you said “cute.”

“This is off to a fantastic start.” Tom laughed and he straddled your waist with his knees. He had a shy, concentrated smile on his face as he rested his forearms on either side of your head. He cradled your face with his arms and clasped his fingers together at the top of your head. You held your breath as he put his legs back and pushed himself up. Finally, he gently lowered himself onto you and stopped just mere inches from your face. His warm breath ticked your face, making you giggle.

“Oh, don’t do that love. I won’t last a minute.” Tom said softly, only for you to hear.

“Sorry.” You said with a cheeky grin. He was like a Monet painting. Pretty from afar and intricate from up close, and bursting with detail. You took notice of the way his one eyebrow went vertical, instead of horizontal. You also took notice of how that was completely adorable. His hair was curlier than it was on screen, and soft strands of it brushed your forehead. He smelled like Head and Shoulders and axe, and maybe a little bit of heaven.

“First question, what happened to your eyebrow?” You asked him. It wasn’t on the card, but you were curious.

“That’s my wolf side, and I’ll never tell.” Tom said while he pierced you with his gaze. You wondered how long you were gonna last under this man.

“Alright.” You bit your tongue between your teeth, making Tom let out a hot breath. You felt his belt buckle touch your tummy every time he laughed.

“What did I just say? No laughing.” Tom reminded you. “Do you want me to crush you?”

A little, you thought.

“But that wasn’t a laugh! I bit my tongue so that I wouldn’t laugh.” You protested.

“It’s still making me weak and a man cannot be weak when he’s planking.” Tom declared, making it really hard for you not to laugh again. You looked at the card and kept going.

“What’s the best advice you’ve ever been given?” You asked him. Innocent enough.

“Probably when my mate Harrison told me to go on BBC radio 1 because that cute girl from Venom was gonna be there.” Tom answered with a lopsided grin. You bit your bottom lip.

“I’m pretty sure flirting isn’t a part of the games rules.” You teased.

“Rules are made to be broken, love.” Tom struggled to give you a wink. “Okay, if you’re cutting out her saying “timber”, then you’re cutting out me saying that.”

“But it was cute.” You said in a deep British accent to mock him. “And I’m pretty sure this is live radio.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asking me questions?” Tom said in a strained voice. The plank was getting to him, but he was determined to go on.

“Oh right.” You laughed and looked back at the card. “What’s your favorite word?”

“I quite like your name, to be honest. I’ll say that’s my favorite word.” Tom said. If his face wasn’t red before, it was red now. He wasn’t usually this foward, but all bets were off when you were planking over a cute girl. You had to bite your tongue again and forced yourself to look indifferent to his compliment.

“Such a flirt.” You shook your head. “What scares you?”

“The thought of crushing you with my huge, muscly body.” Tom joked. His breath fanned your face again, not that you were complaining.

“Did you leave that body at home?” You teased him. Toms mouth opened in shock.

“Oof.” He said and adjusted his positive, closing his arms tighter around you.

“What? You wanted questions.” You pointed out.

“I did. I have to say though, you’re a pretty good distraction to the ache in my biceps.” Tom admitted.

“That’s what every girl wants to hear.” You said in an over dramatic dreamy tone. “And they are pretty nice biceps.”

“You can feel them when we’re done.” Tom said with a weak smirk. He was really feeling the pain now.

“You did not just say that!” You covered your face with your hand, mostly to hide your blush. You couldn’t move your hand back to the ground in fear of brushing him and making him fall over, so you kept it flushed against your chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Tom laughed. “It’s not me, it’s the plank.”

“Getting back to the game, if you could switch suits with any superhero, who would it be?” You asked.

“Probably Iron Man, just so I could go to the bathroom on set.” Tom answered with a breathy chuckle. Every laugh sent a wave of mint straight to your face. “How long have I been going?”

“Four minutes and a half.” You took a glance at the clock. “You’re quivering.”

“You’re making me quiver.” Tom said lowly.

“My deepest apologies.” You said sarcastically as you stared innocently into his eyes.

“I think I could find it in my heart to forgive you.” Tom said, again, only for you to hear.

“Thank God.” You laughed and met his eyes. Behind the obvious strain from holding the plank, you saw a fondness. In a more sincere voice you said, “I wouldn’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I could never be mad at you, darling.” Tom said with equal sincerity. “Though I’m going to get a bit cross if you don’t ask me another question.”

“Shoot, right, sorry. Umm, how often do you people watch?” You asked the first question you saw on the card.

“How often do I what, love?” Tom wheezed.

“People watch.” You repeated. “Like observe other people and their behavior in a non serial killer like way.”

“Oh.” Tom blew a breath out on your face and thought. You could see the veins in his neck beginning to bulge. “Not often. There’s this one girl I like to watch though.” Tom answered, quickly followed by, “In a non serial killer like way.”

“Lucky girl.” You commented, feelings a twinge of jealousy stab at your heart. He was being so flirty and then dropped that on you. “Why do you watch her?”

“Because she takes my breath away.” Tom said roughly as he struggled to breath. He squeezed his eyes tightly to make himself last. “Literally.” He huffed.

“How cute.” You faked a smile. “Do you think she’s watching this now?”

“I know for a fact that she is.” Tom said with a laugh. “How long have I been going now?”

“Almost six minutes.” You told him. “How long are you going for?”

“I’m going to make this last as long as I possibly can, since I will never be in this position again.” Tom said with determination in his weak voice.

“Woah.” You let out a surprised laugh. “Who knew Spider-Man was so dirty?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Tom defended. “I’ve just enjoyed our time together.”

“You’ve enjoyed the bulging veins, red face, and aching muscles?” You raised an eyebrow.

“No, I’ve enjoyed being asked questions by the lovely girl beneath me.” Tom let out another ragged breath. “I can do this all day.”

“I think the vein in your forehead might pop before you get a chance.” You taunted.

“Mmm.” Tom grunted, really feeling the pain now. “Just keep asking me questions. It helps.”

“Does it? That’s a question.” You looked at the camera, knowing full well you were ignoring the card.

“Yes. You soothe me.” Tom said through clenched teeth. He didn’t seem very soothed.

“Okay, what would you rate 10/10?” You asked, getting back to the card.

“You. And Spider-Man Far From Home, on Blu-Ray and DVD now.” He shot a wink at the camera and pounded his fist against the ground. He wasn’t gonna last much longer.

“What do you wish you knew more about?” You were going rapid fire questions now.

“Again, I’m gonna have to go with you.” Tom laughed halfheartedly. “These questions are too easy.”

“What’s the best way to start your day?” You asked. “And you can’t say me.”

“Well, it would be you, but for now it’s tea.” Tom answered.

“For now?” You asked softly.

“Next question.” Tom wheezed.

“What’s the most interested work of art you’ve ever seen?” You read from the card.

“The Kiss by Gustav Klimt.” Tom said.

“Really?” You asked.

“No, it’s you.” Tom laughed.

“Tom!” Your eyes widened. He was definitely flirting now. “Are you like this with all the girls?”

“Not even close.” Tom gave a labored laugh, as if your question was ridiculous. “Just the pretty ones in Venom.”

“Where would you spend all your time if you could?” You asked, ignoring his comment for the time being.

“Right here.” Tom said before collapsing into you. He fell gently, and buried his face in your neck as he cradled your head with his arm. He breathed heavily in your ear for a moment before rolling onto his side and propping himself up. You shifted a little, so you could look at him. He was all red in the face and had labored breathing. He gave you a tired laugh and looked up at the clock.

“How long did I go?” He asked.

“Six and a half minutes, which means Tom Holland officially holds the BBC Radio 1 Plank All Over Me Record.” A crew member answered.

“My mum will be so proud.” Tom pretended to wipe a tear.

“How do you feel?” You nudged him, both of you still on the ground.

“Never better.” Tom said, out of breath. “Might wanna feel my bicep now, since I just had a record breaking workout.”

You pursed your lips in temptation, before reaching over and squeezing his arm. He watched your face carefully as it twisted into an impressed expression. It was your first time touching a guys bicep, thinking it was a move only used by quarterbacks in movies.

“Well damn.” You laughed shyly and looked into his eyes. You jumped a little when you saw that he was already staring at you.

“Your turn, love.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’m gonna last two seconds.” You said to him as you got up, holding out a hand to help him up as well.

“Nonsense. I’m sure you’re strong.” Tom said as he took your hand. You both realized he didn’t have to get up and he quickly let go in embarrassment.

“I can’t wait to prove you wrong by pile driving you into the carpet.” You chuckled, adjusting your outfit before getting into position.

“I can’t wait for that either.” Tom said as he got on the ground and laid straight. He wiggled down between the two microphones and held a hand up towards you. “Whenever you’re ready, darling.”

“Here we go.” You laughed nervously as you took his hand. You used it to steady yourself as you stepped over him and stood between his legs. You slowly got down on your knees and placed them in either side of his waist. You looked at him hesitantly and he gave you a soft smirk

“Ready?” He asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” You said. You placed your arms on either side on his head and propped yourself up. You straightened your legs and lowered yourself onto your elbows. Immediately, you felt the ache go through your body.

“Okay. Ask away.” You said.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Tom began.

“What? Why is that my first question?” You asked, already feeling your arms and legs weaken.

“It’s on the card.” Tom shrugged. He didn’t even have the card in his hand.

“It is not.” You let out a breathy laugh. “I looked at the card for six and a half minutes, don’t forget.”

“Fine. I thought of it when I was hovering above your perfect face for nearly seven minutes.” Tom said with emphasis on his time. “Now answer.”

“I’ve seen more of you today than I’d like to admit.” You dodged his question to role him up.

“You could see as much of me as you want.” Tom quipped.

“Oh?” You said with a raised eyebrow.

“Not like that! Damn it! I can’t stop with the innuendos.” Tom scolded himself.

“It’s okay.” You shook your head, making your hair fall on his chest. “I think it’s funny. And no, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Okay, good.” Tom felt better at your words.

“Hey, Tom?” You spoke up.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Are you gonna ask me anything else?” You wondered. He wasn’t keeping up his end of the game.

“I kinda found out all I needed to know.” Tom joked.

“Tom!” You said, struggling to keep yourself up. You were determined not to fall over after only being asked one question.

“Fine. What’s your favorite bug?” Tom asked.

“What?” You wheezed. “I don’t know. A beetle.”

“Okay, then who’s your favorite Beetle?” Tom continued. None of these questions were on the card, and you both knew it.

“John.” You huffed. “Was that off script?”

“I’m the one asking you questions, darling.” Tom said nonchalantly.

“Well keep asking. I can’t feel my legs.” You grimaced.

“Ready to give up?” Tom asked. Technically, it was a question.

“Never.” You wheezed again.

“Your hair is in my mouth.” Tom laughed as stands of your hair fell into his open mouth.

“Sorry.” You giggled and tried to flip your hair behind your shoulder, which proved to be impossible. Tom laughed at your failure.

“I got you, love.” He said softly as he gentle tucked your hair behind your ears, giving you a clear view of your face.

“I can’t do this.” You said, not even referring to the plank anymore. You couldn’t have Tom Holland flirt with you on live radio without screaming.

“Yes you can.” Tom said assertively. “You’re almost at two minutes.”

“That’s it?” You groaned. It felt like two hours.

“Keep going. I’m not ready for this to end.” Tom cheered you on.

“I swear to God Tom, I’ll give us both rug burn. See if I care.” You threatened.

“You wouldn’t.” Tom said with a cocky smirk. “Who’s your favorite man under the mask?”

“I kinda have a thing for Peter Parker.” You said through deep breaths.

“Peter Parker might have a thing for you.” Tom muttered.

“I bet I look so red right now.” You were beginning to get self conscious being his close to Tom.

“You look beautiful.” Tom dismissed your concern.

“That wasn’t a question.” You pointed out.

“Fine. Who’s the most famous person to slide into your DM’s?” Tom got back to the card.

“Your mom.” You said through clenched teeth.

“Nikki?” Tom asked with a laugh. “How dare she?”

“She’s got game.” You panted.

“If you had to date any actor in the MCU, who would it be?” Tom questioned. You knew that wasn’t on the card either. “I’d just like to point out the very cute, very single MCU actor in this very room.”

“Thats quite convenient isn’t it? I don’t have to look too far.” You smiled, regaining a bit of strength.

“Answer! You told me your favorite bug for Pete’s sake.” Tom grew more impatient with every passing second.

“I guess you, since you’re already underneath me.” You said sheepishly. You knew the answer before he even finished asking.

“I-“ Tom began.

“If you make a sexual joke, I will body slam you.” You cut him off, knowing where he was going with his statement. Tom nodded in defeat.

“Not a sentence I expected to hear today.” He quipped.

“How much longer until three minutes?” You asked in your strained voice.

“Ten seconds.” A crew member answered. The crew, who by the way, was watching two people fall in love in real time, right in front of them.

“I can’t do it.” Your arms felt like fire and were beginning to shake.

“Yes you can.” Tom urged you to keep going.

“My arms feel like spaghetti.” You panted.

“Arms are heavy, moms spaghetti.” Tom said in a positive tone. You laughed and felt your arms shake harder.

“If I couldn’t laugh under you, you can’t make me laugh when I’m over you.” You scolded.

“Fair. Three more seconds.” Tom told you. “Three, two, one.”

“I’m out.” You collapsed onto his chest and laid there for a moment. You felt Toms hand on the small of your back, rubbing comforting circles with his hand as your heart pounded against his chest. You rested against his chest as you caught your breath, feeling your arms slowly regain their strength. You picked your head up and rested your chin on his chest, giving him a tired smile. He returned the smile and tucked your hair behind your ears again.

“All good?” He asked with a lazy smile.

“I will be.” You assured him. “As soon as my legs regain feeling.”

“Here. I’ll help you up.” Tom offered. He rested his hands on your hips and shifted you off of him. He then scooped you up and gently set you in your feet. He let you lean into him until your aching legs were steady.

“Your time was three minutes and one second, Y/n.” A crew member told you.

“Trust me, I felt it every second.” You gulped, your mouth feeling suddenly dry.

“So did I.” Tom smiled. “Nice job.” He held up his hand, a little higher than you could reach. You took a step towards him to get closer, instantly regretting it. Your legs trembled and Tom had to catch you to steady yourself.

“Oh great. Tom Holland made me unable to walk for the next week.” You rolled your eyes before realizing you own innuendo. You put your hand over your mouth in embarrassment.

“Also not a sentence I expected to hear.” Tom laughed with happy shock.

“Not a sentence I expected to say, darling.” You threw his own word back in his face. He gave you a mock offended face.

“As fun as this was, that’s all the time we have for today. Thank you Tom and Y/n for joining us at BBC Radio 1.” The host of the show said into the microphone.

“Thanks for having us.” Tom said sincerely. Very, very sincerely.

“I’m thankful, but my arms are not.” You joked

You thanked the crew one last time and went off to your respective dressing rooms. You rubbed your aching arms and gathered your things before hearing a knock at your door. You opened it, expecting to see your manager but instead found a very bashful looking Tom Holland.

“So.” He began with a hesitant smile. “There was one question I didn’t get to ask, that I’m dying to know.”

“And what would that be?” You asked, leaning against the doorway with a smirk. Tom looked at you, feeling a surge of confidence from your smile and loosened his shoulders. Oh, the things you did to him.

“Will you go out with me?” He said quickly, before his confidence left him. “Maybe it was just me, but I was really feeling it back there in the interview, and I felt like you were too. I hope it wasn’t just me.” Tom said in a hopeful manner. “Please say it wasn’t just me.”

“That depends.” You said coyly. “You’d have to answer a question of mine first.”

“Which is?” Tom asked, bouncing a little on his heels.

“Did you think I’d ever say no?”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @sunrise-shawn @meghan-8520xx @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter

#tom holland x reader #tom holland jealous #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland interview #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spider man: homecoming #spiderman x reader #endgame rerelease #iron man

6K notes · View notes

tigerdrop · 4 years

Note

dogboy gordon rutting against benreys leg in the same way that benrey did it in the reverse. benrey encouraging him and also making fun of him in the same breath. yummy brain thoughts. i am rotating this

jesus christ i started thinking about dogboy gordon and have not stopped thinking. theres 7k words of dogboy stuff under here im going insane

how in the. help. Help. dog boy. how does he become dogboy. i cant keep giving these idiots potions but i guess thats what ive been reduced to

gman turns him into a dog boy. walks thru a portal and comes out in nintendogs but hes the dog and when he comes back out again hes still a little bit dogy. this is fucking stupid

THE TAIL WAGGING im going to pass away

> i think he would have such fucking issues with the fact that his tail and ears are expressing his emotions so much

trying to act angry towards benrey but hes given away by his tail wagging like crazy......and he never even knows its happening until somebody points it out

it would be cool if. um. he got a little more into roughhousing and rough play afterward. you know. like a . hes already really handsy......physical. . .. .

> okay like the anger turning into somewhat-serious jostling and pushing which turns into roughhousing

its not even horny at first it just gives him the weirdest fucking endorphins. like. its fucking fun man

> and by the time theyre roughhousing his tail is wagging furiously and like thumping on the floor when he gets pinned haha

> YES its about the exhilaration ......he gets this rush from flipping benrey over after he's pinning him, baring his teeth triumphantly

benrey pinning him by his wrists and half-laughing at him like "what the fuck is wrong with you??" and the rest of the science team chimes in like YEAH WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU GUYS WHAT WAS THAT

> gordon comes back to himself and turns red immediately and splutters like "i dont know! what - im just - benrey started it!” so like he refuses to do it again but then benrey pushes his buttons and he gets in his face, ears pinned back a bit and shoves him and benreys like oh...so its this again huh...

GOD......PUSHING HIS BUTTONS.......its sooo much fun now that gordons so physically reactive too

> what if he manages to get an honest to god growl out of gordon at one point and it makes something ugly twist in benrey's gut and he wants to make it happen again

and its probably really gratifying for him to see just how often gordons tail wags when gordon looks at him or snorts at one of his jokes

TWO SIDES

> the duality of their relationship....gordons tail wagging just a bit when hes looking at benrey though im

> im thinking about the growling though like...benrey gets fixated on how he fucking sounds, all deep and rumbly and this intensity just focused on benrey only....makes him think about how that would look in other contexts....

> benrey riling him up while their roughousing so he can feel that growl travel through his chest and like...getting gordon to that point makes him SO determined to win the "fight" over benrey hes almost a bit out of his mind with it......pins benrey and subconsciously ruts against him a bit as a sign of dominance....please stop me now goodbye....

NO LITERALLY THATS WHAT I WAS THINKING ABOUT THE MOMENT I STARTED TYPING

prodding gordon further and further and riling him up until gordon pins him to the floor, hard, an arm jammed behind his back and his HEV suit jammed up against benreys ass and rutting subconsciously as gordon. h. gordon. clamps down on the back of his neck and growls

benrey sucks in a rattling gasp and is like "what? ow" in a weirdly shocked yet distanced way

he cant feel where gordons hard b/c of the HEV suit but he can feel the metal awkwardly bumping against his ass Like That. and inwardly benreys on a loop of "what the fuck what the fuck" but not in a bad way in the slightest. just utterly cannot believe this is whats happening, right now, gordon freeman dry humping his ass behind a bunch of crates, not 100 feet from the rest of the science team

> gordon snapping out of it and being like...what the fuck am i doing... or....maybe the gasp makes gordon bite down harder in response...not sure

> gordon not even realizing hes doing it until that moment is so great....i dont know but....maybe he lets go and pushes off benrey, panting and wild eyed, and the image of benrey on his stomach, his bite mark in his neck, is burned into his brain

> he just doesnt say fucking anything and just dips to get jacked off by the suit maybe.... cant stop thinking about how it felt to see benrey with his teeth marks....hates himself for feeling that sick satisfaction in his chest

benrey......touching the back of his neck afterwrds, kind of dream-like, both consciously and subconsciously.......

i like making gordon freeman suffer so i want him to just angrily try to rut against his arm in private later trying desperately to get off thru this stupid busted HEV suit that he cant get out of. pathetic. gordon freeman humping his own fucking arm in a bathroom stall. like a dog

and he thinks about how benrey smelled when he had his teeth clamped on the back of benreys neck, his nose buried right against benreys jaw and neck, smelling the sweat and the hormones and feeling benreys rapid heartbeat, and his whole fucking head throbs with how bad he wants to get off

> and he just cant get off....has to deal with going back the team tense and a bit sweaty and just move on when they ask what happened. benrey doesnt say anything just stares at him and gordon cant meet his eyes. gordon tries not to fucking let benrey get under his skin cause i think hes probably mad upset and embarassed that he reverted to his like,,,more base instincts because of BENREY of all people.....

> but he still thinks about it sometimes and....he tries to distance himself from him but hes still a pretty touchy guy and he find himself around benrey still....laughing at his jokes and getting in his space once in a while. always pulls himself away when he notices but not before he takes in a deep breath of benrey's scent...

> meanwhile benreys trying to think of how to make gordon do that shit again LOL

ohmy god. oh my god.....before this.....before he tries to stop getting in benreys business and before he even recognizes what hes doing.......he like.....hes so touchy feely that he subconsciously tries to mark benrey a lot. like just doing everything in his power to rub the inside of his wrists somewhere on him. even if its barely gonna do anything b/c of the suit. its just instinct

> NOW HE ...now he realizes that he was doing that the whole time..jesus,...

> AUGH....in the buildup before this he didnt realize that he was doing it........but now he realizes he fucking misses doing that shit and kind of berates himself for doing it in the first place....like what the fuck....be Normal gordon...you cant want to fuck him....do you..?

i want him to. grrgohg i dont even know how or why this would happen but i want gordon freeman to lie supine on the ground with his hands up like paws like hes a big pupy looking for tummy rubs OKAY! BYE. I HAVE TO GO. im going to fucking sob why am i like this why is this the cutest possible thing for a man to do. i cant even think of a fucking reason why he would do this so im so fucking embarrassed

i want to fucking. i want to rub his fucking tumy and make him pop a boner from it im literally so sick of this earth

> i was literally Just typing: i just think it would be cool . To pet his tummy and keep telling him "good boy" in a Certain kind of Tone that just totally fucks him up about it . maybe flushed and tongue starting to wanna hang out of his mouth as he goes from laying flat on his back to kinda twisted to one side, breathing heavy, tail thumping hard against the floor cause hes a big dog so that thing is like a lethal weapon

> petting the fuzzy lower belly while hes already hard & needy just to make him whine Very high pitched and desperate-sounding bc its so close to what he wants but that just makes it worse 8)

> What if. Benrey pinning Gordon, maybe scritches behind his ear, as a "joke", he's a dog haha good boy wants ear scritches?? And Gordon immediately squirming and whining. Maybe even kicking his leg just a little bit

> i think it would be cool for a post-black mesa puby gordon pinned benrey to the floor with his whole body weight and humped the life out of benrey's leg while panting and drooling in benrey's ear. a total lack of regard for benrey, (of course he's into it tho) just using him like an object that's conveniently there for him to furiously get off on

> i'm thinking.... this happening after a period of prolonged teasing, like you said. rubbing his tummy and ignoring his dick

> Man ok combined with the suit edging huh? I love that, but i also kinda want gordon to sneak off to get off and discover his uh. k. kn. knot

> he sneaks off and if in this situation he can. idk. get at his dick in a bathroom or whatever. and well, he gets caught up so easily in his 'head empty' instincts mode that when he cums he's kneading that thang for like 2 minutes before he even becomes cognizant enough to notice. and then immediately panic. so idk maybe he cant get at himself for a while, right, so he didnt notice this

> i just think gordon being in the suit would not let him get at his dick and he would only be able to get off in really convoluted ways so like...he wouldnt fucking Know he had a knot he would just feel a weird pressure at the base that he doesnt know what its about. but he starts getting these fantasies of holding benrey down and staying in him when he comes and he doesnt know where the hell thats coming from.....yet. until after everything is over and he can get out of it, and the first time he jacks off again he realizes HOLY FUCK? like what the hell....but it makes sense in retrospect where those fantasies came from. but hes just super embarassed about those fantasies and pushes them down until benrey comes back into his life and activates him again

> in addition to embarassment i think he has a lot of complicated feelings about benrey and definitely feels a guilty about wanting to fuck him into the ground and fill him with cum....but GOD if benrey doesnt get to him just as much as he did in black mesa

> i think that something like this would be so unplanned and shit but like......theyve probably hung out a few times before this or more like maybe benrey has dropped into his house just to annoy him and gordon finds his ears pricking when he hears heavy footsteps around his house cause he recognizes them as benrey's...

> little rush of exhilaration maybe. cause it means they'll spend some time together and he has just all these emotions under his skin when they do. i dont know how this would happen but maybe gordon forgets to keep himself in check when benrey makes him laugh so hard he's snorting and his tail is wagging furiously.benrey tries to touch/catch his tail cause he's kinda curious about it and it never got to mess with it in black mesa. but it turns into roughhousing as gordon shoves him away a little bit but benrey keeps trying to get at it and then get at his ears

> "cmon man just let me touch them whats the big deal-" "NO!" but like hes still laughing a bit until they start really getting into it and he gets breathless and a little irritated at having to roll around and try to pin benrey's hands to the floor

hell on earth......the way his tails wagging and hes grinning and drooling a little once he gets benrey pinned.......

> little triumphant smile when he finally does.....got benrey on his stomach and he's subconsciously rutting against benrey's ass like in black mesa but hes just not noticing while he's berating benrey for losing

> talking right into his ear, and benrey lets out a little gasp when he does a particularly hard thrust and then hes like oh. fuck. he takes in a deep breath and can smell benrey's sweat and realizes hes just as horny about this as he is. cant help but bury his face in the back of his neck and lick. and benrey starts pushing back into him and talking the worst dirty talk and it makes him growl right against his neck and put his teeth there again as a warning not to move but benrey doesnt still, he just keeps talking. so gordon bites down, hard, cutting him off mid sentence with a yelp

f. fucking. benrey......arching his back into it.......pressing his hips up as high as theyll go......the angles bro.....the angles

> also: gordon popping boners more easily, even when he's just platonically excited w/ benrey..... yeah... :)

> like the thing about this is just that he got so excited from the wrasslin that he popped a boner....wasnt even thinking of horny.....

> not until benrey started gasping and arching back into him. then hes immediately aware of how this looks...like hes already basically in the position in his fantasies hes just rutting against him in the imitation of fucking

> gordon getting more frenzied by the little sounds benrey is making as he clamps down on his neck, drool dripping down his chin. benrey braces himself with one hand and gets the other to pull his pants down and then tug on the leg of gordon's down a bit because gordon is kind of. not thinking straight right now. gordon gets the message and fumbles with the buttons to get it down and like. haha i thinnk it would be fun if benrey prepped himself before this and gordon notices like. you really managed to prep urself this time? god, you really wanted this to happen. but maybe benrey had been doing it the last few times cause gordon would get in his space again sometimes and things were tense

NO GOD THIS IS GOOD. LIKE. oh my god gordon just like bitching at him and getting up in his face and Growling a couple times before while his pants are all tented from the inadvertent excitement boners that he doesnt even realize hes having.....and benrey might not be smart but hes not stupid

theres like a 50% chance theyre gonna fuck at any given time he realizes so like. why not......

even if it doesnt work out in the moment benrey still spends the whole time hopped up on the knowledge that they could have, that he was the little fucking pervert who got himself all prepped just in case gordon decided todays the day hes just gonna mount him, and honestly the way he beats his meat and fucks himself afterwards might be nearly as good as the real deal, just from that little bit of self-inflicted degradation

like u said...........he really wanted it to happen

> hhh.... maybe gordon ruts a bit against his ass and benrey guides him in and. he makes a deep growling rumble when he bottoms out. benrey feels it through his chest and gets a full body shiver as he's filled. i dont think hes fully developed his knot yet but its a tight fit. he starts fucking hard and fast into him while open mouthed panting, he cant keep his face away from the benrey's neck, licking up the sweat and burying his face there to breathe in his scent

the fucking . the desperation......every instinct in his body has been telling him to fuck benrey - yes, that benrey, fucking benrey - into the ground for......weeks now? months??

dudes probably tried everything he can think of to overcome it and to think about literally anything else when he gets off but nobody he fucks even comes close to smelling as good as benrey did when gordon had him pinned and gasping and sweating and he could smell the want rolling off him in waves.....and it sucks massive dick and he hates it

> hes been driven crazy by this thought for so long.....cant fucking control himself. wh. what if gordon managed to get a hold of a piece of benrey's clothes that he left and held it up to his face when he let himself jack off to this particular thought so he could get the scent but it jsut wasnt the same without his warm, panting body below him . he always nuts the hardest when he has it though

huffing benreys undershirt and desperately rutting into a pillow on his hands and knees with his ass fully up and hes just utterly debased right now

sad and pathetic gordon freeman humping his pillow like a dog and whining thinking about fucking benrey. if his past self could see himself like this right now he would be disgusted

> !!!!!!!!1 HIM GETTING INTO THE MOUNTING POSITION ON INSTINCT WHEN HE DOES IT...YOUR BRAIN ! i think that gordon would definitely give everything hes got to benrey when he finally gets to fuck him.

> now that hes actually doing it he's just out of his goddamn mind. benrey already being ready for him, slick and hot, just letting him push in .....i think he would definitely go insane

dudes never fucked so hard or so mindlessly in his life......for once all the neuroses just fly out the window. overcome by instinct

> letting out all these whines and moans, not even caring for how loud hes being... benrey's wanted this so fucking bad hes just eating it up, pushing back on him like an animal and getting a power trip that he made gordon this unhinged

thinking about him just being utterly shocked when benrey guides him in and he can just bury himself all the way to the hilt so easily and it makes something in his brain snap

> gordon doesnt even tell benrey when hes close, benrey can just start to feel his knot swell inside him and how it stretches him a bit past what he prepared for...but he wants it in him so fucking bad, he just lets gordon keep fucking into him

like. oh my god. does benrey even know about the knot or is this a brand new and fun surprise for him

> I DONT KNOW......I JUST REALLY LIKE THE THOUGHT OF HIM BEING A BIT CAUGHT OFF GUARD BY IT....

> being caught off guard by it but being so turned on by the feeling of it filling him that he lets out this really high, needy sound. which goes straight to gordon's dick and he just pushes into him harder and jolts his whole body with it. maybe he h....he bites down on the other side of his neck again and thrusts in one more time before coming deep in him. just shuddering from it, eyes squeezed shut and jaw locked around benrey

benrey just fuckin. face down ass up and arching his back as high as he can

(mumbling very quietly) it might be cool also if. gordon maybe.....started growling some things as he got close. a certain something. a word

you know......just......bent over benreys back......arms wrapped around benreys chest and fingers digging into the soft flesh (maybe even his titties, if youre feeling spicy).......pistoning his hips in staccato bursts while he growls.........u bh hhhhh......"mine". over and over not even realizing hes doing it b/c his brain is so fogged out on the sheer delight of rawing benrey after having thought about it non-stop

(mumbling so quietly im speaking at a pitch below the human hearing threshold) benrey hoarsely saying "'m yours, 'm yours" while hes got one hand jammed underneath himself to tug at his dick is the thing that sets gordon off and makes him come, perhaps. perhaps

and gordon just.....slumps over him, leaning his full body weight on him, panting weakly into his ear while his hips subconsciously rut just a little bit, arms still wrapped around benrey but otherwise as useless as a bump on a log while benreys jerking himself off to the wild new feeling of having that knot stretch him open and tug at him every time gordon shifts his hips

gordon nuts and becomes utterly useless but at least his knots still fat as hell so benreys still got something to work with

(sobbing) i just want to see men acting like animals leave me olone..... its about the submission to instinct......the degradation and dehumanization......and also the scent kink its all about the fucking scent kink. its about wanting to huff a guy you pretend you hate like hes a fucking magic marker and its about wanting to make him smell like u

> for scent kink, Gordon's boners due to sweaty benrey hehehehe. this is narsty -> Benrey is like "yeesh that was a lot of exertion" after their first almost-sex wrasslin match, and gets embarassed, so next time he like, wears a bunch of old spice.... but gordon doesn't get as excited. like yeah he can feel him against his back and yeah he's not soft but.. he's not panting or as hard. benrey thinks real hard when he gets home

> CLEAN SWEAT OK ITS A COMBATIBILITY THING OK. IT IS. LOOK UP THE SCIENCE OK I ...walks away. clown shoez

YOU ARE SO FUCKING CORRECT THANK U

> Maybe next time He doesn't bother with the old spice at all, and he gets real into the wrasslin... hell maybe he even uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh gets gordon's head under his arm im just saying

I DIDNT WANNA BE THE ONE TO SAY IT BUT NO YEAH THATS COOL. ITS A VERY COOL THOUGHT

think about......dogboy gordon roughhousing and getting pinned down himself and snapping his teeth up at benrey like joking but not joking. you know

they both start just getting really into roughhousing b/c sometimes gordons brain gets Stressed The Fuck Out by all the added stimulation to the senses of being pupy......theres too many sounds and smells sometimes and it makes him even more neurotic and makes him start acting up and getting irritable and trying to start shit until he exerts himself enough to tire his brain out and make it shut up

maybe even like.....in the interim after black mesa but before he runs into benrey again, gordon becomes a fucking hot mess b/c he doesnt know how to deal with it all and the only way he got thru black mesa without his brainstem snapping in half was b/c he and benrey would start shit and start fighting and wrestling and the rest of the science team eventually shrugged and accepted this as a (very weird) part of their life now. he looks like hes one minor inconvenience away from a panic attack and its so sad

any kind of physical exercise would help (he takes up jogging when hes feeling stressed out, which is a lot, and hes gotten some really nice legs by this point) but theres just something different about the roughhousing. its a mental exercise as well as a physical one, so it exhausts his brain more, and unbeknownst to him, he just gets fucking endorphins from the way benrey smells and from being able to mark him with all the up-close physical contact theyre getting. so. hence the wrestling and roughhousing and gordons occasional tendency to just pounce the guy in public and start fighting him with his tail wagging and thumping like crazy

it might be even better if gordon attempts to roughhouse with just about the whole science crew at some point, just for a point of comparison

like.....its usually good, its satisfying, and it wears him out and lets him function like a human being......but theres just something about roughhousing with benrey thats really satisfying and he doesnt have the emotional intelligence to figure out what it is

gordon freeman is an idiot, is what im saying

> tommy indulges him and probably lets him win a few times, coomer soundly wins out every time and bubby probably...loses some before getting pissy LOL. i think that its fun for him to get the most Good Feelings out of roughhousing with benrey.....

AUUUUGHHH WHAT IF HE LICKED BENREYS FACE THO

g gbfbhhh god im obsessed with the way benrey laughs at him and asks "what the fuck is wrong with you?" in the act 3 commentary and thats the exact kind of vibe im feeling from him about like. everything gordon does in pupymode

> Okay, before I go to bed, I shall leave you with a Dog Thought™. Gordon probably wouldn’t be the “best trained” dog in the world because, well, he doesn’t have anyone to make him listen or obey. Heck, given his need to be in control, he probably thinks he’s the leader of the proverbial pack and nobody can tell him what to do. He’d probably slip and do quite a few “rude” and obnoxious dog things, including but not limited to being all over Benrey.

> Trying to goad him into roughhousing. Licking his face. Being in his space to the point that it even starts to make Benrey raise an eyebrow. Inappropriate marking and whatnot. [cough] And what if Benrey--in a weird reversal of the roles we usually give--is stuck with the task of… training Gordon… to behave…

> YOU KNOOOOW. Because pitting alpha dog Gordon against Benrey, who is trying to get him to be “good”...

> … Well, that could be interesting.

> Imagine if you will: Benrey realizing he needs to get Gordon under control. As much as he likes the attention, it's becoming too much. Relentless. Tables have been turned and now he's the one that's a little overwhelmed by the situation because, well, Gordon is running on pure instinct half the time. Making it hard to do things. Making it hard to live his life. Always in his bubble which was, like, fine at first but now he can't do anything without feeling a wet tongue on his face or having Gordon trying to goad him into rough housing.

> He needs so much attention. Has so much energy. It's too much.

> So, he decides he's going to try to "train" Gordon to not... do that. Benrey trying to assert dominance over Gordon, as if he were just a normal dog. Gordon, who has already marked Benrey and decided that Benrey belongs to him does not take to this very well. This is not how the chain of command works. This isn't how the chain of command works at all.

> Benrey, struggling to curb him through praise and admonitions--"good boy," "bad boy," tossing him ~treats~ if he does something right--is now facing off with Gordon, who is both enamored with the attention he's getting but utterly pissed off by the fact Benrey is trying to stop him from doing what he wants.

losing it at the tables being turned and now gordons the annoying fucker getting up in benreys business all the time and never leaving him alone. he deserves this

> They're basically both unmovable objects and unstoppable forces. Benrey is stubborn and isn't going to give up all his sweet PS3 time because Gordon won't stop humping his leg, and Gordon is not going to give up his God given right to make Benrey his property. But Benrey isn't completely averse to the idea of being Gordon's bitch. He just wants to be his bitch on his own terms.

> So, in a surprising show of... well, intelligence on Benrey's behalf, he starts redirecting Gordon's energy towards what HE wants Gordon to do.

> That's how you handle misbehaving dogs anyway. You redirect their energy. That's what all the books on dog training says anyway, and Benrey's inclined to believe it because he's read it in all two books on the subject he casually flipped through.

> So, when Gordon starts getting in his space, he starts redirecting him to touch where he wants touched. "Good boy." When Gordon starts getting a little rough, he purposefully positions himself so he gets the most out of it. "Good boy." When Gordon's licking his face, he starts trying to guide that tongue down to his neck. Feels better there. "Good boy."

> Because he's not a complete idiot. Him and Gordon both know this is sexually charged at this point. And Gordon... Gordon can bend his behaviors a little bit as he's being directed if he still gets to do what he wants (in a way), and Benrey still gets to be fondled by the nerd.

> "But part of the problem is that he is in Benrey's space all the time!" Yeah, but Benrey figured that out, too. You know what shuts up Gordon real fast? Pushing him back down on the other end of the couch and telling him to stay. And if he listens, he slowly, carefully hand feeds Gordon a treat as a reward. Pushing it into his mouth, making sure it goes all the way in. Letting Gordon lick the last bits of taste off of his fingers. He usually sits still after that. "Good boy."

i have a thought thats almost unrelated but im so desperate to give this scenario the proper context

thinking about......gordon getting out of black mesa and hes still dogboy.....and hes attempting to go back to life as normal now that benreys out of his hair for ever but one day his pupy nose catches That Fucking Smell on the air and he realizes that benreys not fucking dead. he thought benrey was fucking dead, b/c he killed him

gordon freeman losing his mind for a solid week or two trying to hunt that smell down (why?? to prove a point?? to try to kill benrey again??? uh huh.) and then when he does hunt benrey down, its like.....well, what was the plan, bud? you found him, and now youre having a staredown outside a 7/11 while benreys frozen halfway through his big gulp

i literally forgot what i was typing b/c dogy gordon tum y rub b gtfhgbb ggfabgbbg

and.....well......he doesnt know exactly what his game plan was, but he does know that benrey cant be trusted as far as u can throw him, and hes not about to let benrey wreak havoc on new mexico if he can help it, so now his new hobby is......tracking benrey across the city to keep an eye on him

and thats how they keep ending up in close proximity

and thats how u start looping in the whole role reversal thing.....suddenly gordons the one that benrey cant shake......hes a bloodhound and hes got the scent

SORRY im SORRY i crave context with the same ferocity that i crave, like, air

and then they start roughhousing when gordon tackles him to the ground one day to stop him from doing.....something......and gordon snaps being to being a normal person so quickly afterwards that its dizzying. turns out a solid 80% of what he really wanted was a sparring buddy

> good afternoon everyone this is not horny in the slightest but i just wanted to say- you know that thing dogs do where they get REALLY excited and playful when you come home from a long day at work? well i’m just thinking about. y’know how benrey has a tendency to just, vanish for a while and come back like nothing happened? think it’d be cute if he were gone for a particularly long stretch of time b4 catching up with the science team again and gordon RESPONDS in his typical annoyed, bratty fashion while his body language is saying something completely different (he still hasn’t mastered the art of puby)

> like, u know, tail wagging a hundred miles a minute, ears perked up and attentive, subconsciously getting all up in benrey’s space

Im going to Cry thats so fucking cute wtf wtf wt ff

still going insane thinking about the “good boy” thing......like...... its all fun and games until hes grappling his best friend benrey and hes got benrey in a headlock and hes plastered against benreys back from head to toe and his tails thumping excitedly against the floor and hes panting hot and harsh right against benreys ear and benrey takes that moment, right there, to choke out "good boy"

its half outright horny and half power play b/c benreys banking that either theyre gonna fuck or gordons gonna let go and be like "what the fuck, man" and then benrey can get the drop on him again

the way gordon just goes stiff after he says it.....breath getting shaky.....dick twitching once against benreys ass and the guy can fucking feel it clear as day......Augh

his tail slows.....and then fires right back up again when he tentatively rocks his hips against benreys ass and feels the sound benrey makes more than he hears it......and like for fucks sake theyve been dancing around how horny their roughhousing sessions are for weeks, this guy deserves to finally get his rocks off by dry humping benreys ass while benreys getting spots in his vision from how tightly gordons got his arm wrapped around his neck. he deserves this

gordons free hand slowly opening up and pressing flat against benreys shirt, then crawling under it so that he can feel the bare skin of his stomach......rocking his hips against the dip between benreys cheeks and whimpering when benrey says it again, breathless and hoarse. "good boy." his tongue poking out to lick a broad, wet stripe up the side of benreys neck to taste the salt and sweat and the hormones, jesus christ, hes never been able to taste if somebodys horny before but its rolling off of him in waves.......and gordons breath comes out so loud and harsh and desperate when benreys leg lifts up a little bit for him to slot his own between them more easily

just mumbling stupid horny shit like "fuck benrey, you taste so good" while his tongue lolls out of his mouth and he licks the curve of benreys ear and rolls benrey onto his stomach b/c something in the back of his brain is whispering to him that it would be a really, really good idea, and hes originally got benrey just crushed flat against the floor with his full body weight but benrey takes a rattling breath and tells him to ease up, get up offa him.....

and gordons confused at this point b/c he was pretty sure this was where this was going, he was being a good boy, but that thought doesnt last very long b/c benreys shuffling into position under him, raising his hips and pushing gordons up with him while his face and torso are flat against the floor, and, Oh. hes. hes doing that. this is what theyre fucking doing now

> gordon taking the collar of benrey’s shirt in his mouth in an crude imitation of scruffing him

every fucking bone in gordons body is telling him to move his hips, fuck benrey stupid, bury himself to the hilt, but he cant do that when theyre both still clothed so he does the next best thing and ruts against benrey like he fucking means it and like if he just tries hard enough, gets enough friction, itll be just like fucking him for real......

hes so dizzied by looping thoughts of he wants this, he wants you to mount him, like youre a filthy fucking animal, arent you? you sick fuck, you wanna mark him and breed him and hed let you, hed beg you for it, look, hes doing it right now and when he comes back down to earth, yeah, benrey is begging right now, isnt he. while hes palming at the front of his sweatpants and whimpering and calling gordon a good boy, attempting to tug his pants down to his knees so gordon can rut against bare flesh, and gordon slows down just enough to let him do it and to fumble open his own zipper to ease some of the agonizing pressure

gordon fumbling his dick out of his underwear to line it up between benreys fat cheeks and god, the feeling of skin against skin is so much fucking better than chafing against his jeans that it makes him growl against benreys neck and benrey cant pump his fucking dick fast enough. hes so encouraging, what with all those little sounds hes making and the way hes arching his back and pressing his hips up as high as theyll go, groaning into the crook of his arm "fuckin, fuck me, bro, j-just like that"

> thinking...... they both get so lost in it, they both can’t hold back long enough to fuck for real. this is too hot, benrey feels something hot and wet on his ass and gordon is curling into him. benrey’s never felt so simultaneous turned on and frustrated that he’s still empty, he’s still gonna have to wait, snd ironically that denial pushes him over too

GOD yes fuckin. coming on his ass b/c gordons so frantic and desperate that he cant wait...... but seeing his cum all over benreys ass is deeply satisfying in its own way. he smears it deep into benreys skin to mark him like that

> oh hey imma be nasty sorry but Gordon all cum-high just sort of manouvering Benrey until he can start licking his cock clean bc he likes to uh. i mean benrey's all wet and you know. he likes it. and benrey comes from that, before he can even think about sucking him off properly

> he doesnt have a thought left in his head at the moment... and can u blame him? so he just uh follows he nose....... and benrey's brain is deleted except for "GORDON FREEMAN ON MY DICK????????" bouncing around like a screensaver yes

> yeah he's not even trying to suck him off really, hes not gotten that far yet cuz hes so cumbrained, gone stupid, etc

im gonna be gross here too okay......and like. fucking. huffing and burying his nose into the crook of benreys thighs b/c he smells so intensely like sex and sweat and it makes gordon lightheaded

> YEAAH maybe he starts licking there before he gets up to his dick. it's not like he's dragging it out really so it's not long but benrey's gaping like a fish. he's trying to say something sorta but he can't get any words out and isn't even sure what he himself is trying to say

maybe he cant help himself and he just starts licking and biting on impulse b/c its your resident fuckin thigh guy here and i think benrey deserves to get em chomped like a drumstick

> and then that's gordon's tongue on his dick, bro and this neurotic mf looking so pleased and blissed out as he sloppily licks him all over is a sight he couldn't have even cooked up in his imagination before now

> benrey not coherently enough to warn him he’s like right there, his babbling incoherently at the tease of gordon’s nose and lips is gonna make him- and then his Tounge darts out and it’s over, the start of the end and he’s spurting all over gordon’s completely surprised face without even being jerked or licked through it

> maybe since gordon's been so stressed and keyed up for so long that benrey coming is a surprise but still doesn't shock him enough to clear the cumbrain, so he licks ben clean after that too, while he's twitching and whimpering etc

> think that benrey massive meat being useless and barely even touched is hip and rad even in the context of him technically being in the higher position of power

> then rests his head on beny's belly for a while, feeling very accomplished and tired. he'll panic later, don't worry

god im still thinking about. pillow humping/voyeurism

gordon freemans a bad fucking dog and sometimes he cant help himself and just starts rutting into a pillow with his ass up and his face buried in one of benreys undershirts while hes just panting and mumbling shit the whole time about benrey, benrey, benrey, why is he so fucking obsessed with benrey and with thinking about mounting him just like hes doing to his poor abused pillow every week

and. you know. maybe one day......benrey kind of.....catches him in the act. i think that would be cool. just coming home one day and cracking open his bedroom door and seeing gordon freeman on all fours, his teeth sunk deep into one pillow and another pillow between his thighs, desperately fucking it while hes groaning benreys name b/c he sure as shit was not expecting him back that early, which is why his cumbrain made him feel confident enough to crawl into benreys bed and roll around in it and mainline benreys scent from his clothes and nut on his pillow (and then feel fucking bad about it and frantically try to clean it off)

and benrey just slooowly steps back with his heart pounding out of his chest for possibly the first time in his whole life b/c he did not think gordon freeman ever wanted to fuck him, but here he is, using benreys pillow as an imitation of the real thing and jerking off in his bed

just turns right the fuck back around and goes into the bathroom and splashes some water on his face and stares down at his sudden boner

THANKS FOR READING ALL OF THIS B/C THIS ISNT EVEN GETTING INTO THE PISS STUFF THAT WEVE OBVIOUSLY BEEN THINKING ABOUT. SORRY FOR BEING LIKE THIS

#asky #writin stuff

90 notes · View notes

cosmicbash · 3 years

Note

no but like oh my god, imagine if kells only has sex with em bc that’s the only way he can think of repaying the rapper??? christ, like, he only thinks of em’s own pleasure instead of his own, using his body as an apology, bc that’s the only way he knows how (i mean there’s his music too, but he thinks em fucking hates his music) ((idk might write abt this, but i kinda want u to kickstart it uknow?))

Yess yess yess I love this.

It starts out as a misunderstanding, of course, because how else would their relationship begin?

A series of short tentative chats that somehow blossom into a full on dinner together, Colson sweating and more anxious than he's ever been in his life. It just doesn't seem real, that not only could he be mending this feud with his idol but also sitting across from him at some fancy restaurant table learning Eminem eats his steaks well done like some child. And laughing about it.

He's actually laughing. With his idol, his rival, his highschool crush. Long legs kicking out under the table at his own bad jokes, Em half smirking back at him. Their feet brushing one too many times for the color to leave his cheeks even after he's done giggling.

By the time Colson is talking Em into splitting some crazy good looking chocolate cake he actually feels better than he has in years. Since before the beef. So of course something has to go wrong. It really would have to be a dream for things not to sour.

He wants to pretend the first few flirty comments are in his head. That Em reaching across the table to roughly rub some chocolate off his cheek is a Detroit thing. But by the time they're finished eating and waiting for the check Colson's creeping suspicion has turned into full on alarm bells blaring. There's just no way to excuse the nervous looks or Em's almost hesitant invitation up to his hotel room.

It feels like a slap to the face. Everything suddenly makes sense. Why they're eating in the other rapper's hotel, why Em is even speaking to him. None of this is to repair their relationship or end the beef. It's all just some poorly hidden buttering up before Em asks him to get down on his knees.

Colson should blow up. He should just lash out and throw his fist into Em's face. Storm out and flag down the valet. He's not some escort that the rapper can rent for the night and feed a fancy dinner to.

But there's that guilty feeling that has settled into the pit of his stomach. The one that's been there since he first lashed out and ruined everything with his diss track, the comments about Hailey, his childish bitching in interviews. It's only doubled since they first sat down to eat. Every muffled chuckle and weakly hidden smile from the older man digging that pit deeper and deeper. Showing him what he carelessly threw away in some desperate grab for attention.

It's got a small voice in the back of Colson's head warning him how if he says no and storms out he's just doing the same thing all over again, cutting Em out of his life. This time possibly forever.

So Colson bites his tongue and nods. His fingers anxiously climbing up into his hair to help hide the guilty look he knows must be on his face when he stutters out a "y-yeah, yeah, sure."

The genuine smile Em flashes back at him at his agreement just feels like a knife being jammed next to the shovel.

How can the man look so fucking blissful about something that feels like borderline blackmail?

But Em does. He looks stunned, downright flustered even at first at his response. Then happy. A happy that isn't hidden by some fake cough or behind a delicate yet strong looking hand for once. It gives Colson something precious to hold onto in the sea of uncomfortable and nasty emotions twisting up his stomach while the older rapper pays.

The knot just twists itself up tighter once they're in the elevator, his silence thankfully brushed off as nervousness by Em. The almost shy glance of steely blue eyes his way making him feel so small while buttons are pressed. Usually Colson would blame this kind of nausea on the ride itself, but for once his phobia of the small metal deathtraps is actually being overpowered. A new fear worming its way through his guts as each floor number blinks to life.

He doesn't want to freak out. To run away, but hes too goddamn sober for this. Avoiding smoking and turning down the offer of wine at dinner just to try and impress his idol was threatening to be his downfall. If he'd known Em was going to show such little respect and consideration to his being like this he would have lit a fat one up right there at the table. Hell, maybe that would have changed the older man's mind about propositioning him in the first place. Surely a druggie asshole was less appealing to make drop to their knees instead of his current carefully put together primped and meek self.

"Only a few more floors. Don't go green on me just yet Kelly."

Colson didn't know whether to take the playful nudge as comforting or creepy. Maybe, a little flattering? If Em had actually looked into him enough to learn about his problem with elevators and the man just wasn't guessing off the apparent discolor of his face that is.

"Y-yeah."

Imagining Eminem of all people actually following his interviews or caring about his personal life that much felt like a pipe dream though.

Outside of the next 20 minutes or however long it took for the bastard to get his rocks off he highly doubted Em would put much thought into his existence at all. Which would be fair. After all the shit he's said and done he really doesn't deserve the time of day from his idol.

A ding and the elevator doors were opening. Colson's legs feeling numb beneath him when he finally lets go of the railing in the elevator to stumble forward. Thankful that Em's focus was on digging his room's keycard out of his wallet and not his clumsy steps. Each one bringing them closer and closer to their destination, making the whole situation so vividly real he couldn't help but panic again. The other man's forced small talk about how he "Doesn't usually book the penthouse suite-" falling on deaf ears.

It’s ironic, how often he had dreamed for this exact scenario. For Eminem to be leading him up to some fancy high end hotel room, promising to shower him fully in his attention and gaze. Only now, with his dream coming true right before his eyes he can’t help but feel bittersweet about the heated gaze holding him frozen just outside the door. Em’s final offer for him to back down before they both step through the threshold clear as day in the look.

The twist in his gut tells Colson to take it, to just spin around on his heel and run away with his tail tucked between his legs. Accept he’s too much of a coward and too full of himself to actually mend their beef.

But the desperate need he feels for forgiveness and absolvement pushes Colson forward instead. Sheer will alone giving him the confidence to twirl his idols hoodie strings around his fingers to drag Em inside with him. The loud beat of his heart completely smothering the other man’s flustered outburst.

Just like in church the blonde finds himself on his knees not too long after entering. Mouth open and hands clasped together, ready to ask for forgiveness. Except this god he’s praying to is running it’s fingers through his hair, and there’s a stiff cock separating his palms. A chorus of curses and “Holy fuck, K-Kelly just wait a second, shit, your tongue is-“ tickling his ears instead of hymns.

He’s never sucked a cock before, and it’s embarrassing how quickly he finds himself choking. But Colson doesn’t give up, even when his jaw starts to ache and the grip on his hair grows a bit too tight. His discomfort doesn’t matter here. He just needs to make Em happy, earn the forgiveness he doesn’t deserve.

“Can I- fuck, can I fuck your face?” Both of the older rapper’s palms are holding his bangs away from his face, tilting his head back just enough to force their eyes to meet. The shame in his chest doubles but so does the surprising tightness in his jeans when he sees the uncharacteristic flush to Em’s cheeks.

He isn’t experienced, the smart thing to do would be pull off and admit that. He’s seen first hand how disastrous things can go but his head bobs in a yes anyway. Eyes already starting to water from how the action jabs the other rappers cock right against his gag reflex.

A low groan is all the warning he gets before Em’s fingers are knotting in his hair, forcing his head down to meet the thrust of strong hips. Stuffing that hard dick down his throat so fast it burns and his hands can’t help but flail, helplessly grabbing onto the meat of the older rapper’s thighs through his sweats. Unable to even steal another gasp of air before it happens again. Em’s hips pistoning forward to fuck his mouth like some cheap replaceable toy.

Even after he gags and gurgles spit the rapper doesn’t stop.

The harsh pants of praise and encouragement burning his ears just as hotly as the tears in his eyes. “Ah, so good. So fucking good baby, the best, ah-“

Colson doesn’t know what’s worse, how quickly his heart skips at the surprise tern of endearment or how pathetically his cock jerks in his underwear. Not that he has much time to think on it with how Em abruptly forces his face right down to the bone, soft and scratchy pubes tickling his nose. Startling him before the other man’s blowing his load, Colson’s eyes widening and nails cutting deeply into Em’s legs while he chokes. There’s too much, even with his throat reflexively swallowing it still fills up his mouth and bursts out the sides. Dripping down his chin and out onto his shirt when Em finally pulls him off.

It’s salty, and thick. Nothing like the eggnog Rook’s joked to him it tastes like. There’s nothing sweet about this thick cream, even if the lightheaded feeling he’s got from milking it out still makes him feel drunk.

“Shit. I wanna take a picture.“ Em’s palm is tilting his head back again, dragging his glassy eyes up away from the twitching spit slick cock in front of him. Thumb forcing his tongue down flat to flash what he can only imagine has to be a white mess before the hand in his hair is fumbling out a phone. “Can I?”

He almost wants to laugh at how the brunette doesn’t even wait for his answer before there is the unmistakable flash of a phone light temporarily blinding him. A curse and then another two, these ones at least allowing him the chance to shut his eyes tightly.

The shame within him is boiling, burning through his veins like lava and making his heart drop down into his stomach.

“So pretty-“ Em’s fingers are releasing his tongue and jaw to rake through his bangs yet again. Exposing his face even though Colson wants nothing more than to hide. A stifled sob tearing at his aching throat while he swallows what he can inside his mouth without completely gagging.

He can’t cry. That would ruin the mood wouldn't it? And if it doesn't, Colson doesn't know how he would handle having Em laugh at his tears. The almost soft demeanor and shy quality to his tone is all thats keeping the blonde from running away as it is.

The shuffle of shoes and curl of strong fingers pulling him up startles Colson's eyes back open. Lashes fluttering to blink away the brief flash of wetness that's blurred his vision before he realizes he's being kissed. That Em's palms are cupping his jaw yet again, helping him to his feet.

It's scratchy, and softer than he expects. Not that he was expecting Eminem to be kissing him in the first place, but the man doesn't relent. Just keeps kissing him, even after he's grown to his full height and the angle of their heads has switched. Em's tongue snaking its way inside his mouth while they stumble back further into the room. Until Colson's head is feeling fuzzy and his knees weak, the cushioned crash of his body hitting a mattress barely felt.

It feels wrong when Em's hands smooth up over his chest and down inside his jeans. The uncontrollable kick of his hips up into a tight hand around his cock almost blasphemous. There's no reason for Em to even be bothering with touching him there, he doesn't deserve it. But the rapper is sucking and nibbling along his neck, up into his ear to whisper a dozen filthy praises and compliments. None of them possibly true.

"So pretty-" "Perfect-" "Wanted to touch you for so long-"

"Stop-" Colson's hands feel shaky as they drag his idols face back up to meet his in a messy kiss. Breath tight while he tries to speak between pecks. "Just- fuck, just hurry-"

When he winds up on his stomach some point into the night, Em's too big cock pressing hard against his entrance he can't help but cry out. The pitiful fist he shoves between his own teeth doing nothing to stifle the sound.

It hurts, more than the thin fingers he'd taken only moments prior. But not as much as the soothing shushes and affectionate run of hands through his hair.

----

(Okay so this has set in my docs wayyyy too long now and you said you just wanted it maybe even as a kickstart so 🤲🤲 here is my humble offering)

#emgk #asks #i love asks #just making myself sad #thinking about an em who genuinely is crushing on kells and wants to be with him #but kells only sleeps with him because he assumes the poor guy is expecting it #and as such just misconstrues every soft gesture #and ruins the chance they could have had at starting things write and it being enjoyable for both

36 notes · View notes

owillofthewisps · 4 years

Text

portraits hung in empty halls - part one

notes: fun fact i am about ten times more nervous about writing jaskier than i am about geralt, idk why! also daylights saving time is a farce and a personal attack on me, a humble woman trying to not have a destroyed sleep schedule.

rating: still teen, somehow!

pairing: geralt of rivia/female reader

word count: 3.5k

prologue

there is an odd little portrait tucked away in an alcove. at night, the canvas lies empty. most never notice it.

the Witcher does.

The sun sets, and you rise.

The silk sheet that shrouds you slips to the floor. In the dim glow of the candlelight, it glimmers like snow in the moonlight, the creamy white of it cooled to prismatic ice. You leave it puddled on the stained wood floor. You pad barefoot to the washbasin, adjusting to the lively hum of the inn, to the jolt of noise after so long without. It is never an easy transition.

The cool water trickles down your neck as you splash your face, the droplets rolling over your bare skin like an early spring rain, collecting in the dip of your navel before spilling onward. You turn to the tiny nook that shelves your clothing, your stiff joints moaning as they stretch and pop.

Rose, you think, spotting the verdant sprig of fresh mint placed carefully on the small stool. The bundle you’d pulled a leaf from yesterday had been wilting at the edges, the leaves curling in under themselves, like shy children covering their faces. You’ll have to make her something. Embroider her favorite gown, maybe, weave delicate little morning glories around the bells of her sleeves so they sway with her, as if she’s the dawn wind.

The mint tears under your teeth. It burns cold, searing away the heavy, oily coating that lays rotting on your tongue. You chew slowly, rolling the leaf through your mouth as you unfold your chemise and drape it across the stool.

Unwinding the thin golden chain looped messily around your neck and shoulders takes time. You tease at it, slip your fingers beneath the delicate, tangled thread of it. It is the daintiest tether you have ever seen, a golden, gossamer little thing, a strand of a spider’s web lit by the sun. You dump it onto the thin wood stand the washbin rests on.

Your earrings clink as you set them down next to the chain. It’s a relief to have them off, to let your lobes rest from the sharp pull of their hefty weight.

The homespun wool of your skirts rustles against the floorboards as you dress. You sweep the discarded jewelry into your palm; you dump it onto the silk sheet, watch as the gold sinks into the folds of the fabric.

You leave it all on the floor.

A few travelers tip their heads to you as you sweep down the inn’s halls. You sail past the small alcove that had so entranced Geralt last night, stepping carefully away from the shadowed niche.

Johan is waiting for you at the archway to the tavern. You’ve never thought of him as large, with his wiry frame, thin but strong, like a bowstring pulled tight, but he fills the archway. There’s still a faint hint of rot to him, something acidic tinting his strong, handsome features. You slow your pace, come to a halt before him, just shy of nose to nose, your skirts frothing over his feet like a wave breaking on the sand. The scowl knitting his brow deepens.

“If your intent is anything other than apology, save your breath.”

The flush flares into life. It spills crimson across his skin like wine, spreading wide. “Apologize?” Johan snarls. “When you’re the one who defended that mutant?”

“Did I not just say to save your breath?”

His hand flexes. You watch as his fingers curl into a fist, the knuckles gone bone white, and wait. There’s fear cut sharp into his visage, barely blanketed by the veil of anger on the surface.

“If you’ve nothing to say,” you tell him, “please move.”

That fist of his tightens again, his knuckles a ridge of mountains. The tendons in his jaw cord. “The Witcher cannot stay.”

“He paid his coin, just like the rest.”

Johan’s jaw works. “Stubborn bitch.”

“Careful,” you say, and there is crackling frost in your tone, winter come early. “I won’t tell you to save your breath again.”

He considers you, those green eyes burning incandescent, all sparking St. Elmo’s fire. Johan has often reminded you of a dog with a bone, setting his teeth into the marrow of his irritant and worrying it until he breaks it.

“Move,” you say, pleasantly enough, but with that ice still threaded through your voice. “Malinka’s expecting me.”

Johan lingers in the door frame for a moment more, a shadow of a threat, but he steps aside. You brush by him without a care; if you clip him with an elbow, well, he should have moved further. He’ll just add it to the list of wrongs you’ve done him, you think, and gods know that’s the least of your concerns.

The sounds of the tavern sweep over you. The clank of tankards, that thick hollow thud of wood against wood; the spitting crackle of the fire; chatter punctuated by uproarious laughter, rising to fill the rafters. It is a balm against you. Noise has long been something to steady yourself on.

You scan the room as you enter, and do not glimpse the Witcher’s broad shoulders. Nor do you see a hint of the bard. Your shoulders loosen, the tension melting out of them like winter yielding to spring. Malinka is behind the bar, her ebony curls flowing like a wild river to her shoulders, gleaming in the candlelight. She presses a quick kiss to your cheek as you join her. Worried, you think. She is not alone in that.

“Ale!” Wren calls from the end of the bar.

“Coin!” you retort, sashaying over to him and leaning against the pitted wood counter. You pull a tankard from nearby, wincing as you flex your stiff fingers. They always take the longest to grow limber once more.

“Fair enough,” he laughs.

“Truly, Wren,” Annika says as she slides past with a tray of empty tankards. “Your mother would faint to hear your lack of manners. Tell me, how do the village girls stand your voice?”

“Yes, Wren, you’re lucky you’re charming when your mouth is closed,” you add.

“Beautiful and cruel, the both of you!”

You reach across the bar and pat his cheek. “Just a little,” you say with a laugh.

Annika snorts, passing you a tray. You nestle it into the crook of your hip and get to work.

The tavern only grows more lively, the gleam of light spilling from the doors cracking the darkness outside open. You whirl about, dipping around tipsy patrons, carrying plates of food high to drop them at tables.

It’s one of the busier nights, considering tomorrow is traditionally a day of rest, and you revel in the tumult, in the show of overflowing life. It keeps you light on your feet, moving until there’s sweat gleaming at the hollow of your throat. You dodge Elias’s hands with a laugh as you make your way back to the bar.

“So,” Annika says. “A Witcher, then?” Her slim hands move like water, smooth and flowing, pouring tankard after tankard between slicing off fat hunks of brown bread, still wisping steam even in the heated air of the tavern.

You sigh and duck beneath the bar to pull a few sausages from the small larder. “Yes,” you say. “Don’t you start.”

“There’s little for me to say.”

“And yet you so often say things anyway.”

She laughs. “True,” she says. “I’ve no quarrel with the Witcher, so long as he keeps his sword sheathed."

If Rose were here, that would not leave untouched - ‘which one,’ she’d say, her grin impish, her voice dropping into something sultry - but she is not, and you think you should try to keep thoughts like that from your head. At least until Geralt is gone, when there’s no danger to considering the thickness of his thighs and the knife of his golden gaze.

“I doubt he’s the one you should worry about,” you say, thinking of the way many men’s eyes had followed Geralt last night, malicious and hungry.

“Probably not.”

Someone calls to Annika from down the bar; she shoves the knife into your hand and gestures towards a loaf. You drop the sausages onto a nearby plate and start to slice the bread.

“I looked for you earlier. I didn’t think it would be so hard to locate such a pretty woman in the crowd.”

You glance up. The bard is smiling at you, his blue, blue eyes catching the light. You cast your gaze to the side, but Geralt is nowhere to be seen. Your grip on the knife’s handle loosens.

“I work nights,” you tell him, and if your smile is a little brittle, he doesn’t seem to notice. “Makes it hard to find me early. What can I get you?”

“Your name?”

“It’s a bit out of your price range, I think.”

He gasps, one hand flying to his chest. “Will you not take pity on a poor bard? How am I meant to write a song praising this inn and its lovely innkeeper?”

You arch a brow. “Why would you need my name for that, bard?”

He blinks. “Jaskier,” he tells you, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s given you his name. “And because you are the innkeeper?”

“I’m not.”

“Are you certain?”

You stifle a laugh. “Quite,” you say, but then you take pity on him and give him your name. “Why did you think I was the innkeeper?”

“Ah,” Jaskier says. “You were...forceful, last night, not that Geralt was particularly forthcoming about it. Also the serving girl said you were.”

Betony, you think, following Jaskier’s long, nimble fingers as he gestures towards the far side of the tavern. Betony glances up just then, and from the cheeky grin she flashes, she’s unrepentant. It’s harmless enough, nothing worth even getting irritated over, so you blow her a kiss.

“I’m not,” you repeat. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’m not sure you could disappoint, love,” Jaskier says.

You fumble with your knife, the tip of it sinking into the wooden board beneath the sausage with a hollow thunk.

My love, Dymitr murmurs, his lips brushing against the curving shell of your ear.

“Isn’t that what you called me this morning?” Rose chirps. She swings over the bar in a flurry of crimson skirts and wraps an arm around your waist. She still carries the chill of the night air on her skin. She presses herself against you, lets you use her as an anchor against the wave pulling you under. “Aren’t bards meant to be inventive?”

Jaskier gapes.

“Be nice, Rose,” you say.

“Rose?” Jaskier says, “Funny, I took her for a bramble.”

Rose snorts. “Be careful not to be caught on thorns, bard,” she says. She tugs at her shawl, lets it flow from her shoulders to the crook of her elbows like a waterfall. It catches against you. “You were looking for the innkeeper? What is it you want from me?”

You sink your elbow into her side. Her curse is blistering; down the counter, Wren cackles at her creativity.

“She’s not the innkeeper,” you tell Jaskier, who is looking somewhere between distraught and combative. “Rose, will you please get more bread?”

She laughs, the sound like woodfire smoke, billowing out in slow, low tones. “I suppose,” she says. Rose dips away from you, giving your waist one last squeeze, and heads towards Wren.

“Gods, do all women here worship a trickster god?” Jaskier asks. “If not, you should consider it. I imagine most would excel.”

“Probably.”

“Is there a test I have to pass to get the innkeeper’s name? If it’s a physical one, can I have a champion? Geralt would do nicely at that.”

You pull the knife free of the board and set it to the side. Someone calls for ale; you sigh and pour a tankard of it. “You can play,” you tell Jaskier. “We’ll give you coin at the end of the night in addition to any earnings you may get from the crowd. That’s why you were looking for the innkeeper, yes?”

Jaskier sets his hands on his hips, his long fingers drumming against the fine material of his clothes. “Do you just use some title other than innkeeper to confuse people?”

“Malinka’s the innkeeper,” you say, nodding towards her. She’s laughing at a nearby table, men drawn in a knot around her, an unknowing queen speaking to her court.

“Right,” Jaskier says. “You just make all the decisions.”

“She listens to me, yes, when she chooses to do so,” you tell him. I raised her, taught her as much as I could as best I could, and she tends to honor that, you don’t say, trapping the words behind the gate of your teeth. It would only bring questions.

He chews at his bottom lip, bites the flesh pinker still.

“You’ll be paid,” you say. “No tricks, not about that. For last night, too.”

You wonder if other inns see the value in Jaskier, not just in his talent, but in his ability to reassure. There’s little doubt in your mind that his music has soothed many a ruffled feather that Geralt’s presence has caused. From the tongue on him, though, you think he’s also caused his fair share of trouble, too.

“You are a treasure despite your company of treacherous women.”

“Go play, bard, before I change my mind.”

Rose reappears as Jaskier heads towards where the fiddlers usually sit, his lute cradled against his stomach. He’s already plucking at it, discordant notes being corralled into something musical, something pretty.

“Do you think they’ll stay long?” you ask.

She lifts a shoulder in a lazily elegant shrug. “Hard to say,” she says. “I’ve had rocks speak to me more than the Witcher did.”

“Rose.”

“I know,” she tells you, cupping your cheek. Her palm is warm and callused against your skin. “It will be fine. No sense in worrying unless it’s needed.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“It’s not,” she says sharply, all thorn instead of her usual soft petals. “Do not make the mistake of thinking that I do not have fear.”

Jaskier starts to play. The music blooms to life, unfolds delicate and sweet. It seems an odd choice for the rowdy tavern, but the melody is a haunting one, one that slips beneath your skin and hooks deep.

Rose pats your cheek. “Don’t fret,” she says, an echo of last night. “Go help Betony, she’s such a distracted little thing.”

You snort, but there’s more than a measure of truth to it, so you wipe your hands free of breadcrumbs and pick up a nearby tray. Betony is half on Delythe’s lap. She’s plucking at Delythe’s thick braid, coiling it around her wrist and giggling. For her part, Del seems tolerant, the grin on her lips fondly indulgent.

“Betony,” you say.

“You’re no fun,” she says, but she gets to her feet, tugging on Delythe’s braid and pressing a kiss against her cheek. Her lip paint leaves a mark the color of a bruise, deep plum. The two of you gather empty tankards and plates, stacking them high on the tray. With Jaskier playing, everyone seems to fall into a rhythm. You duck between patrons with delicate precision. Each step is practically a dance, Betony matching you as the two of you dash around.

You can feel the night lengthening, can sense the moon tracing a path across the velvet sky. The moon always seems brighter as winter creeps forward. As if the coming snow reflects the light the moon sheds, makes it a disc of shining ice.

Elias catches you in a dance or two between servings; Wren pulls you along for a quick jig when you duck into the back room for supplies. Malinka sweeps you off your feet as well, laughing as she leads you before she twirls you into Betony’s arms. Jaskier’s music rises and falls, a piper’s call to the crowd’s mood. You let it envelop you.

Geralt appears as it grows late enough to perhaps be called early. Patrons are starting to stagger home, though there are a few gatherings tightly knit around tables, still nursing their tankards. Even with fewer present, there are still murmurs that follow the Witcher, little whispers that haunt his steps like an angry wraith. It makes your chest tighten. How quickly people turn on what they don’t understand. On what they don’t even try to understand.

He seems unbothered by it. You think again of stone, of the jutting mountain peaks, for Geralt’s face could be that of a statue’s. He has the jawline for it. Mostly, though, he has the smoothed expression of a marble bust, one just shy of human, as if the artist couldn’t quite settle on mood, caught between emotion and emptiness. It feels a false face. A shield, a barricade for humanity’s siege against his very presence to break upon.

You should leave, let one of the others serve him. You know that. Betony retired home earlier, but Malinka is just in the store room. Rose is not far, either. You should call for them. You know that. But Geralt finds you behind the bar, his amber eyes like firelight, and you stay.

The tankard clanks against the wood as you set it down in front of him. “Would you like something to eat?”

“If there’s something available.”

“I wouldn’t offer something I am unable to give.”

He pauses, the tankard halfway to his mouth, and you cannot look away from his parted lips. Your hands twist in the wool of your skirts, draw the fabric tight against your fingers. “Yes, then,” he says. His eyes flicker, and you think that is not what he wanted to say, that he has swallowed something down.

The plate is a simple one. Geralt seems a man who consumes only to continue, who does not yearn for flavor on his tongue. You keep it to a thick slice of brown bread and some salted meat. You wipe down some tankards as he eats, caught between the compulsion to stay and the whispering nerves that beg you to flee.

“What brings you here?”

Geralt pauses again, those golden eyes lifting to you. You feel heat rise in your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you say. “It’s habit to chat with patrons.”

He grunts.

You bite at your lip and scrub harder at the tankard, twisting the old cleaning cloth around your fingers until it is cutting into your flesh, until it almost hurts.

“There’s a village to the north,” Geralt says. “It has rumors of a beast, and they have coin. This inn is the closest. The village is small.”

“And by that,” Jaskier says, sliding onto the stool next to his friend and gesturing wildly, “he means it is a hovel of a town, more a collection of houses than a village.”

“I see.”

“Luckily,” Jaskier says, leaning forward until you think he will overbalance, “that means we have found ourselves here. It is a charming inn, innkeeper-who-is-not.”

“It’s just an inn.”

“An inn with good ale and food, and most importantly, appreciative crowds.”

“It’s just an inn,” you repeat, but from the way Jaskier’s smile lights up, he can hear the laughter hiding just beneath your tongue.

Jaskier starts weaving a tale for you, his hands fluttering about as he speaks, his voice falling into a cantering cadence that lulls you into the story. Geralt eats in silence, grunting here and there as Jaskier tries to reel him into the story. The bard elbows him once, lightly, and the withering look Geralt gives him could rust a sword.

It is not long after Geralt finishes eating that the two men rise. It is truly late now, the time when nocturnal creatures begin to slink back to their burrows, the time when the starlight goes cold and strange.

“Good night,” you tell them.

Jaskier chirps something back to you, but his words are washed away by the weight of Geralt’s gaze on you. It peels at the layers of you, cuts through to the bone, until all of you is laid bare before him. Your fingers tremble.

They tremble still when you trace their path to the hallway, pulled after them like a pebble caught spinning in the tide. You catch yourself before you follow them further. From your place just beyond the door, you hear Jaskier heave a sigh.

“Geralt,” the bard says, and you’ve never heard a tone that sounds like someone putting their hands on their hips in reprimand before, “will you hurry up? The painting will be there when it’s not a time when even the gods are asleep.”

The bite of your fingernails startles you. They cut into your flesh, tiny sickle moons against the map of your palm, constellations amid the lined sky of your hand. There are footsteps, then, receding down the hall. They ring in your ears long after the men are gone.

Rose finds you sitting near the hearth, your knees tucked up against your chest.

“I’m frightened,” you tell her.

She kneels at your side, a priestess at your altar, her face turned up to you like a flower to the sun.

“I know,” she says.

She waits for sunrise with you, lets you gaze into the fire’s light in silence.

You feel it when daybreak approaches. You close your eyes and surrender to the dark, to the velvet night that lives behind your eyelids. It feels easier like this. Gods, you miss the sun.

The sun rises, and you set.

taglist: @fairytale07 @stretchkingblog97 @nonamejustshame @1950schick @sageandberries-png @peachy-aisha @msgeorgiarae @alwayshave-faith @bumblingandblooming

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher x reader #geralt imagine #the witcher imagine #the witcher fic #story: portraits hung in empty halls

249 notes · View notes

abloomingperiod · 4 years

Text

baekhyun as a bf

it wasn’t supposed to be this big tbh

you can tell by the fucker’s face, he is annoying af

k seriously tho

even though byun is all smiles and pranks he definitely seems like a serious person on the personal side

constantly asking himself if it’s the right thing to do putting u in such a historically brutal position such as dating an idol

you having to reassure him way too often that it was your decision to make, not his

“sweetie i’m here because i want to stop going off” “cool but like are you su-” “dude i swEAR TO GOD”

it’s not something he likes thinking it just happens okay he’s worried b patient to the babee

since his last relationship didn’t end up very well, he would probably take mONTHS to actually claim you as his girlfriend

seriously tho i fume just thinking about that time

it happened on a friday night when he was playing on the pc, chanyeol was calling and babyboi was like “srry cant talk rn exchanging breaths with my girl”

you were scrunching your nose for a sec but them you realized what he said and were like !!!!

him enjoying the fact his words got you so flustered and playing it cool like chill out dude as if you didn’t know we were dating by now

????????? in fact ou were so surprised bcs u didn’t even know the boys knew abt ur existence

“like... they KNOW??????”

“of cOURSE they know junmyeon would kick my ass if i didn’t explain to him why i missed our dinner last night”

you guys are so comfortable with the fact your relationship ain’t official you decided at the same night thisbis how you prefered to stay like

he’s not okay with going public after what happened in the past and you agree and support his desire to keep it private

i could write a whole essay dissing saesangs

that doesn’t mean he won’t hang out with you

after all, you’ve been friends for ages now

and the boys know abt u

chanyeol keeps biting byun’s butt but you’re okay with that

was there any other option? ofc not

talking about ass

he’s one

honestly such a tease

always finding a way to make u flustered

“babe look at me” “what” “i love you” “god i love you too” “and your ass looks amazing today” “leave me alone”

always slaps your butt

doesn’t matter the context

sexual or not

he loves him some butt

lol dates

like literally you sit there and spend the night playing and eating together

every lol date is a different dish ordered

since you gotta keep it low profile

might as well do it right

he’s an observer

constantly stops what he’s doing to admire you

sometimes you’re like watching a movie or idk brushing ur teeth

he stands there in the door frame all dumbfounded burning loveholes into your skull

you’re like ...stop it

he’s like . no

he’s so emotional i’m not even exaggerating

keeps joking around when he’s around people and everybody seems to think he’s a dork who just can’t stop talking nonsense

(which he is)

but when you guys are alone

oh boy

he’s so sensible

literally writes on post-its and places it around your apartment before he leaves for practice on mornings

not all of them are cute tho

once your friend was like “hey y/n idcwho’s dicking you down but i think the person got the feels”

you completely forgot to take off the “your taste already left my mouth. dinner tonight at 8 and i’ll be eating twice” post-it

he literally put it in your refrigerator’s door

you legit wanted to die

but then on other days it’s like

“i promised, throughout my whole life, this heart belongs to you.”

honestly so intense

when you guys argue it’s like a conquest to see who can act more like a spoiled kid

but basically go off with your frustrations and then one of u ends up cooling off in the shower

later either you or him get in there too asking if the other is feeling better

tbh not that often do u guys fight

most of the times is like

“okay,,, this is unnecessary” “yeah screw it”

but sometimes it gets really heated

and you’re both frustrated

straightforward speaking, you guys have sex

very

rough

sex

he’s a switch k let’s be real

loves making you beg

loves begging for you

not the type to degrade or hurt you or anything

like he’s a light dom

and by that i mean he will pound in you rough and slow until you’re begging him to let you cum but keeps kissing your flushed cheeks and tightly intertwining your hands as he lovingly whispers “you fucking love those type of fights don’t you”

loves LOVES being blindfolded

lowkey a freak but moderately

absolutely loves it when he ties you up and makes you say exactly what you want

will always stuck two or three fingers in so you have a hard time speaking

as i was saying, the absolute worst

“baekhyun... please-“ “fucking say it” “please... baby... fuck me” “hard nut”

is shamelessly vocal

groans

whimpers

desperate moans

aftercare baekhyun is a look

his hair all disheveled, dazed eyes and flushed lips

yk that look from the city lights photoshoot with his glossy skin and damp hair

yeah

he loves you so much and seeing you all blissed out after sex makes him, curiously, very very soft

everything you guys said during the argument is quickly forgotten as you exchange a few sorry’s and deep kisses in between

loves feeling your skin against his as he embraces your shoulders hugging you to his chest

you leave pecks on the scratchings your nails did on his skin and he just lays there all fucked out and smiles like 💕💞💓💘💘💖💗💞💓💗💕💝💘💖💕💞💓💗💗💞💖💘💞💘💖

and he’s horny again

it’s not like he’s a teenager he just absolutely loves being this intimate to you

and then you have a bath together bcs sticky

loves making coffee like at 6am to you so he can wake you up and have breakfast together

the type to wake you in this worst way possible

he rips the sheets off of you

regardless of how cold it is at that hour

and jumps over

“wake up egg”

as you guys head to the kitchen he sits you on his lap and feeds you :(

his arms around your waist and keeps leaving tiny pecks on your cheeks as he rests his cheek on your back and heavily sighs

“ya your breath stinks”

“you stink dummy”

sings ballads out of the blue

you’re like reading or smth

and he’s like

appado gWAENCHANHA

“shut it or i’ll rip off your chords with my bare hands”

“i dare you”

you actually made out after you chased him around the couch

so annoyingly dense

like you were taking your clothes off

his lips on your neck

and then he’s like

“btw my mother wants to meet you”

you literally froze

bra slipping off your shoulders

“????? you mother kNOWS?????”

“ofc she knows she’s my mother wtf”

“!!!!!!!!!BAEKHYUN”

doesn’t understand the concept of Time And Place

once you were on the bathtub massaging his feet after hours of practice and he was like yo ever thought about kids

i ran out of reactions so basically you cursed at him for five minutes

he was like 🥺🥺 just saying srry

it took you more five to explain to him it wasn’t that you hated kids you just thought it was something to talk about on another time

five years another time

maybe ten

he was like k we can have a dog

and now you have a dog together along with mongryong

a cutie called jinx

don’t ask

fucking nerd

you were like

she’s new so treat her as kindly as mongryong

baekhyun is a pain in the ass but in a matter of hours he was like

i bought the same clothes for them

you rolled your eyes but silently got the heart eyes bcs cute

loves watching you dressing yourself

especially for your low profile dates

“hm no too hard to take off”

“...a monochromatic two piece with a zipper in the skirt?”

“my point exactly”

tbh he Is kinda horny

but that’s bcs he’s mad for you

loves it when you style his hair

“baekhyun can’t you stand still for like two minutes” “oh sorry”

you’re standing there, focused on the task

30 secs on it and his hands are already caressing your tummy

you’re like stop i’m bUSY

he’s like no one’s stopping you

but keeps tickling you

idk he really treasures those tiny little details in the moments you spend together

everything is important to him

doesn’t mean he’s like insanely needy of your attention

no you’re two individuals who have their own lives and schedules

he keeps it cool but yeah he’s bananas for you

sorry his words

everything is so domestic with him

and so good

he’s been through a lot throughout the years and this relationship is the calmness he needed

and he’s the fun and lightness you needed after spending so much time trying and acting like a “grownup”

baekhyun brings back the teenager in you

but in a good way

you complete each other so well sigh

cuz you’re like all responsible and shit

he loves the juxtaposition

so do you

idk it feels right

you love like teenagers but live like adults

also his words

#maybe im biased #byun baekhyun scenario #baekhyun imagine #exo imagines #baekhyun drabble #baekhyun exo

143 notes · View notes

is-that-another-soulmate-au · 4 years

Text

@mypureessence

Korrasami/wuko/oc insert soulmate au part idk at this point

"No, no, Tahn, here" Lee shifted his stance so it was closer inward "take a breath and imagine your fire not as a flame but as boiling water coursing through your veins" she then reached her hand to his face "now close your eyes and imagine it"

Tahn nodded and did as she told him, taking a deep breath before shifting his stance and punching out a blue flame just as he opened his eyes, his face turned from doubt to unfiltered glee as he punched out two more blue flames. Turning to Lee who was smiling ear to ear "I did it"

"Im so proud of you" she said only to be caught in a tight hug. Which was broken apart once Tahn realized his mistake and clearwd his throat.

"Sorry, captain"

"It is not a problem, you deserved a little hug for that. Now, everyone else, do just as Tahn did just then" she had been demonstrating fire basics for a good week and a half now and Tahn was the first to accomplish lighting a blue flame, but by the end of that week every single firebender in that room was capable of bending blue fire and blocking small explosions.

Lin was incredibly proud of her and went to say as much by asking her to join her for dinner that evening. But Lee's smile and excitement to say yes faded into a look of fear with an attempted mask of irritation "Im flattered, and I understand we're soulmates but we should really focus on work right now. I'm sorry."

Lin stuttered for a couple seconds, honestly shocked at the response "I figured you'd be excited to go out to eat as a celebration, it doesn't have to be a date"

Lee sighed "but you'd look at it as one"

"No, no I wouldn't, its just... two colleagues who happen to be soulmates going out to eat as a celebration for reaching a goal" Lin offered a hand "what do you say?"

Lee looked at her hand and then at Lin and let out a sigh "Lin, I appreciate the offer, but I have to decline. I'm sorry, maybe another time"

They managed to tiptoe around eachother until the day that Amon announced his demand for the probending tournament to be canceled. That day Lee marched into the council hall with Lin who interrupted the gavel drop Tarrlok was about to do.

"And what exactly does little mousey have to do with this?" Tarrlok mused

Lee smirked "firstly three tails, its Foxy, and this is what I have to do with it," she nodded to Lin and then Korra who both nodded back.

She tossed up a remote controlled bomb and Lin pulled out the remote for it, catching the council members off guard just as Lee jumped up onto Korra's palm, then Lin's shoulder and finally off Korra's head to light a blue flame as the small explosions started. She quickly engulfed the explosion with her own blue flame and slammed it onto the ground as she came back to the floor with a bang.

Lifting up the hand that deflected the explosion she crumbled a small box into ashes and stood, dusting off her jacket "With Lin's metal benders and my bomb squad, the arena will be perfectly safe."

That is certainly what they thought. The night of the championship came and Lee was about to do rounds on her floor with Tahn but was stopped by Lin grabbing her arm. "Lee, I know you've got this, but please... if anything happens to you and you can't get out, kick, flail, scream do anything you can to get the attention of my metal bendersz Tahn or myself"

Lee gave her a smile and a nod "alright, you got it chief" and with that they had separated and Lee went with Tahn to their floor.

She was expecting a quiet walk but Tahn had other plans "say, Captain Fox, I noticed you and Chief Beifong are soulmates" Tahn leaned forward while he was walking and gave her a look.

She flushed and cleared her throat at the mention of the obvious "you didn't notice, I announced it the first day of training with you lot"

"Right right, but I did notice that you've been avoiding being affectionate towards her, and I also spotted a gold speck in your other eye when I hugged you that one day"

Lee froze in place, she forgot that others could see it if they got close enough "that-"

"Was from a soulmate passed? I know, I have one too, and I was in a similar situation with you and the chief, only, He didnt back down and made me open up about why I was avoiding giving him love." Tahn reached out a hand "I know you care about her and you know she cares about you, she's never been gentle with any one as she is with you."

Lee sighed and looked up at him "I dont want to ask how they died for you, but do you mind me telling you?"

"Of course" and with that response she took his hand and then linked arms instead as they continued to walk

"The bar I worked at is owned by a father and son, and they pulled me and him off the street when we had nowhere to go. Things were okay, I already sang as a comfort and they taught me how to properly sing while teaching him tap dance. He was a nonbender and thats why is parents put him up for adoption like my parents did for me." She paused "thats how we met in the first place"

"At the orphanage?"

"Yeah, before it blew up with only him and I surviving on the slim chance that I managed to develop blue fire on a survival instinct." She took a breath "anyways, while we worked at the bar I earned the title white fox and him the title of black fox, for obvious reasons, there were and still are alot of people there that had a strong distaste for either me or him." Turning to Tahn she frowned "and there were many attempts on our lives, they assumed he was a firebender and I a nonbender and often times went for him first but we normally had body guards and what not."

"Except for one night" she looked at her feet "one night after we both turned 19 they let us have a night without a body guard to fool around. When we finished we went to sleep. I dont know all of what happened because its kind of blury, but all I remember was waking up to him covered in blood and attacking and killing the woman who hurt him." She released his arm to wrap herself in a self hug sort of move.

"I can still smell it" she whispered

"Smell what?" She shook his head to the question "I cant talk about it anymore, Im sorry"

"No no, youre okay, Im glad you managed to talk about that much, but you'll trigger a ptsd attack if you keep up, hey, would a hug be alright? You look like you need one"

She did need one, so she nodded and was wrapped in a tight hug, that somehow was just what she needed to relax. She smiled "thank you Tahn" he pulled back and gave her shoulder a pat.

"Anytime, I dont have a big elaborate story on how my soulmate passed, she was hit by a car and died in the hospital with me there holding her hand" he gave a sad smile "Im sorry about what happened to you Captain, but just know I'm always here to talk, and so is Lin."

And thats when it clicked in Lee's head. She was running from accepting the fact that she found Lin in an effort to never love her and lose her, but in that effort she was already failing. She already loved her and she could lose her either way. She nodded "I'll keep that in mind"

They managed to get to their separation point and Lee nodded to Tahn "stay safe and remember to keep an ear, eye, and nose open at all times"

"Yes captain" he nodded back and they went their separate ways

Walking down the hall she could still hear the championship going down and she smiled knowing Lin was there with Tenzin and she was safe. However when she passed a set of doors she felt a zing of electricity hit her fingertips and she turned quickly to open the doors and took an attack stance.

"Well well!" A man said while standing up from the small box he had in his hands "guess a little mouse found me, I wonder how you managed to, I was so quiet, and only firebenders can sense that electric shock I used just now" hs smirked but only his mouth was visible, so she couldn't read the rest of his expression. She just narrowed her eyes and coughed out a small bit of blue fire while not breaking her glare at him

"Ah! So youre not a little mouse" he chuckled "a little fox then, oh what a trickster you benders are" she lunged at him but he just dodged and spun around and out of the room "have fun blowing up dear, I have somewhere else to be" and with that he ran off.

She spun around when she heard a click and managed to deflect the explosion from the box he was by in time but it sent her back into a large filing cabinet the started to tip. "Shit" she yelped and went to run from it but it still fell and pinned her by her left leg. She screamed when it fell and a loud crack could be heard. Her eyes welled up with tears and she tried to get out but it was useless, she was pinned and her leg wasn't going to budge. "Lin! Tahn! Korra! Someone! Help!" She cried out, but it was a fruitless cry. There were very audible explosions happening elsewhere and they were preoccupied.

She turned to look at her pinned leg and quickly turned away from the sight, there was a good amount of blood pooling around and she bit her lip. She had to cauterize the wound soon or she'd bleed out before anyone had the chance to find her. "Okay Lee. You got this" she moved her hand down and took a breatj "this is gonna hurt" was all she whispered out before lighting a bright blue flame on her leg for a good ten seconds before extinguishing it and resting her head on her other arm. "Hury Lin"

By the time the whole Amon performance went down and everyone was safe and evacuated from the building Lin found Tahn helping a young lady calm down. "Tahn, where's Lee?"

Tahn looked up from the girl confused "what do you mean? I heard the explosions start and thought she had already joined you guys, wait-"

their eyes went wide "She's still in there" they said in unison and hurried towards the building

"Korra! Come with me! Lee might need a healer" Lin shouted as they reached the building. She lifted her leg and slammed it back down to locate her, once she did they were off, running up stairs and down a hall. Where they heard sobbing. "Lee!" Lin shouted as she slammed the doors open.

"L-Lin?" Lee's strained voice came from the floor.

When Lin's eyes finally settled on Lee they grew wider than before and she gasped "Lee!?"

Lee gave a half hearted chuckle "you found me" immediately after the words left her mouth Lee collapsed and blacked out to Lin, Korra and Tahn shouting her name.

She was set up with healers for a good two days before she woke up, the entire time Lin either stayed by her side or had Bolin watch her if she was busy, and Tahn took over the bomb squad as temporary captain. The morning before she woke up Tahn came to check on Lin and her.

"Chief?" Tahn called quietly, managing to get her attention enough that she turned to look at him "may I come in?" She nodded and he entered the room with a bowl of soup in his hands "here. You need to eat.. I also wanted to tell you something"

He sat down and set the bowl on the small table beside Lin "what is it?" She asked in a grumpy but attempted gentle voice.

"There's a reason she had walls up for you" Tahn said softly while looking at the sleeping Lee "Im sure you've seen that speck of gold in her eyes"

"Yes, I have"

"And you've seen my blue right?" With a nod as a response he continued "you both were meant to have another soulmate, she had met them and lost them. Just like I had known another soulmate but lost them. I lost mine to a car accident, but she... she had them killed right beside her while she slept."

"I- why didn't she just tell me?" Lin narrowed her eyes at Tahn "and why would she tell you?"

"Because I asked and I managed to put two and two together and show a connection with knowing" he sighed "Im not saying this to act like I know more about her, Im saying this so you understand why she's hesitant to let herself fall in love with you. Just, be patient with her, she'll come around"

Lee stirred in the bed and made a small whine "bright" she whispered

"Lee?" Lin whispered

"Lin?" Lee slowly opened her eyes to look at Lin and Tahn "I can't.. I can't feel my leg" she looked down "Oh my gods! Where's my leg!?" She sat up quick and held her head when it started to pound

"Woah now, easy there Captain, you were aleep for two days, let me get you some food and water"

"Tahn? What... what happened to my leg?"

"It was crushed under a filing cabinet and the healers couldnt save it" he frowned "Im sorry. I'll be right back with some food and water"

"Just get her water, I'll share the soup" Tahn nodded at Lin and headed out to get the water while Lin pushed some pillows behind Lee so she could sit comfortably.

"Lin... I.." Lee stared at her hands, trying to form her words "I'm sorry"

"Your apology is accepted, though Im not sure what you're apologizing for"

"For.. avoiding you as a soulmate? I don't.. I dont want to tell another person the whole thing, but I just... we had another and he.. he was" she held her chest while she tried to breathe

"Hey, hey, its okay, Tahn told me, you don't have to retell it. But Im glad you felt safe to try. And don't worry, I'll be patient with y-"

"Can you kiss me?" Lee blurted out

Lin blinked a couple times and stammered for a moment before managing out a "are you sure?"

"More sure than I've ever been, I know youre not too touchy feely and what not, but just once can y-!!" She didn't manage to rant much more because she was silenced by a pair of lips against her own.

Lin held her cheek when she pulled back and grinned. "You talk too much" and sealed the distance once more.

#tlok oc #tlok spoilers #tlok #tlok korra #tlok lin #tlok bolin #i will die on my endless soulmate au hill #soulmate alternate universe #soulmates #soulmate #RayMakesSoulmates

8 notes · View notes

starkerisendgame · 5 years

Note

so I just learned TODAY that RDJ was trained in classical ballet, and we all know Tom was too, so what about a rom howney au where rob is a principal dancer and tom is a freshly promoted coryphee (member of the corps de ballet that gets a solo because they're particularly talented) and he gets to work with rob and he's starstruck because rob is a LEGEND and rob thinks he's so adorable skskjjdjhfjk sorry i just really love ballerina!aus

Alright! After fucken weeks of research and delving into more ballet porn than I’d ever presumed to watch, I finally managed to fulfil this. Once again, two parter. Because you all keep requesting detailed prompts and I fucking love it and have no self control.

Also; Robert is a principle dancer/premier ballerino but also largely a teaching figure. I don’t know, I’m just so attracted to the fact that Robert is undoubtedly a role model/leader figure to everyone he meets and I couldn’t resist the fact that such a status is basically an open invite into D/s porn.

I’m so used to Starker there may be the odd slip up between names. Idk, slap me. Or not, I’ll enjoy it.

[P.2][Promo + Moodboards]

Robert had first heard of Tom Holland when he was gorging himself on wine and glazed fruits, laughing with his colleagues and friends about some reminisced story of humour. Their table was one of high honour, central to the floor and surrounded by others of similar status, and the words reached his ears from a table of prima ballerina’s to their left, voices flush with wine and loud to his senses.

“Did you see the boy, Aly? So cute! He is so small, but he moves like the water already. I am glad for my age and to be female; he will be stealing the stage soon enough”.

“You’re just soft, Lola. He’s ten; we will be old and reduced to back-dancers and teachers by the time anything comes of him. If anything comes of him. Our world is more cut-throat than even a butcher house”.

It intrigued him, but only in the general way that life and its instances did. Talk of young dancers was aplenty and everyone believed their little cousin or their younger sibling had the promise of a premier ballerino. By the time he donned his coat and staggered for his awaiting car, still flushed with laughter and clinging to Chris, the name was forgotten.

But it had risen like a ghost several times after, in the coming years. Like Robert himself the boy was a prodigy, talented and charismatic in a way that set him apart in a world so full of prospects. Your dancing meant nothing if you did it with the blank face of a corpse.

Robert had never seen the boy dance personally, but somewhere after his twenty-fifth birthday, when the boy was fifteen and blooming into a reputation, Chris shoved a phone under his nose and demanded he watched the footage.It was crisp, taken on a professional camera and was of a brightly lit studio, the reflection of the tripod and its monitoring figure noticeable in the mirrored walls.

Tom Holland danced in a way not unlike what people described of Robert. Fluid, passionate, emotive, perfect. It was enough to make Robert focus, to watch the elegant way the boy moved from wall to wall, feeling as well as hearing the music. And then it ended, and Robert’s life continued with nothing more than a modicum of respect for the boy chiselled into place.

Until now.

Robert had worked every day since the age of two to carve this place for himself in his chosen world. He had given broken bones, sleepless nights and every shred of his dedication to this career. It had rewarded him in kind; premier ballerino roles in every offer since the age of twenty and even a teaching role at the American School of Ballet; a prestigious and reputable educational dance facility where none other than his own friend now sat on the Board.

It was how the situation - and Tom’s name - had arisen. Robert could deny Chris nothing and only arched a brow when he heard about Chris’ plans for his latest performance. Robert was fresh back from Rome and a week-long performance of The Snow Prince and despite the desperate call for rest, was eager to learn of his next routine.

“The Love Born of Summer? You soppy fuck” Robert remarked, scanning the title of the file that Chris slid across the table to him. He sat back, arching a brow at his friend, who looked abashed. Good. Chris was a terrible romantic, for all his crappy history with lovers. Performances like Giselle and the god-awful Nutcracker were Chris’ favourites.

Robert did quite fine with romantic performances. Ballet was not an individual art, and the close proximity and the intimacy that came with dancing was easy to Robert. It was part of why he was so good at what he did. The fact that most of Chris’ troupe were attractive was simply an easy bonus.

Robert considered it as he stroked at the trimmed lines of his stubble, gaze sliding from Chris to the many art pieces that lined the walls of the office space. The Love Born of Summer was a largely romantic piece; based loosely on several other classics. As per standard, two star-crossed lovers endure a perilous and heartfelt journey into a romantic end.

“The routine isn’t all that different to the first time you performed it. I’ve worked out a few hitches here and there, and I’ve made it more…Dramatic. Intimate. Y’know, since you’re so fond of dancing like you’re fucking” Chris sighed, as though the words pained him despite their amused lilt. Robert could not argue his own statement. After all, what was ballet if not a sensual thing?

And what was romance, if not a sexual thing? At least for him.

“And pray tell, darling. Who am I dance-fucking this time, hm? Is it you and your biceps? I have so missed them around my thighs” Robert purred, eliciting a delightful blush that started at Chris’ ears and dipped all the way beneath the alarmingly low V of his shirt. Chris and Robert didn’t dance together half as often as they used to, with their new responsibilities, but Chris was undoubtedly one of Robert’s favourite dance partners.

Robert oft missed their time together, and here and there a brief touch of longing for their previous intimacy would linger. But Chris’ husband Sebastian was downright delightful and whilst they had their chemistry together, Robert knew that himself and Chris were better suited to a platonic love, couple-y though they might act.

Robert was a lavish lover and he ate life like a sweet dessert, forever roaming in search of new tastes and new experiences. Insatiable, no matter how ‘full’ he felt of his memories. ‘You live life like a dying man’ Chris had once told him, laying naked together in bed in Paris, the rush of their evening performance now a low ember in their veins.

“Actually…And this is the part I expected the real argument to happen…I’m bringing in someone new” Chris breathed out, tentative and braced. Robert’s brow hitched higher in alarm. Chris was a creature of comfort and familiarity. New was not something he delighted in. It was part of why they worked better as friends.

“Pending, of course, your approval. He is my primary choice, but I do have a second prospect. My first pick, however…He’s good. Good enough that he just got accepted as a full time student here. He comes with recommendations from Paris and Greece. Young, but…He reminds me of you”. The last part was said almost wistfully, and Robert was overcome with the urge to flick him between the eyes and say I’m not dead yet, you moron.

“My. Your face is shoved so far into this new one’s ass I almost forgot you prefer to bottom” Robert sighed, rising gracefully to his feet and aiming for the coffee maker. He could feel the heat of Chris’ blush from across the room. During their time together they had shared the positions, neither too strict on preference. With Sebastian, however, Chris was exclusively the bottom. Robert had asked about it once, seated on their couch with Jeremy snug between his thighs and half-snoring, the group drunk on dark red and bourbon.

Sebastian had simply smiled slyly and lounged back, thighs falling apart to reveal the sizeable bulge at his pelvis. Robert had mocked and coaxed and eventually Sebastian had stood, striding over and unbuckling his belt to push Robert’s cheek to the firm flesh there, howling with laughter at his sputtering. Chris had been the same colour as the wine by the time his boyfriend had returned to his seat, and Sebastian had forever been nicknamed Pony in honour of the beast between his legs.

“Spit out the name, then” Robert coaxed, before Chris could lecture him on biding his tongue. It was wasted breath anyway; Robert’s silver tongue and sense of humour was practically the baseline of his entire personality.

“Tom Holland” Chris replied, voice distant as he opened the file and begun to pour over it, already back to business. It was why Chris was on the Board and Robert was merely an honorary teacher. Robert nearly poured the coffee over his hand and not into his cup at the name, frowning as he turned.

“Isn’t he like…Fifteen?” He questioned, head tilting as he lifted the hot liquid to his lips with a soft sound of approval. He liked his coffee as black as his sins, with just enough sugar to chase away the bitter taste. Chris looked up, appearing perplexed.

“He’s eighteen. He’s ten years your minor” Chris pointed out, and Robert wrinkled his nose. He was no stranger to working with children; some as young as aged six. But such a young partner for a romantic piece? It settled oddly on his bones and he cocked his head further. His youngest partner for a romantic piece had been twenty-three, a snarky Russian girl who danced like it was a fight to the death.

“He’s young” Chris agreed, leaning back and crossing his arms thoughtfully. “But hes good, Tony. When I said he reminds me of you…This boy went to Greece at fourteen with the Troupe de Ballet. He’s toured America at sixteen. I’ve seen him dance in person. It’s…An art. Truly. I know he’s young, but his style…He’s made for it. And you two? Together? It would be iconic. An undeniably beautiful act”.

Chris had that look in his eye, as though he were seeing the answer to life. It quelled any argument that Robert might have had, little though it was. Chris was so passionate about his work, about ballet. And when he set his respects to a certain person; Robert was all but helpless to agree. And so he did, sipping his coffee and looking thoughtful for a moment.

“I will watch him dance. If I feel like we will work…We will work” he agreed, lifting his coffee up and to safety when Chris rushed him for a hug, tight and loving. The force of it lifted Robert to his toes and he wrapped an arm low at Chris’ waist for balance, thumb stroking the corded muscle that lay over his hip.

“The things I do for you” he sighed, as though put upon, but his smile was too broad too be contained.

Tom Holland arrived the following Monday, the hallways of the school alive with vibrant speculation and chatter about the new-comer. ‘He’s prettier than any girl’ he heard one boy say, striding down the hallway with a friend. ‘I’ve heard that he’s going to be world-famous soon, and that he’s almost as good as Sir Robert’ squealed a girl, lacing her pumps so tight that his own ankle twinged in sympathy.

Robert had elected not to research the boy, in order to have a fresh opinion. He vaguely recalled the odd snippets he had seen. From what he remembered the boy was rather small, but lithe. Dark hair. Brown, perhaps. Or a dirty blonde? He remembered elegance and passion in his movements, but no specific details.

He had commanded that the boy perform in room A:13, a very specific location, for it was conjoined to a secret viewing room. Robert had converted it himself, utilising an old storeroom and its neighbouring closet to create a double-mirrored set up that allowed for secret observation. Robert liked to watch how people moved when they were unaware they were being watched.

Chris had admitted the boy had no idea that he was doing a performance yet, or that he was working with Robert. Potentially, Robert had reminded him. He had slipped inside the hidden room whilst Chris had gone to fetch the kid, and was scrolling mindlessly through his phone when he heard the door snick open, the echoing footfalls in the studio.

He looked up.

The boy was slender, somewhere between tall and short. It was hard to tell, really, when his only comparison was how he looked besides Chris, who towered above almost every man. Lithe and with a practised grace. He stepped lightly, twirling this way and that as he looked around the room. Robert tried not to look, really, but it was impossible to miss the slender calves, the supple thighs. The ass that curved out, lavish and thick, like a girls’.

And his face. Even from afar, Robert could see the beauty. The smooth cheeks and the browbone. The line of his jaw and the milkiness of his skin, all topped with a thick, generous mop of neatly brushed curls. The boy was talking to Chris, too quiet to hear, but pleasant, by the look on Chris’ face. After a short conversation, Chris stepped away, back through the doors, and the boy was alone.

Chris entered besides Robert as the boy sunk to the floor, liquid in his fluidity. He begun to stretch his legs, and Robert was loathe to turn his gaze away. “I told him to practise alone, first. That I would come back for him in fifteen minutes”. Wise, Robert had to admit. Without prompting, many students left alone would merely pick a perch and play games on their phones. Tom, however….

Tom folded himself in a perfect half, cheek resting on the floor, toes in a pointe. He must’ve done some stretching beforehand, because the flexibility was flawless, easy. It was all Robert could do to turn back, to nod approvingly at Chris. “He seems dedicated” he remarked, leaning against the wall-hold as he watched.

“I’d dare say as much as you” Chris sent back, and Robert gave a wry smile. You got nowhere without dedication, in this profession. Nowhere without blood, sweat and tears. Robert himself had cracked bones and torn skin to show for his skill. He looked back to Tom, who was stood now, using a handrail to balance on one set of toes, the other leg stretched in a perfect vertical to his side. Robert almost lost his breath.

The boy stretched for ten of the fifteen minutes, moving around the studio as easy as breathing, as fluid as water. He was frighteningly flexible, and agile to boot. They watched in silence for the most part, bar the odd murmur of approval from Chris. And then the boy shifted, shedding the tiny, zip-up hoodie that he’d been wearing. It revealed a pale, pink bodysuit, the light grey, tiny shorts that stretched for dear life over..

Robert cleared his throat, and watched as the boy pulled a phone from the hoodie, scrolling quickly. It turned out not be a break, however, but a search for music. The piece was some classical rendition of a pop song, though Robert couldn’t place it. The boy re-set it, and the music paused for a time, long enough for Tom to take position in the middle of the room.

Bowed, of sorts. One leg stretched out behind, arms extended to the side, body arched elegantly, head ducked. He paused there, breathing, taut. And then the music begun and Tom let himself unfold like a spring flower. It amazed Robert, how easily the boy captured attention and compliment. The world was stuffed full of dancers. The list of ballet names endless and overflowing. To stand out was near impossible. These days it relied on where you performed and whom you knew. What strings you could pull.

And yet.

Tom moved as they his body belonged to the music, floating through the room like sound. Robert found himself enthralled, lost as Tom danced. Closer, in snaking patterns. The closer he got, the prettier he became, Robert realised with a sinking lament. Far away beauty became undeniable, clearer. Wide eyes and thick lashes that framed them like kohl. A slender body, lithe with sleek muscle.

Closer, he danced. Spinning in pirouettes and transitioning to graceful tour en l'airs, spine straight and landing with impeccable balance. The boy’s slow, seductive extension into an arabesque left Robert gripping for purchase, hand closing around a riding crop nearby. They were common use in ballet, like spirit meters to a builder.

Chris cast him a sidelong glance, but remained silent.

Closer, closer. The boy sped up as he danced, in time to the crescendo of the music, whipping from position to position, movement to movement. Robert realised belatedly that the boy was heading straight for them, a series of spins and extensions bringing him to them.

The boy twisted gracefully, hitting the railing with perfectly timed momentum grasping the bar with both hands. It brought him face to face with the double sided mirror and the boy paused there, panting for breath with wide, curious eyes. As the boy heaved for air he slowly, slowly tipped his head, staring unknowingly into Robert’s eyes.

Then a trembling hand reached up, slow and cautious, fingertips dancing briefly against the glass, as though touching Robert’s face from the other side. And then he was gone, back to the middle of the room.

Robert tipped his head, watching the boy fall to rest, and thwacked the crop against his calf, nodding once. “I will take him” he announced, turning away from the mirrored wall. Chris hastened to slide past him, striding ahead of him through the corridor to the studio entrance, where he pushed through. The boy was standing, stretching out a leg slowly in a perfect, 180 penché.

“I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, Tom. I just had to-” Chris’ voice was cut off by Tom’s startled gasp. Robert could see his eyes were brown, now. Light and like honey. He was devastatingly pretty up close and in person, eyes blown wide and his mouth open, dark pink lips in a pretty, perfect circle.

The boy pitched forwards, balance shot and arms flailing. Robert, already halfway through the door, beat Chris to lunging forwards. He fell to his knees, sliding across the polished floor and wrapping his arms around Tom’s torso as the boy came down. He was vaguely aware that this was some sort of Dirty Dancing shit, but arms closing around a slender, trim waist, he couldn’t care.

The boys palms hit the floor and he went lax in Robert’s grip, head tipping back to look up at him in astonishment. ‘Pretty’ Robert could only think, gazing back at him. He let the boy go slowly, allowing him to slide off his thigh and onto the cool floor. Above them Chris stood gaping, clearly unsure of where to continue.

“You’re - Oh my god. Why are you - You’re Robert Downey Jr” the boy mewled, looking equally delighted and distressed. Robert arched a brow, slow and sarcastic as he shifted, elegantly switching his legs to the side. He became vaguely aware of Chris joining them in sitting on the floor, and spared a moment to be amused by the scenario.

“If we’re going to be working together, you should pay heed to your balance. I’m too old for dramatic Swayze style slides, these days” he quipped, and took pleasure in the way the boy fumbled again, seemingly at a loss for words. He was used to the odd starstruck fan, the whispers and the excitement of the younger dancers. The awe. But this? Losing in ability to simply move in his presence?

“Working…?” The boy wheezed, moving from hands and knees to sit cross-legged before him, fingers wringing nervously in his lap. It was then that Chris got his swing back, casting Robert an accusing glance, as though rendering the boy useless was his motive.

“I…May have no been entirely honest, when I invited you here” Chris admitted, and Robert delighted in a scandalised gasp, feigning horror. Tom gave a brilliant, dazzling grin, glancing at him in delight before looking back at Chris, curiously. “You are here to perform, I didn’t lie about that. But you will be performing a duet. With Robert”.

Tom looked like he might pass out.

“With…But he’s…And I’m just…”

“Extremely talented” Robert cut in, leaning back on his palms. “And I would be honoured to work alongside you”.

Tom’s breath hitched loudly, and for a brief moment Robert was concerned that he had actually swallowed his tongue. But then he wheezed out a breath and Robert relaxed a fraction, lifting a brow. He was used to the minor freak outs of his colleagues. The panic of working alongside an idol, but.

“Keep going, kiddo. You’re doing wonders for my ego” he purred, and watched how the milky, pale skin went a violent shade of pink. Frankly, the kid was a sin personified. Chris had to know this was a bad idea. Robert had no filter and no shame. He had to know this kid ticked all of his boxes.

Or…Perhaps he did, and this was some kind of cruel and unusual punishment for all the stress. Or perhaps this was the promised revenge for that time Robert was convinced that peppermint would make blowjobs more interesting.

“I don’t understand” the boy whispered after a moment, chewing at his lower lip as he looked between them. Robert wanted to draw him in, to smooth the furrow set between his brows. Chris merely offered one of those soft, open smiles.

“I’d like you and Robert to be the two premier ballerinos of my performance at The Royal House of Dance. If you accept, you will star alongside Robert in The Love Born of Summer. You as Peter and Robert as Tony” he explained softly. Tom blew out a deep exhale, eyes still wide. He looked at Robert for a long moment, gaze thoughtful.

“I…I mean, of course. Yes. I accept” the boy rushed out after a moment, leaning forwards in his excitement. Chris beamed, clapping his hands in delight and reaching out to slap Robert on the shoulder. He had his star duet. His beautiful act.

“Amazing! Right! Well, I have some paperwork that I need to sort out, and I need to confirm your names for the venue and the marketing department, so. I’ll let you two sit for a bit. Have a chat, ask questions, that sort of thing. I’d say we’ll be ready to begin practise say…Friday?” He asked, looking between them as he pushed himself to his feet. For all his height, he unfurled with the same poise as any other dancer.

It was Monday today, which gave them three days to settle. Three days for Tom to get antiquated with the school and with Robert. And for the vice versa, though Robert knew his night would likely be taken up with a generous helping of bourbon and his fist.

Tom bid the man a soft goodbye, still all shy smiles and scrunched up in delight. Robert wanted to squeeze him, but he settled for pushing to his feet, suggesting that they talk whilst they stretch out. He expected the boy to protest, to say he was already warned up. He didn’t.

“Yes, Mr. Downey” the boy murmured obligingly, and shifted to his feet, copying Robert in beginning with a simple set of leg extensions. Loathe as he was to admit it, the words sent a tingle down his spine, and he folded over slowly, touching his palms to the floor in the hopes of hiding his reaction.

“Why do you speak funny?” He asked after a moment, and he could see from the corner of his eye the way the boy startled, looking across at him owlishly.

“…Funny?” The boy repeated in confusion, folding over to match the pose.

“Yeah, like, this kind of funny” Robert replied, mimicking the lilt of his voice, the dip in pronunciation, his nose scrunching. Tom giggled across from him, cheeks blaring pink once more.

“That’s…My voice. I’m not American” Tom responded, his voice pitching into a perfect, northern accent, not unlike Robert’s. The older man snorted in amusement as he straightened, and begun to stretch his arms. He resolutely did not face Tom, but the mirror-lined walls made it hard not to see him at all.

“So you can speak a full sentence” he remarked, and delighted in the way the boy curled in on himself shyly, gaze dropping to the floor. God. Adorable.

They talked as they stretched, snippets of conversation and getting to know each other. Tom, as it turned out, was a huge fan of Robert, had been since he was a boy, and he even apologised when Robert quipped about feeling old. He was insufferably sweet.

Chris came back somewhere after an hour, clutching a thin stack of papers in one hand, and a tray of coffee in the other. There was the usual paperwork for now enrolments, and the usual for performances. Safety papers, payment agreements and the like. Robert signed them all with practised ease and an artful flick of his wrist.

Tom read over each sheet carefully, the tip of a tiny, pink tongue caught between his teeth. Chris patiently explained each one, and the process took another hour. By which time Robert was suitably dying of boredom, entertaining himself by prodding Chris now and then.

“Okay. I think I’ve fried your brain enough for today, Tom. You can go ahead and call it quits. I can get this paperwork filed tonight, and you can show up at any time over the next three days. Have a walk around, chat to people, that sort of thing. We’ll begin the real work on Friday, when I’ll introduce you to the performance and my ideas”.

Chris left them from there, parting ways with a firm handshake for Tom and a familiar, tight hug for Robert, leaving the two alone as Tom dipped to one knee, scooping up his hoodie and his phone. Robert lingered for a moment, shuffling where he stood. Tom looked surprised to see him, when he stood, shrugging carefully into his hoodie.

“I’ll be here tomorrow around noon, for practise. If you want a familiar face” Robert offered, extending his hand. Tom looked surprised once more, eyeing his hand carefully before reaching out. In contrast to his, Tom’s hand was tiny. Long, slender fingers, unmarred by callouses. Tom was rather petite in general, Robert noted. Erring more on just under ‘tall’. But he was no more fragile, muscles coiling under his smooth skin.

He had a firm grip, too, and he avoided Robert’s gaze as they shook hands. Robert found it rather endearing, and he left the boy there, spinning on his heel to march steadily out to the parking lot. He needed a drink. And some lube.

Tom found him on the Tuesday. Or rather, Tom did a neat face-plant into his chest, on the Tuesday. Robert had been striding the hallway, heading for his usual studio space when a barrage of red and blue had come from the corner. Robert ha just enough time to lift his phone out of the way, allowing his sternum to take the brunt.

“Oh my Go- Aw, no. Mr. Downey! I’m so sorry!”.

Ah.

“A curious method of greeting people. A British custom, is it?” Robert teased, tucking his phone away as Tom took a step backwards, rubbing at his jaw. The boy huffed a laugh, delicate and high, and Robert took a moment to observe him. He wore royal blue shorts, lined with a bright red. A matching, cropped gym shirt stretched over his chest, though no skin was bared, thanks to the high waist of the shorts.

Tom accompanied him to the studio, tucking up in a corner with his phone and observing as Robert begun to stretch. They talked idly, easily. Tom asked questions about Robert’s career and his ballet past, and in return answered whatever Robert could throw at him, from his preference in herbal teas to his favourite move.

Robert caught the boy staring several times, with a poorly concealed hunger. It was not the same feral expression of lust as most, but a quiet thing. Deep and glittering in those whiskey eyes. Robert was shameless to admit that he stretched for longer than he normally would, folding and bending in exaggerated ways. The boy tracked each movement. It was flattering. Exciting.

“And you’ve no qualms about a romantic performance with a man?” He asked as he dove forwards into a slow handstand. He went into a pointe position and bent one leg steeply, holding his weight. Tom was no less attractive from odd angles, he found.

“I…Should hope not? I mean, it would be rather hypocritical of me, as a gay man, to object to a homosexual romantic performance” Tom pointed out. It was only Robert’s elbows that saved his face from an unfortunate meeting with the floor, and it was his turn to eye the boy in astonishment.

“A valid point” he replied easily, and moved along to question the boy’s preference in music. He couldn’t deny the way his mind whispered, though. Dark and dirty things that he tried hard to ignore, putting extra effort into pushing his body. Contrary to the things his mind brought forwards, he was not a predator. Nor a creep. The boy being gay meant nothing.

Tease though he would, Robert was a man of respect and dignity. He stopped at any sign of discomfort, and his hands never strayed from safe bounds. Close friends excluded, of course. With those and their tolerance of his personality, drink nights oft suffered wandering hands and crude remarks. From all sides.

Tom didn’t ask if it bothered him. He had no need. Robert had been proudly out as a pansexual man since his early days of performing, and had never bothered to hide or diminish his sexuality. He had a preference for men, though his lavish appetite was not limited. He had several remarkable relationships with women in his past, and his love extended to all.

Tom wandered away before Robert begun to dance, reluctantly admitting that he ought to find Chris. He lingered in the doorway, though, half-twisted to watching longingly as Robert settled into his beginning position. Robert met his gaze in the mirror and winked wolfishly, his chuckles drowned by his music as Tom went a fierce shade of red and practically leapt from the room.

Sebastian came strolling in, some three hours later. He carried a takeout bag of food, and a large bottle of water. “There was an honest to God twink in Chris’ office” he announced as he entered, and Robert’s laughter made his landing wonky.

The bag contained a generous helping of beef salad, with a low-fat muffin as dessert, and Robert ate as he listened to Sebastian rave about the tiny, pretty little thing he’d found curled up in Steve’s office chair.

“No boy has any business being that adorable” Sebastian pointed out, and Robert agreed around a hearty mouthful of baked good. They lamented it at some length, comparing poetic on Tom’s eyes and voice and ass before Robert decided practise had been done enough today, and so had gossip.

“Can you even dance with a boner? Is that possible?” Sebastian asked loudly, as they headed for the door, swinging it open to reveal a rather embarrassed and stunned looking Tom on the other side, one hand extended for the door. Robert made no effort to hold back his howl of laughter as Sebastian’s shoulders slumped.

#Rom Howney #RH Ballet AU #Fan fic #Rom Howney Fic #Rom Howney AU #Rom Howney Fanfic #Starker #IronSpider #Robert Downey Jr/Tom Holland #Tom Holland/Robert Downey Jr #Tom Holland/RDJ #RDJ/Tom Holland #Rom Howney Ballet AU #Rom Howney Prompt

295 notes · View notes