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clubdionysus · 6 months ago

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[BAD DECISION #23] Cherry Picking

warnings: ohhhhh we have arrived!! okay! a lil (not so) dry hump, bird manipulation!!, panty sniffing!! panties in mouth??, titty sucking, fingering, oral (f receiving), jungkooks nose <3, kissing !!! oh god the loveliest of kisses!!! unprotected sex, 'baby', cum on tits, jk cleans her up with his tongue! a gentleman! over stimulation, squirting, (just friendly tho!!)

soundtrack: diamonds - luke hemmings, finally // beautiful stranger - halsey, ruin the friendship - demi lovato

a/n: just two updates tonight as it cuts off at the perfect place!

wc: 15k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"They'll be wondering where you are," you say quietly, as the door behind you clicks shut. There's a slight rustle - the synthetic material of your padded jacket rubbing against itself - when Jeongguk comes to stand behind you, before he drapes it over your shoulders.

"Shouldn't start the New Year with a cold," he simply states stepping over the stone bench to sit down beside you. It's cold beneath his body, but he's got his coat on too. You've a hand warmer in each pocket, so pass one over to him. "Thanks."

"I mean it, Gguk," you double down, voice soft. "It's nearly time."

He just shrugs. Looks up to the sky.

You're in the tiny courtyard that's attached to the staffroom; Jeongguk's secret hiding spot for when he needs to escape from the chaos of Dionysus. There are some sheets of plywood in the corner that Jeongguk needs to take over to Yoongi's studio, but he's still putting off the expansions his boss wants doing. Doesn't want to lose his little sanctuary just yet.

It feels like he's losing more and more comforts day by day.

His final university deadlines are approaching, and he's gonna have to decide if he stays comfortable or does something far more terrifying a lot sooner than he's really ready for.

Change can be daunting, so he's choosing to keep things as they are as much as he can. Feels safer that way. The curse of Jeon Jeongguk is his ability to let his fears control his life. He's always been this way. Fears he always will be. The irony isn't lost on him.

"They'll be wondering where you are, too," he says. Thinks that Danbi must be running around like a headless chicken trying to find you - but also knows she was holding Tae's hand as she was glancing around before he left, so maybe she'll be a bit distracted. Thinks it's about time. Tae's been looking at her like a lovesick pup for weeks, now. Months, even.

"Jiyeong-" You begin, but are cut off by Jeongguk.

He doesn't want to talk about her. Doesn't wanna have to explain what happened, because it feels embarrassing and bothersome. Pity looks so pretty on your features, but he doesn't want to be the recipient of such a gentle look.

"-Isn't gonna be a part of next year," he says. Though his tone isn't stern, it is incredibly final .

You bring your gaze down from the skies, and rest your chin on your shoulder to look at Jeongguk. His eyes are still searching for stars - the light pollution proves to make it impossible - chin tilted upward, dewy nose to the sky. His skin is beginning to blush from the cold. His lips are thin; folded in on themselves, lip ring shining ever so daintily as it flips in the corner of his mouth.

You've missed watching his piercing do the thing. When you've as much alcohol in your system as you do, you find it makes your tummy flip, too. It's silly of your body to behave like that. Drunk or not, Jeongguk is still just Jeongguk.

From the club, you can hear the echoes of a chant. The countdown has begun. If you ask questions now, he'll just brush them off.

You're a little too tipsy to really comprehend what he means, either way.

"We should go back inside," you whisper, eyes still on him, your chin denting down into the thick padding of your coat. You always think you look like an emo Michelin baby whenever you wear it. If Jeongguk heard the comparison, he'd laugh. Would agree.

When he turns to look at you, he barely notices the coat. Just thinks you look cosy. Is pleased to find the stars right here on Earth, instead.

"Won't make it in time," he says.

"Could try?"

"Why bother?"

"'Cause you should be around people who care about you when it hits twelve," you say, a little pout on your lips. He's being difficult.

And then he just shrugs. Knocks into your shoulder. Smiles. "Are we not already?"

There's silence for a moment. Just a second.

The sky above you both begins to sparkle; greens and blues erupting where darkness once was. They scatter into the night; pinks and yellows spiralling just like your mind so often does whenever Jeongguk speaks in riddles.

You're aware that the fireworks are deafening, but you're oblivious to the sound. All you can hear is the beating of your own heart. The explosions shimmer in Jeongguk's eyes, but it's still only stars you can see in them.

"Happy New Year," Jeongguk says quietly. Smiles tenderly. Fills you with a warmth that the frigid winter night had previously stolen. He doesn't look at your lips. Makes no indication that he's thinking about a New Year's kiss.

There are a dozen girls in that room who'd have jumped at the chance to lock lips with him, even if just for a moment as the bells rang out, and yet he's chosen to be with you.

He could have been with Hayun.

And yet he's chosen to be with you.

"Happy New Year," you smile right back. The exchange is soft, like mid-winter snow; warm like a breeze on a summer's day. Secure like a three-pin-padlock; secret, like the code written in the back of an old notebook.

"Hey, B?" He says quietly, eyes still on yours. The sky flashes a myriad of colours. They rain down on him; paint him better than Picasso ever could.

"Mhmm?"

He grins. You think his lip ring looks so pretty. Teeth, too. Pearly and perfectly proportioned for him.

"Stop looking at my lips," he teases. "Gonna make me think you wanna kiss me."

A gasp escapes your lips. You look away. Cover your mouth. Can't believe how fucking obvious you must have been.

"I was just..." you begin to excuse yourself, but then laugh. Choose honesty. "I was actually just thinking about the fact you missed out on a New Years Kiss."

Jeongguk shrugs in that boyish way he so often does, as if he has no care for the arbitrary realities of life. C'est la vie . He looks up to the skies, and lets his smile linger as the illuminations paint the midnight skies.

"Got all year for kisses, B. Only one chance to see the New Year in with my best friend."

And maybe it's because you've been rattled by Hayun, or maybe it's because he's one of the only good things to have come out of the past year, but hearing him claim you as his best friend makes you feel like a weight has been lifted.

"Best friend?" You question, just to make sure.

He nods. "Best friend."

It's laughable, really, how those two words take aim at the arrows shot by Hayun, and knocks them off course before they can really implode on your heart. Just a surface scratch, now. That's all.

"What about Jimin?"

Jeongguk tilts his head to the side. Considers it. "Family."

You're pleased to hear the conclusion of his consideration. You've a shared history with Jimin that could make things awkward between the three of you, and yet you all chalk it up to dumb drunk choices. Aren't the first you've ever made. Won't be the last.

"Be weird if I said you were like family, too," Jeongguk adds - then feels the need to clarify, even though he totally doesn't. "Fucked you. Would make for weird family gatherings."

You laugh. Nod. "Yeah. Probably best you don't ever tell girls I'm like a sister or anything like that," you muse.

He laughs, too, but doesn't say anything. Thinks of Hayun, and how he knows you had definitely had a spat with her before you left. Wants to know what was said. Knows it will be about him. Doesn't want to sour your mood. Is quite conflicted.

Luckily for him, your mind works in a similar way, and your filter is next to non-existent when you've had as many drinks as you have.

"I thought Hayun was your best friend."

Jeongguk looks over to you, his eyes a little hard, brows pinching above his nose. You don't look at him. The fireworks are dwindling, now.

"Friendships change," he admits candidly.

Won't tell you how the second he heard someone asking for star fuckers, he assumed it was you .

Won't tell you how he recited lines - already said to you - to her, because he wasn't comfortable enough in her presence to let his brain think of anything original. Went for something safe. Went for something nurtured with you.

Won't tell you how much the way you've subtly distracted him - with glitter and nonsensical conversations - throughout the night has helped him get his head straight.

Won't tell you how watching you leave felt like a sucker punch to the chest.

Won't tell you that he didn't even consider going over to his friends, because in that moment he was furious with the fact Hayun had made you want to leave so close to midnight. He likes to think it wasn't intentional, but celebrating with her while you would have been alone? Didn't seem like something worth celebrating at all.

If he hadn't been distracted (as always) by your disco ball eyes, and the way light shines from your very being, he never would have known you were speaking with her. Never would have seen her do that thing with her eyes - the cold, vacant, roll of them he used to know so well - that he hated so much. Never would have realised you were leaving.

You'd have spent New Year's by yourself, away from the people who love you, cold and quiet.

And it would have been her fault.

Mentally, he excuses her bad behaviour; tells himself it's probably a mix of alcohol and someone new taking her place that made her hostile.

But when he looks at you, and acknowledges the sadness that imposes on your features, the guilt creeps in. He blames himself . If he'd have introduced you two, maybe it would have gone differently. If Jiyeong hadn't been so rude to her, maybe Hayun wouldn't have been so malevolent with you.

Absolving Hayun of blame is something Jeongguk's been doing for years. Patterns of behaviour are easy to acknowledge; difficult to end.

He's trying. He's here. That counts for something.

You think Jeongguk is right. Friendships do change. You're scared that Hayun's presence will change yours.

"When do you clock off?" You ask, instead of venturing any further down the road of a topic you don't think will benefit either of you.

Jeongguk raises his wrist - the one without his watch on it - and hums. Pretends to read it. Makes you giggle.

"About five minutes ago."

The skies have settled once more. The only stars he can see are ones in his peripherals; the specks of glitter on his skin, and the girl beside him.

The chill of a winter freeze is sobering you up. You know that you probably can't walk straight, but you can think straight, and that's absolutely outrageous, as far as you're concerned. The night is still young and - as Jimin said - so are you. The heaviness in your heart is ageing you. You don't care for it.

"Starfuckers?" you propose - and the way Jeongguk smiles has you wishing you'd asked earlier.

"Thought you'd never ask," he grins, but catches himself.

Decides he needs to give you a little context on Jiyeong before continuing the night, 'cause he doesn't wanna talk about it when he's a few shots too deep to be sensible about things.

"Jiyeong gets really... argumentative when she drinks."

His slow speech makes it evident how careful he's trying to be. You know what it really means. Knows she must have said something awful for him to be mentioning it now.

"Was it bad?" you ask, a little clueless, and hating it.

Jeongguk nods. Bites the bullet. Doesn't look at you as he says, "She threw a drink on me."

"She what?!"

Jeongguk smirks, not because he finds it funny, but because he finds it awkward. Rolls his eyes, and shakes his head. "Was at the bar. Fucking mortifying ."

You study his face, looking for signs you might have missed.

"Where did she get you?" You ask, but realise as soon as your question finishes. You gasp again. Can't believe you hadn't thought to ask earlier. "The outfit change?!"

He confirms your suspicions. "Anyways, I'm sort of... done with her."

His hesitation is genuine, not because he's unsure of his choice, just because he's still worried about letting you down.

To his surprise, you're the one apologising.

The weight in your chest when he admits that he doesn't want to be with her is catastrophic. You thought you had picked well for him. You really thought maybe you'd helped him. You feel like the failure.

"Gguk, if I'd have known she was like that, I never would have set things up. I'm so so sorry. You didn't deserve that whatsoever."

"Not your fault," he says, offering you a sincere smile. "Just the way the cookie crumbles sometimes."

He's downplaying it, and you both know it. He doesn't want to talk about it though, so you won't push. Not now. Another time, yes.

Thing is, neither of you are at fault. C'est la vie.

"You know how many stars there are?" You ask, in a bid to change the subject to something a little easier to digest.

Jeongguk shakes his head. "Not a clue, B."

"Oh," you say quietly. "Thought you might. Always mumbling stuff about the stars, you are."

He smiles to himself. Thinks it's hardly a surprise.

Deflects, and asks, "You know much about manure?"

"What?" You chirp, then laugh. What a bizarre question. "No?"

"Oh," he hums, mimicking you. "Thought you might. Always chatting shit."

You tell him to fuck off, so he gets to his feet - but holds his hand out for you.

"C'mon," he knocks his head to the side. "Let's go get fucked up."

It's quarter past twelve by the time you make it back to your friends, Jeongguk double fisting drinks 'cause he's so far behind everyone else and needs to get fucked up.

It doesn't take much - four double dark rum and cokes, three purple starfuckers - for him to be doing the robot in a strange sort of avant-garde dance battle with Hobi and Jimin. You're not really sure what you're looking at as Jeongguk moves his body in a way you never need to see him move his body - but you find it hilarious. He's both smooth and awkward in his movements. None of it quite makes sense.

You smile through it all. Endlessly. Affectionately. Adoringly.

And then you're laughing, too.

Might just be the vodka. Might be the nerves of Hayun's eyes being on you. Most likely, it's because Jeongguk looks ridiculous. So sexy in one moment, and so goofy in the next.

You never know what's coming next. He almost stumbles over to you as you nurse on a drink by the sofas. Regains his balance. Tries to play it cool. Is suave as he says, "you good down there, B?" - but then he sinks down into the sofa beside you, a silly grin on his rum-drunk lips. You find that you'd welcome all his surprises, good or bad.

He hiccups. Scolds himself. Asks you how you are. Hiccups again. Listens as you tell him to hold his breath. Hiccups as he's doing it. Gives up. Hiccups freely.

He's still got a drink in his hand, so you take it from him and have a sip or two. He doesn't protest. Rabbits on about something neither of you will remember in the morning. The club lights hit him in all the right places, making his glittered cheekbones appear even more majestic than they already were.

"More glitter," you muse. "You need more glitter."

"Y'know," he slurs, looking all very poised and serious, a finger pointing as he speaks. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

He chats absolute shit while you dapple his cheeks with more pretty sparkles. They match his eyes, now.

You've managed to avoid Hayun since returning, and you're secretly pleased that Jeongguk has done the same.

Aside from a few awkward glances when you both arrived back to greet your friends, he's deliberately steered clear. Wants an orderly mind before they speak again.

He's still disgruntled by the fact you found her so intolerable you were willing to spend New Year alone just to not be near her. Trusts you. Trusts your judgement (even if you did set him up with Jiyeong). Trusts you always see the good in people, but knows you struggled to see the good in her.

Thinks maybe life would have been easier if he met you first.

Hayun over by the bar with Nabi and Tae. They seem to be her closest friends amongst the circle. Yoongi didn't say a single word to her all night, but Seoyeon was pretty friendly with her.

They left just after midnight, and were gone by the time you and Jeongguk returned from the courtyard. Namjoon's working the early shift tomorrow - "the news isn't gonna write itself" - so he'd dipped with them, too.

Like Yoongi, Jimin gives Hayun the cold shoulder. It's expected, given how close he is to Jeongguk.

You're unaware of the fact that she and Jimin go way back. Knew each other as kids. If anyone should have still been pally with her, it would be him - but he's the only one who knows how much Jeongguk suffered because of her. He knows the situation almost as well as he knows the plotline for The Notebook, and considering that it's his go-to hangover movie (while also considering how often he's hungover), it's safe to say he's got a decent understanding of it.

Jimin will never be on Hayun's side. He told her years ago that this would be the consequence of her dicking Jeongguk around, and is a man of his word when it comes to his friends. Used to really eat him up, how easily she let go of their friendship. Counts it as a blessing, now.

As he stands by the bar and notices what's going on with you, Jeongguk and a tube of liquid glitter, he smiles. Doesn't have a clue what happened with Jiyeong. Doesn't care. Really couldn't give a shit for any other girl in Jeongguk's life. Is just glad he has you.

You've been good for him.

"What's going on with them?" Hayun asks as she joins him at the bar. Is a little annoyed Jeongguk has been so... avoidant. It's a change to the norm. Jeongguk doesn't do change. Something feels... off.

Jimin's smile fades. She still tries to be his friend. It annoys him. "Nothing."

She laughs. It's insincere.

"I've got a pair of eyes, Jimin. He's sat there like a lovesick puppy while some girl covers him in fucking glitter," she sneers.

"So? Your point?"

"It's fucking weird."

Jimin rolls his eyes. Exhales a deep sigh. "You've not been here, Hayun. You can't come back and decide that everything is awful just because it isn't the way you left it. Life's moved on. You should try it, sometime."

"That's not it," she says.

"So what is it?" Jimin questions. He doesn't really want to be having this conversation, but everyone's fucked. He thinks he'd rather know if she's up to no good. Might not remember it in the morning, but at least he'll know now.

"He's changed."

"He's happy," Jimin says bluntly. "That's what's changed."

"She's not his girlfriend," Hayun states.

Jimin knows about Jeongguk's desire to call things off with Jiyeong. Doesn't know about the fact he kind of already has. Also doesn't think it's his place to air Jeongguk's dirty laundry, so he says the safest thing he can.

"Nor is Jiyeong, if that's what you're getting at. Not sure if you remember, but Gguk has a hard time saying no to girls who treat him like shit," he says with a little venom. "His relationships are frankly none of your business. You revoked rights to that sort of information years ago."

"I'm just concerned," she says - and she sounds like she actually means it. Jimin doesn't buy it for a second, but lets her talk. "I used to know him better than anyone. It's like looking at a stranger, now."

"And who's fault is that?" Jimin snaps, but either Hayun is too drunk to really notice or too narcissistic to actually care.

Instead of actually responding, Hayun muses aloud. "All of it...the glitter, the puppy dog eyes... her attitude problem... It all just screams quarter-life crisis."

She's unaware that your glitter session ended a few minutes ago. Is unaware that you've dashed to the staff room to put your phone on charge. Is unaware that you'd sent Jeongguk on the hunt for more drinks.

Doesn't realise until Yeonjun flashes a grin, and says, "fuckin' hell. Shoulda put a bet on you morphing into Disco Ball."

Jeongguk smirks, resting his palms on the bar. He is, admittedly, DB2.0 at this point. There's glitter in his hair . "Starfuckers?"

"Trust me to make them?" Yeonjun checks - not that Jeongguk is stepping a foot behind the bar, not when he's as trashed as he is. The palms resting on the bar aren't just because he knows he looks good - it's because he needs to steady himself.

He nods. Taps Jimin on shoulder. "Starfucker?"

"Stupid question."

"I think the word you were looking for is 'yes'," Jeongguk grins, turning his attention back to Yeonjun. "Three, please, mate."

Hayun doesn't hide the smile on her face. Some things, apparently, don't change. She likes Jeongguk when you aren't around.

"Hey, buddy," she smiles in that way she always did when she'd been up to no good and wanted him on her side again.

Jeongguk is silent. Isn't smiling. Doesn't look at her. Just simply says: "Careful, Hayun."

"Hmm?" she questions, wondering what on earth she needs to watch out for. The bar's nearly empty, now.

"Watch your mouth when you're chatting shit," he says dryly, his voice just as flat as his eyes are vacant. "You never know who's listening."

Yeonjun can't help but smirk. Has been watching Jeongguk's entire life blow up right in front of his very eyes all night, and it just never ceases to surprise him. Has no idea who this bitch is in front of him, but the way Jeongguk looks like he wants to chew her up and spit her out? Oh, he is living for it.

He pours the shots. Decides the bar needs a good wipe-down. Stays close just to listen in.

Is surprised when he hears Jeongguk mention you by name. Had almost forgotten you actually have one. Is so used to calling you Disco Ball.

Admittedly, he thinks there's a tenderness to the way Jeongguk says your name. Thinks it's really fuckin' sweet.

He says your name, knocks back his shot, then says, "I dunno what you said to her earlier, but you were outta line. She's our friend." He passes the next shot over to Jimin. Finally looks down at Hayun. Is surprised when it doesn't hurt like he half thinks it should. He's never spoken to her like this before. "So play nicely, and keep her name out your mouth unless you're telling her how pretty her glitter looks."

Hayun thinks Jeongguk's gone absolutely clinically insane.

Yeonjun thinks this is brilliant .

From the corner of his eye, Jeongguk notices the staff room door open and close, so he picks up the spare shot that Hayun mistakenly thought was hers. As you approach, glittery and gorgeous like always, he holds it out for you to take.

"Oh, you star. Thank you," you beam, accepting it without a second thought. You ignore Hayun.

"Charging?" Jeongguk asks, just to make sure the dodgy wire in the staff room is working. You nod, and assure him it's fine. "Dancefloor?"

Again, you nod. "Please."

Yeonjun thinks he's gonna watch the security cameras back later just to see all of that unfold again. He's never seen a face look so much like a slapped arse, but Hayun? Offt . She's going through it.

"Y'know, maybe he has changed," Jimin smirks. "Ain't that a blessing."

Hayun is silent. Jeongguk has never spoken to her like that. Ever. Not even when they were fighting. The life she's returned to no longer has space for her, or so it feels like.

You're too drunk to care. Decide that you're better off pretending like she doesn't exist. You derive no joy from her existence, and think that this year you should only do things that make you happy.

When Jeongguk forces you to dance with him? You're happy.

When he yawns, and starts talking about kebabs? You're happy.

When he holds your hand and drunkenly traipses down the clubbing district to the kebab place he swears down laces their fries with crack? You're happy.

Happy when Jeongguk insists you walk instead of catching a cab, happy when he offers you a piggyback, happy when he doesn't put you down, not even in the elevator of his apartment complex.

Doesn't put you down until you're both sat on the floor between his kitchen area and sitting room. The lights are off, but early morning is breaking; the city intruding on your privacy.

Your hair is so long now, he thinks. How long has he known you? He can't remember. But it was short when you first met. Just above your shoulders. Now, it finishes midway down your chest. You're not the same person as you were back then, and nor is he.

It's a realisation; he's still learning about you. If somebody had asked him even a day ago how quickly your hair grows, he wouldn't have had an answer. Had never noticed. Knows your roots need doing, but he likes them so never comments on them.

Jeongguk knows you so well, and yet not at all.

He knows your favourite drink in a dive bar, but doesn't know what you'd get at bottomless brunch with the girls. Knows that you demolish Psy's It's Art in a noraebang, but has no idea what your favourite song is. Knows so much and yet knows nothing at all.

Knows your fears; doesn't know your hopes.

The realisation upsets him.

And so he asks. Lets you drunkenly natter on about your childhood dreams; plays the band you said soundtracked your childhood from his phone. It's set on the floor a little bit away from you. He chooses not to play it through a proper speaker. There's an intimacy to this. Thinks it's important you keep this shit analogue.

There's a dozen birds above Jeongguk's bed that outline the a-z of your intimacy textbook, but none of them include this.

None of them mentions talking about your childhood pet, and watching Jeongguk's pretty little smile appear on his scrunched-up face as he enthuses over puppy pictures.

Not a single bird includes candid admittance of times you threatened to run away from your family home as a teenager; nor do they include the way the Jeongguk asks about your escape plans, and tells you how you definitely could have done it.

There are no birds that tell you to bare your soul, and yet, you do.

Jeongguk is so kind with it. Accepts it graciously, and touches it with tender hands; places it down beside his own, and finds you fit perfectly in the empty space.

He finds himself nervous. Not in the lip-biting, ring-flipping, unsure eyes kind of way you're used to seeing him in, well, any uncomfortable situation; but in a different way entirely.

He worries that the night will end. Is concerned that you'll leave, and that things will be cemented in this awkwardly 'okay' stalemate.

He knows more about you than he did a few hours ago; has learned itsy bitsy tales of childhood and saw your face cringe as he scoured your mum's facebook page for pictures of your teenage haircut that you swore was cool at the time (not that his mother's kitchen scissor bowl cut was much better).

You've an idea of the layout of his family home, thanks to an overly explained prank that he says he pulled on his brother, which you also learn resulted in no eyebrows for either of them (another thing to thank his mother for ( "a punishment to match the crime" is how Jeongguk phrased it as he mindlessly stroked over his since-recovered brows)).

These aren't little things to know about one another. They're candid revelations packaged in awkward smiles and tied with liquor-laced ribbons.

Little presents, squirrelled away in each of your minds; reminders that the most intimate we can be with another person is when we're fully clothed.

Foolish of you not to consider that. C'est la vie.

That's what Jeongguk worries about. He worries that you'll leave, and the physical intimacy won't have matched the emotional intimacy and it will fuck with your head. Will have you ignoring him, or avoiding him.

You don't say anything, but as you watch him get to grips with a karaoke mic by the sofa, a song about makgeolli playing in the background, his giggles echoing into the speaker system, you don't ever want to avoid him again. Hated the time spent keeping a distance. Life is so much better when he's around.

He encourages you up, and forces you to dance with him like a pair of lunatics to an old Psy song. It's one of the ones Psy would always sing at his university campus shows, and when you mention this, Jeongguk cannot fathom the fact you've seen him live . Forces you to find it on youtube. Tries to find you in the crowd - but it's like a game of where's wally.

Eventually, he gives up. Says he's found you. Points to the mirror in the corner of the room - and when you look over and see the pair of you as you are, you decide that maybe bad decisions would be a good idea.

Glitter speckled, you're both messes. Still in your club clothes, there's something funny about the way your hair is in a lopsided bun on top of your head, his hair kind of all over the place. You'd be forgiven for thinking the pair of you had been at it - when in reality, all you'd been doing was singing your hearts out in a make-shift home noraebang.

You're busy laughing, toying with his little tufts of hair that stick out on end when his front door beeps, Jimin finally entering the code to return home. Dawn is breaking, and you're surprised that he's alone. He's busy chewing on a sotteok sotteok stick - mini sausages and rice cakes threaded onto a wooden skewer - to pay you much attention. The spicy sauce drips into the container he's holding, which you both recognise to be from the convenience store down the road.

"Here he is," Jeongguk teases, as Jimin casts his housemate a small grin.

He's pissed - still drunk as a skunk - and slurs his words as he goes to speak. "There's a disco ball in our living room."

"It's not a party worth having if you don't have a disco ball," you assure him, to which he lets you know that it's not a party if there are only two people.

"When there's two," he mumbles through a mouthful of tteok, waving the half-empty stick in the air. "That's not a party."

"So what is it?" Jeongguk asks.

The way Jimin smiles before he starts talking makes Jeongguk regret ever asking.

"A couple."

Jeongguk shoos him away. Tells him he needs a good night's sleep before he inevitably watches The Notebook tomorrow morning, like he always does whenever he wakes up alone with a hangover. A depressing way to start the year, you think.

"DB, you like Gosling?" Jimin says, in his pants and t-shirt now, sitting on the floor. He's holding a glass of water like it's a sippy cup. You cannot believe you've had sex with him. Twice. "Wanna watch?"

"Prefer Reynolds," you say of the famous Ryan's.

Jeongguk squeezes your knee. Smiles. Remembers the Deadpool marathons with you and Danbi. Likes how much you've both integrated into one another's lives.

This is just reality now.

And for the first time in a long time, Jeongguk realises just how lucky he really is. His life may not be grand, and it may not be written about in history books; but it's a fulfilled life. He's happy.

Jimin falls asleep on the living room floor. Is dragged into his room by Jeongguk. Won't remember any of it in the morning.

When Jeongguk finally retires to his room, you're poking around at the birds on his desk.

"I missed some?"

He nods. Sits on the edge of his bed, legs spread, leaning back to rest on his elbows. He's tired. Doesn't wanna sleep. Has missed you too much. "Fell a couple of weeks ago."

You pout. "I've missed the kids."

Jeongguk is soft as he says, "they missed you, too."

Looking at you now as you scan his room, party dress sparkling as the early morning sun intrudes on his room, he struggles to remember what life was like before he knew you.

And then he wonders if he'll ever forget what it felt like to fuck you.

He doesn't mean to think about you improperly - he's just in that god-awful state of post-drinking pleasure-seeking.

He's not even gonna deny it. He wants you.

There's a dilemma that comes with Jeongguk's desire: morals.

He's not sure how drunk Jiyeong was. Isn't sure how intentional she was with her threats. Doesn't know if she'll remember what she did, or if she'll even realise Jeongguk called it quits when she wakes up the next morning.

If he were to check his phone, he'd see that one of the personal trainers from the gym had tagged him in an insta story with the caption 'come get your girl, bro', and said girl necking on with some guy Jeongguk wouldn't be able to pick out from a crowd.

He doesn't check his phone, though. Regardless of everything, he was never her boyfriend. The way she treated him is exactly why he never asked. She burnt her bridges time and time again. Jeongguk doesn't care to rebuild them again, not when she never lends a hand.

It's not that he wants to be cruel. It's not that he never cared. Nothing like that at all.

But he is drunk, and he is single, and fuck it's so nice to be around someone that makes him feel as lovely as you do.

When he holds out his hands, you gravitate towards him. Stand between his legs. Look down at his pretty face, hands delicate beneath his jaw.

Jeon Jeongguk is gonna ruin your life, you think.

As his hands stoke up your bare thighs, and encourages you onto his lap without a single word?

Life, ruined. You're certain.

The way you do whatever he asks of you has you considering that maybe your life isn't even yours anymore. His. All his.

You know you shouldn't entertain this. The Jiyeong shit is too fresh. Hayun, too - but that only encourages you. You have what she wants. You'd like to keep it that way.

His grip on your waist is tight as he pulls you up his lap, the thick ridge of his bulge beneath you perfectly positioned to rut up against you.

There's hesitation to your movements; delicacy.

His are the opposite. Decisive. He knows what he wants - and as he uses his grip to push you further down onto his crotch, your soft whimpers let him know that you want it, too.

"Gguk," you whisper, heart beating so fast you're scared it might short circuit. He nudges his nose against yours. Nods. Could kiss you, if he wasn't behaving himself.

It's laughable, really, how he's humping himself up against you, and considers it 'good' because he isn't kissing you.

Your voice is barely audible when you say, "I hate my rules."

Jeongguk's jaw tenses. His eyes close, nostrils a little flared as he tries to control his breathing. Nudges his nose a little deeper against yours.

"Me too, B."

He despises them. Loathes them. Will never break them. No matter how hard is cock is and how difficult it is to think straight when he's suffocated by your hair. They're yours to break. Yours alone.

So while the admission makes him needy - gets him squeezing at your soft flesh, body grinding a little faster - he keeps his lips away. Kind of. There's a very small gap for you to close.

You could do it.

Could sink your lips down onto his, and experience what it's like to feel his moans vibrate into your mouth. Could let his tongue lick against yours. Could hold his jaw, lips hard and deliberate as they press against each other.

Could do a million little things. Your nipples are hard just from the thought of it all, and your thin lace bra hides nothing. Nor does your dress.

Jeongguk can feel them against his chest. Can't stop himself from tightly squeezing at them, his thumbs settling over your hardened bud. He rubs against them, knowing just how sensitive they are, even through your clothes, and is pleased when your breathing starts to get heavier.

A moan gets trapped in your throat, nails scratching against the nape of his neck. You're matching his movement, hips grinding against him.

You wonder how long it's been since he used someone else to relieve him. Find yourself worried it hasn't been long enough. Don't want him thinking about her while he's with you. It's not like you can control his mind, but then again, you're unaware of the catastrophic hold you have on him.

He takes a second to scan your eyes, and as much as you want to hold his gaze, you're distracted by his glitter. His cheeks, the rogue specks on his nose, his jaw... along the indent of his cupid's bow.

Jeongguk has enough experience with glitter-induced mindlessness, so knows that's what's happening - but he wants to check that you still want this. Still want him . It's been a while, and he knows the fact he'd been with someone else could hinder your desire for him.

Funny. He's not thinking about the fact you hooked up with Jimin at all. Couldn't give a shit about that.

All he can think about you, and your wants, your needs. Brushes a strand of hair away from your face, as he says, "if this is too weird, we can stop."

But you just shake your head, a soft smile on your pouty lips. He licks across his own.

"I've missed you," you admit all rather foolishly. Laugh, then cover your face with your hands. Jeongguk likes the rings you're wearing. Always the same three. Thin and dainty, they're as much a part of you as your glitter is.

His fingers wrap around your wrists, as he pulls them down. There's a little resistance from you, but eventually, you concede. Look at him a little helplessly, but are pleased to see him smiling.

"Missed you, too."

When you chirp a small hum in reply, Jeongguk laughs. Holds your waist again, stroking your sides ever so tenderly. Reassures you. "Of course I have. You know how much I like having you like this."

You narrow your eyes now, but it's playful. Feign a little offence, just to keep him smiling. "Have me like what exactly, Jeon?"

He rolls his eyes, but just pushes the hair that's covering your neck away from you. Leans a little closer, and presses a kiss into your skin. The contact of his lips, a little wet and torturously firm, has you sighing, hips pulling up. He encourages this. Grips onto your waist a little tighter. Pushes you down onto his crotch. Lets himself grind up against you once, twice, then husks against your neck, "Like this, B. Like you wanna get that pretty pussy of yours all messy for me."

He pulls back. Holds you tightly in place over his cock, of which he knows is embarrassingly hard. Sometimes he thinks all you have to do is glance in his direction to get him like this.

The way you're looking at him - eyes all wide, lips parted ever so slightly - gets his hips pulsing again ever so gently. Your body moves with his, the sensation of his hardness beneath you making you feel a way that could only be compared to Nirvana.

You're the one who pulls him closer, now, a hand cradling his jaw, the other sinking into his hair. It's a control thing. Want him close, but can also pull him away. It excites him. Always does whenever you take the reins back from him.

As your grip tightens in his hair, his breathing shallows. Nose nudging against his, you know you're a little too close. Know you're being mean. Know how much he must be dying to close the gap, 'cause you are too.

"I do," you whisper back. "It's already messy."

"Hmm?" he moans an incoherent reply. Has his lips firmly pressed shut, cause he doesn't trust himself. Has closed his eyes, too. Can't risk it.

"Mhmm," you murmur back. "So messy, Koo."

The way you soften the sound of his name has him desperate to fuck himself into you. You're so soft, and tender, and everything he's been missing.

"For me?" He asks, because formulating words is the only way he can stay focused - but even that's failing him, now.

"All for you."

His cock throbs beneath you. He knows he must be messy, too, precum pooling from the tiny slit at the very tip of his cock. Hates that he's trapped in his clothes, but loves the idea of slowly getting you out of yours.

"All mine," he smiles to himself, lost in the way he feels. You nod. Giggle. Let your hair drape around his face as your forehead leans on his. He laughs, too.

You're both highly aware of the fact that this is wrong .

You shouldn't be acting like this. Shouldn't be feeling this.

But you are.

And you'll continue to do so until the night draws to its inevitable end.

"What should I do about it, then, huh?" Jeongguk asks, tilting his pretty face up a little bit. The glitter on his cheeks catches in the light of his bedside table. The room around you feels too big. You don't acknowledge it. Only him.

You're so quiet when you reply. Know that you're saying things you shouldn't be; tempting him like you're some kind of divine serpentine being. Jeongguk's got one trailing up his arm in thick black ink. He likes snakes. Likes you, more. Likes how delicate your voice is when you say, "clean it up."

One of his hands grips your ass. Squeezes. Hard. Makes you mewl.

"And how should I do that?" He asks softly, knowing that if he doesn't get some kind of release soon, the friction of your still-clothed pussy over the bulge in his trousers will end him. Write him off entirely. Might even make him die.

You could be demure in your answer. You could play coy. Stop this from escalating

Or you could continue grinding against him, breath laboured, heartbeat unstable. You could run your thumb along his bottom lip. Nudge your nose against his in that tender you always do.

And then you could simply say, "Eat me out."

"Yeah?" He would say. Would want you to repeat it.

"Yeah," you'd reply. "Eat me out. Please."

So that's exactly what you do.

Jeongguk's mouth waters at the mere suggestion of getting his tongue between your folds. Has thought about it so many times. Never thought he'd see the day that you ask for it.

The tiny 'please' you whisper? The way you beg for it? His cock aches. Needs relief from you.

You're finicky to a fault though. Smirk as you say, "Real shame the bird hasn't fallen, isn't it?"

There are a few birds on his desk, but none of them are that specific bird.

Of all the ones you wrote together, there's only been one that you've ever known the identity of as it watches over you.

There's a small mark on its wing. You'd been holding the pen between your teeth as you'd folded it, but been distracted by Jeongguk mumbling to himself. Had narrowly avoided leaving a blotch of ink on crisp white sheets.

Instead, you'd cursed a bird - and so for the past six months, you'd look up at birds and wonder when it would fall. It was the only one you felt apprehensive of, but that simply was down to fact you knew what it was.

"Maybe we can do an I.O.U. for the birds?" He offers. Is keen.

You know you shouldn't cherry-pick the birds. It goes against their free will. Playing God will only ever end in tears - but you're still tipsy, and all you can think about is how much you need this.

It's been so long since anyone has eaten you out that now the idea is floating, you won't be able to rest until it's happened.

His hands stroke up the back of your legs as you stand up on his bed. His head is level with the tops of your thighs, so he lets his lips brush against them. Presses wet kisses up them. Is slow. You take a little extra pulling the right bird down. Lean in such a way that he's dangerously close to your panties. He can smell your arousal. Wants to taste it.

You settle back into his lap, bodies close as you hand him the bird. He looks at you. Wonders if there's magic behind those starry eyes of yours. Thinks there must be.

When he opens it up, and is greeted with the exact same act you've asked him to perform, he knows there must be magic in you.

The truth of it all is that you'd just made a bad decision when you made it. Shouldn't have dropped the pen. But you did; and now you're here.

"Make me feel good," you implore as you toy with his hair.

He wants his lips on your body; wants to feel the pressure of his lips brushing against yours.

Just isn't brave enough to take things that far, yet.

He tucks a little bit of your own hair behind your ear. Studies your face.

"Look at me when you ask."

You're slow to do as he asks. Spend a little time toying with his necklaces, instead. You know his eyes are on yours. He could count your lashes if he wanted - but he doesn't. Mainly because he can't think straight, let alone count above the number ten.

"B," he encourages, index finger curling beneath your chin. He tilts your head upwards, your eyes trailing up his features until they settle on his eyes.

"Want you to make me feel good."

He nods. Is eager as he does so. It's so hard to not kiss you.

"I will. Gonna make you feel so good, Byeol. You want that? Want me to make your pussy feel good?"

You nod your head. Widen your eyes as you beg. "Please."

Jeongguk respositions you. Gets you sitting in his spot. Stands as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck and pulls it over his head. Chucks it at you. Makes you both laugh - but fuck. He's gorgeous .

He grips the bulge in the front of his trousers. Groans .

"See how hard you make me?" He asks. Waits for you to nod. Unbuttons his slacks and lowers the zip, so the top of his dark boxer briefs poke through. He palms at himself. Presses his lips together as a muffled grunt stifles in his throat.

The subtle movement of his muscles beneath his warm skin has you entranced. He's human, yes, but built like a God. Worshipping him feels like the only appropriate course of action - and yet as he guides you over and positions you how he likes it - face down, ass up - he's the one who's gonna be worshipping you.

Eyes closed, you smile into the scent of his sheets. Hadn't realised how much you missed how soft they always are; cotton fresh and a worthy home for the night. Of all the boys you've ever dated, not of them have cared in the same way that Jeongguk does about his laundry.

He's like that in all aspects of his life, though. Details. His senses. They align and overlap, and Jeongguk has to have things in a specific way, otherwise he isn't happy.

You confuse him, in that way. You're haphazard to a fault, and Jeongguk knows that glitter never really fit into his idea of what it takes to build a home, but he misses it being on his sheets.

He pushes your dress up, over your ass. Doesn't look at your satin-covered pussy 'cause he's trying to hold off. Grapples the flesh of your ass, then delivers a short, sharp spank. Likes the way you gasp, then sigh.

Doesn't like that he can't see the smile he knows is on your lips though.

It's all rather confusing. This is how he likes to do things.

And yet he finds himself getting you back into your original position. Walks over to his door. Checks it's locked.

Jeongguk turns around to look at you, eyes dark, his intentions perfectly clear.

He prowls a little closer. Taps on your knees and encourages you to open your legs. Not once does his gaze drop from your eyes. Not when your legs spread, not when he lowers himself, not when he can fucking smell your arousal. He wants to. Wants to look at your pretty little pussy so badly - but he'd locked in on your eyes.

His hands slide up your thighs, pushing your dress to your hips. Your underwear is black, and your wetness has seeped through - but he doesn't acknowledge it. Not yet.

He lowers his lips, but keeps his eyes on yours still, as he presses a wet kiss to your thigh. Up he odesseys; one, two, three kisses. A trail of evidence is left, little dewy marks mapping out his journey. He leans over. Repeats it on your other thigh.

One of his hands grips your waist, while the other strokes your thigh that's without his lips. He's taking his time. Keeping his eyes on you. Can see how your chest moves; knows that you're as desperate for this as he is. He licks his lips, and smirks.

"So patient," he husks, oh-so-affectionately. Squeezes the soft flesh of your thigh. Loves how you feel. So warm, and soft, and made for him. "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"

You nod, a tiny whine catching on your lips.

"What was that?" He asks, before his eyes finally glance down towards your covered cunt. It's only supposed to be for a second, but he didn't anticipate quite how wet you'd already be; how it would be shining through the fabric of your panties. They're silky today, and it just makes your slick look even messier.

He inhales a deep breath, and lets out a shallow laugh as his head drops in defeat. Can't even play it cool. He wants you. Wants you more than he needs air to breathe.

It's just pheromones, and he knows this. Knows how gets when he likes a girl. Knows how fucking nasty he can get in pursuit of her scent. In the very worst cases, he finds himself enjoying feet . Underarms. Underwear. Anywhere that's gonna release them.

He always liked the smell of your perfume; the fragrances you'd layer over yourself to mask your natural scent - but it's 5am, and you've been in a club all evening. Your perfume has worn off. This is all you.

And he knows he's utterly screwed.

His lips trail up your thigh. Head tilts. It's his nose, now, that's making contact with your clothed cunt. He's slow. Tepid. Taking his time, 'cause he's thought about this during so many lonely nights and doesn't wanna waste it.

His nose rests against the fabric that's keeping you away from him. His perpetually dewy nose dampens as he nudges against you. He inhales. Is shaky, in the way that he breathes. "Fuck."

The pressure of his nose against you deepens. He groans. Mumbles some incoherent shit about how fucking good you smell. Presses his lips against the soaked satin. Kisses. Get his lips all glossy.

He kitten licks, then drags his tongue up your underwear. Knows he'll get so much more of your taste if he just takes them off, but he's scared. Worries that having your cunt in his mouth will ruin him for the rest of his life.

And so he continues taking his time. Uses his tongue. Teases where he thinks your clit could be. He's not too far off, but it's hidden by your folds that have swollen quite considerably. He's teasing too much. Getting you too needy. His thumb presses over the wettest part of your panties, where he knows your hole must be. The way the material gives just a little, and the way you sigh into his touch only proves this.

"Please," you whisper.

Jeongguk nods, not once losing contact with your cunt, until he slowly pulls back. Runs his fingers over your soaked panties. Studies the way they cling to you. Looks up at you as he gently massages you. Runs his index finger under the laces edge of your panties. "You want them off, B?"

The way you're looking at him - eyes all wide, lips pouty - has him desperate for you. You could ask him to spend eternity with his face buried in your cunt, and he thinks he would.

He taps the side of your thigh - "hips" - and encourages you to raise yourself. His fingers hook over the sides of your underwear.

"Dress," he says, indicating his desire for you to take that off too, now that you can. Is too busy staring at your cunt, and the way your slick juices string to your underwear as he pulls them down to even realise you're taking it off. Bra, too.

Jeongguk is tentative as he gets your panties off. Hold your feet as he slips your ankle through them, and repeats. Doesn't get rid of them immediately.

He's so fucking hard he thinks he might die - and it only gets worse when he brings your sopping wet panties to his nose. It's lewd . The way he inhales your scent is erotic to the point of it being perverse - but it has you leaking for him. His dark eyes fall open, and land on yours.

The material hooks over his fingers, as Jeongguk reaches over to squeeze one of your tits. He's missed them. Will scream 'I'm an ass guy' until the cows come home, but knows it's your nipples he'll be sucking on when you inevitably milk him of his cum a little later. Your panties drag over the hardened bud of your nipple as he toys with you. Smears your juices all over it. Glistens as Jeongguk sits up a little to bring your panties to your mouth.

"Wanna see how good you taste?" He asks, as if you aren't parting your lips for him regardless. You nod, all pathetic and needy as your tongue rests flat for him to do as he pleases - which, at the moment, is pushing your slick-covered panties into your mouth. Thinks they'll probably help. Will muffle your whines, at least. Works a treat as you whimper a little when he taps your jaw. 'Close your mouth', he's saying silently - and so you do.

He pulls back a little, fingers dipping to slide between your folds, eyes on your face, still. Smirks. Uses the fingers that aren't exploring your slippery cunt to squeeze at your chest. Your eyes are so wide. You whimper. He deliberately didn't stuff your underwear completely in your mouth. Likes seeing the satin. Likes knowing how willing you are to do anything for him. His thumb swipes over the slick on your nipple. Massages it in - and decides it's a waste. Leans down to latch his lips around your hardened bud.

He's the one whining now. Loves the way you feel in his mouth. Loves licking the taste from your skin. The fingers toying with your folds search for your slit, and push themselves into you as Jeongguk sucks on your nipple.

Not a boob guy, not a boob guy, not a boob guy - and yet as he pulls himself back, releasing you with a slight pop from the suction of his lips leaving your nipple, he smiles. Watches the way your tit wobbles, all soft, nipples hard, desperate for his return. He pushes his fingers deeper inside of you. Tells you how much he's missed them.

He reaches up to hook your panties in his fingers again. Pulls them from your mouth. Tosses them down. The way you're whimpering deserved to be heard, he decides.

His lips press a chaste kiss to your other nipple. Tongue flicks. He sucks. Just for a second. He's got places to be; a cunt plugged with his fingers that he's dying to taste again. Trailing down your skin, his lips leave a pretty dewy trail.

You hadn't been expecting the night to end like this, so while you're nice and neat and trimmed, your pussy is a little less bare than normal. Jeongguk likes it. Would never impose his preferences, but knows that this is it. Always has been. Enjoys the way your slick catches in your hair; how messy you look for him. Your juices string across your folds, and decides he can't keep his tongue away any longer.

The first lick is slow. Flat. He whines against you. Stalls his fingers, 'cause he wants to focus on the sensation; how warm you are, how delicious he thinks you taste. His tongue flicks as he reaches the northernmost point of your folds, and the way your body shudders a little is indication enough that he knows exactly where to focus. Of course he does. Your clit has swollen just as much as your folds, desperate for a little relief.

He doesn't give you it. Not yet. The lewd sounds of his fingers pushing back into your cunt makes him smirk. You're so unbelievably wet. Wetter than he thinks he's ever had you - and you've never been exactly dry for him. Maybe it's the alcohol. Maybe you've missed him. Maybe it's both. When his tongue presses back into your folds, you know it's neither of those things.

You're soaked because he just knows what he's doing. Understands your body. Drags his tongue up and down your cunt, fingers fucking themselves into you. The sensation is unbearable. You need more - and more is what he gives you when his spare hand eases your lips apart, spreading your pussy so that he can get better access to your clit. The tip of his tongue massages against you ever so gently. He's careful not to be too aggressive - until he spits at it.

"Shit," you whine, letting your back sink into his sheets. You'd been watching, but now all you want to do is feel . You're scared that watching him - his pretty lashes splayed over the top of his cheeks, his dewy, wet, nose nudging your clit, the way his tongue laps against it- will finish you off too quickly. And that's before you even consider the mirror on the far wall, and the way his broad back looks perfectly positioned with your legs hooked over his shoulders.

He spreads his spit with his thumb. Smirks as your body shudders. "You okay, B?"

"Mhmm," you mumble, teeth biting the pad of your palm beneath your thumb. You're trying to keep quiet.

"Asked you a question," he says as his thumb builds speed, flicking over you gently. He's careful, but controlled. Your body writhes from his touch, legs pushing down on his shoulders, encouraging his face back to where he belongs. He almost whispers as his lips ghost your clit. "Tell me you're okay. Chess is always an option."

Why the fuck you'd wanna play chess is beyond you - and then you remember. Oh, he's so attentive. So kind. So gentle. So deserving of a blowjob.

"I'm okay," you promise, and Jeongguk finally lets his lips wrap around your clit. There's a provocative nature to the way he lets himself get all breathless and grunty. His tongue licks tenderly against your clit, but his fingers have been going for so long he's scared he'll cramp.

The way you whimper when he pulls them out is like music to his ears. Needy and pathetic. Gets his cock all hard.

You loved being plugged by him. Love the fullness he gives you. Hate to lose it.

His hands push back your thighs now. He studies you. Watches the clear fluid leak from you. Knows that your pussy must be desperate for his cock. Doesn't want to let any go to waste, so quickly licks it up. Sinks his tongue into the entrance of your hole. Can't go too far, but doesn't care to. Just wants to tease. To taste you. Drink nectar straight from the source.

One of your hands clasps over his fingers by your thigh. The other tenderly scratches at his scalp. You love his hair like this, all messy and indicative of the fact he's been up to no good. As he pulls away from you, lips glossy, a string of slick briefly keeping him attached to you, lip ring coated in the very essence of you, you decide you never want another face between your legs again. He's too pretty. You'll always compare.

He looks up at you with total adoration, a lopsided grin on his face as you scratch behind his ear. He's well aware he must look like a fucking puppy dog, but he doesn't care.

"You're so good," you tell him. Want him to know. Smirk, because you're aware of the dog parallels, too. "Such a good boy."

That shouldn't make Jeongguk's cock twitch as much as it does.

The hand in his hair encourages him back down, and he decides to show you just how good he really can be. His tongue roams between your folds, licking, and lapping. He's fast, and he's intentional, lips pouting as they press kisses against you, and even more so when they suck your sensitive bud between them.

Eyes closed, hands in his hair, legs wrapping around his head, you think of how pretty he is; how unspoilt his features are. You've never seen a nose so perfectly sloped or a cupid's bow so idyllic. It's the perfect ridge for your juices to gather, and Jeongguk knows this. Already isn't looking forward to his shower, 'cause he doesn't wanna lose the scent of you.

His pace increases. Fingers sink back into you. He's taking you for all you're worth; will win your orgasm fair and square. Needs it. Thinks he'll die without it.

The sounds of Jeongguk eating your pussy echo into his room; his fingers pushing you to the point of no return as his tongue massages you to a hedonistic state of being. The pressure in the very pit of your tummy builds. Your grip on his hair tights. You curse. Whimper.

"Right there. Fuck . Right there."

He doesn't ease. Gets faster. Edges and edges until he can edge no further. The wave crashes over; your release dizzying and detrimental all in one blow. It jolts through you, legs shaking, hot walls clenching, breathless mewls of pleasure letting Jeongguk know just how well he did. He doesn't stop. Pushes you further. Gets you gasping.

"Gguk," you whimper. "I- Fuck."

He nods against you. Doesn't stop. Lets his nose nestle into your folds. Holds his tongue back, just to say, "this cunt... fuck ."

You giggle, now. Jeongguk feels you tightening as you do so. Eases his fingers from you. Keeps you spread apart. Wants to see how messy you are - but is cut short when you say, "c'mere."

He doesn't even think about it. Just discards himself of his clothes and comes to join you on his bed. Will do anything you ask of him. There's a silly little smile on his pussy-drenched lips as his head nestles next to yours, face still covered in glitter. He's so heavenly like this; so angelic when he's unmistakably yours.

You aren't really thinking as you move closer. Your natural inclination is to kiss him, for a job well done. You realise just in time. Stop yourself. Grin as you nudge your nose against his, not caring for the fact he's covered in your cunt.

He grins, too. Laughs a little. "Was that okay?"

You nod. Wanna kiss him so badly. Speak, just stop yourself. Echo a thought you've shared before. "You really should start an only fans."

He laughs again. It's hearty and wholesome, and pure - or as pure as it can be, when he's covered in evidence of making your pussy cum. Neither of you really care for cleaning up just yet. His smile is too big. Dimples too deep. Lines beneath his eyes too telling of his happiness. God, he's missed you.

"I'd be no good on my own," he tells you. "Would need you to help me out."

You protest. Tell him to buy one of those fake pussy fuck-toys. Says it's all he needs. He corrects you. Tells you they're fleshlights, but doesn't tell you he's got one hidden in the back of his drawer from a particularly dry spell.

"No, not those," you say. "I mean like, the full torso ones. The ones with tits."

"Why would I want one of them?" He smirks, as his hands are quite literally squeezing at your boobs. He's just keeping them warm. That's all. "Ass guy."

You don't even dignify him with a verbalised response. Just tilt your head down to where Jeongguk is rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

"What?" He feigns indifference.

"Your lies will catch up with you," you promise him. He pushes your tits up as far as he can, dipping down to suck delicately on your nipples. Just for a couple of seconds. Maybe five. Six. Okay, ten - but you feel so nice in his mouth, so soothing - and then it's twenty seconds. Thirty. Forty.

He switches nipples. Repeats. Pulls away. Is so hard he thinks he might cum prematurely if he doesn't get a release soon.

You've completely altered his sense of desire. Ruined him for anyone else. You'd argue you've made him better. Deep down, he'd know it to be true.

"Gguk?"

"Hmm?" he mumbles a little lazily against your skin.

You toy with his hair, raking your finger through his silky waves. Any product he had been wearing in it seems to be redundant now, your hands too busy messing with it for it to hold its shape. He had looked so pretty all night.

Looks prettiest, now.

"I'm sorry I stole your chance to have a New Year's kiss," you say, thinking of how many girls must have wanted him.

The smile on his face falters a little. He's quiet for a moment, then speaks with absolute sincerity. "Meant what I said. I've a whole year for kisses, B. They can wait. Wanted to be with you when New Year came in."

"I feel bad," you whisper.

"Don't." He opens his eyes, and sees how stark your self-imposed guilt is. Your hands are still toying with his hair, so he holds onto your wrists and rests the pad of his thumb in the palm of your hand. Is contented when your fingers close down on it. He shakes your hand a little, and smiles tenderly. "Don't. Really, B. Are you sad?" He asks. "That you didn't have one, I mean? Did you want one?"

Answers are complex when they're both yes and no; much like this one. You would have wanted one for the sake of enjoying a silly little tradition - but you didn't wanna kiss a stranger, and didn't want to kiss those close to you, either.

And so you deflect with a joke. "Why? Are you offering?"

Stupid joke. Stupid fuckin' joke .

Jeongguk knows it's a joke. Weighs up how he could respond. Sincerity seems too heavy. Joking back seems too careless.

And so he tries honesty.

"Yeah," he whispers. "I am."

His lips ghost yours, 'cause he'll never be the one to put pressure behind them first. He wants to. Is dying to.

Thinks, in classic Jeongguk style, that he'll die if can't do it one day soon.

The way you always get so close to him, suffocate him in your hair and the scent of your perfume, drives him mad. He's spent so many hours trying not to kiss you. Has never shared the taste of your tongue, but has shared oxygen with you. Thinks there's nothing to be scared of - but knows that you are.

He'll never ridicule your fears. Not intentionally.

And so he is patient, and perfectly restrained with you.

Some say it's a virtue.

Yet as you wish he'd just do it - rip the band aid - you can't help but think of it as a vice.

He'll never do you wrong. Sometimes you wish he would.

But that's the thing about wishes. There's no divine intervention from an arbitrary God. No stars changing alignment. The luck you manifest is yours and yours alone. Wishes come true because you will it to be that way.

Jeongguks grip on your waist tightens as your nose nudges deeper against his. There's a deliberate nature to your movements; how your hand rests on his jaw and how your leg hooks over his hip. The fluidity of your bodies together makes it so easy.

The grip on your waist is diverted to your ass. His fingers squeeze. Lips pout. Hips roll.

He husks your name. Not disco ball. Not Byeol. Your actual fucking name. Fucking whines against your lips. Can barely fuckin' breathe. "Please."

Your lips brush his. No pressure. Just aligning. Seeing how his lip ring feels. Jeongguk's semi begins to stiffen as he rubs himself against you again. His breathing is fucked.

Slowly - nervously, timidly - you slip your lips between his. Sink into the space left between them. Your bottom lip is plush between his. He doesn't press down. He waits. Waits and waits and waits. Has been waiting for months. What hurt will a few seconds do?

The hand you're resting on his jaw pulls him closer. Dictates his moves. This is all up to you.

The way your body nervously awaits the pressure you're refusing to apply is so telling. The delicate buds of your nipples that Jeongguk has grown to adore are hard against his bare chest. He's having to be careful as he rubs up against you, because your pussy is getting wetter and wetter. Coated in everything you are, Jeongguk's throbbing cock slides between your folds, massaging you in a way that you'll never grow tired of.

Jeongguk wants to speak; to encourage you.

Any words spoken would result in the closing of his lips and the removal of your ability to choose this - and so he stays quiet. Moans a little when the friction of his foreskin sliding back against your wet folds gets a little too good.

You smile. Like the way it feels. Can feel the slick build, then leak from the depths of your cunt. Know that you're one overly-eager rut away from him fucking himself into you.

Maybe you should pull away. Maybe you should let him fuck you instead.

But you've come so far.

You're safe. Warm. Content. With your favourite person in the whole entire world.

If you can't kiss him, then who the fuck can you kiss?

You still your hips. So does he. Deepen the position of your lips, until you know they can go no further. His nose is nestled next to yours, a shallow breath reminding you that life will go on - you'll still breathe - even if your lips close down on his.

He's always told you that he's not scared of you.

It's time to reciprocate that.

And so silently, as you press your lips down into his, you let go of a fear that's been holding you back for far too long.

It takes Jeongguk a moment to kiss you back. He wants to be sure you're sure.

But you are.

His lips slowly accept this new sensation; the softness of your bottom lip, the feeling of your nose as it nudges against his, the pining sensation that's so often left on his lips being remedied.

He's kissing you. Slowly, silently, serenely. It lasts for hours, but also for just a second. You're not sure which is more accurate as your lips naturally part for a moment; to breathe. To assess. To realign. To repeat.

He kisses you again. Once. Twice. Deeper, a third time. His hips begin to rut. His moans vibrate against you. The slipperiness of your pussy is juxtaposed to the innocence of such pure kisses. Lips still on his, you reach down to where your bodies are so well acquainted, it's like interrupting a conversation. Your nimble fingers wrap around Jeongguk's length. He moans. Wants to say something, but can't. Doesn't want to stop kissing you.

You move your hips. Line him up. Nod into the kiss. A hard breath exhales from his nose against your cheek, his whine echoing into your mouth as the tip of his cock penetrates your entrance. The fit is tight - snug - but so welcome. It's like coming home, he thinks.

"You're so fucking good," he whines into your lips, then presses down against them once more. "Such a good fuckin' girl for me."

He means it. You are good for him. Give him somewhere he belongs; somewhere he'll never feel alien. A girl full of galaxies, yet he's home no matter which cosmic entity you remind him of on any given day of the week.

You whine a little as his hips pulse up, pushing his dick into you. He's so big, and you're still so sensitive from how well he ate you out earlier, but you think you'd rather die than not see this through. You'll take the overstimulation, take whatever he'll give you, just to feel that fullness you only get from him.

Jeongguk grunts as he fucks himself into you. Gets breathless. Gets moany. Gets mean. Nasty.

"Gonna nut inside you," he tells you. You smirk against his lips. You love it when he gets all chatty and tells you all kinds of shit he never would if he wasn't on the brink of an orgasm. "God, I'm gonna fill your pussy up with my cum. Gonna fill you so well. Fill you forever."

That's not exactly how anatomy works and you go to tell him as such - but he changes position. Gets you on your back. Sits on his heels. Grips your waist with one hand, your chest with the other. Squeezes. Gets you whining. He pulses his hips slowly. Once. Fuck . Twice. Yes . And then he's back to a pace that feels more like him; fast and rough.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours is almost as loud as the breathless moans you can't be bothered to hide. He's making you feel so good as he pumps himself into you. It's only fair he knows just how well he's doing.

He squeezes at one of your boobs. Pinches your nipple. Pulls a little. Makes you moan. Does the same to the other side. Watches as they move from the momentum of his hips. Is fucking obsessed. Can't believe he wasted so many years convinced he was an ass guy. Loves your ass, granted, but fuck .

And when your hand sinks down to play with your clit while he's fucking his fat cock into your tight hole? God. Jeongguk thinks he might just die.

Tells you so.

"Gonna kill me off, you are."

You giggle. The way your pussy throbs around him? Yeah. Chances of death? Rapidly increasing.

"Feel good?" you check, just in case.

He nods. Wishes you could experience what it's like to fuck you; how good feel. How much he loves being trapped inside you. Makes his already desperate cock throb when he has those moments of clarity; he's fucking you. His cock? It's inside you. It's a simple thought process, but one that always overwhelms him.

Sinking down to suck on your nipples, tits in a white-knuckle death grip, Jeongguk knows if he thinks in any great depth, then that will be it. He'll cum. He wants this to last. Knows it can - but also knows your pussy is gonna make him cum so so soon.

So lost in his thoughts, he almost doesn't notice when you call his name. If it weren't for your hand cupping beneath his chin and pulling him down, he might not have realised at all. "Gguk?"

He follows your lead. Is about to sink his lips in yours when he replies, "Yeah, baby?"

He doesn't mean to call you that. Knows he absolutely should not have called you that. Kisses you again to distract from the fact he did. Ruts into you faster. Harder. Revels in the tightness of your walls, and the softness of your lips.

Knows he should check what you needed, but it was nothing, Just wanted him to look at you. But he'd called you baby. Oh, you're all sorts of fucked up. Try not to think about it. Your distraction method? A kiss . The waters are getting so muddy. This is so bad. Detrimental.

But fuck. He's close. So close. Doesn't wanna stop; any of it. Doesn't wanna stop fucking you. Doesn't wanna stop kissing you. God. He can't believe he can . Can't believe he knows what your moans sound like when they're vibrating into his mouth. Can barely wrap his head around the fact your tongue is in his mouth. He thinks he's going crazy. Thinks he might have already died. There's no way he can feel this at home inside another person's body.

But he does.

Knows that there's no pussy that's ever gotten him like this. Would be foolish to think you're the only person who will ever make him feel this way, but he quite enjoys playing the fool.

Jeongguk's skin is clammy. Sweat beads on his skin. Some of it catches on your skin as you move your hands from his back to cup his sharp jaw, and find yourself obsessed . Primitive desire, you think. Just like Jeongguk's obsession with your scent. All just survival of the fittest, built to breed, type shit. Of all the people he could fuck his sperm into, his body seems to think you'd be a good match. He trusts it. Agrees with it.

"Fucking me so well," you tell him. "Working so hard."

He nods, forehead resting in the crook of your neck. "Working so hard, B. Wanna make you feel good."

There are no words to articulate the way Jeongguk feels inside of you. No size grand enough, no adjective complimentary enough. No sensation even close to the euphoria that comes with being fucked by Jeon Jeongguk.

You press a tiny little kiss to his lips. "You do." And then you kiss him again. Deeper. Tug on his bottom lip with his teeth. Get him whining. His cock stalls. Left leg begins to shake. His right will follow, but it's always in that order. Left, then right. The way he whimpers into your mouth makes you wanna edge him for all of eternity - but he deserves this orgasm.

"Where should I- Fuck. Byeol, I'm there. I'm gonna- Fuck . Where do you want it?"

"Tits," you say without a second thought. You wanna watch him cum. Wanna see it. Wanna see how pretty his cock looks as his cum pulses out of it.

You hate how it feels when Jeongguk pulls out - how empty you are - but when he's shakily getting himself in position, jaw hanging slack, brows threaded together, lewd moans escaping his mouth as he wanks him over your tits, you know its worth it.

"That's it," you encourage. "All over my tits."

Jeongguk curses. Tightens the way he's straddling over you. Tugs at himself. Loses his fucking mind when your hand wraps around his. He lets go. It's all you; one hand around his shaft, the other softly playing with his balls. "Yeah. Yeah, Like that. Oh, fuck."

His legs shake; torso tenses. Has to grab onto his headboard just to keep himself from fucking keeling over. He's stimulated to a point he doesn't think he's reached before. Doesn't even feel like his body is his.

"Cumming," he mumbles. "I'm fucking cumming."

The way his cock twitches, balls tightening, is enough to confirm this. You keep going.

"All over my tits," you say again, just to really drive it home. "Good boy."

His whimpers are quiet as he unloads his cum onto you in thick, creamy spurts. You hold his cock against one of your tits, and let his spunk trail down them. A few more releases drip onto your skin. He sits up straighter. Looks at the mess. Wants to fuck you all over again.

He grips his still-hard cock and spanks it against your cum-covered tits. Massages his leaky head against them; rubs his cum into your skin. Lets go of his cock. Grips your tits instead. Pushes them both together, and watches as his cum smears all over them. Squeezes your nipples. Wants them in his mouth. Moves a little down the bed, and positions himself beside you. Encourages you to face him as his tongue licks against your cummy chest. He circles around your nipple. Takes it in his mouth. Sucks. One of his hands grips your other boob. Holds it close to his face so he can switch between your nipples, of which he does. Sucks for a moment or so. Teases with his tongue. Then switches. It's a back and forth that has you going insane.

And when his spare hand dips down to play with your folds? Sinks a finger back into your soaked cunt? Heaven. He fucks a second finger into you. A third. Keeps his lips suctioned around your nipples, utterly obsessed with the way it feels to have them in his mouth.

He's a little careless with his fingers, but it's exactly what you need to come undone again. You need it rough. Need him to override the overstimulation you're fighting. It doesn't take long. Your body writhes, but he keeps you close. Doesn't bother talking you through it. You both know it's his tongue against your sensitive nipples that's working the magic. Words would be wasted.

Your orgasm hits you hard. Fast. It waves over you so violently that you almost kick him. Jeongguk smirks as he begins to feel your orgasm contract around his fingers.

Your wetness seeps from you, Jeongguk still plugging your pussy. Your muscles are tight in a way he doesn't think he's experienced before. Your climax is violent. All consuming. You have to bite his pillow just to stop yourself from screaming.

It's never felt like this before. He doesn't relent. Is obsessed. It's so much wetter than usual. Your whimpers are different, too. The way your legs shake? The way you can't fucking breathe? How your pussy is quite literally clamping his fingers inside of you? It's all different. It's so much more than an orgasm.

He's never taken you this far beyond the point of a climax. Didn't know you could do this. Has only ever seen it in fucking porn. Sort of thought it was a myth - but you're squirting for him. Because of him. On him.

He will die, and you absolutely will be the cause of it.

"Fuck, B," Jeongguk curses against your lips as he realises what's happening. Keeps going. Fucks his fingers into you, still. His hand is getting wetter, still . You shake, still ; squirt, still . Jeongguk's gonna fuckin' die. That's all he can think about. Death, and pussy. His, and yours. Hell, and heaven. "That's it. Squirt for me, B. Such a good girl."

You nod, almost delirious from the pleasure he's administering. His fingers fuck into you still, your pussy contracting around him.

Eyes closed, teeth pressing down on your bottom lip, you can't think of anything except the sensation of your pussy giving itself up for him. The wave of pleasure was so intense that you hadn't noticed your release at first; not until the lewd sounds of his fingers inside of you became louder, and Jeongguk himself had realised.

You don't even really have grasp on the fact it happened. Knew that it could, but you've been the only person to ever get yourself that far. Never has someone else ever made you squirt. You don't think you ever really trusted anyone enough with your body to give it up entirely.

But Jeongguk is Jeongguk. There's nothing to be scared of.

"Koo," you whimper as you finally get some control over yourself, body jolting from the intensity of it all.

He's slow to withdraw his fingers. Doesn't want to, but also knows he has to be gentle.

"I know, baby," he husks a little breathlessly, as he presses a kiss into your shaky lips. "I know."

In all honesty, he doesn't know. Doesn't have a clue what you could possibly be thinking. Just knows he's feeling all sorts of fucked up, and that you probably are, too.

It's been a long night. You've both been through it.

But you both feel overwhelmingly at ease.

"Sorry," he whispers. Presses a kiss against your hair.

"Mhmm?" You question, still deliriously spent. There's so much to do. Sheets to change. Showers to be had. You just wanna laze with him a little while longer. "What for?"

Jeongguk holds you close. Doesn't wanna lose this, either. He knows how you get once the morning comes and regrets start creeping in. He's doing damage control early. Letting you know that it's okay.

"I broke your rules," he says, as if you weren't a willing participant.

You shake your head. You kissed him first. Kissed him when he called you baby. Rewarded him for his misdemeanours. Of course he'd be a repeat offender. You're just as much to blame.

"Don't do that."

"Apologise?"

"Don't put all the blame on you. It's not," you say, before leaning up to steal an ever-so-sacred kiss from his lips. "There. I did it. I broke them. My fault."

"B-"

"If you try and apologise I'm gonna think you regret it," you tell him.

Jeongguk shuts up. Plans to remain silent. Can't help himself, though. Thinks it's important you know how he feels about you, and the birds, and this whole fuckin' mess.

"I've never regretted a thing we've done, B. Never."

His tone consumes you. Is so serious. So sincere. It makes you nervous - so you deflect.

"What about that time we accidentally ordered the extra spicy tteokbokki?"

He smiles. Laughs. Is serene as he eases up. "Okay. One regret."

You kiss him. Lips soft. Touch tender. Just 'cause you can. Just 'cause you wanna.

Have resigned yourself to the fact this is one-night-only kind of thing; that come the next morning, you'll laugh about it.

'Can you believe we kissed?' 'Let's never do that again.' 'So weird.' 'Just a friendly kiss. Sort of like kissing a fish, actually.' 'I'm gonna sew your mouth shut one day.'

And so for now, as Jeongguk encourages you up - "c'mon. Shower. You get in. I'll sort the sheets. Will join you in a second, okay?" - and kisses you again before you leave, you revel in it.

You stand alone under the crashing water, wondering what the fuck you've just done. Contemplating how badly this will all end up biting you in the arse.

Jeongguk does much the same. Looks at himself in the mirror; naked and alone. Can see evidence of you all over his skin - scratch marks, pretty purple bouquets delivered by your lips, the sheen of your slick - and decides he likes himself better this way. Doesn't think he'll look like himself when it's all washed away.

He makes up his bed. Puts a fresh sheet down, and tosses the old one by his door, ready for a wash. Goes to chuck his pillows on the floor - and then just doesn't. If you want the space, he'll give you it, no questions asked. He doesn't want the space, though. Wants you in his bed again. Wants you close.

And as he comes to join you in the shower, a protective arm slinking around your waist, lips pressed into your neck, you know that you don't want to be alone. Not for the rest of the night, at least. The glitter might wash away, but this feeling? He's not certain.

You're not sure that waking up beside him will be sensible for your fragile heart, but can't stand the idea of not falling asleep beside him. He's so warm. It's the smart thing to do. Will save on his heating bill.

A good decision, you think.

But since when have you ever been good at those?

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#jungkook smut

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sister-lucifer · 2 months ago

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Taken To Another World

⊹₊⟡⋆A Multifandom Fantasy AU Themed 5K Celebration Writing Challenge⊹₊⟡⋆

Special thanks to @ghostboneswrites2 for inspiring this!

Interested? Keep reading!

There will be two prompts for each genre; a pair for fluff, a pair for smut, a pair for angst, and a pair for horror. Each prompt comes with its own criteria, so read carefully!

How To Participate:

Reblog this post (for reach! thanks!)

Pick a prompt (or multiple)

Write your fic

Post it and tag me (feel free to send it to me directly if I don’t see it!)

Use the tag #lucifer’s 5k fantasy challenge

The fandoms this challenge is open to are as follows:

Obey Me!, Creepypasta, Marble Hornets, Batman (and all related media), Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure (all parts), and any original characters/universes.

Don’t see your fandom? You’re still free to use these prompts (and please tag me if you do so I can see it,) but it unfortunately will not count as an entry for this challenge!

Rules:

Feel free to pick multiple prompts, but you cannot enter more than one fic per prompt!

The fics can be part of your own ongoing series, but they must be able to stand alone as their own piece without the additional context of the series

Please state which prompt you chose somewhere on your post

Feel free to cross post your work to another site such as Ao3, but please, do mention that it was part of my challenge

Anyone can participate in this challenge, however I ask that minors stay away from the NSFW prompts

You are free to bend the prompts as you wish, there is no mandatory time period or setting

My inbox and messages are always open if you need to ask questions, consult me, or just want to discuss ideas!

The fics can be Character x Reader, Character x OC, or Character x Character; relationships can be platonic or romantic as you wish

Some prompts are written with pairs in mind; feel free to modify this to fit in as many characters as you’d like. Poly relationships included!

Absolutely NO incest OR pedophilia under any circumstances

NO AI, NO using other people’s writing, and NO using a piece you’ve already written

Pay attention to the criteria! Prompt 1 will have a required quote, and Prompt 2 will have a required plot point/action

The Deadline is currently undecided. This will be updated soon

Winners:

I will choose up to 3 finalists for each prompt. The finalists will be presented in a poll, and the readers will choose the winner.

The winner of each prompt will get their own shoutout/promo post including an analysis of what I liked about their fic, & at least 3 fics I recommend from them and why.

Does all that sound like fun? Good! Here’s your prompts:

Over The River, Through The Woods…

Fluff + Faeries

Prompt 1: In a fit of rebellion, a naive royal flees from the castle and into the woods. They stumble upon a faerie who, against all they’ve ever been taught, seems rather…kind.

Necessary Criteria: “Anyone can do a good thing if they try.” / “Well…how often do you try?”

Prompt 2: Fae don’t often leave their villages, except to gather. Unfortunately, one foolish faerie has found themself entangled in a trap left behind by a human hunter. Even worse, the human has returned to see what they’ve caught; although, they seem far more curious than hostile.

Necessary Criteria: One of the characters teaches the other a new word in their native tongue.

Magic Begins In Superstition, And Ends In Science…

Angst + Alchemy

Prompt 1: The job of an alchemist’s apprentice is rarely an easy one. Magic is a fickle mistress, after all. When the apprentice’s companion tries to pull them away from their work, the argument gets heated, until the pressure becomes too much and causes an intense explosion…literally.

Necessary Criteria: “You’re not even smart enough to understand what I do, and you think you get to tell me when to stop working?!”

Prompt 2: The alchemist’s work is starting to consume them. Blinded by their pursuit of knowledge, they recklessly decide to slip a bit of their newest experimental concoction into their companion’s meal without their knowledge. The alchemist convinces themselves this is all for the greater good, and surely nothing all that bad could happen, but soon comes to regret it.

Necessary Criteria: A horrible transformation.

The Tongue May Be Twice As Sharp And Thrice As Lethal As The Blade…

Smut + Swords

Prompt 1: A rivalry between two swordsman gets a bit out of hand when the pair decide to make a salacious bet over a duel: whoever loses must play submissive to the other, starting from the moment they drop their sword.

Necessary Criteria: “Don’t think I’ll surrender that easily.” / “Mm, I didn’t think you would…I like it so much more when you’re fiery.”

Prompt 2: A courageous knight rescues a royal from the clutches of peril, and their majesty simply can’t let their hero leave without thoroughly rewarding them for such bravery.

Necessary Criteria: The pair narrowly avoid being caught in the act.

Cursed Is The Man Who Dies, But The Evil Done By Him Survives…

Horror + Hexes

Prompt 1: Foolish explorers accidentally wander into a witch’s garden. One of them can’t resist plucking a berry from a bush, not giving it a second thought as they swallow it down, only for the horrific consequences of a curse to start taking form the next day.

Necessary Criteria: “Please…you have to tell me you know how to make this stop.”

Prompt 2: While treasure hoarding is generally frowned upon among honorable bounty hunters, some simply can’t kick the habit. This quickly proves to be a terrible mistake, though, as a cursed trinket starts to warp its owner’s mind and plunge them into a darkness that turns them on the one they love most.

Necessary Criteria: Creative use of an everyday object as a weapon.

Final Reminders:

Most importantly: Have Fun!

Make sure to read the rules carefully!

You’re always free to ask questions!

Tag me in your entry + use the tag #lucifer’s 5k fantasy challenge!

Happy Writing, everyone!

(even if you don’t plan to participate, please reblog and share this post so others will see it!)

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theemporium · 1 year ago

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camgirl!reader? can we get some possessive lando maybe??

welcome to the angel-universe🫡she’s gonna be a smutty one! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

Usually, Lando had no problem sharing you.

You were drop dead gorgeous and your moans sounded so damn pretty that, if anything, it would just be downright selfish for him to keep that to himself. He didn’t mind sharing his Angel with the world because the world deserved to see the beauty that you were.

And he knew that as much as they watched, it was him that you came home to at the end of the day.

He knew that. He did. He really, really did. But sometimes it was just hard to remember.

It had been difficult for you both. Between the triple header and all your assignment deadlines overlapping, it meant that you were unable to join him at the races. You were used to the time apart, but after almost a month of timezones and messages that didn’t really give you what you needed, it was clear to everyone that you missed each other.

Especially Lando.

You were his rock. You were his person. You were his best friend. And to not have you there after a stint of bad races, it just only made everything worse. He was moody, snappier than anyone had ever seen. But unfortunately there was nothing anyone could do.

He thought watching your videos would help, that even just seeing your face would make the tightness in his chest ease up a little. But all it did was piss him off when he saw the men flooding your comments, saw you playing out their fantasies, giggling and smiling and coming for them.

Logically, Lando knew that this was your job. That you were just doing what you were being paid to do and it meant nothing. But he was exhausted and jet-lagged and he missed you, and it was really fucking difficult to be logical in that state.

He almost felt bad.

Emphasis on the almost.

“That’s it, look how fucking good you look taking my cock, huh?” Lando groaned, his head thrown back as he felt a rush of pleasure run down his spine. He tucked his chin to his chest, looking down and watching the way you were writhing beneath him.

He was all over you the second he walked through the door of your apartment. His hands were in your hair, his lips were on your neck and it took less than thirty seconds before he had you sprawled on your couch with your thighs squeezing his head.

Then against the wall in your corridor.

And then over your vanity desk.

Until you finally reached your bed. Your body was on fire, hot and flustered with everyone one of his touches but you couldn’t get enough. After three weeks of using your own fingers and toys, you craved him in a way you had never craved anything else in your life—and he was just as insatiable as you were.

“Fuck, Lando!” You buried your face into your pillow, the soft material wet with a mix of your own tears and drool but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “Please, please, please—”

“That vibrator not enough for you, baby? I saw you,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, his words emphasised with each thrust of his hips. “Saw you make yourself come over and over and over again.”

“Wasn’t the same,” you sobbed, your fists clenching the sheets between your fingers. “Needed you. Needed your cock.”

“Yeah?” He groaned when he felt your walls clench around him. “My Angel needed my cock, hm? Should have let them all hear it, baby. Should have let all your little watchers hear you beg for my cock.”

You let out a choked noise mixed between a whine and a moan.

“Show them how fucking desperate you are,” he continued, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you back onto his cock, moving your body like you weighed nothing. “Let them know that they can look all they want, but you’re my Angel.”

“Yours,” you gasped out. “Only yours.”

“That’s right, Angel,” he grunted as he leaned over, his lips brushing against your cheek and his cock pushed so deep inside you, it made you choke on your breath. “Only mine. And I’m gonna make sure you every one of those fuckers know it too.”

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hardly-an-escape · 8 months ago

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what's in a name? | Dream/Hob | 9300 words | rated E

this is my submission for @designtheendless's 3K commission giveaway: a Dreamling fic based on their fanart above!

tags: alternate universe - human, photographer Hob Gadling, artist Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, model Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, strangers to lovers, snowed in, only one bed, light dom/sub, oral sex, face fucking, anal fingering, anal sex, anonymous sex, Dream of the Endless is a horny little weasel, and Hob is no less of a horny little weasel, brief Princess Bride references, alcohol consumption, impulsive decision making, callous disregard for the geography of northern California, they go from 0-60 because they’re both nuts, neither of them are in a great place but they do make each other better rather than worse

Hob is on an ill-fated road trip through California. He’s making his way slowly down the coast toward Los Angeles when, trapped by a snowstorm in a small town near Mount Shasta, he meets a mysterious stranger in a diner. They share a night of anonymous passion – but when the sun rises, Hob finds that he can’t just leave the stranger behind…

this story developed partially from Picture Perfect, one of my Fluffbruary 2024 fills. I also incorporated some of designtheendless's other suggested image prompts, so do make sure you check their original post! and thank you so much for extending the deadline, it meant I had time to get my CHBB fic submitted before pivoting to finish this... and even so I'm still barely getting it done in time just because of who I am as a person :D

Hob leans forward over the steering wheel, brows furrowed as he peers through the driving snow at the street ahead. The windshield wipers are going like mad; he’s seen a plow or two out, but they seem to barely be making a dent, so traffic has slowed to a crawl. Which is, frankly, for the best, since the weather is bad enough that only a true nutter would be out in it at all.

Well… nobody’s ever accused Hob of being sane.

His GPS instructs him to take the next right and informs him that his destination will then be on his right. He can just make out the neon sign through the thick flakes: Townhouse Motel. “Vacancy,” it says below the old-timey script, blinking on and off. In the distance, the sun is just beginning to settle behind some mountains that he’s sure would be beautiful if they weren’t hidden behind such inclement weather.

He pulls in the driveway. The lot is nearly empty, so he parks right next to the office door and jams his winter cap on his head before hurrying through the flurries.

The bored teenager behind the front desk barely looks up from the reality show playing on her tablet as she runs Hob’s credit card and gives him his door key – an actual, physical key. Room 1389. He decides it’s not worth it to ask why the room number has four digits when the motel has maybe a dozen rooms total.

He does ask if there’s somewhere nearby to get a bite to eat and a drink.

“There’s a diner across the street and down a block,” the teenager says, “but they don’t serve booze.” Then, finally looking up, perhaps seeing the bags under his eyes and his generally downtrodden demeanor, she relents. “There’s a liquor store about two blocks past that. You can bring stuff back to your room, I guess. It’s not like anybody is going to ask questions around here.”

That, Hob thinks as he heads back outside and moves his rental car a little closer to his door, is obvious. There’s a general air of neglect clinging to the motel, and indeed to the whole street, from what he can see: the buildings are a little more weatherbeaten than can be plausibly explained by a cute vintage aesthetic, and at least one storefront seems to be permanently boarded up. The recession has clearly hit Northern California just as hard as it has the rest of the United States.

What a time to be playing tourist. What a time to be – well, he won’t think about that right now.

His room is clean, at least. Someone, at some point in time, has made a half-hearted attempt to decorate it with a seaside theme. The bedlinens are various shades of blue, rather than your typical beigey-white. There’s an unfortunate painting of a mermaid hanging over the outdated television, and a slightly less unfortunate painting of a lighthouse above the bed. The bathroom wallpaper has little seashells on it.

Hob leaves his camera bag on the desk and his duffel on the end of the bed, grabs his wallet, turns his collar up against the cold, and heads back out into the snowy evening.

The diner is, as promised, only a short walk down the street, but Hob is shivering by the time he gets there. The wind cuts right through him – silly British man that he is, he thought California would be warm, even in winter. He hadn’t really reckoned with unpredictable mountain weather, or with the cold front that was chasing him down through the southern end of the Cascades. The weatherman on the radio had been calling it “freakish.”

A little bell tinkles merrily when he pushes open the door. A waitress calls out a greeting, tells him to sit wherever he likes and she’ll be right with him. There’s only one other person in the diner, a slender man dressed all in black who is hunched over a cup of coffee at the counter. He glances up and immediately back down as Hob stomps the snow off his boots and takes an empty booth far enough away from the front door that he won’t feel the rush of cold air if anyone else comes in.

The waitress bustles over, bringing him a cup of coffee without even asking. Hob wraps his fingers around it gratefully. He doesn’t normally drink coffee this late, but it’s been the kind of day that calls for it: so cold, so uncomfortable and distressing, that the sturdy ceramic mug is exactly what he wants. The bitter note of slightly burnt coffee is tempered by the cheap, artificially flavored vanilla creamer he only ever uses at this kind of greasy spoon diner. He breathes deep and feels something inside him start to thaw.

When the waitress comes back with a menu, he warms up even more. She is middle-aged and comfortable, nice and no-nonsense, the sort of person with an indeterminate American accent who could have come from anywhere: Illinois, or Florida, or five minutes down the road. She recommends the olive burger with fries, and a side of fried pickles, because they’re the best in the county, and then her excitement simply bubbles over.

“I’m just so darn tickled to have two Brits here in the same night!” she enthuses. “Oh gosh, is that okay? Can I call you Brits or is that rude?”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Hob laughs. “Two of us, eh? That is a coincidence.”

“I know, right? Okay hon, lemme just get your order in and I’ll be back to warm up your coffee in a sec.”

She bustles away again, and Hob looks curiously at the man at the counter. He must have heard her comment, but he hasn’t turned around, or indeed acknowledged Hob in any way since he came in. He shrugs mentally and turns away to look out the window at the thickly swirling snow. It’s dark enough now that streetlights have come on, casting cones of light in which the flakes dance like a very slow sodium-tinted tornado.

He wishes he had a book. Or a crossword puzzle, or one of those packets of crayons they give to kids at restaurants. Something to keep his hands occupied and his mind off of everything that was threatening to consume it, off of the last few days, off of her –

Then the man from the counter slides into the booth across from him.

“Hello,” Hob says.

“Hello,” the stranger says. His voice is surprisingly deep and resonant, coming from his slim frame, and he looks to be in his late twenties, perhaps a few years younger than Hob. He is very pale. His dark hair is sticking up rather wildly and his eyes are a cold, clear blue that reminds Hob of the way the sky had looked this morning, before the clouds had descended.

“Who are you, then? Aside from a fellow Brit?” asks Hob.

“No one of consequence.” He’s lugging around a small backpack, which now rests on the bench beside him.

“I must know,” Hob says in a very bad Inigo Montoya accent.

“Get used to disappointment,” the stranger says with a smirk, and Hob laughs.

“Oh, we’re going to get along just fine,” he says, holding his hand out across the table. “My name’s Hob, yes that’s my real name, and yes, it is a long story.”

The stranger shakes his hand briefly. His palm is warm from cupping his coffee cup, but the tips of his fingers are cold. “Pleased to meet you, Hob.”

“And do you have a name, stranger?”

“I do. Several, in fact.”

“Any of them for public consumption?”

The stranger shrugs. “Will you forgive me if I maintain a certain level of mystery?”

Hob shrugs too. “That’s your lookout, mate. No skin off my nose.”

They chat. About the weather, and how odd it is, and how different to England. About books – the stranger appears to be a voracious reader, and Hob had loaded up an old iPod with audiobooks in preparation for a lot of driving, which sparks a lively debate on the merits of printed books vs reading aloud. In the midst of this, Hob’s food arrives, and he is derailed momentarily from the conversation by an overwhelming need to unhinge his jaw and stuff as many chips into his gob as humanly possible. The stranger watches in amusement.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Hob says, muffled by his burger. “Been driving pretty much all day and I didn’t really want to stop, so…”

He’s suddenly self-conscious, very aware that the man sitting across from him is slender and willowy and dressed all in black, and that he himself is very much… not that. Dressed for comfort and warmth in slightly baggy jeans and a flannel shirt and his puffy jacket balled up on the bench beside him. But the stranger seems unbothered, simply smiling slightly and snagging a fried pickle off the plate between them, which Hob had invited him to share moments after it had arrived.

They are good; crispy and salty and uniquely American. Hob is certainly prepared to believe they’re the best in the county.

“So are you staying here in town, or is that shrouded in mystery as well?” he asks, once he’s slowed down a bit.

“I’ve been staying in a cabin up the mountain, a little way out of town. With my family.” He said the word family as though it is faintly dirty. “One of my siblings thought it would be good for us to get away together. But I have found it… trying.”

“Up the mountain, eh? Are you going to be able to get back in this?”

Hob tips his head toward the window. It is very dark now, and the snow is falling more thickly and wildly than ever. A crease appears between the stranger’s eyebrows.

“To be honest, I had not thought that far ahead.”

“Do you have much experience driving in the snow?”

To Hob’s surprise, the stranger actually blushes, just a gentle stain of pink across his cheekbones. “I… walked.”

“You walked?”

The waitress, stopping by the table to warm up their coffees, echos Hob’s surprise.

“Oh, honey,” she says. “In this? How are you fixing to get home?”

“I was planning to walk back,” the stranger says with some asperity. “But I admit I was not anticipating this kind of weather.”

“Let me check on the roads for you,” the waitress says kindly. “Which cabin did you say you’re at? My brother-in-law lives up that way, I’ll give him a call. I’m sure we can find you a ride.”

She goes back behind the counter and picks up the phone.

“I’m happy to give you a ride,” Hob says quietly. “If she thinks it’s safe.”

“You do not have to do that.”

“‘S okay. I want to.”

“Bill? It’s Jan. I have a question for you,” says the waitress.

Hob realizes, suddenly and with some surprise, that it is quite true, that he is not just being polite: he does want to help this mysterious stranger, who talks like a 19th-century Byronic hero and dresses like a college goth. His stomach is doing the tiniest little swoop every time they make eye contact, and he doesn’t want it to stop.

The waitress calls over to him.

“You got four wheel drive, hon?”

Hob thinks about the little Honda Civic in the motel parking lot. Thinks about mountain roads and snow. Shakes his head no.

Scraps of the waitress’s conversation float across the diner and Hob takes another bite of his burger.

“– well they’re foreign, Bill, they don’t –”

He snickers just a little; can’t help himself, really, because the waitress is just so kind and helpful and also clearly more than a little bit befuddled by their presence in her diner. These two Brits, total strangers, so unalike one another – and yet here they are, sharing a booth and a plate of fried pickles, five thousand miles and change away from home. He exchanges a look of camaraderie with the stranger and eats some more chips. They’re good too.

“– and tomorrow? What’s the overnight –”

After another minute or two the waitress thanks her brother-in-law and hangs up the phone. Her face is serious when she comes back to their table.

“Well, boys,” she says, “I don’t think anyone is going anywhere tonight. Bill says it’s pretty bad up there, and only getting worse. The plows aren’t even going out yet on account of the snow’s still coming down so hard, it doesn’t make sense to try and clear anything. You going to be able to find a place to stay?” she asks the stranger.

He looks at Hob. “Did you mention a motel?”

“Yeah, the Townhouse?” Hob says, and the waitress nods along. “I don’t know for sure if there are rooms available, but it didn’t look like the parking was full.”

“Probably not, this time of year,” interjects the waitress. “It’s a fine place, and Paulie can certainly use the business. I’ll bring your checks by in a minute, guys.”

She leaves them again. Her sensible sneakers squeak against the floor tiles as she walks.

“Thank you again for your offer of a ride,” the stranger says quietly. “That was very kind of you.”

“Course. I’m just sorry you won’t be able to get home tonight,” Hob says.

“It is my own fault. I should not have behaved so impulsively. But my siblings…” The man frowns. “As I said, they can be difficult. I would have done something regrettable, had I remained in the house.”

Hob waves a hand. “Ah, it happens to the best of us. Especially around family. You should hear some of the fights I’ve had with my sister, we can scream the paint off the walls when we get going.”

“Indeed,” the man says darkly.

“I’m glad you did come to town, though. It’s been kind of nice,” Hob says tentatively. “Having someone to talk to tonight.”

“Indeed,” his stranger repeats. But this time one corner of his mouth lifts in a tiny smile. “It seems to have worked out in my favor.”

Hob smiles back. “So, are you really not going to tell me your name?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Fun, eh?” Hob glances down at his own hands, folded on the table, back at the stranger. “Is that what this is?”

The stranger smirks. He leans forward and plucks another fried pickle from the plate. He opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue just a little bit farther than necessary to pop the slice into his mouth. He chews, and smirks some more, and gives Hob an unmistakable up-and-down appraising glance, and underneath the table he presses one ankle against Hob’s instep.

Oh. Hob feels a surprising but not unfamiliar spike of arousal in his gut. So that’s where this is heading – has been heading, since he pushed open the door and the stranger had glanced up at him. Had he blushed, when his eyes met Hob’s? Or is he applying more detail to that brief interaction after the fact, now that he thinks he knows what his stranger is thinking?

And when had the man become his stranger?

“I see,” he says, and presses back against the bony ankle under the table.

Ten minutes later, they’ve settled their bills – his stranger had apparently eaten a club sandwich before Hob had arrived, and he’s weirdly relieved that the man has consumed something more substantial than coffee this evening – and are gearing up to head back into the cold. Hob is zipping up his coat when he realizes the other man appears to have only a thick black hoodie and a knit beanie (also black, of course). He glances out the window, where it’s still snowing pretty hard, and raises an eyebrow.

“You going to be okay in just that?”

“You said it is only a couple of blocks? I will be fine. I tend not to feel the cold. And,” he adds defensively, “when I originally walked down the weather was not quite so… inclement.”

“If you say so,” Hob says as he opens the door. The waitress calls out a good night and he waves to her over his stranger’s shoulder. Wonders, just for a moment, what she thinks of the fact that they’re leaving together, or if she will ever think of them again at all. They step out into the snowy evening. “The girl at the motel said there’s a liquor store down the street. Mind detouring there? I was thinking of picking up some whiskey, or something. Something to keep a man warm.”

The man chuckles and they head down the street. It’s not until they’re away from the diner windows that he takes Hob by the elbow and gently draws him just outside the circle of a street lamp.

“Surely,” he says, voice low, stepping into Hob’s space, “there are many ways for a man to… keep warm.”

And he kisses him.

His lips are warm and dry, a little chapped. It’s a simple kiss, a chaste one, just their lips touching and the barest pressure of the stranger’s belly and chest pressed against Hob’s, swathed in layers of winter gear. It lasts for a heartbeat, two, and then the man steps back with a hum of satisfaction.

“Oh?” says Hob, giddily. “It’s like that, is it?”

“Obviously,” responds his stranger.

“Well, I don’t know, mate,” says Hob as they make their way down the street. He resists the urge to link their arms together. “Maybe you play footsie with every guy you meet in random diners in Northern California.”

“Perhaps.”

The liquor store is a brief respite from the wind and the snow. Hob selects a mid-range bottle of whiskey and they trudge back to his motel room. The snowflakes and the streetlights and the swirling wind make everything feel more than a little bit surreal, like something out of a dream or a fairy tale. The two of them could be adventurers, explorers, wading through an arctic wasteland in search of shelter. The mountain looms behind them, dark and mysterious, like a great castle or some monstrous beast.

“Do you mind if I take a shower?” asks his stranger, kicking off his boots dropping his backpack by the desk. “I’m afraid I did get rather sweaty, hiking down earlier. I wouldn’t mind cleaning up.” His gaze, beneath his long eyelashes, feels heavy and significant.

“Go right ahead.” Hob gestures toward the bathroom. “I’m just going to nip down to the lobby and get a bit of ice.” He retrieves the ice bucket from the desk, brushing close to his stranger as he does. The brief contact jolts him back to the real world. They’re not in the arctic waste; this handsome, ethereal man is here, in his motel room. He is pulling off his somewhat sodden hoodie and draping it over the back of the chair, and sniffing dubiously at the sweater he wears underneath it. He is real.

Hob waits until he hears the shower turn on to slip out the door.

Although he has his moments of cluelessness, Hob is not a stupid man. He knows where this is going. He recognizes the signs, the coy little dance they’ve been doing around each other for the past two hours, and no, he’s not a stupid man, but if he were a better one he might be able to resist the temptation of falling into bed with a beautiful stranger who won’t even share his name.

But there’s something about this man. Hob wants him. Already can’t resist him. Wants to wrap him up and keep him warm and kiss his collarbones and, yes, wants to fuck him, wants to feel him shudder and moan and wants to watch his cheeks flush and his head fall back in ecstasy. He hasn’t felt like this for a long, long time, and now it’s come out of nowhere to slam into him and hook into his gut, this wanting.

He throws a few scoops of ice from the machine in the motel lobby into the bucket and goes back to the room.

He’s kicked off his boots, unwrapped one of the shitty plastic cups, and poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey by the time he hears the shower shut off. There’s the usual shuffling noise of towels, a brief blast of the cheap hair dryer mounted to the wall. Then the door opens and the stranger emerges, and Hob is slammed from the real world right back into a surreal dream.

The man is even more beautiful without his clothes on: Hob would compare him to an elf or a fairy prince, but he’s too busy choking slightly on the spit that’s suddenly flooding his mouth at the sight of long, slim limbs, a narrow waist, and a temptingly well-defined Adonis belt that disappears under the cheap motel towel wound around his hips.

There’s a long moment of silent eye contact. Hob’s leaning up against the desk, cup cradled in one hand. His face heats as he watches his stranger’s eyes travel slowly down the length of his body and back up, pursing his lips slightly. His mouth is very pink, with the kind of full bottom lip that’s made for nibbling on, and the rest of his skin is as pale and smooth as… well, as snow, with just a touch of redness from the heat of the shower spreading across his chest.

Hob downs half of his whiskey without even thinking about it. He can’t look away. He can’t think, can’t even blink. He’s afraid that if he does, this vision will disappear and it’ll just be him, alone, a saddish man alone in a motel room with a bottle of booze and a bag of expensive camera equipment, and then who knows what will happen?

His stranger gives him one of those tiny half-smiles, suggestive, not quite a leer, and stalks across the room toward him.

He widens his legs and his stranger steps in to stand between his feet. He takes Hob’s drink out of his hand and tosses back the last swallow of whiskey before setting the plastic cup aside. Then he hooks one finger into the collar of Hob’s flannel shirt and pulls him into a kiss. His mouth is a study in contrasts: warm from the whiskey and cool from the ice, soft tongue and sharp teeth. They sink briefly, gently, into Hob’s bottom lip, and Hob pulls the man close against his chest and returns the favor.

The kiss is turning wet and messy when the man pulls back far enough to start fumbling with Hob’s shirt buttons. He’s pulled the tails of the shirt out of Hob’s jeans and has it about halfway unbuttoned when a phone starts ringing.

It’s not the room phone – it’s coming from a pocket of the man’s backpack.

“Ignore it,” he mumbles into Hob’s neck. “We are busy.”

The phone rings three times; four times. The stranger has finished with Hob’s shirt and is pulling the tee beneath it out of the waistband of his jeans by the time it finally stops.

His fingers are toying with Hob’s belt buckle and ghosting over the seam of his fly when it rings again.

The stranger groans audibly.

“Do you think,” Hob says with the carefully deliberate cadence of the very turned on, “that your family might be worried about you?”

“I do not care,” his stranger grumbles, and sinks gracefully to his knees.

Eventually the phone stops ringing again.

He’s worked Hob’s belt and fly open and is nuzzling into the opening of his jeans, nosing at the base of Hob’s cock through his underwear and Hob is panting, his stranger’s hot breath so close to where Hob wants him most – when the phone rings a third time.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” snarls the stranger, and stands.

He fishes a slightly battered-looking BlackBerry out of an outside pocket of his backpack and stabs at the call answer button.

“What.”

He turns away, so all Hob can see is the furious, stiff line of his stranger’s back. He can’t hear the other half of the conversation, and he doesn’t think he wants to; every fibre of the man’s body radiates anger and discomfort and perhaps a little bit of shame. Hob adjusts himself discreetly, rezips his jeans, and tiptoes over to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Obviously I am alive. I am fine.” A pause. “I took a walk.” Another pause. “Yes. Yes, I know what time it is. No, I am assured that the roads were too bad to make it back to the cabin. I am in a motel room in…” He looks over to Hob. “What is the name of this place?”

Hob supplies the name of the motel, and that of the town as well, just for good measure. The man relays the information into the phone. There is another long pause.

“That is none of your business. Shut up. You have no idea what you’re talking about. And if you speak to me like that again I will hang up the phone.”

There is another, longer pause, during which the stranger’s face grows progressively redder. He is very deliberately not looking at Hob.

“No. I said no. I will arrange for my own transportation in the morning. I –”

The person on the other end of the phone must say something truly outrageous, because his strangers eyes bug out in a way that looks almost uncomfortable.

“Do the entirety of the known universe a favor and crawl back into whatever slime hole you emerged from and leave me alone,” he hisses. “Goodbye.”

Hob can’t quite muffle a snort at this crowning line. Siblings.

His stranger hangs up the phone with a vicious jab of a button and slams it down on the desk; then seems to reconsider, retrieves it, and shuts it off entirely before throwing it into his backpack. He sighs, a surprisingly tired sound.

“I will have another drink, if you don’t mind,” he says. “And then I would like it very much if you would fuck me. Please.”

Hob’s cock, which had been feeling distinctly neglected, gives a twitch.

“I think that can be arranged,” he says. “Are you –”

The stranger waves a dismissive hand. “I am quite sober enough to have sex with you. And I could easily afford my own room, if that’s a concern. I am here because I want to be.”

“Glad to hear it, but that actually isn’t what I was going to ask,” Hob says mildly.

“Oh,” the man says. A faint blush rises on his cheekbones. He scoops up the whiskey bottle and uncorks it, taking an unceremonious swig. The towel hangs dangerously low around his hips. “What were you going to ask?”

His stranger pauses with the whiskey bottle against his lips. Hob watches the long line of his neck work once, twice, as he swallows, and figures he may as well put his cards on the table.

“I was going to ask if latex condoms are okay. For when I fuck you into the mattress in a minute here.”

The man clears his throat. “Oh,” he says again. “Yes. Latex is fine.”

“Good. Anything you don’t like? Hard boundaries?”

He pauses. “I do not enjoy being choked. Or having my hands restrained in any way. But I like… I like it a little bit rough. It feels good. To be used.”

Hob leans back on one elbow. “Is that what you want me to do? Use you?”

“Yes.”

The word drops into the quiet room like a handful of snow might drop off a tree branch – soft and muffled and sending the same delicious shiver down Hob’s spine.

“I can do that.” Oh, yes. Hob can use this beautiful man, if he is offering himself up to be used. “C’mere, then.”

His stranger walks slowly across the room to where Hob is half-reclining on the bed, feet still planted on the floor. He kneels between Hob’s legs and runs his hands slowly up and down his thighs from knee to hip. “And you?” he asks. “Your boundaries?”

Hob considers. “I’m with you on choking, not a fan,” he says. “I’m not big on pain, generally, but I can give it to other people, if they need it.”

“Alright.” His hands are still rubbing up and down Hob’s thighs, a slow, hypnotizing rhythm. When he speaks again his voice is thick. “Would you consider the preliminary negotiations to be concluded now?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do with your mouth than spout off like a horny nineteenth century robber baron?” Hob counters.

His stranger smiles, a proper smile that crinkles the corners of his blue eyes, and unzips the fly of Hob’s jeans.

In short order he’s pulled them open and pushed Hob’s boxers down just enough that he can get his cock out. He’s not quite hard, not yet, but he gets there quickly between his stranger’s gentle, surprisingly soft hands and the way he immediately buries his nose in Hob’s pubic hair and breathes deeply as he looks up through his eyelashes.

Then he opens his mouth, and wraps his tongue around the head of Hob’s cock, and Hob’s brain makes a noise like radio static.

Oh, he is good at this. Unfairly good. Supernaturally good. He teases Hob for long, long minutes, working up and down his shaft with light touches of just his lips and tongue, ducking down now and then to mouth gently at his balls, until Hob is twitching and swearing and straining, perched on the edge of the bed. When he finally has mercy and takes Hob’s cock fully into his mouth, it is barely a relief. He is so wet, so hot, and he sinks down on Hob with no resistance, no trace of a gag reflex. Before he can stop himself, Hob’s hips jerk forward that final fraction, and suddenly his stranger’s nose is brushing his pubic bone and his throat is contracting around the head of Hob’s cock.

He’s expecting the man to pull back, to splutter in indignation, but instead he makes an encouraging noise and squeezes Hob’s thigh before folding his hands almost primly in his lap.

“Fuck,” Hob mutters. He makes an experimental shallow thrust into the tight, wet heat of his stranger’s mouth. “Really?”

His stranger can’t nod, not with Hob’s prick in his mouth, but he moans. Hob feels it vibrate all along the length of his shaft and has to stifle a whimper of his own. He sinks one hand into the soft riot of the man’s hair, still a little damp from the shower, and cradles the back of his skull. The bone feels sweet and finely formed in his hand.

“You want me to fuck your pretty face?” he asks, soft and just a tiny bit mean. “Yeah? That’s what your mouth is good for, isn’t it?”

He thrusts again, in and out, and the stranger’s eyes roll back a little in his head, so he does it again, and again. Soon he really is fucking his face, not too hard but deep, fingers tightening in his stranger’s hair as his eyes fall nearly shut, narrowing to crystalline blue crescents.

Hob pulls back briefly to let his stranger breathe. Runs his thumb along his bottom lip, dripping with spit, before he pushes back in. He doesn’t stop until he can feel the first tendrils of orgasm beckoning to him; but as tempting as it is to keep going, to empty himself into this perfect mouth, he’s made a promise. And Hob is a man of his word, so he pulls the man off his cock by the scruff of his neck. He makes an obscene noise as he goes, and another thing string of saliva dribbles from his puffy mouth. His eyes are slightly glassy as he looks up at Hob.

“Get up on the bed, baby,” Hob orders gently.

When the man stands up the towel is just barely clinging to his narrow hips, and his erection is stiff and straining against the terrycloth. He’s so hard, Hob thinks wonderingly, just from having Hob’s cock in his mouth for a few minutes, and his own prick throbs in sympathy.

“Hands and knees,” Hob says, and the man crawls up on the bed. The towel falls away as he goes, languid but obedient, so that he’s entirely naked when Hob positions himself behind him. The contrast between Hob’s clothes and the other man’s nudity is delicious – Hob’s rough denim against the man’s soft thighs, Hob’s hairy wrists poking out from worn flannel as he runs his fingernails along sharply elegant shoulder blades.

He allows himself one long, gentle caress, from the nape of his stranger’s neck down to the shallow dimples in the small of his back, before he grabs at the man’s buttocks and unceremoniously spreads him open.

His hole looks surprisingly loose and relaxed already. Hob runs the pad of one thumb over it.

“Were you prepping yourself in the shower?” he asks, delighted. He presses gently and the furl of muscle gives, just a little, pink and fluttering.

“Hng,” says his stranger, shuddering. “Yes. I thought – I thought about your hands. Oh. I liked the thought that you were just outside the door. While I had my fingers inside myself.”

“Impatient little minx,” Hob says fondly. He kisses one of the lovely knobs of his stranger’s spine and pinches his backside for good measure before pulling away. “Stay here.”

He has to dig down to the bottom of his duffel bag in order to find the box of condoms and the little travel sized bottle of lube. He’d felt a little self-conscious when he’d packed them back in his flat in London – like he was presuming something – but then again he had been preparing for a supposedly romantic road trip with his girlfriend.

He’s glad, now, that he has them.

His stranger has remained on his knees, pitched forward to rest on his elbows, face pressed into a pillow and cock hanging heavy between his legs.

“Good boy,” Hob praises, and runs his hand along the man’s flank. “Beautiful. Oh, darling, I’m going to make you feel so good. And then you’re going to make me feel so good, aren’t you? You already have,” Hob coos, drizzling lube directly onto his arsehole. “And I know you’re going to keep being a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

Before the man can answer, Hob slips a finger inside him, right up to the first knuckle. He’s rewarded with a whimper and the feeling of his stranger pushing back against him, silently begging for more.

And then not so silently. “More,” moans the stranger. “Fuck. More, please.”

Hob strokes his finger in and out, petting the velvet inside his stranger.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “You’ll get more.”

He tries to spend as much time torturing his stranger with his fingers as his stranger had spent torturing him with his mouth, but by the second finger he finds his resolve dissolving like so many snowflakes on warm skin. The man is making such wanton sounds, and his knees skid wider and wider on the slippery motel bedspread, opening him inexorably to Hob’s hungry eyes and questing hands.

“Oh. Oh,” he says. “Oh, yes, fuck,” he moans. No more well-crafted phrases or erudite words; the only thing dropping from that perfect mouth are noises, guttural and breathy by turns, only half-muffled by the pillow his face is smashed into.

“Please,” he begs, “please, in me, I – please, I need –”

Hob obliges.

He’s pretty sure he’s never been harder in his life as he shoves his jeans down around his thighs and rolls the condom on. He has to do it one-handed, clumsily, because some frantic corner of his brain is convinced that if he lets go of the stranger’s hip then the man will disappear, between one blink and the next, and this whole night will turn out to have been some snowblind fever dream.

But his stranger stays where Hob has put him, desperate and writhing, begging for Hob’s cock, and when he finally pins the man down to the mattress and pushes into him, that first hard thrust is enough to silence both of them.

The room is utterly still for a heartbeat, and then another, and then one more, until Hob pulls out in order to thrust in again and his stranger wails and then Hob is fucking into him in earnest, fucking him hard, until the sound of their skin slapping together almost drowns out the sounds his stranger is making beneath him.

Almost.

His stranger moans and pants, and Hob answers him, thrust for thrust and moan for moan, Yes and Ah and Christ and Fuck, fuck me, use me, yes. He grips his stranger by the hips, so hard that his fingers leave little white divots behind when he shifts his grip, so hard that he worries he might leave bruises, and still the man pushes back against him and begs for more.

He comes, when he finally comes, untouched, rutting gracelessly against the mattress. Hob stills, grits his teeth, not wanting to overwhelm the other man as he seizes in pleasure, but his stranger continues to move against him, if anything even more desperate, even in the throes of orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, “don’t, oh God, fuck me through it, don’t stop –”

So Hob hauls him up and pushes him down, one hand on his waist and one shoving his chest down into the mattress as the man’s hands scrabble at the sheets and he sobs and Hob pistons into him until he empties himself, until his prick is oversensitive and his stranger is twitching around and beneath him, and the room is finally quiet.

Then Hob takes the condom off, knots it and tosses it towards the wastebasket. He rolls them both away from the wet spot with only middling success, but he’s too tired to care. He shucks the rest of his clothes off. He is boneless and spent, and his stranger is inserting himself relentlessly into Hob’s personal space. They lie there for a long, long moment, sweaty and panting, until their breathing starts to even out and the desperate closeness has receded into normal cuddling. Hob presses a kiss to his stranger’s sweaty temple and marvels at his luck.

“I realize I neglected to ask you why you find yourself in Northern California,” his stranger says, tucked against Hob’s side, voice drowsy and hoarse. “Do you care to share?”

“It’s a long story,” Hob says. “I was – well, I am – on a road trip. With my, ah. With my girlfriend. Well. Ex-girlfriend, now. Actually.”

His stranger tenses slightly, and Hob doesn’t blame him; he knows how it must sound. “It sounds like there is a story there?” the man says, almost tentative.

“Yeah, we… we came over together, about two weeks ago. We flew into Seattle, were planning this whole big trip, right down the coast and all the way to Los Angeles. See the redwoods, do some wine tastings, the whole bit. I’m a photographer, I was thinking I could turn the whole trip into a photo essay, maybe even a book.” He sighs. “Then she heard about this yoga retreat, ashram sort of place. Bit culty, I don’t really go in for all that, but she absolutely had to check it out, so we did. Two days later, out of the blue, she tells me our chakras are misaligned and gives me the boot. Turns out Guru Todd Thingummy, who ran the retreat center, was very aligned with her chakras. As well as other, less… metaphysical things.”

There’s a sound from the vicinity of Hob’s armpit that he realizes with delight is a snort. The snort blossoms into a chuckle, and then his stranger is laughing, a frankly horrible honking sort of laugh, shaking in Hob’s arms with it, and Hob laughs along.

“I’m sorry,” his stranger gasps. “I shouldn’t – I shouldn’t laugh at you. It’s just… Guru Todd.”

“I know!” Hob snickers. “You can picture him, right? White boy dreadlocks and a fucking… shell necklace. Utter tosser.”

“I feel like I’ve probably met someone almost exactly like him, truly.” Eventually his stranger’s horrible laugh subsides. He shifts against Hob, playing idly with his chest hair, curling it around one finger. “In a way, I am also escaping a recent ex. She was the first person I dated after some… difficult experiences I had about a year ago. But in the end I was far more invested in the relationship than she, and she became. Uncomfortable. With my ardor.”

“She’s a bloody idiot then,” Hob says automatically, and his stranger looks up, startled.

“Do you think so?”

Hob briefly considers backpedaling. Don’t come off like a madman, he thinks to himself. Not when he’s finally talking to you. But there’s no hope for him. “Well, yeah. I mean, I’d say your ardor is my favorite thing about you so far.” He lets one hand drift down and gives his stranger’s arse a cheeky squeeze, and is rewarded with a squeak and another snort.

“You are kind to say so,” the man says, and interrupts himself with a yawn.

“It’s true. I… I’m really glad I met you,” Hob says honestly. Too honestly. He can’t help himself; the man is just so beautiful, mouth kissed red and limbs loose, fucked out and soft everywhere he’d been hard and prickly before.

Hob still doesn’t know his name.

“I’m glad I met you, too,” the man says softly.

Hob snuggles them both down into the lumpy motel pillows and pulls the blanket up firmly around their shoulders. The wind blows outside, he reaches up to switch off the lamp, and they fall asleep.

He wakes in the night and stumbles to the bathroom to take a piss. When he comes back, his stranger has starfished out and is taking up a full two-thirds of the bed, sleeping like a stone. Hob manages to reinsert himself into the remaining third and then simply lies there for a long few minutes, looking at the other man.

The skies must have cleared, at least a little, because there’s a few strips of moonlight filtering through the blinds. The pale light turns his stranger into marble, a work of art; he practically glows against the blue sheets. Hob’s fingers itch for his camera.

“You’re going to fuck me up,” he whispers. “I’m going to wake up next to you and never want to leave, and it’s going to fuck me up so bad.”

The sleeping man does not respond, of course; doesn’t even stir. Hob lies there, and gazes at him, until he slips back into sleep himself.

When he wakes again it’s fully morning. The sun is that peculiar thin shade of blue that you get on very cold mornings, but when Hob peeks out the window, the sky is clear and the snowplows have clearly been out making the rounds. He tries to tamp down a sudden feeling of disappointment.

He gets a drink of water, and when he returns to bed his stranger is stirring. First one blue eye opens, then the other.

“Morning,” Hob says.

The man hums and stretches luxuriously, rolling from his belly to his back. The sheets fall down around his hips, revealing one elegant hipbone and a tempting glimpse of dark curls. His pale skin practically glows against the blue sheets in the morning light.

“Enjoying the view?” his stranger asks, and his voice is rough with sleep and slightly hoarse.

“You could say that,” Hob says. He puts one knee on the bed, reaches out to run a hand lightly down the long, lean line of the man’s thigh. “God, you’re… you are so beautiful.”

“Come here to me,” the man says, beckoning to Hob.

Hob ducks his head and kisses up the ladder of the man’s ribs, takes one pert nipple gently between his teeth.

“Can I take your picture?” he says suddenly. “Not in a creepy way. I can even keep your face out of it if you like, I just… there’s something about you, in this light.”

“I don’t mind,” the man says.

Hob’s heart leaps.

A few minutes later, he’s gotten his camera out and adjusted. The room is so quiet, so still, that each click of the shutter sounds almost sacrilegious. He shoots in black and white. He thinks the sheets will show dark, almost black, and the man’s skin will show light and luminous against them. His stranger poses like a dream, languid and biddable, moving here and there on the bed, wherever Hob arranges him.

“You’ve done this before,” Hob accuses. He’s kneeling above the other man, shooting straight down, and his stranger has one arm thrown over his face so only one eye is visible. “Posed, I mean. You know how to move for a camera.”

“I have,” the stranger admits. “Mostly for life drawing classes, though I imagine the principle is more or less the same.”

“Incredible. Are you an artist, then?”

“I suppose.”

Hob tugs the sheet a little lower, so that it’s just barely covering the stranger’s prick, which has plumped up a little – whether from the attention of Hob himself or of the camera, he’s not sure, but it’s one of the sexiest things Hob’s ever seen. The neat patch of dark hair blending into the dark sheet. The gentle swell beneath it. His mouth waters.

“You suppose?”

“I find it difficult to call myself an artist. To claim that title. But I make art. If that is the same thing.”

“Hmm. I reckon so.”

Hob pulls the sheet another fraction of an inch lower. He can feel himself getting distracted. The itch he’d felt to photograph the beautiful stranger, now mostly satisfied, has transformed into an altogether different kind of impulse. He takes one more shot, barely paying attention to the framing. Catches himself licking his lips.

“Hob.”

“Yeah?”

“Put the camera down.”

He hastens to obey.

He’d pulled his boxers back on at some point last night, but they do little to hide his arousal as he slides under the sheets and slots himself in behind his stranger, rubbing his nose in the riotous bedhead and kissing his neck as the man tilts his head to one side to give him better access.

“I like how you say my name,” Hob murmurs. He grinds against his stranger’s narrow arse and reaches around to make a loose fist around his hardening cock. “You’re really not going to tell me yours, are you?”

“Mine?”

“Your name.”

“I –” The man’s breath hitches as Hob tightens his grip, stroking slowly up and down. “I haven’t – decided yet.”

“Well,” Hob says against the smooth skin between his ear and his shoulder. “Let me know what you decide.”

They writhe together under the sheets for a few minutes, until they’re both fully hard, until Hob’s chest is slightly tacky with sweat where it’s rubbing against the stranger’s sharp shoulder blades. He’s grunting, underwear pulled down, making quick little thrusts in the crease of the other man’s thigh, sticky and warm and so good.

“Fuck me again,” his stranger says. “Please.”

“Don’t be a madman,” Hob chides. “You’ll be so sore.”

But he doesn’t say no. And he slides a finger between the man’s arse cheeks and pets over his hole, still a little loose from the night before.

The stranger twists his neck around to look Hob in the eye. “I don’t care. I want you,” he says. “I want to feel it.”

And Hob tries his best to be a good person, he really does, but when confronted with this bald-faced desire he is only, after all, a man. So he mumbles Fuck, okay, yeah, okay against his stranger’s shoulder, and tears himself away to retrieve the lube and a condom. He fingers him open, as slowly and as carefully as he can bring himself to do it, and rolls the condom on, and he fucks him again. Face to face, this time; one knee hooked over his elbow, and long arms clinging to him like a drowning man, and panting, open-mouthed kisses that are as much simply breathing the other’s breath as they are real kisses.

The stranger comes first, his beautiful face screwed up in ecstasy, and Hob follows him over the edge mere seconds later.

The other man falls back into a doze almost immediately, drifting off as soon as Hob has disposed of the condom and wiped them down with a handful of tissues, but Hob is buzzing with too much energy to lie back down. He cleans himself up, splashing water on his face and brushing his teeth quickly, before dressing quietly and creeping down to the motel lobby to look for breakfast.

There’s a coffee machine, a few muffins – prepackaged, not fresh – and a rather sad fruit bowl with some mealy-looking apples. He assembles what he can and shoves some creamers and sugar packets in his jacket pocket. He asks the bored teenager at the front desk (a different one than the night before, although bearing a distinct family resemblance) about the weather report, and learns that although it’s supposed to stay cold, no more precipitation is in the forecast. Then he goes back to the room.

His stranger stirs again at the rush of cold air when Hob lets himself back into the room.

“I come bearing provisions,” he says, setting the coffees on the bedside table and dropping the rest of his meager bounty in the man’s lap.

“Foraging for our survival?” he asks dryly.

“Something like that. It’s slim pickings out there, I’m afraid. But hey –” he picks up a muffin and wiggles it “– chocolate chip!”

His stranger snorts and mutters something about being spoiled.

Hob is very careful not to say anything about how he’d like to spoil this man very much, actually, for the foreseeable future and possibly beyond that, because Hob has so longed for someone to care for, and because this man so obviously needs it. Hob eats his muffin, and very carefully does not say anything reckless or emotional.

They finish their motel snacks, and drink their coffees (Hob’s with a little creamer and one sugar; the stranger’s with no cream and an absurd amount of sugar). And eventually Hob broaches the subject that’s obviously hovering between them.

“So,” he says. “What do you want to do now? I’m still up to give you a ride to your cabin, if that’s what you want. The roads are supposed to be cleared by now.”

“I suppose I should,” the stranger says, fiddling with his styrofoam cup, not meeting Hob’s eyes. “I did tell my sibling that I would return in the morning.”

“Okay.” Hob clears his throat. “Alright then. Whenever you’re ready.”

It takes them another hour to leave the room. Hob showers, and then his stranger decides he needs to rinse off as well, and then there’s a frustrating search for car keys that turn out to have been kicked or dropped halfway under a bedside table at some point the night before.

Then the stranger stops Hob in the doorway with a hand on his elbow and kisses him, long and slow and wordless, before they step out into the brilliant snowy sparkle of the late morning.

The drive is very quiet. The stranger directs Hob out of town and along a rather steep road that winds up the thickly forested mountainside. It’s certainly not a road that Hob would have wanted to drive in last night’s weather, and even with clear skies and plowed roads he takes it slow, acutely aware of the grip of the rental car’s tires on the snowy highway.

Only one time does the stranger wince and shift uncomfortably when Hob cannot avoid a bump in the road. Hob smiles, and swallows his smile, and deliberately wrenches his mind away from the vivid memories of just why his stranger might be wincing and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

His stranger is silent, except for when he briefly tells Hob when and where to turn. The farther they drive up the mountain, the stiffer he becomes, until he’s gripping the seat with white knuckles and his mouth is one firm line.

Hob doesn’t think it’s the wintry roads that are making him so tense.

They pull over, eventually, at the base of a long driveway. Through the trees Hob can see a large house – not really a cabin by any stretch of the imagination, but built of logs, and with a wisp of woodsmoke floating up from a picturesque brick chimney. They both gaze up at it through the trees. Hob puts the car in park but doesn’t turn it off.

“Well, here we are,” he says.

“Indeed,” his stranger says, and his voice sounds tense and slightly strangled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Hob waits for him to open the door and walk away.

The man does not move.

A minute stretches by, and another, and another, and still his stranger has not opened the car door.

Hob dares to hope.

“Come with me,” he says suddenly.

His stranger looks up, startled.

“I mean it. Come with me. Go get your stuff and we’ll just. Drive away. Go down the coast, find somewhere it’s actually warm. Or don’t even get your stuff,” he adds hurriedly, aware that his voice is sounding increasingly unhinged. “Say the word and I’ll just turn the car around. We’ll go. Anywhere you want, just… come with me.”

The man looks at Hob with an unreadable expression for a long moment. “You know nothing about me,” he says finally.

“I know I like you. A lot,” Hob says. “I know last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, maybe one of the best nights of my whole life. I know I’d regret it if I didn’t at least ask. So, I’m asking. Come with me.”

“I haven’t even told you my name,” says his stranger. “I could be a serial killer.”

“You could be, yeah. But I don’t think you are. I think… I think you just want someone to want you.” Hob reaches across the gear shift and briefly touches his stranger on the cheek. The man’s eyes flutter closed and Hob doesn’t think he’s imagining the way he leans ever-so-slightly into the gentle touch before he looks down. “I want you.”

There’s another long silence, punctuated only by an occasional call from the chickadees flitting through the trees.

“My name is Morpheus,” he says to his hands, clenched in his lap. “But some people call me Dream. People – people close to me. Call me Dream.”

Hob smiles. “Can I call you Dream, then?”

Dream nods. “Let’s go,” he says. Hob’s smile widens.

“Want to get anything from inside?” he asks.

“No. I think not,” Dream says. All of a sudden it’s like the tight strings of his body are loosened: he leans back in his seat, crosses his ankles, looking relaxed for the first time since they’d gotten out of bed. He lolls his head to one side and peeks at Hob and his face looks fey and happy in the afternoon light. “I believe I have everything I need for now.”

Happiness wells up in Hob’s chest, a rushing feeling like a mountain spring swollen by melting snow. He puts the car in gear and reaches over to take Dream’s hand.

“Right then,” he says. “Let’s go.”

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#dreamling #the sandman #my writing #designtheendless

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ladykailitha · 5 months ago

Text

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 9

Yay!! Another chapter of this lovely chronicle. I really do recommend going back and re-reading a bit since it's been so long.

But in this we have Harrington Sr. being an ass, the most epic confrontation I've ever written, and Dustin being sweet and asshole at the same time. The kid has range.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

****

Late at night in the last days before the school ended, they would climb up on the roof of the trailer and talk about their hopes and dreams.

Eddie had told him that he was going to try third time lucky to graduate. And then if he didn’t make it next year, he’d take the GED and walk away, ready to join Steve wherever he was. Not that he wanted to leave Eddie behind or the kids. But if he was to go to college, he’d have to.

Steve walked across that stage to thunderous applause, all his friends, the kids, Eddie and Wayne all cheering for him. Even Nancy and Jonathan had been there to cheer him on. But there, in the stands frowning at the people Steve had surrounded himself with, were his parents.

Steve knew he should feel grateful that they came at all. But he knew it was more about image and appearing to be the perfect parents than any actual interest. He saw them clap politely and then his father pulled out a newspaper and his mother fussed with her hair and makeup the whole time.

They took pictures with him afterwards with fake smiles plastered on and took him out to dinner to talk about his future. Which was all about joining the company and getting his business degree. Two things that Steve had no interest in doing.

He had hoped to get scholarships for college based on his sports so that he wouldn’t have to rely on his dad’s money, but that fell through.

He had missed the early decision deadline, because he had had his head smashed in. So he had sent the applications off at the start of the new year. But by then his grades had slipped due to the concussion and the letters coming back weren’t a good sign.

He would just have to try and reason with his dad about college and keep his fingers crossed he’d get out of this town somehow.

****

“These are your grades?” Mr. Harrington bellowed. “How are you supposed to get into good colleges and universities with these?”

The first week of June was not a good week, ever, in Steve’s opinion. It was when grades were mailed out and he had to listen to the screaming for a full week.

“I had that concussion in the middle of the year, remember?” Steve asked. “That set my grades back a bit. But I thought I would take a year of community college and build my grades back up to get into the better schools.”

“No son of mine is going to a state school!” Mr. Harrington roared. “And you can forget about that summer internship at the company! I will not have tell others that you didn’t get into a proper school.”

Steve could feel his stomach sink to the base of spine. He didn’t like where this was going. At all.

“You will get a job,” Mr. Harrington continued to menace. “I don’t mean some cushy life guard bullshit where you sit in some high tower, looking pretty, either. A real job. Retail. Build character.”

“But I already told Mr. Jones at the community center that I would lifeguard again this summer,” Steve protested.

“You go back there and tell him you have better things to do with your time!” Mr. Harrington shouted. “That new mall opened up. Starcourt. You’ll find something there.” He leaned forward into Steve’s space. “Do I make myself clear?”

Steve gulped, but nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Good.”

Mr. Harrington turned on his heel and stormed back into his office. Mrs. Harrington stood at the edge of the room, almost swaying on her feet as she would move forward to comfort Steve, but then would change her mind. Back and forth.

Steve pinched his nose and rubbed the end. He looked up at her with dead eyes. “He’ll keep moving the goal posts. You know he will.”

This time she did surge forward. “You know it’s not like that. He only wants what’s best for you.”

“Best for me?” Steve murmured, barely holding back the tears. “Or what will make him look the best? Because I’m tired, Mom.”

“It’s hard,” Mrs. Harrington said, rubbing his arm gently. “But come autumn he’ll see how well you did and maybe he’ll let you try for the state school.”

Steve knew it was a lie or whatever that she was telling herself more than she was tell him.

He pinched and rubbed his nose, forcing back the tears. He wasn’t going to cry in front of either of his parents. It only enraged his father and prompted mocking from his mother.

Oh, she hid it under the guise of ‘tough love’ but it was all tough and no love.

He thought of Wayne and Eddie. Of how they didn’t have a lot of material possessions but they had each other and their love for each shone brightly.

Steve held up his chin and nodded. Then he grabbed his keys and wallet, forcing on his shoes.

“Where are you going?” his mother huffed. “Storming off like that after a fight with your father is so childish, Steven.”

Steve turned to her slowly and blinked. “To talk to Mr. Jones about not being able to lifeguard this year and go job hunting at the mall like Dad wants?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re always so dramatic, Steven. I suppose that was why you took so well to it. Of course, if you had any real talent you would have gotten a more substantial role.”

He squeezed his hand around his keys, the ridges digging into his palm, as he fought down the bile that rose to his throat.

“I’ll be back for dinner,” Steve said through gritted teeth. He rushed out the door, careful not to slam it behind him.

He drove out to the community center and hit his steering wheel over and over as he cursed out his parents until he was exhausted.

He sighed and got out the car, making his way to front desk. “Hey, Janis, is Mr. Jones in today?”

Janis smiled at him. “Sure thing, sweetie. Just go on back.”

Steve caught Mr. Jones as he was coming back to his office.

“Hey, Steve!” Mr. Jones said cheerfully, coming up to him with a big smile. “You here for your schedule?”

Steve shook his head. “My dad didn’t like my grades and told me I had to get a real job. Sorry.”

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Mr. Jones said crumpling. “And there’s no chance he’ll let you do both?”

“No,” Steve said bitterly. “If he finds out I’m working here he’ll beat my ass. I wanted to come back, but I guess my dad had other plans.”

“Well, well,” a cruel voice said behind them, “it looks like you have an opening after all, Mr. Jones.”

Steve and Mr. Jones turned toward the voice slowly, knowing with complete dread who it was.

Billy Hargrove was leaning against the wall, arms folded and a giant smirk on his face.

“Looks like your loss is my gain, Harrington,” he said coolly.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Story of my life since you rolled into town, Hargrove. You stole my friends, the captain of the basketball team, hell you probably would have stolen my girl if she liked jocks instead of tortured artists or some shit. It ain’t new.”

“You’re just bitter that I’m the superior you in every way,” Billy said with a sneer. “The sooner you admit it, the less heartache you’ll have, pretty boy.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “I have other talents, asshole. I can draw, I can act, and I can fucking swim. While you were out there fucking anything with a pussy that would let your scaly ass, I was beating records and making it to nationals as part of our swim team. You are just some washed up surfer in desperate need a wave. I am a swimmer.”

He nodded to Mr. Jones who had a smug smile on his face.

Billy was taken aback. “So you do have a spine. Huh. I would have never guessed it. Not with Max and Munson doing your dirty work for you.”

Steve got right up in Billy’s face. “I didn’t go after you, dipshit,” his voice low and menacing. Quiet enough that only he could hear. “Because I just wanted to graduate. But now that I have that diploma, I’m more than ready throw hands with you. Plus we all know I had you against the ropes until you cheated by smashing a plate to my head.”

He patted Billy’s chest and waving goodbye to Mr. Jones, he walked out of there, chin held high.

****

Steve had gathered somewhere around a dozen or so applications to the stores that surrounded him and sat down in the food court to fill them out. His eyes were starting to go cross-eyed when Dustin came up to him and sat down across from him.

“Dude,” Dustin greeted. “What’s all this shit?”

Steve looked up at him and sighed. “Job applications. My dad wants me to get a summer job.”

“But you have a summer job,” Dustin replied with a frown. “The rec center. You’re a lifeguard.”

Steve sighed again and shook his head. “My dad was pissed that I only got into a couple of schools and not the good ones.”

Dustin frowned and tilted his head to the side. “Is that because of what happened with Billy?”

“That’s part of it,” Steve agreed. “But I was really counting on a sports scholarship and with how shitty everything got I didn’t get a single one.”

“But you went to nationals with your swimming though,” the gap-toothed kid grumbled.

Steve put down his pen and planted his hands on either side of his applications. “Look, bud, I get that you think you’re trying to help or whatever but my team came in last at nationals. In everything. No scout was going to give us so much as a passing glance. No sports scholarship plus missing the early acceptance deadline and having to wait for regular admissions means that I’m on a waiting list for most of the good schools, didn’t get in to the decent schools, and my dad won’t let me go to the community college. So here I am doing the best I can, okay?”

Dustin pouted but gave up on pushing the issue. He grabbed the applications and began looking through them.

“Hey!” Steve cried trying to get them back, but Dustin kept dodging him.

He set down three applications. “You can put in for all of if you want, but I’d focus on these three.” Scoops Ahoy, The Gap, and Shapiro’s.

Steve picked them and looked at them. “Why?”

“Those are going to be the ones that kids aren’t going to want to try for,” Dustin said. “And you have to get this job because of your dad. These are more likely to hire you.” He pointed to the ice cream shop. “That one is your best bet.”

Steve nodded. That was one he had been expecting to get too.

“So when are you leaving to nerd camp?” he asked, taking the applications from the kid.

“It’s called Camp Know Where,” Dustin scoffed. “Know as in k-n-o-w where. It’s really cool.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “That still doesn’t tell me when you’re going, dork.”

“Oh!” Dustin said, eyes wide. “Tomorrow. My mom is buying me the things I’ll need so I can leave bright and early.”

Steve’s expression softened. “I’m going to miss you, you know?”

Dustin nodded back. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

Someone called his name and he looked up. “It looks like my mom’s calling me. Good luck on the job search.”

Steve stood up and gave him a hug. “Have fun, okay?”

Dustin nodded and ran to catch up to his mom as Steve went back to his applications with a sigh. He really was going to miss that butthead.

****

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: ELEVEN SLOTS OPEN

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @blondie1006

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades

7- @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #wip wednesday #ladykailtiha writes #boy with a bat

92 notes · View notes

euphoricfilter · 2 years ago

Text

Star girl || JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x F. Reader ~ ‘Stardust’ couple

Genre: Fluff || Smut || Angst || Established Relationship || Non-idol au

Summary: Sometimes life just feels like too much, where the solace of the night no longer feels as healing as it once was. Luckily Jungkook is there when everything feels like too much.

Word Count: 4.9k

Tags/ warnings: fluff, mild angst, boyfriend kook is there to make everything feel better, smut in the forms of: fingering, unprotected sex (don’t be stupid, this is fiction), holding hands during sex :(, it’s all just very soft and healing, creampie, cum play, multiple orgasms, oral (f. receiving), he eats his own cum, overstimulation

Notes: this is part of the ‘Stardust’ universe, however it can be read as a stand alone. idk how i feel about this one :’) if there are mistakes, look away <3

(request is posted at the bottom under the taglist~ the request wasn’t specifically for this universe, however it fit the au)

my masterlist

✯ ✯ ✯

You’d always believed the night to be cathartic, something almost healing about simply living while people slept. Expectations washed away of an evening with a shower, dampened mood sated with soft sheets and far fetched dreams in far away lands much more perfect than your own.

Where the moon was your only friend, no words needed between the two of you, as you simply lived among the stars. The galaxy’s gentle caress lulling you into a blissful state of peace.

The street lamps bleed muted orange light into your room, curtains pushed open so you could watch the world, and wonder what it be like to explore the milky way.

It’s daunting how catharsis can mutate into something a little more wretched. How loneliness can creep up on you, how it lurks in the shadows during the day— following you with silent footsteps. How it slowly consumes a little more of you with each passing night.

How you don’t seem to notice the clouds that take over the sky, how the stars in your universe don’t seem to shine as bright as they once were.

It’s strange how when the lights turn off, and you’re curled up in bed, a sticky sadness consumes your entire being until you’re falling. Drowning in an endless darkness, scaly hands of solitude tugging you further into the abyss until bile rises up your throat and your eyes sting with unwanted tears; where you start to feel sorry for yourself and that icky feeling only seems to amplify.

It’s an awful feeling, that no matter how much you toss and turn, an overwhelming sadness plagues your mind until sleep seems to scuttle out your grasp, leaving you to rot in your own self-deprecating thoughts. A phantom hand locked around your throat, weeding its way into your heart, squeezing in a way that has you breathless.

A prisoner to your own mind. Until days bleed into one another— how that rotten sadness gnawing away at your mind— the sadness that had only ever caressed your cheek in the dark, had slipped between the cracks of your resolve. Bleeding into the crevices of every thought that consumed you.

If you weren’t absorbed with the mountain of assignments, your thoughts always seemed to wander in the direction of the unexplainable loneliness that hugged you, leeching of your emotions until you were left drained, utterly exhausted.

You think you’d lost count of how many days you’d kept yourself tucked in bed, a false sense of security easing a small portion of your mind as you simply exist under layers upon layers of blankets. Pretending anything that lives and works beyond your four walls doesn’t exist. Because if you didn’t acknowledge the wider world and your problems then they simply weren’t there.

Your laptop lays propped up at the end of your bed, and you think the battery died three days ago. You hadn’t bothered to plug it back in. Knowing that if you did, a long list of untouched assignments would greet you, and if you didn’t have to look at them then the deadline meant nothing. Prickly guilt eating away at your mind each time you remember an assignment that had passed, and a lecture you had missed.

You didn’t particularly enjoy skipping classes, knowing the workload would crush you when you finally got back into the groove of student life, but the very thought of getting up is enough for tears to slip down your cheeks.

With eyes shielded by the velvet blanket Jungkook had bought for your one year anniversary months ago, your gaze is veiled from your room that looked like it had seen better days.

You’d gotten to the point where cleaning seemed near impossible, with clothes strewn across the floor, with any other pieces of your room that had fallen victim to your slight rampage a couple of nights ago, finding a permanent home on your bedroom floor.

You had the decency to at least eat in the living room, and from what you can remember there’s probably a few too many boxes of food laying around, dishes probably piled high in the sink.

You don’t miss the jingle of keys outside your door, nor do you make any move to sit up when you hear your boyfriend milling through your apartment in search for you. You’d have felt an ounce of shame if Jungkook hadn’t seen what can happen when you get into a bit of a tizz, locking yourself away so you didn’t have to be a functioning member of society.

“Oh, pretty thing” Jungkook coos, bed dipping under his weight as he sits by your feet. Gentle not to startle you.

You pull the duvet down under your chin, “Kook?” you murmur, watching his lips tug up into a soft smile; a look of understanding washing over his features.

“Hey, baby. You doing okay?” a silly question on his part, but at least he knew you were alive.

You nod, albeit hesitant.

“Why are you here?” you murmur, eyebrows creasing.

“You haven’t answered any of my calls, I was worried” his hands finds their way to your thigh, touch ever so soft you feel the telltale signs of tears coating your eyes.

Your gaze flickers over to your phone, pulling your arm from under the cocoon of your blanket you tap on the screen, “It must have died, I didn’t notice. Sorry” you turn your attention back to your boyfriend.

“How about we get you washed, and then I’ll cook us something yummy?” he offers and you sink further into the pillows surrounding your head.

“I don’t really—” you sigh, “I’m okay”

“None of that, my darling” he soothes, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before he’s pushing himself to stand.

You watch as he wanders into your bathroom, your eyes squinting at the blaring light that spills over your bedroom floor. The first sign of light in your room in almost a week.

You throw the blanket back over your head at the sound of running water. Jungkook’s voice echoing throughout your bathroom as he hums a song he’d probably been listening to on his way over to your place.

He’d always been a good singer, though he refused to ever show anyone other than you— a little secret the two of you had. And maybe it was selfish, how you’d get giddy each time he would sing for you, because you’d always been the only one to see him like this, hear him like this. A special something only the two of you had cupped in your hands, delicate like a butterfly’s wings but ever so beautiful.

“Come on” Jungkook tugs the blanket from your body, and goosebumps raise up the skin of your arms.

“Why are you shirtless?” you frown, fingers skimming the edge of your blanket, grasping at the material, ready to pull it back over your body. If it had been any other day then maybe you’d ogle at his toned chest a little longer.

“We’re taking a bath together. I put extra bubbles, just for you” he juts his head in the direction of your en suite.

You watch as he bends down, arms hooking around your body.

He throws you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, and you watch the muscles of his back flex in that delicious way that has your thighs clenching; heat simmering in your stomach that only he’d ever be able to sate.

The mirror had steamed up, a little relief washing over your body; aware you probably looked like absolute dog shit. You can’t remember the last time you even bothered to shower, let alone wash your face. Your nose scrunches up in distaste before Jungkook’s easing you back onto your feet.

He grabs the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head with practiced ease.

“Hands on my shoulders” he tells you as he bends down, fingers hooking around the waistband of the pyjama pants you were wearing.

You press your weight against your boyfriend as he helps you out of your panties, flinging them back through the door into your room before he’s discarding his own clothes.

He holds your hand as you step into the tub, toes tinging from the scalding water— heat smoldering up your body.

“You sure this isn’t too hot for you?” you smile over your shoulder, “You complain about how hot I have my showers”

Jungkook scoffs, a failed attempt at coving the smile that threatened to pull at his cheeks.

You sink into the water, feeling the bubbles tickle your bare skin. Muscles melting as you bask in the warmth, uncaring as Jungkook slips into the tub behind you.

Your boyfriend’s knees knock against your hips, a little bit of a tight squeeze but neither of you seem to care as you lean back into his chest.

“Feeling better?” he whispers, lips pressed against your shoulder, warm breath tickling bare skin.

You nod, eyes slowly falling shut. Sleepless nights finally catching up to you as you finally find the comfort you’d been craving for so long. The unsettling feeling of pure loneliness fading into a warm love that spreads over your chest.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy with classes” Jungkook’s hands run down your arms, tips of his fingers exploring places he knew better than he knew his own body. Knowing where to touch you, where to avoid.

“It’s okay” you whisper.

He sighs, “It’s not. I shouldn’t put shitty assignments over you. I should have known something was wrong when you stopped reading my texts”

“I’m sorry about that” you peek over your shoulder, though Jungkook simply smiles. Nothing indicating any agitation towards your bad habit.

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s my job to always be by your side. I’m sorry i’m like, four days late. I’ve been swamped with classes I didn’t even realize you’ve been having a hard time”

“You don’t have to apologize.” you mirror his response, “Even before we were dating, you always did so much. I’m grateful, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to do all this”

“I do it because I love you, baby” he tilts your head up from your chin, gentle kiss pressed to your lips. And you sink further into his chest. Somehow wishing the two of you would simply melt into one being, forever intertwined.

“I love you more”

“Impossible” he snickers, “I love you more”

“For every star there is, in every galaxy, even the ones we don’t know about, each one is a piece of my love for you” you declare, unaware of Jungkook’s morphing expression.

An unfathomable, bubbly feeling of pure love consuming his entire being, bursting at his seams. A feeling so unfamiliar yet welcoming, that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“That’s a lot of love, my little star girl” he muses, hands running over your hips as his lips skim over your jaw. “I love you as much as you love the stars”

“That’s a lot of love, too” you hum, pushing yourself to turn around and face your boyfriend.

You smile at the flush of his cheeks, dusted rosy from the hot water. Ends of his air damp from the steam. Bubbles touching him in places you’ve kissed, worshipping his skin like you have as they trail over his stomach— inching down to more intimate places. Another part of him only you’ll ever see.

“You’re pretty” you tell him, watching his ears flush, red hue bleeding down to his chest.

“You’re prettier” he counters and you laugh.

“You’re impossible”

He tugs you closer between his legs, water sloshing around the two of you, “But you love me for it”

“I do” you admit, “And I wouldn’t change you for the world”

“Is that so?” he hums, your favourite smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “Now why don’t you tell me what you’ve been feeling while I wash your hair?”

“That sounds nice” you agree, hands cupping his cheeks, “Thank you, Jungkook. I really mean it”

“I know you do” he leans into your touch, hair falling over his eyes a little from where he’d been growing it out, “Thank you for being here” he takes ahold of your hand, gentle as he presses a kiss to the tips of your fingers.

✯ ✯ ✯

You sit on the edge of your bed, old sheets torn off, slung on the floor for the wash that Jungkook promised he’d do after helping de-tangle your hair.

He’s ever so gentle, and never once complains when your head tips forward too far, or you fidget, feet numb from the way you’d sat on them.

He’d helped you wash your face, having you sat on the counter as he brushed your teeth before chucking you in one of his old sweaters he’d left at your place. Folded neatly where he’d left it the last time he’d spent the night, other items of his clothing slung over your desk and the frame of your bed.

“I’ll wash up while you sort this room out, okay?” he smiles, tugging your curtains open.

You watch orange light flood into your room, eyes transfixed on the full moon as Jungkook plugs your lamp in beside your bed before he makes his way into the kitchen. You wonder how long it had been since you’d star gazed.

You wonder why the stars seem to shine that little bit brighter than they had the last time you’d looked at them. Something acutely similar to Jungkook’s eyes when they light up, passion evident in his gaze, maybe even love. You’d hope it was love, the stars in his eyes always that little bit brighter when he look at you.

Jungkook had always been your little laundry fairy, easily navigating your washing machine with ease, even before the two of you were dating. His new domestic passion being washing up. Something about his hands soaking in bubbly water and clean dishes bringing an extra sparkle to his eyes. Almost as sparkly as when the two of you locked gazes.

You didn’t particularly like washing the dishes, always finding your hands felt grossly dry afterwards where no amount of sweet smelling hand cream could redeem the damage done.

Your boyfriend has had a few too many conversations with you about what chores he’d take on if the two of you were to ever move in together. And you had been more than happy when he’d stepped forward for washing up and laundry duty.

Your gaze snaps towards the door when you hear the grating sound of a pot colliding with your tile flooring.

“You okay?” you call out, bending down to pick up the clothes blanketing your floor.

“I’m fine!” Jungkook shouts, “The handle was slippy”

✯ ✯ ✯

“Thank you” you whisper, tucking Jungkook’s hair behind his ear.

He smiles, “Stop thanking me.”

“I just feel really shitty that you have to do all of this stuff for me”

Jungkook’s arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer to his body until your nose nudges his chest. Your eyes slip closed, body hyper aware of your boyfriend’s fingers as they brush up across your back.

“I don’t have to do anything. I do it because I want t— hey, what’s wrong” he frowns, peeking down at you when he hears a sniffle.

Your hands come to cover your face, body shaking, chest jittery as a sob wracks throughout you.

“Nothing” you hiccup, “You’re just too good to me”

Jungkook laughs, nudging you onto your back before he’s pushing himself up— body caging your own. “You forget all the things you do for me too” his arms flex as he eases a kiss over your eyelids.

Your arms wrap around his neck, tugging him down for a kiss. It’s salty, tightness in your chest chocking you as you tilt your head.

Jungkook’s tongue licks at the seam of your lips, a silent request for access. Your lips part, another tear slipping down your cheek.

“No more crying, my star” Jungkook whispers, lips moving against your own. He pulls back briefly, watching your eyes search his own. Watching as they glisten with unshed tears, his thumb gentle as he brushes it over your wet cheeks.

“I’m sorry” you swallow, hand coming to wipe your eyes, only Jungkook stops you, back of his fingers brushing the delicate skin under your eyes, always worried you pull at them too much when you get upset.

“No more apologies either, okay?”

You nod, lips parting in awe. Smile pulling onto Jungkook’s face, and you’re kissing him again.

Your fingers thread into his the back of his hair, tugging gently, an attempt to mould yourselves further into one another.

One of your hands trail down the front of his body, hand firmly pressing against his cock.

Jungkook pulls his face away from you, “We don’t have to do that, pretty. I didn’t come here to have sex” he pants, tongue laving over his bottom lip.

“I know” your voice breathy, “Still want you”

Your hand squeezes his cock over his sweatpants, twitch of interest dampening your panties as you feel him slowly harden.

“You sure?” he presses a kiss to your jaw.

“Mhmm” you hum, impatient fingers pulling the sweater over your head, panties easily shucked off and thrown onto the floor, your boyfriend following you as he sits up, pulling his clothes off.

Jungkook’s thumb parts your slit, coated in a thick sheen of your arousal— and you moan as he brushes over your clit. Thumbing meanly over your little bud as he leans down for another kiss.

He drinks in your moans, lips swollen, glistening in a mixture of both your saliva as his tongue prods into your mouth— always having liked it a little wet and messy.

Your hips buck up, fingers clasping the sheets as a fingers teases over your entrance.

Your mouth falls open as Jungkook presses a finger into you, lips sucking the skin of your neck.

“Feels good” you whine, walls clamping around his finger as his thumb continues to brush over your clit.

“Yeah?” he croons, pulling his finger out before adding another. Curling them deliciously.

Your hands blindly trail down his body, nails accidentally dragging across Jungkook’s cock-head. He lurches forward, thumb pressed firmer against your clit and you cry out from the shock of pleasure that fizzles up your spine.

“Sorry” you pant.

“Fucking hell, tell me next time” he laughs, head falling between your tits as your hand wraps around his shaft.

“M’ close” you warn, thighs clamping around Jungkook’s hand, though that barely deters him, relentless as he scissors you open; wet squelch meeting your ears with every thrust into you.

You tip over the edge as he eases a third finger into you, “I’m cumming” your thighs shaking around his hand as he brings your slick up over your clit— messily elongating your orgasm with quick flicks of his wrist.

Your hand falls away from his cock, Jungkook’s nose scrunching up as it slaps wetly against your thigh. Bead of pearly pre-cum staining your skin.

Your arms wrap around his neck, bringing him into another kiss as his fingers ease on your clit, dipping between your slit before he’s slicking his cock up with your cum.

“Think you’ll be okay?” he murmurs against your lips, running the tip of his cock over your cunt, your eyes squeezing shut as the tip nudges your clit.

Your hips jolt upwards, and Jungkook laughs. A hearty one that has you smiling up at him.

“I love you”

Jungkook presses another peck to your lips, “I love you”

Your fingers part your pussy lips, and Jungkook’s holds the base of his cock, lining himself up with your entrance.

“So pretty” he murmurs, entranced.

You squirm under his gaze, cheeks flushing red as Jungkook’s eyes meet your own.

His smile had always started with his eyes, worming its way towards his lips as he gently pushes into you— head of his cock splitting you open.

Jungkook’s fingers thread with your own, hips languid as he thrusts into you. Your eyes flit between his, watching as his eyebrows furrow in the building pleasure he’s feeling.

There’s nothing rushed in Jungkook’s movements, the mere act of the two of you connecting in such an intimate way fulfilling enough. The raw emotions swimming behind his eyes with each wet squelch of your sodden cunt that overshadows both of your shaky breathing, is enough to slowly bring you hurdling towards another high.

You squeeze his fingers, thighs wrapping around Jungkook’s waits as he leans down, wet, open mouth kisses pressed to your tits— gentle thrum of pleasure sparking down your body as his tongue laves over your nipple.

“I’m close, pretty. Cum with me” Jungkook grunts, eyes closing in utter bliss.

One of your hands slip out of his grasp, worming between your bodies until you brush over your clit.

“Good girl, play with yourself for me”

Jungkook rocks into you, hips stuttering as he nears his release, thighs clapping obscenely against your ass. Your fingers pick up their pace on your clit, staccato of moans tumbling past your lips— Jungkook’s deep groan harmonizing with you.

“Gonna cum” you hiccup, thighs tightening their hold they have on your boyfriend.

You feel his cock twitch, cry of pure pleasure muffled by his lips as Jungkook’s release paints your walls white. And that’s what pushes you over the edge, the world around you seems to muffle, crackling in your ears as you feel unadulterated pleasure course throughout your body in thick waves.

“Well done” Jungkook’s hips pull back a fraction before he’s pushing back into you, “Did so well for me” he croons.

Your chest stutters out a breath, hands mindlessly grasping onto any part of Jungkook you can hold on to. Warmth of his sweat slicked skin helping the buzz of your high melt. Bodies still one, the closest the two of you will ever physically be.

“You okay?” he whispers, lips pressed against your forehead and you nod; legs falling from around his waist.

“Thank you, Kook”

He snickers, “You don’t have to thank me for this, darling” he pushes the sweaty strands of hair from your forehead.

“Not for this” your nose scrunches up at him, “Just—“ you start, lip tucked under your teeth, “Just for everything”

“I love you”

Your muscles relax, giggle bubbling up your throat, “I love you more”

“We should have put a towel down, we just cleaned the sheets” he groans, falling on top of you.

You wheeze out a breath as his full weight settles over you; groaning as your walls clench around his cock that’s still nestled inside of you.

“I have a surprise for you” Jungkook’s lifts his head, and you crane your neck.

“Surprise?”

“Yeah, go pee and then I’ll show you” he tucks your hair behind your ear.

You thighs twitch at the slow drag of his softened cock as he slips out of you.

Jungkook’s fingers drag through your slit as his cum leaks out your hole, a whine pulled from the back of your throat as he fingers his cum back into you.

“How messy” he teases, and your cunt clenches around nothing as he smears his cum over your pussy, “Let me help clean you up”

Your boyfriend scoots down the bed, trail of kisses setting your skin alight as he makes himself comfortable between your legs.

He kisses over your clit, tongue flicking out, toying with the swollen little bud before he’s wrapping his lips around it. He continues to push his cum back into your sodden cunt, walls pulling him in until he’s knuckle deep inside of you.

You whine as he crooks his fingers upwards, stomach tensing as he slowly drags them out of you, mouth leaving sloppy kisses over your entrance, tongue teasing as he circles your hole.

You moan at the lewd noises your cunt makes, burning hot pleasure shooting straight to your throbbing clit as Jungkook’s fingers draw tight circles over the bundle of nerves.

“Cum on my tongue” Jungkook pulls away briefly, only to shove his face further into your cunt, scooping out his own cum and letting it coat his tongue.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, shuddering as his nose nudges against your clit, “I’m cumming” you whine, hips bucking into Jungkook’s face. Using him to get yourself off.

Jungkook hums, vibrations thrusting you head first into another orgasm, body still thrumming with the aftershocks of your previous high.

Jungkook doesn’t stop, tongue licking a bold stripe up your pussy, lips wrapping themselves your clit again— teeth gently scraping over the sensitive skin.

You sob, thighs clamping around his head. Another gush of slick leaks out your cunt and that’s all it takes for Jungkook to finally pull away.

You moan into the kiss as he holds himself up over you, mixture of your releases coating your lips. Jungkook’s chin shiny with your thick arousal. “Always so good for me”

✯ ✯ ✯

“Careful there’s another step” Jungkook warns, arms wrapping around you waist, helping you up the final step.

Your hands remain over your eyes, blindly trusting that Jungkook wouldn’t let you hurt yourself. A sentiment that doesn’t fly over his head, something he definitely thinks about way more than most boyfriends would— but he simply can’t help himself when it comes to you. Everything you’ve ever done is effortlessly perfect to him, and the fact you trusted him like this is enough to have him pressing kisses in all your favorite places.

“What are we doing?” you dare ask, knowing he wouldn’t give you a hint. He’d be adamant on keeping it a secret as the two of you showered and he helped you change.

Goosebumps prickle the skin of your arms when a door swings open. Breeze pushing your hair out of your face as Jungkook pulls you outside. First gust of fresh air causing the hair on the back of your neck to raise.

You’d always believed the night to be cathartic, something almost healing about simply living while people slept. The air always a little fresher, freedom easier to grasp. The world at ease when night fell, where the sky felt closer to the ground; endless possibilities sat at your feet like you finally had control over your life.

“Open your eyes” Jungkook gently pulls your hands away from your eyes.

You look around, “We’re on the roof?” you turn back to Jungkook, eyes furrowing in confusion.

“Look up” he points to the sky.

Your head tips back, mouth opening in awe at how clear the skies were— a million little stars winking at the two of you. Flickering like little fireflies, and you can’t help but smile as you spot a shooting star. Silent wish on the tip of your tongue, and Jungkook seems to have the same idea as his eyes flutter closed.

Jungkook pulls the blanket off his shoulder after making his wish, spreading it out on the floor. One the two of you had used countless times for picnic dates in the park.

“I thought we could stargaze. There aren’t any clouds tonight” he pats the blanket. Silent invitation for you to join him.

You wonder if it were possible to fall in love with someone all over again. Whatever love you felt for them amplifying until all you can feel in an inexplainable love for someone else.

Love is never linear. Never constant. It influxes, where maybe the lines of yours and Jungkook’s love cross paths every now and again when the two of you spend time alone like this. Everything seeming ever so easy when all that existed in your worlds were one another— orbiting until every other planet in the solar system is out of reach, where you’ll always stay together even as the universe crumbles around you.

Loving Jungkook has always been so easy. And truly you believe that for as long as there are stars in the sky, your love will forever be with him. Trusting that he’ll delicately hold your heart as you hold his, because there’s no one else in the entire universe you’d rather have by your side than your best friend.

“I really love you” you blurt, as the both of you lay side by side, “I love you doesn’t feel like enough to explain it”

“I feel like that a lot. It’s a weird feeling” he hums thoughtfully, and you nod your agreement.

“I like it” you murmur, fingers finding Jungkook’s, pinkies intertwined, “It’s a good feeling”

“I like it too” Jungkook turns his head to look at you, endeared smile on his face when you meet his eyes, “My star girl”

You smile at that, tilting your head, featherlight kiss pressed against Jungkook’s lips. Where he chases after you for another, and then another.

“There’s a meteor shower in a few weeks, we should go camping and watch it” Jungkook tells you mindlessly, a thought he’d been meaning to bring up days ago but had been lost somewhere in the dark corners of his mind.

“I’d like that” you nod, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“I’d like that too” his nose scrunches up, and you kiss it; laughter bubbling up Jungkook’s chest, contagious as you start to giggle too.

Meeting Jeon Jungkook had been the luckiest part of your life, and maybe he was your special star. The one you always find whenever you turn towards the sky, no matter where you are, always watching over you.

To Jungkook, he’s more than certain you’re his. You’d always be the prettiest star in his universe, and he’ll continue to follow you until you fizzle out into stardust.

🪐 thank you so much for reading, feedback is always appreciated

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

request:

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook jeon #bts x reader #bts #jungkook

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strangeshadowdreamer · 14 days ago

Text

"Venom 3" is in November 2020; Venom & Eddie knew each other only 3 months

and other stuff that refers to "Venom" movies timeline and was horribly messed up in the 3rd part

This is an answer to the post (https://www.tumblr.com/purplegazania/766419426998452224?source=share )

@purplegazania Hi! It's great that you pay attention to such details! But I’m afraid the events of "Venom 3" take place in 2020. But maybe «September 20» didn’t happen in their universe

And is definitely not June at all

In "Venom 2" we [film viewers] were shown that Eddie writes an article about Cletus Kasady. At the top of the app he is writing in a date was written. It is fuzzy, but recognizable: 10.29.20. You may need to search for high-definition video to see it yourself. I am not sure if tumblr compresses pictures in posts. It is a US style of date, so it stands for 29 th of October 2020. This is an exact date officially stated in the movie.

And we can also see that Eddie is also about to miss his deadline — 30th of October 2020. So the date was mentioned in two different places.

Probably, it’s one of the reasons why he was so irritated about Venom distracting him – Eddie had little time to finish his article.

It is the night when they come to Mrs. Chen for chocolate, deal with that bag robber and receive a phone call from Ann. They arrange to meet with Annie «Tomorrow night», which is 30th of October night. And at the night after this one they have a fight and Venom runs away. It is the 31st of October night. It is substantiated by the fact that Venom turns up at a costume party, which actually is Halloween. (I noted that in my post earlier https://www.tumblr.com/strangeshadowdreamer/701134805977432064/venom-at-halloween-party?source=share )

Here is the timeline for «Venom 2»

And then things start to happen really fast. Frances Barrison and Cletus unite, kidnap Ann and the whole scene at the Grace Cathedral happens. Pretty long night, huh

So back to the question about Christmas in June

Events in "Venom" (2018) take place in early autumn or late summer, judging by the leaves on trees (but definitely really late summer as weather is a bit chilly - Eddie wears a coat, and I think it's not that chilly in California in the middle of summer, so I believe it to be early autumn).

And now when I put together the early autumn at the end of «Venom» (2018) and 29-31 of October events of «Venom 2» it seems like a month period. And it fits. This time period is just perfect length.

This time period is short enough to explain why Venom and Eddie’s relationship is so raw (because they spent like a month together only)

And this time period is also short enough to explain why with such different attitudes towards life (I mean quiet journalism and «Living in peace» VS «fighting bad guys and eating them») haven’t let to a major quarrel before the events of «Venom 2» - because it was like a month long and they were just patient and accumulated the irritation

And this period is long enough to explain Ann’s phrase about her being sorry for not returning Eddie’s calls because she needed some time after «Alien biting a guy’s head off thing». I think that judging from Ann’s character a month is just long enough time for her to recover from what happened

Events in "Venom 2" take place around Halloween (I have already explained that above). And it seems to me that Eddie and Venom fled from San Francisco within a few days after the fight in Grace Cathedral. That is because if police blame Eddie for that, Venom and Eddie wouldn't have stayed in San Francisco significantly longer in order not to get caught. Plus, police call a helicopter, so they consider stuff happening in the Cathedral really serious and will waste no time looking for Eddie. So, between Grace cathedral scene and the beach scene, barely a few days passed.

And again, it feels like only a few days passed between the the beach scene and that scene where they were watching a tv show and teleportations started. So «Venom» (2018) and «Venom 2» are fully time-coordinated. But let’s put a bookmark here🔖

It seems to me that 0 days passed since that first teleportation of theirs until the events of "Venom 3". And the events of «Venom 3» happen within just a few days.

It all happened pretty soon after 31 st of October, therefore, in November (which is pretty warm in Mexico). I mean, I talk about a period measured in DAYS between «Venom 2» Cathedral scene and «Venom 3» events. So, between that Halloween party in "Venom 2" and events of "Venom 3" about a few days passed. Let’s say a week. -> 31st of October + week = beginning of November. And that makes it a perfect time to wear a Christmas tree pin (Christmas is on 25th of December), but makes all the characters’ phrases about time nonsensical.

Lets return to the bookmark. 🔖 Basically, time between the beach scene and tv watching scene is the only gap where a few additional six (6!) months can theoretically be pushed into. But do you really think that Eddie and Venom spent a part of November, a whole December, January, February, March, April, May and some part of June in Mexico between the beach scene and that scene where they were watching a tv show and teleportations started? This is too much of a stretch to me, because:

Their relationship didn’t change at all, just as they didn’t communicate all the suggested half a year in Mexico. But if they did spend half a year in Mexico, I believe that they would have improved their relationship, and this would have been visible, especially after the progress they’ve made in «Venom 2»

They stayed in a small, quiet place in Mexico (for the obvious reason of (a) hiding from police and (b) finding a place with not many people so that Venom could show himself outside without causing panic or attracting unwanted attention). Venom would have gotten bored there really quickly.

2.1) Venom spent like a month (between Drake’s rocket explosion and «Venom 2» [early autumn] and fight at the apartment [31st of October]) in busy San Francisco with all kinds of entertainment (playing video games (see https://www.tumblr.com/wonderingaroundsworld/704834634551328769/venom-and-eddie-have-gamepads-to-play-together?source=share ), adoring his chickens Sonny and Cher in their own small house (see https://www.tumblr.com/wonderingaroundsworld/704459258987757568?source=share ), helping Eddie with his job, visiting bowling multiple times (Venom while holding that bag robber said that he can use the robber’s head for bowling and asked Eddie to name the one that they like. Eddie replied: «Lucky strike») and lots of other stuff). I can’t imagine him being fine with sitting at the same spot for more than half a year. He would have quickly talked Eddie into going somewhere. For example, to New York. And this is exactly what he did in «Venom 3».

2.2) And Venom never complained that he had to do nothing and be stuck in the same place for half a year. He didn’t say anything like «We have been sitting here for more than half a year. Let’s go at least somewhere» when he suggested going to New York. I think that if Venom had to spend nearly ~6,5 months in a boring place, he would have used it as an argument to persuade Eddie to leave the place.

This is why ~6,5 additional months don’t fit anywhere at all.

Here are approximate calculations

«Venom» (2018) takes place in early autumn, «Venom 2» on 29-31 of October, post credits scenes occur within a week starting from 31st of October, «Venom 3» events take a few days, therefore are approximately in November.

«Venom 3» can’t be taking place in June

Eddie and Venom have known each other for like three months

#venom #eddie brock #venom movie #venom 3 #venom the last dance #venom symbiote #venom: the last dance #venom 3 spoilers #venom 2018 #venom spoilers #venom 2021

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ripdragonbeans · 1 year ago

Text

Look At Me /modern!Aegon x Reader

My fic for the HOTD Big Bang! You can follow all the fics @hotd-bigbang

Lovely mood board, banner, and dividers by the beautiful @ewanmitchellcrumbs and my beautiful betaa were @asa-do-your-thing and @khaleesihel

WARNINGS: angst, smut, p in v, she/her pronouns, voyeurism???, oral (f and m receiving), physical violence (reader has some anger [not towards Aegon])

"God fucking dammit," you muttered as you reached out to open the unlocked door to your shared apartment with Aegon.

An unlocked door meant one thing: Aegon brought another girl back for a quick, thoughtless fuck. After countless years of suffering this, starting in your freshman year, one would think it would be easy to ignore without a thought. This night, however, was not the ideal night to handle Aegon’s shenanigans. Work had you tiresomely stretched out, often staying up all night to meet deadlines: an old habit you optimistically thought would cease after college. On top of that, lately it felt unbearing, that the universe seemed to have dismissed you, seizing every opportunity to strip you from an ounce of joy or serenity.

The small yet infuriating incidents from spilling coffee all over yourself or dropping a burger over your work attire, pens running out of ink at times you desperately needed them, your computer randomly restarting for an update, it was everything bundling and boiling up to breaking point… And it felt like tonight was that night.

Taking a deep breath, mentally trying to prepare yourself for the incessant and unfortunate familiar banging of the walls, alongside the mindless moans and grunts, you turned the handle and stepped into the room.

Nothing. There was nothing.

Worry pierced through your head. The door was unlocked so Aegon had to be here, right? You paced across the hall, keeping your steps as silent as possible when you arrived at Aegon's door. Pressing your ear against the door, hoping to idly eavesdrop into a conversation, yet all you could gather was silence from the other side.

"Aegon?" You enquired through the wooden shield of the door. "Aegon, are you in there?" Now ardently knocking on the door a little harder than you should. "Aegon, please! Please tell me -"

The door swung open to reveal a pissed off woman clad only in a matching set of lace underwear.

"Who the fuck is this, Aegon?" She looked you up and down with distaste

Aegon gave a little chuckle. "Don't worry, Sara, that's just my roommate."

You peered past her to see Aegon laying on his bed with only grey sweatpants on. He had a lazy smile on his face and gave you a knowing wink. Blush crept up your neck to your cheeks and you had hoped Aegon hadn’t caught a glimpse at your bashful state. Yet despite the mild distance between you two, you could see him scan your face. His smile grew when he noticed the pink shade across your cheeks. He rather enjoyed making you envious, basking in your natural reactions. All you needed was a little more pressure from him to admit the truth.

Or at least that's what he believed.

"You didn't tell me you had one," she glanced over you once again, "but I guess it's nothing to worry about."

"My roomie is no one, babe, I promise," he said as he gave her a flirtatious wink, a habit he seemed to share with the entire female campus.

"Hmmm…good." She slammed the door leaving you stunned and to some honest degree, honesty, irritated.

No one. He said you were no one, his harsh words echoing in your restless mind.

A tight sensation began to burden your chest, and hot tears threatened to fall, yet you shoved it all down, swallowing the large gulp painfully caught your throat, just like you always did. Consuming the raw heartbreak, you gather yourself and the mental walls, you hid yourself behind in defense, slowly making your return to the living room.

If you went to your room it was a given that you would hear everything that was a realistic and harsh possibility, yet you found your feet moving towards the familiar space. A few minutes passed until you heard a faint moan echoing from the direction of Aegon’s room and the light banging of the bed against the wall. Sighing in defeat, you place your noise canceling headphones on and searching up YouTube to mindlessly watch some video essay explaining this new ARG, Welcome Home. You found that submerging your senses to the very unnerving voice of Wally Darling was a great way to tune out the other background noises..

As much as you loved Aegon, you could never not be annoyed by this grotesque habit of his. Every other week was a new girl to fuck and mess about with, with no care nor implications in the world. None of them ever meant anything to him, you knew that much. No, you could tell. His lilac eyes never lit up when he saw them, his warm smile never reached his eyes, and he never talked about them willingly. The only times he would mention them was whenever he remembered to give you a heads up that he'd have one of them over for the night. You figured if he was inviting them over they'd be decent people, respectable enough to acknowledge your presence. You had hoped they'd be decent because Aegon deserved at least that. Whenever they'd show up you would do your best to be polite and welcoming in a weirdly humourous way, one time you’d even blurted to some poor victim of his hookup "hey you're here to suck my roommate", only to be disregarded and treated like utter shit. It was as though you didn't exist.

More so, you despised the way he acted when one of them came over, putting on some macho facade. Aegon would become old Aegon. The Aegon you initially met, the one who wore the mask of a guy who didn't give a fuck about anyone or anything. He was snarky and cocky, with the only priority of having the highest known body count. Yet you knew better, you saw through that careless exterior. After being paired together on assignment you two started hanging out. About a month or two after the project was assigned, he opened up. He played the part of the college frat fuckboy flawlessly, yet you could see right through that. You did your best to be someone he could trust; you knew there was more to him. Soon enough, your assignment partner became your best friend, your go to person, a person you'd do anything for. And that's how you ended up sharing an apartment with Aegon.

But there was something else.

There was a tug drawing you to him. Whenever you were away from Aegon there was a palpable ache in your heart. Whenever a sorority girl stayed the night your heart shattered, only to be slowly put together the next day by your very own hands. At the time you didn't want to admit it to yourself but eventually you had to.

It wasn't terrible at first. You lived a domestic life with your best friend with no worry in the world. Until he started bringing friends home. Just the occasional random girl moaning in his room once a month or so but now it was every other week. You hate to admit it but it hurt. It hurt so fucking much. You wished it was you in that room but you wouldn't tell him. It would ruin your friendship.

You loved Aegon, not just as a friend but as something more. The only problem was that you loved Aegon so much that you'd want him to be happy, even if it meant seeing him being with other girls. Yet you could never see yourself with someone else, only with him.

After watching every single reaction video to Welcome Home, Sara finally left Aegon's room wearing one of his shirts.

"See you next time, roomie," she said as she gave you a mocking smile before exiting the apartment.

You rolled your eyes as you started to pick up your laptop to move to your room when you heard him enter.

"Done with your fucking for the night?" You refused to look at him.

"Yeah," he leaned against the wall. "Unless you wanna be my round two."

"I'm not interested in sloppy seconds, Aeg. Next time just give me a heads-up, yeah? I don't like coming home to your moans."

"Oh, you know you love coming home to my moans," he teased. He loved riling you up like this.

"Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. Unlike me, who has to endure your headboard slamming against the wall," you bit out.

Aegon was taken aback by your sudden hostility and couldn’t fathom a response. Taking his silence as confirmation that he didn't care, you finished gathering your stuff and headed to your room. But as you passed Aegon, he abruptly stepped in front of you, halting you in your tracks.

"Hey, you're not seriously mad at me, are you?" His brows furrowed worriedly. "It's been a few months of this and now you're getting upset about it?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I've been annoyed with this the whole time." You sighed and rubbed your tiresome eyes. "It wasn't too bad at first, I could ignore it fine but then it kept happening more and more often than favored. Each girl was more terrible to me than the last. And you never do shit about it, you never defend me. You seemed perfectly happy to let these one night stands walk all over your best friend, it seems." You glared at him, "You said I was nothing, Aegon.. I understand you put on this whole facade to get laid but that… that was cold, Aeg… Even for you. You're back to your old habits and it makes me want to run. Anyway," you took a deep breath, wanting this conversation to end, "I'm going to bed, I’m too tired for this right now… Night, Aegon."

He called your name and adamantly tried to follow you. You knew Aegon didn't like it when you were upset with him. You hoped he would try harder to get to you and say you were right and that he needs to look at himself again.

When you turned around to hear his side he shut down. Instead of saying anything he just blankingly stared at you. You could see his poor attempt to gather the courage to talk, yet no words fell from his soft lips. For the first time in weeks you two looked at each other, really looked at each other. The friendship between you has always been strong but you've been feeling it deteriorate, eating away slowly and slowly. You were hoping to see the bit of your best friend in those eyes, yet all you saw was regret.

When you turned to your door you found yourself saying more. "I'm tired, Aegon. I'm tired of this." You put your hand on the doorknob. "I miss you." You entered your room and locked yourself in before he could say anything.

You crawled into your bed and curled up, hugging your knees. Once again your chest tightened and tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. Only this time, you let them fall.

It's been weeks since Aegon invited someone to spend the night and it kind of pissed you off. You lost your cool one night and suddenly he just stops. It felt as though he was babying you, which was the part that was pissing you off. The other part of you felt relieved, hoping everything could go back the way it was before. You wanted goofy, vulnerable Aegon, not the one who was around a few weeks ago.

However, it didn't last. Just when you thought it was over, you came home to find Aegon's face buried between some random girl's legs. She still had her clothes on, as though Aegon couldn't wait to taste her. It was only her blouse unbuttoned and skirt that was bunched up and her legs spread that immediately clued you in to what was happening. Her head was thrown back, eyes were shut, and a silent scream left her body as Aegon brought her to the edge.

Anger bubbled inside you, threatening to pour over. The girl turned her head and smirked at you as though she knew you were there the entire time. She took her time slipping off the counter, fixing her hair into something slightly more put together. Once she painstakingly straightened herself up she fully turned to you and flashed the biggest smile.

"Oh, hey, roomie." It was Sara. "I didn't think I'd see you again. Aegon hasn't hit me up in a month so I thought he was fucking you." She laughed. "Sorry, I'm a little tle out of breath. He really knows what to do, not that you'd know anything about that, right?" She gave you a teasing wink.

All you could do was stare at her.

"I'm just joking, roomie. I know he'd never fuck you. Anyway, I figured I'd pay him a visit just be sure. Glad to see I was wrong."

She finished buttoning her top and smoothed down her skirt as Aegon got up. Sara quickly turned and pulled him into a mockingly deep kiss. You rolled your eyes when you spotted Aegon flexing his hands trying not to touch her. You walked in on him eating her out. His attempt to not touch her in front of you was an insult. You looked back at his face and saw his eyes glued on you while Sara tried to stick her tongue in his mouth. You've never seen him so uncomfortable with someone else like this. He looked almost apologetic yet he did nothing to move away from her. Sara finally pulled away, but not before grabbing one of Aegon's hands to run over her chest.

Sara turned back to you. "Same time next week? Maybe we'll try it in your bed, roomie. Gotta keep it exciting."

She gave you a demeaning wink before bending down to pick up her purse, obviously giving you a view of her ass. You looked over at Aegon, fuming, but only saw him trying, and failing, not to gawk at her backside. As though he felt your stare, his eyes shot to you and immediately looked ashamed. Sara was taking her sweet time getting up and gathering her things, steadily coaxing your anger with little comments here and there about how much she looks forward to next time, what they should try out, and what she wanted to do again. But it was her last comment that made you explode.

"You should move in with me, Aeg. You'll get sick of her sooner or later. You know I'm better for you anyway. She's no one worth remembering and obviously does nothing for -"

"Get. The. Fuck. Out," you growled.

Sara slowly turned to you and pursed her lips in mock sympathy. "Aw, is the little roomie jealous? Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find someone desperate enough to fuck you."

Red flooded your vision as everything became blurry. You didn't have control over your actions anymore. You launched yourself at Sara with your hands curved into claws. She had no time to move before you tackled her down and dragged your nails across her face. As she screamed you pulled her hair to force her to look you in the eye.

There weren't any deep scratches on her but you drew blood. Sick pride washed over you when you looked at her. A mix of eyeliner, tears, and the slightest tint of blood splotted across her face.

"You can dismiss my existence and waltz around like you own the place but let me make something clear," you whispered. "You will never call me desperate, you will never call me being worthless, and you will never force me out of my home. This is my place, not yours. It never was and it never will be."

You took a deep breath before pulling her back up. Sara was standing with your hand still gripping her hair.

You made sure your next words burned.

"You will never have a place in Aegon's heart. I know you think I believed your smug confidence and the terribly misplaced belief that you were his but you were wrong. Not for one second have I ever believed that Aegon would actually love you. You want me to be nothing to him but that will never happen. You can't sleep your way to Aegon, you only think you can. The truth is that you know nothing about him. But I do. I'm the one who has Aegon's heart, not you."

Sara whimpered when you tugged on her hair.

"Now," you breathed, "you're gonna get the fuck out of here and never come back. Do you understand?"

Sara broke her terrified stare from you to a pleading one to Aegon. "Aegon, you know I'm better for you. She's nothing compared to me. You said it yourself, she's nothing."

Aegon didn't try to comfort her. He looked straight at her without any trace of emotion.

"I think it's time for you to leave, Sara."

"Seriously?!"

"You were a mistake. Every girl was."

You lips pressed into a tight smile as you dragged Sara, still by her hair, to the door. "If I see you here again," you growled, "I will do more than simply scratch your face." You threw her out with your final words and slammed the door shut.

Tension engulfed the room. It was as though The red in your eyes slowly faded away until your head cleared up. All you could do was stand there. You didn't realize how fast your heart has been beating, how hard you've been breathing, until you came back to reality. What you just did felt like a dream. There was no thinking involved, only instinct and anger.

Aegon coughed, breaking the silence. "Hey, so, um," he scratched the back of his neck. "I guess -"

"Don't." You turned to face him. "I'm going to take a shower, grab some whiskey, and crash in my bed. Maybe we'll talk later. Or maybe we can just forget this happened," you let out a mirthless laugh, "and you can go back to fucking someone new every week."

"Wait, hold up, we need to -"

You held a hand up. "Stop, Aegon, please. I said a lot of things in the heat of the moment. Don't worry about me."

It's been two weeks since you kicked Sara out, which meant that it's been two weeks since you blew up in front of him. Everything you said was true, whether or not Aegon wanted to believe it. If he was too much of a coward to admit anything then so be it. But since then he's been almost non-existent. He was never in the apartment when you were and if he was he kept his door closed. As much as you wanted to check in on him you also wanted to hold your ground. What he did was stupid and hurt like hell.

After working an exhausting ten hour shift, you dragged yourself into the apartment. The lights were off but you could see a figure sitting on the couch and hear a dull thump from something hitting the table. You creeped closer to get a close look at them.

It was Aegon.

He was wallowing in his own self pity, drinking as much as he could. There were two empty bottles of beer on the table. A third half-empty bottle was in his hand. Wearing worn out black sweatpants and a ratty hoodie, Aegon took a swig before muttering some curses to himself. As you got closer to him you could smell the alcohol.

"What a fucking idiot," he laughed. Aegon took another swig of whatever bottle he had in his hand and promptly slammed it down.

You wanted to keep your mouth shut. You knew it would be better to walk away but it's been so long since you've talked that your resolve broke.

"You better not be talking about me," you said when you slipped into a spot next to him.

"Fucking hell," he flinched, spilling the contents of his drink. "Great, now it's on the fucking floor. Thanks." He threw a pillow on top of the mess figuring it would be better than nothing.

The two of you sat there in taut silence. Aegon didn't even reach for another drink. You were simply sitting in the quiet darkness together. You were about to break it when he spoke up first.

"I fucked up."

You let out a cold laugh. "Yeah, you really did."

He turned to look at you. Even in the dark you could see his eyes were a bit bloodshot. "I'm fucking trying, okay?" He rubbed his face. "No, you know what, forget it." Forgetting the bottle was empty, he picked it up to drink. He muttered a curse before setting it back down.

He got up to leave but you grabbed his hand before he could go any further. It was as though time was frozen. The second you took it everything became still. Aegon's hand was limp but you gave it a small squeeze encouraging him to stay.

"We need to talk about this. I know I've been avoiding it but you've been avoiding it, too. Hell, you've been avoiding me, Aeg."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before sitting back down.

"What do you want to talk about? How you went fucking ballistic? How you basically confessed your love for me?"

"Yes. All of that."

He nodded his head, asking you to go on.

"You changed so much, Aeg, and I didn't know what to do. When we first moved in you were my goofy best friend. You know, the one I tell everything to. Then one day it's like back at university before we met. You starting bringing in girl after girl to fuck and it just drove me up a wall. What the fuck happened?"

"What happened was my dad dying." He picked up an unopened bottle of beer and took a swig.

Your eyes widened at the confession. "Your dad died so you thought fucking someone new would help?"

"No - I mean yes, but it was more than that."

"It was more than that? I know you didn't give a shit about any of them."

He yanked his hand away. "Maybe not, but they have a shit about me!" He exploded.

"Excuse me?" You dangerously whispered. That has got to be utter bullshit, you thought.

"Sure, it may have only been to fuck me but it was something!"

"Just because they fuck you doesn't mean they care!" You jumped up. "They didn't fucking care but I did!" You pressed a finger to his chest. "I always have and I always will. Don't you fucking get it? I've been here since the beginning and you try to blame me for your dumb ass actions?"

Aegon grabbed your hand and pulled you close. "If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have to distract myself."

"Distract yourself? Did the death of your dad really fuck you up that bad? I know he didn't give a shit and you didn't either. Don't pretend to be so beat up over it." You tried to pull away but he held you tight.

"It fucked me up because it made me realize that I can somehow be better than my dad by caring about people."

You laughed. "And you care about every single girl you've fucked. Absolutely believable, Aeg."

He let go of you, almost pushing you away.

He dropped his head before speaking. "You said you cared. If you cared you would've been able to see the change."

You were gentle with your next words, "I can't read your mind. Just because I know you so well doesn't mean I can figure out every emotion you have."

Silence.

"Aeg, just tell me what's going on, please."

Still refusing to look at you, he dropped back to the couch. "I fell in love with you, that's what happened. I don't know when but I did. For some godforsaken reason my dad dying set off everything. All I could do was ignore it and I did that by taking someone to bed almost every night." He brought the bottle up to his lips but didn't drink anything.

You sat down next to him.

You didn't want to believe him.

"I know you've been drinking all night. You're just saying things."

He scoffed and chugged the rest of the beer. "Just because I've been drinking all night doesn't mean I don't know what I'm saying."

"Okay, fine. Let's assume everything you've told me is true. You may love me but nothing more than a friend, right?"

"No, that's not true."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

He locked eyes with you. "I wanted to push you."

"Push me? What did you need to push me for?" You questioned. "Besides, I think you pushed me pretty good when I attacked Sara."

"I pushed you too hard, I know that now. I did it because I wanted to get you closer to me. I wanted you jealous."

"First off, that's a fucking stupid plan. Second, I'm already close to you. Or at least was," you murmured the last part.

Aegon rubbed his eyes in frustration. "You don't get it. You're so fucking smart but you don't get it!"

"What don't I get?" You challenged.

"You don't get that I wanted you to make the first move!" He settled down before continuing. "I see the way you look at me. I see your reactions. I know you want more. But for once I needed you to make the first move. If you wanted me it had to be on your terms." He took a deep breath. "And you're right. I didn't give a shit about the girls I fucked. The only one I give a shit about is you. But when you didn't do anything I did what I know best. I didn't want to distract myself from my dad's death. Again, something you were right about. I was distracting myself from you."

You searched his eyes for any trace of dishonesty but didn't find any. "If you had said something I would've said yes." You reached out for his hand. "What you did was stupid but…I get it. Kinda. You were scared."

"Yeah, I was scared."

You scooted close to him. "Then take the leap." You were gentle with your words.

Aegon pulled you in and lowered his head to yours. "I don't want to fuck it up." His lips brushed against yours.

"So don't." You pressed your forehead against his.

For a few moments that's how you stayed. It was just you and Aegon. When you separated you gave him a soft smile. His eyes darted to your lips and you took your chance. You softly brushed your lips against his before giving him a true kiss.

Your eyes fluttered close. His lips were soft and joined you in tandem. It wasn't rough. The kiss was pure love. Emotions poured into the kiss. He pulled you on top of his lap before deepening the kiss. You smiled against him as you moved your hands up his arms and to his hair.

More. You wanted more.

You nipped at his bottom lip and he gladly opened up. When you slid your tongue in he snaked one arm around you right while the other ran up your sides. His arousal was beginning to prod against you and it spurred you on even more. You slowly rocked your hips against him.

"Fuck," he pulled away and buried his face in your neck. He kissed his way up and nipped at your ear. "You are so much better than the others."

"Don't talk about them. Look at me," you commanded.

Aegon looked up at you with big eyes.

"Take me to your room and I'll show you exactly what you missed out on."

He pushed you off his lap only to grab your wrist and practically run to his room. But before he could open the door you pulled him back and trapped him with one arm against the wall. You gave him a mischievous smile before dragging your hand down his body and to his hard cock. He tried to suppress a groan when you began palming him over his pants.

"Let it out, babe. I want to hear every sound you make."

You took pity on him when you could feel his cock getting harder. When you pulled your hand away he couldn't help but groan at the loss of contact.

"This is what happens when you play with me," you smirked.

Releasing him from the wall you let him take you into his room. Immediately you grabbed him by his hoodie to pull him down to you to crash your lips against his. Gone were the soft kisses. Now it was pure passion and lust.

You moved one hand to grab his and the other to place on his chest. As soon as you pushed him to the edge of the bed you took a step back.

"Strip for me," you commanded.

Aegon was quick to rid himself of his hoodie and sweatpants. When he went to pull down his underwear you stopped him.

"Let me do this." You came up to him and lowered yourself to your knees as you slid his briefs down.

His cock was at full attention, red and angry. You licked your lips and cupped his balls, slowly massaging them. He threw his head back.

"No, no. Look at me. I want you to watch me take you in."

All he could do was bring his head back and nod.

You moved your hand from his balls to his cock and slowly worked him. Leaning in to the tip you gave him small kitten licks. Once you got him breathing heavier you took all of him in your mouth. Never did you look away from him. You slowly began bobbing your head back and forth, loving the feel of him in you. When you decided to push him a little more with a hum around the cock he twitched. You hummed once again and brought your hand to his balls.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck, I'm gonna cum," he breathed.

As soon as he said that you released him with an obscene pop. Aegon whined when he left your warm mouth.

"Don't worry, there's more. Now, lay back. No touching."

He nodded his head.

"I need to hear you say it."

He gulped. "I promise I won't touch myself."

"Good boy," you smiled.

You ran your hands over your tits before reaching down to brush yourself over your clothes. You brought your hands up to slowly take off your top. Once again you ran your hands over your tits, this time playing with your nipples through your bra.You looked over at Aegon to see him grasping the sheets and slowly rolling his hips into nothing.

"Are you so desperate that you have to hump the air? Aw, poor baby," you taunted. You reached down to the top of your pants and pulled it down. "This is a better view, isn't it?"

You walked to the bed and sat on your haunches between his legs.

"Be a dear and take off my bra for me."

Aegon sat up and ran his hands over your breasts and stopped to play with your hardened peaks before unclasping the bra and throwing it across the room.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," you chided. "That wasn't nice. I guess I have to punish you now. Lay flat on your back." You could feel yourself get wetter telling him what to do.

He did as he was told, shaking with anticipation.

You climbed up his body to his face and slowly lowered yourself down.

"I want you to make me cum. You deserve to have a mess on your face."

He didn't need to be told twice. He pushed your panties to the side and licked a strip up your folds. He moaned and grabbed your thighs to keep you steady. He left open kisses all over your pussy. A coil began to tighten in your stomach.

"Fuck, babe. You're so good at eating my pussy. Do I taste good?"

You heard a muffled yes and smiled to yourself.

He moved from your folds to your clit. You rolled your hips against his face as he sucked and licked your bud. Every swipe of his tongue had you throwing your head back in bliss. It was almost too much but he didn't stop. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Aegon moved away from your clit only to replace it with his thumb. He rubbed lazy circles as he dipped his tongue into your dripping cunt. He sped up his fucking and pressed on your clit sending you over the edge. The coil in your stomach released as you made a mess on his face.

You moved off his face. "What a good boy," you praised. "I think it's time for a reward."

You lowered yourself down his body. Wrapping a hand around his cock you worked him up to full hardness again. You gave him a few licks before taking the head in you mouth and sucking just a tiny bit. It was enough to make him moan and buck his hips up ever so slightly.

Letting go of him you chuckled when you moved to straddle him and lined up his cock with your pussy.

"Are you ready for me to ride you?"

"Yes, yes please."

"Good."

You slipped off your panties and let the drop next to the bed before sinking down on his cock. The stretch had you moaning, feeling every inch of him inside you completely. The way he filled you couldn't be described coherently. You began to move your hips slowly, taunting him. Aegon whimpered as he fought the urge to grab your waist

You leaned down to whisper in his ear. "You can touch me," you tell him. "I want you to touch me."

That was all he needed to let go of the sheets and attack your body with his hands. He ran over every single curve trying to commit them to memory. You swore you saw his mouth water when he reached up to play with your tits. You leaned down to give him better access. Immediately he took a nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it.

You could feel that coil tighten again. Your hips rocked against him when he brought one hand to your clit. You had no choice but to sit up again and bounce on his cock.

"Holy fuck yes! Please, please, please, Aegon! Gods, you're so good at fucking me!"

He let out a deep groan as he pushed his hips up even higher. "You're tightening around me - oh, gods - you're gonna make me cum inside you," he moaned. His hands moved to your hips helping you ride him but he was getting sloppy.

"Do it." You were clenching around him tighter than you ever thought was possible.

"Do it, Aegon. Cum for me."

The thrusts became desperate and wild. You and Aegon let out a scream as you came together. You felt him empty himself inside you. His cock twitched weakly as you tried to control your collapse on him. He wrapped his arms around you.

"Can we stay like this?" He asked, his cock still inside you.

"Yes, of course." You turned your head and kissed his cheek. "I want this. I want you, Aegon."

"I know."

A few minutes passed before you moved off of him. You felt empty without him inside you but you got up anyway and kneeled on the floor so you head was by his. You ran a hand through his hair and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Let me clean you up, babe," you whispered.

"Okay." He reached over to cup your face and traced a small circle on your cheek.

You got up to go to the bathroom to clean yourself up then returned with a wet towel. Giving him a small smile, you ran the towel over his body. You were extra careful around his lower regions knowing he was still sensitive. When you finished cleaning him you slipped yourself into his arms.

"Look at me, Aegon." You said. "You're not gonna fuck this up."

"I don't want to hurt you." His eyes filled with worry.

"We are not going to fuck it up," you paused. "I love you, too. Always have and always will."

#hotd big bang #bean fic #hotd modern au #hotd #modern!aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader

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