Open RP Post

[dreamedboy]

⛈️ Hit me up on plurk or via PM if you have any questions/want to run an idea by me first/what-have-you.
⛈️ General squick/trigger list.
⛈️ m/m for anything shippy.
⛈️ General headcanon for Proko. If you've got different headcanon/ideas for a psl, hit me with 'em; I'm flexible.
⛈️ Proko's kink list.
⛈️ This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!

Comments

[dreamedboy]

[Prokopenko was more than a little possessive of Kavinsky. He felt protective of him, too. You couldn't choose your family, lord knew that--or else Kavinsky would have perfect parents, or whatever it was that looked like perfect to him--but you could choose your friends. Proko was choosing him. K was a bit of a mess, but a beautiful mess, the sort that made Proko want to hold onto him forever.

There was an importance to who you chose to surround yourself with, and maybe Proko's choice said he was a bit of a mess too, but he didn't care; he wouldn't trade K for the world. Not when he was on fire from his confidence and charm and magnetism, and not when he was down and needed someone. There was no such thing as 'too much' for Proko to handle when it came to the other boy. He would be there for him through the good times and the bad, if K allowed him.

His breath caught long before Kavinsky said anything, when Proko was tugged in close. He couldn't help but admire Kavinsky, which felt a little selfish. He swallowed around the lump in his throat; there was something about hearing him speak Ukrainian that did something to him. He knew it was for him--or at least, he thought it was, and that was- It mattered. Proko was bilingual, though usually he heard English all around him, spoke English himself.

Was it the language itself or how lovely it sounded coming from Kavinsky? He thought maybe it was both.

A little shiver ran through him and he bit his lip, not because he had any trouble deciding if he wanted Kavinsky or not, but because he wanted him so much. Gently, not as though K would break, but as though he was precious to Proko (he was), he cupped K's face in his hands.]

I always want you.

[It was soft, also in Ukrainian.]

You're the only one I want.

[It felt vulnerable to admit that, but was he supposed to lie or hide it? No one else could compare to Kavinsky in Proko's eyes. He was one of a kind, special.]

[dreamforger]

[The Ukranian was absolutely for Proko; it was similar to Bulgarian so it hadn't taken Kavinsky too long to learn, even if he still sometimes would trip and use the Bulgarian version of a word. And even if it marker them as outsiders, immigrants, it was also a language they could speak together without the assholes. And he was sure that it meant something to Proko, and he wanted to know that this mattered, that it wasn't-- Kavinsky knew how he could be.]

I never stopped wanting you. I thought it would be complicated.

[He tilts his face into the way that Proko cups his face in his hands. It wasn't necessarily that he thought that it wouldn't be complicated anymore, it was just-- He needed this, he needed him, and he couldn't resist reaching for him when he was right here. His lashes flutter over his dark eyes, and he sucks in a breath like he has to steady himself when Proko says that Kavinsky is the only one that he wants. And not for the first time, he wonders how he's this lucky; what magic trick he dreamt that pulled the other boy into his life.

And then he leans in so that he can nuzzle into his stomach, so that he can grope him through his pajama pants.

It isn't that he thought the other boy would have pushed him away without the words, it was just... he wanted him to know. He wanted him to know what this meant to Kavinsky, that it was different than a drunken hookup. That there were feelings here, that it meant something to him, and as much as he wanted Illya to fuck him, he wanted it because of all the things that he'd always made him feel. Because he trusted him to take him apart, because he trusted him not to leave him alone.]

I want you to fuck me in your tee shirt.

[He switches to English as he says it, looking up at him as he breathes against his skin. His profanity was better in English, and also he liked the way that it sounded on his tongue. He also wanted Proko to make him feel like he belonged somewhere in this world, wanted to feel like he could belong to him. He wanted him in words he didn't know how to say outloud, but trusted the other boy to understand in the quiet and the heat-charged tension, the way that Kavinsky looked at him like he needed something.]

[dreamedboy]

Should it be?

[He knew things in life were rarely easy or simple, but if there was anything that felt easy, it was Proko and Kavinsky. Which wasn't to say they never fought or argued--Proko could be just as much of a little shit sometimes--but that they remained friends despite that.

A lot of strings came attached with sex, Proko also knew. Desire and expectations, and of course he had both of those, but he thought- he hoped-

But then Kavinsky was nuzzling him, touching him, and Proko's breath hitched for a moment. It was going to be increasingly obvious in a few seconds the sort of effect Kavinsky had on him. How badly he wanted the other boy. He wanted to be more than friends.]

Okay. [It came out on an exhale as he slid his fingers into K's dark hair. He was already imagining it; he couldn't help it.] Yeah.

[He'd give anything to Kavinsky right now, with the way he was looking at him. Proko wanted to be there for him, to be the person he could lean on when life was shitty and hard. He would've wanted to be that person even if there wasn't sex involved, but the sex- how long had it been? How many days had he spent thinking about that night, wondering if it was a one-off thing or something K wanted to do again?]

I want to be what you need.

[It was raw and open and earnest.]

[dreamforger]

[He smiled at the other boy as he could hear the way that his breath caught. God, he wanted him so much. Proko wasn't the only one that wanted to be more than friends. It had just been complicated; that first time had been so intense, so good, and he'd known that he wasn't someone that Kavinsky could sleep with as a casual thing. Choosing to be friends instead had seemed obvious.

Except that he'd never stopped thinking about it. And now Proko's fingers were in his hair, and he murmurs softly, but doesn't stop touching him. He lets his fingers continue to grope him through the fabrics of his pajama pants, tracing the shape of his cock, encouraging his arousal with lidded eyes. It had been so long, but this was-- it was changing things, it was a sort of promise. And sure there were questions and details that they needed to work out, but it felt like those were things that could wait until later.]

I need you.

[It was simple and true, his fingers hooking into the waist of Proko's pants so that he could tug them down, mouth against his cock. He was so hungry for him, aching, already hard under the tee-shirt he wore, his fingers trembling where they curled against the other boy's hips. His every touch was an invitation, a reaffirmation that he needed this, that he wanted him, wanted Illya's hands on him. Trusting his body to him, to make it better in ways that Kavinsky couldn't say outloud.]

[dreamedboy]

[God, but he wanted this, needed this. It was about so much more than the sex; it was about K himself, about how Proko felt about him, about what this meant. It was harder to think about the deeper meaning of things though when Kavinsky's mouth was on his cock, breath on his skin.]

Okay.

[It came out a little shaky but was no less warm for it. K'd always had an effect on him and keeping things platonic all this time after that night had almost felt like a crime. He wanted to worship Kavinsky's body, take him apart affectionately and put him back together again.]

I can't fuck you like this.

[But he wasn't in any obvious hurry to move, though there was a part of him that wanted to pick Kavinsky up and lay him down in the middle of the bed. Proko was strong enough for it, after all, but he was also being a little selfish right now, not wanting to pull away from K's hands and mouth.]