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2jaeh · 3 years

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INSUFFERABLE l KIM DOYOUNG

GENRE: mature theme, slight smut

WARNINGS: choking, dom themes, cursing

asshole! Doyoung , enemies to ???

Words : 4k

You’re put in a group project with the most annoying pretentious jerk your law class had to offer. Immediately Doyoung tries to boss you around but you being you, you weren’t taking his shit...soon enough he finds out he can dominate you after all...in a very different way.

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“Theres no fucking way...no fucking way” you groaned looking at your group project list, eyes narrowing on possibly the worst people within your course year. Slumping in your seat you half smiled at the girl who approached you, one of your fellow members from project hell.

“Heyyy y/n I think we're in a group together” she grinned and took a seat next to you, flipping her red hair over her shoulder and checked herself out in her mirror covered cellphone.

Dami was probably the most narcissistic person you'd ever met and being in law, it was definitely a common trait around here. Dami sat up and began tapping you on your shoulder frantically “He’s in our group! Kim Doyoung is in our group” the two of you watched as the dark haired man conversed with the lecturer, casually turning back to look at the table where you guys sat, in annoyance.

“That guy is such a prick” a guy who slid in the desk behind you, Seungmin said and Dami nodded in agreeance as you all continued to watch him.

“Ive never really spoken to him before” you cocked your head, “What’s so annoying about him?”

This time another group member joined in, a quieter girl who normally sat in the back Jisoo, cleared her throat, “He is really bossy and only likes to do things his own way.”

‘Well he is about to meet his worst nightmare’ you thought knowing nothing pissed you off more than someone telling you what to do.

The muffled conversations around you began to soften as you felt someone stand over you and drop a file on your desk. Looking up, you locked eyes with the one and only Kim Doyoung, dressed in his usual black slacks, black turtleneck and clear rimmed spectacles. He raised his eyebrow at you as if you were supposed to guess what he wanted.

“What ?” you challenged him, folding your arms across your chest and returned an eyebrow raise.

Doyoung sighed in annoyance, his long slender fingers moved across the file and opened it swiftly, “I want you to do roll call” he said coldly.

A lump formed in your throat. You felt like you were being talked down to, it was something that infuriated the hell out of you. He wasn't older than you, nor was he getting better grades than you but somehow he had a superiority complex. Dami quickly nudged you and you rolled your eyes, “Seungmin ?”

“Here!”

“Jisoo ?” you placed a tick as you called out each name.

“Dami, Jangjun…?” you looked around and noticed that the usually loud comedic relief in your classroom was nowhere to be seen.

“I think Jangjun is late, i’ll text him” Seungmin sighed and pulled out his phone. You turned back to the roll call sheet and pursed your lips, “Kim Doyoung ?”

Doyoung just looked down at you, sucking in his bottom lip and raised that damn eyebrow at you again.

“You need to say ‘here’ do you not know how roll call works ?” you tested him and he rolled his eyes and sighed, “here.”

You smiled to yourself, completely satisfied with pissing him off when your internal celebration was interrupted by an out of breath Jangjun, who threw his bag on the floor and took a seat on Dami’s desk. Doyoung looked at him disgustingly, and even though you too were obviously annoyed by Jangjun’s tardiness, was that reaction really necessary ?

“Be on time” Doyoung sneered and grabbed the roll call file making his way back to the lecturer.

“Fuck Kim Doyoung is in this group ?” Jangjun groaned, sharing the sentiments of the entire meeting. You couldnt believe these were the people you had to work with for the week. It's like you could almost feel an outburst waiting to happen, whether it be from you or Kim Doyoung.

Doyoung returned and took out his phone, not really looking at any of you as he spoke, “we should make a group chat to update each other on work”

The group hastily shared each other's details and Doyoung created the chat and pinned a set of three rules.

The first was the group was strictly to be used for the project, no small talk or any other messages that weren't related to the project. The second rule was that no one talks about the group content in private chats as it will cause confusion among members. Lastly you weren't allowed to message after 9pm unless it was an emergency, a very serious emergency.

“Dang is this the military ?” Jangjun snickered as Seungmin and Dami tried their best to hide their laughs. It was typical of people like Dami and Jangjun to not take anything seriously. Their families were well off and they were just studying just for a piece of paper you call a degree. Doyoung couldn't even hide his annoyance, not like he ever did but he seemed particularly pissed off today.

“Look, just follow the rules and all of you get a free pass and then we never have to speak to each other again” Doyoung spat and made his way to the exit leaving the rest of you in utter shock.

———

The first two days were utter hell as Doyoung tried to take control of almost every aspect of the project and frankly you didn't even mind because his business proposal was flawless, it was just the way he spoke to all of you that drove you insane.

“Dami its not fucking rocket science all you need to do is make a clientele spreadsheet with the mock list the professor gave us” Doyoung didnt even lift his head from his laptop, unaware of the impact his words had on her.

Dami pushed away from the desk and her eyes began to well up and before you knew it she was running out of the library, with Jisoo and Seungmin following quickly out of concern.

“Nice move asshole” you rolled your eyes, continuing to work on your laptop.

Doyoung peered up and pushed his spectacles up, “what was that?”

“I said nice move asshole, do you intend to talk to your future clients like that?” He initiated a different kind of anger from you but you managed to keep your cool. Doyoung shrugged as if what he had said to Dami had not carried any weight and continued typing away.

A few minutes of the members disappearance quickly turned to an hour and Doyoung’s nonchalance about the whole ordeal really ticked you off to the point of slamming your laptop closed and pushed back from the desk.

Doyoung quirked his eyebrow at you, “Is something wrong ?”

“Is something wrong” you mimicked him, “Jangjun hasn't come in today because you sent him on multiple errands, and you just made Dami cry over something so ridiculous”

Doyoung sat back in his seat and rubbed his temples, “They're all freeloaders, you and I are the only ones doing work, why do you care so much about them?”

“Basic human fucking decency maybe?” you groaned and ran your fingers through your hair, “listen im not like them, i'm not gonna take shit from you”

“Sure”

“Youre a fucking asshole Kim Doyoung.”

—-

You lay in bed and replayed that scene with Doyoung in your head multiple times. He was so unbothered by your antics nor did he care about anyone's feelings within the group. He was cold, heartless all he thought about was himself. His cold expression was practically engraved in your head, spending all these hours with him was really not your favourite pastime.

Group 7 gc 7:00pm

KDY: I posted a schedule for tomorrow we will be working in pairs on the highlighted sections.

You took a look at his document and groaned when you saw your name placed next to his. There was no way, no way in hell you want to work with him one on one. Not caring about breaking his rule, you pulled up a private chat with him and began expressing your concerns.

y/n x KDY : 7:10pm

Y/N: Hi, there's no fucking way in hell am I working with you. Change It.

KDY: I said no private chats and no, I'm not changing it.

Y/N: Wouldn't it be better for us to split and have the others actually DO work for once ?

KDY: I barely gave them room for error, we're going to be the most anyway and besides, I'd prefer someone who can handle...my personality.

Y/N: …..so you agree..you are an asshole ?

KDY: I give people a reality check that's all..

Y/N: whatever makes you sleep at night...can I atleast choose our work venue because If I were stuck in a library again with you I might kill you.

KDY: haha..

KDY: sure.

Y/N: mango drop cafe, 10am.

KDY: cool, see you then.

‘Haha’. You had no idea why that text in particular riled you up. Did he find all of this amusing ? Was he making everyone's life a living hell because he enjoyed it ? You stared at his messages and somehow ended up on his profile picture. He was leaning against a railing dressed in all black with his hooded eyes concentrated on the camera lense, Your realization of how attractive he was came from the fact that you stared at the picture for a good 20 minutes. You wondered who took the picture, a girlfriend maybe ? You shook your head. He seemed too uptight to be getting laid. You sighed, closing your phone and awaited yet another day with the insufferable gorgeous man that was Kim Doyoung.

You arrived quite early at the cafe but of course Doyoung was here before you, already typing away at his laptop, in his usual attire. You greeted the barista and placed an order for a chilled cafe latte before making your way over to him.

“Hey” you said simply and took a seat opposite him in the booth. Doyoung’s ears perked up at the sound of your voice and made room for your books on the table.

“You're here early”

“You're already picking a fight with me?” you said casually setting up your workspace.

Doyoung chuckled under his breath and shook his head, “I just didn't expect you this early y/n it's not that serious.”

You ignored his words and got straight to work, not in the mood to play his little game. You felt Doyoung look at you a few times. You weren't sure if it were to check if youre doing the right thing or he was just looking at you.

“Well i'm done with my part” you stretched your arms above your head and yawned.

“Yeah I'm pretty much done too, Do you want another cup of coffee ?” Doyoung offered pointing to your empty cup. You were taken back by his softer demeanor but quickly nodded, “uh yeah sure.”

Doyoung returned carrying a tray of two fresh cups of coffee and a slice of cheesecake. Setting everything down he handed you the extra fork and placed the cheesecake in the middle of the table to make it easier to share.

“H-how much do I owe you ?” You fumbled in your bag for your wallet.

“It's okay, it's my treat” Doyoung replied, placing a piece of cheesecake in his mouth and slowly licking the fork clean. You gulped as his tongue darted out carefully licking the cream from the metal, not leaving any residue behind. You had no idea what the hell was going on but you felt hot, almost claustrophobic.

“You're okay?” Doyoung asked innocently, unaware of what he was doing to you.

“Why are you being...nice?” You questioned, knitting your eyebrows together as the man continued to act as if this was his usual behavior.

Doyoung pursed his lips and placed the fork on the plate, “You want me to be mean to you?”

“No I just don't get-”

“I apologized to Dami and she told me she only overreacted because the guy she likes, Seungmin was there” Doyoung explained and removed his spectacles, “she was embarrassed to ask anyone for help, I paired them up for today.”

“Wait wha-”

“Also Jangjun works at the campus radio” Doyoung continued, “I had only found out the day we all met, I gave him tasks that will allow him more flexibility, that way he doesn't have to join group sessions often.”

You blinked, unable to form any words in order to reply to Doyoung. Especially after he chuckled at your speechlessness, knowing you didn't bother getting his side of the story at first.

“You were right y/n I dont have to be an asshole all the time, I just like to get my work done” He shrugged. You kept eye contact with him but somehow it felt as if he were still toying with you, waiting on your next reaction. He seemed like he played this game often, making sure he always had the upper hand. Doyoung seemed relaxed as he stared at you, taking another scoop of the cheesecake and slowly ran his tongue over his lips after his bite. What the fuck was he doing ?

“Y/N ?” you heard a familiar voice come from the entrance of the cafe. Your attention diverted from Doyoung to the blonde haired boy who began approaching your table.

“Jungwoo ? oh my God what are you doing here ?” You stood up and pulled him into a tight hug and pecked his cheek. Doyoung shifted awkwardly in his seat as he watched your exchange with the stranger.

“I got off early from class about to go to Subway, are you still doing that group project thing?” Jungwoo looked over at your table and half smiled at Doyoung who tried to distract himself with his phone.

“Uh yeah but i'm all done here I think, wanna hang out ?” you hooked arms with Jungwoo as he nodded enthusiastically. You turned around and scratched the back of your head,

“So...uh”

“Were all done you can go, I have somewhere to be anyway” Doyoung smiled as you slowly began packing up your things.

“Alright, see you tomorrow I guess” you bid your goodbye and headed out for lunch with Jungwoo.

—-

You had just finished up your skincare routine and caught up with a few instagram posts when you noticed Doyoung had followed you. Sitting up in bed you scrolled through his feed curiously. Every post was aesthetically pleasing and he looked absolutely hot in every single one of them. He had to have a girlfriend right ? No guy posts pictures this good without women flooding his DMs.

There was no harm in doing the same since he was in your class, you decided to return the follow and close the app. Suddenly your phone vibrated with a new message in your chats.

Y/N X KDY 10:30pm

KDY: hey

Y/N: aren't you breaking two of your rules right now ?

KDY: haha

KDY: I didn't realize what time it was…

Y/N: ….anyways..is this about work at least ?

KDY: kinda… you left one of your books at the cafe. I have it with me.

Y/N: oh… thank you.

KDY: no prob...oh I hope its not a problem I added you on ig

Y/N: no its okay we are friends I guess

KDY: haha I thought I was the insufferable asshole..

Y/N: you are...but not all the time. Look im sorry for saying shitty things about you.

KDY: its all good.

KDY: …….

Y/N: ..whats up?

You twirled your fingers as you watched the three dots from Doyoung pop up and disappear over and over again. What was taking him so long ?

KDY: that guy….that you met at the cafe..is he your boyfriend ?

Y/N: Jungwoo ? no way we've been friends since high school.

KDY: oh..

Y/N:....why would you even ask that ?

KDY: curious.

Y/N: curious about who I'm dating ??

KDY: A little.

You frowned at your phone and noticed Doyoung had changed his profile picture to a selfie. The picture was..something alright. You bit down on your lip as you enlarged the picture, which showed a wet haired Doyoung with his head resting in his palm and his long index finger was placed between his plump lips.

“Fuck y/n get yourself together” you gave yourself a pep talk before opening his chat back up again.

Y/N X KDY 10.54PM

Y/N: fine if you can ask a question can I ask one..

KDY: go ahead

Y/N: who do you keep thirst trapping for ?

KDY: ….haha thirst trapping ?

Y/N: Yeah who do keep posting these hot pics for huh

KDY: …..

KDY: You think i'm hot ?

Fuck. Why did you word it that way. You groaned immediately regretting sending that message but something in you was so curious about him you decided to just risk it, what was the worst that could happen ?

Y/N: well yeah, I mean I'm sure everyone thinks you're attractive, you seem to know it too.

KDY: wow.

KDY: I think you're hot too.

What the hell was going on. You felt your face heat up and you placed your pillow in between your legs as you turned on your side.

KDY: I was almost disappointed when I thought Jungwoo was your boyfriend, he's way too passive.

Y/N: ...and what makes you think you know what kind of man I need ?

KDY: hmmm

KDY: first of, with that fucking attitude of yours..A dominate one.

You swallowed hard as you felt a tingle in your stomach, squeezing your thighs together on the pillow to create more friction.

Y/N: I could say the same for you.

KDY: You may think youre dominate in many aspects...but when it comes to fucking..im the one in charge.

God you hated how hot that sounded. He had you in the palm of his hand through text. You were a mess and he wasn't even the room to fuel it. You wanted him so fucking bad it was insane.

Y/N: running your mouth doesn't equate to doing it you know...

KDY:.....

KDY: then would you like me to show you ?

Everything happened so damn fast. One minute you two were texting the next minute you were sharing your apartment location and Doyoung was on his way over. You scrambled to put on sexier underwear and do your hair, still in shock by the fact that Doyoung was on his way over to bang you.

You jumped when you heard the doorbell and realized it was him. Opening the door you were greeted to a very different look of Doyoung. His hair was messy and reached his eyes. Instead of his usual black academic attire he wore a loose white vest that showed off his toned chest and arms, along with a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Hi” Doyoung smirked, his eyes were dark as he scanned your figure.

“Hi” you responded, leaning against the wall in the hallway and looked up at him. Doyoung slowly approached you, like a lion circling its prey. His slender fingers danced lightly along your body, drawing a line from your waist until he found your throat and wrapped his cold fingers around it. He bit down on his lip as he studied how perfectly his hand looked around it and squeezed gently, smirking after hearing a soft moan emit from you.

“I want you to do as I say, any back chat from you will get you punished you got that ?” he brought his lips down to your neck and exhaled.

You nodded in response but that wasn't good enough for Doyoung. You felt his squeeze on your throat once more and he used his hips to pin you against the wall, “use your words” he gritted his teeth.

“Yes sir” you replied obediently, and felt him smile against your neck.

“Good girl, and if i'm too rough let me know so I can stop okay ?” he replied, his voice changed and it was much sweeter and genuine than before. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek when you nodded and led you to the bed.

Doyoung lay you on the bed, already stripping off his shirt and ordered you to undress yourself and rid him off his sweatpants. You bit down on your lip taking notice of how aroused he was when you palmed his member.

Doyoung watched you through hooded eyes as you discarded his sweatpants and boxers. He softly patted your head and grabbed a tuft of your hair in order to make you look up at him.

“Spit” he ordered, and held out his hand and you did as you were told. You watched as he lathered himself with it, moaning as he stroked himself. He was so damn sexy, biting down on lip and slowly pleased himself as you watched.

“Do you want this inside you sweetheart ?” he cooed and placed a finger under chin.

You nodded quickly, “Yes please”

“What do you want me to do baby ?” He purred and hovered over you as you lay on the bed, breathing heavily as his fingers moved against your warm skin, tracing your curves, ghosting over your heat and returning back to your lips to insert a digit inside.

Doyoung watched diligently as you sucked on his finger like the good girl he knew you were. He finally pulled his finger out and with one swift movement entered with his member before you could even respond to his question. You moaned as he quickly slammed his hips into yours, wasting no time in gaining a rhythm as you marked his back with scratch marks feeling as though you were on a high.

Doyoung fucked you like a pro, wasting no time to switch positions and had you on all fours, slapping your ass before slamming into you again, that pretentious smirk forming on his face as he heard your whimpers asking him for more.

“Are you ready to cum sweetheart ?” he asked, pulling you up as his strokes became slower and tugged on your ear with his teeth.

“Y-yes yes i'm ready” you panted.

“What's the magic word ?” he growled as he grabbed your throat and slowed down his pace as you were nearing your climax.

“Fuck youre so annoying PLEASE, please let me cum Doyoung fuck”

Doyoung chuckled and picked up his pace until you finally climaxed and he followed shortly after, collapsing in the bed next to you.

“You have such an attitude God” he rolled his eyes playfully, bringing the blanket over your bodies and grinned when you moved in to cuddle him.

“I guess you will have to fix that some time” you yawned and wrapped your arm around his waist, “but I have to admit, maybe I do enjoy the insufferable Kim Doyoung bossing me around once in a while.”

#doyoung smut #nct doyoung smut #nct smut #nct127 smut #kim dongyoung #nct scenarios #NCT127 scenario #doyoung fic #doyoung au #kpop smut #nct drabble #nct angst #nct au #doyoung scenarios

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sobsicles · 3 years

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Opening Line Tag Game

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

I was tagged by @dont-offend-the-bees - thanks! ill just do my spn fics and not any ive co-written because i didn't start the first chapters for those, though they're very good (Season Z and The Bad Santa Clause, respectively, that are fics written by a group of many amazing authors!)

Dean starts falling in love with him on a slow Sunday morning under slanted sunlight that slips through the gaps in the trees. — six hundred sundays (and many more)

Why did the curtains have to be yellow? — i want to do with you (what spring does to cherry trees)

In a bar on a Tuesday morning, it's a few months out from the final shot at the world ending. But hey, Chuck's long gone, and everything has worked out for the best, and the world keeps right on turning. Funny how that goes, huh? — dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d's to the destination)

There are certain moments in one's life when things go exactly as planned. It's like the stars align and the skies open up to reveal rays of sunlight and, against all odds, everything seems to be in perfect harmony. This is a phenomenon that Dean is genuinely not accustomed to, as it doesn't really happen for him. — finding hope (and finding him)

The first time she meets him, he's nothing more than an almost-missed appointment. — break the skin (to break the barriers)

The first time Dean and Cas kiss, it's not even really a kiss at all. It is, in fact, mouth-to-mouth. — a kiss for every season (literally)

The brass chip slides back and forth in a small path across the leaning desk Bobby has had for years and still hasn't gotten around to fixing. The chip reads: To thine own self be true. Unity. Service. Recovery. — separate ways and sleeping dogs

Getting used to Heaven is something of a marvel. It ain't perfect, and Dean thinks he'd hate it if it was, which is probably why it isn't. There's just enough human-esque nuances to it that keep it feeling like life rather than death, and he's thankful for that because he's got the smallest inkling that he should have gotten to live a little longer than he did. — oh sooner or later it all comes down to faith

So, the first thing that happens is Castiel comes back. It's at a pretty inconvenient time, considering the amount of pain Dean is in and how close he is to being dead. — things happen (they do, and they do, and they do)

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. — what's missing is found (our souls can exhale now)

It's different now, no matter how much they're pretending it's not. Mostly out of self-preservation, because sometimes their sanity is hanging by a mere thread and it's so obvious that they simply have no choice but to fake it 'til they make it. They've done a lot of that through the years, practically crafted it into a fine art, but this is the best performance yet. — according to all known laws of life

Time is different here. — what they deserve (it's better this way)

The first realization he remembers having is that the stars are oddly bright from where he lies sprawled on his back. The second, of course, is that there are troubling sounds coming from some vague point to his left. He supposes that's fair—vision and auditory processes are usually the first thing people make sense of when they wake. He knows that much, at least. Not much else, though. — Memories Bring Back Memories (Bring Back You)

Dean would think that a failsafe like this wouldn't exist. It doesn't quite add up in his head when he sits down and thinks about it, but Sam assures him over and over that it's well within the realm of possibility for the Men of Letters--supposed smart people--to come up with something as stupid as this. — home is where the heart is (and you have mine)

The blackbirds start singing a dawn. — profoundly bonded (by law)

So. So, the thing about desperation, and want, and desire, and how it controls, is that it's all bullshit, and Dean wants absolutely no part in it. — staring at ceiling in the dark, same empty feeling in your heart (love comes slow and it goes so fast)

Cas wasn't a music fanatic of any kind, Dean knew this firsthand. Sure, he listened to whatever Dean was listening to, or whatever was playing in the car on long trips. But he never went out of his way to listen to music in his spare time. — listen to the song in my soul (only you can hear)

All things considered, Castiel found solace in the fact that his life couldn't get any worse than this. — Just A Touch

There were a few things that were known about Dean Winchester, undeniable things that hadn't wavered once in his entire life. — a helping hand (let's not be friends)

Dean was merely ten years old when he discovered that bridges didn't close the gap between two worlds. — The Bridges We Built

insane to me that none of these opened up on dialogue. i don't open up with dialogue that often, as it turns out. also, most of these fics are dean pov. only three of these out of twenty are cas pov (1, 12, 18). my personal five favorites out of these: 3, 5, 10, 14, 15.

im supposed to tag people, but like, i want anyone who wants to do it to do it! if you see this and want to do it, definitely do so! tag me if you do; i'd love to see your answers!

#sobs says things #sobs adventures in writing #this is a fun lil thing to do actually #just something to pass the time #plus it's informative about my own writing so that's interesting #destiel #destiel fic

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 3 years

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Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme.

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut words: 2.2k

a/n: and here we are at the end, tbh im a little sad this fic is over, it was so fun to write and i am DEFINITELY more in love with Atsumu than i was before

Epilogue

Four years have passed since you and Atsumu finally got together, and this is the third year in a row he has an away game scheduled on your anniversary. It’s hard for you to actually be mad, he can’t control his schedule. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be disappointed.

And Atsumu hates that he’s let you down again. Wanting more than anything to finally spend your actual anniversary together instead of substituting for an early or late celebration. You’re a good sport, and he loves you for that, supporting him and his volleyball career without complaint despite his long absences and track record of missing important events.

Though the night before he’s set to leave, you’re sitting beside him on the couch, tucked under his arm while the two of you watch something on the TV. For the past few minutes, you’ve been fiddling with his shirt between your fingers and he knows you’re gathering the courage to say something. He’s pretty certain he can guess what it’ll be about too. And all he can do is brace himself when he hears you huff.

“What if you mysteriously came down with something?” You finally say.

He has to laugh at that. “That’s pretty diabolical of you.”

You shrug, already feeling silly you brought it up at all. It’s not really a big deal, but it’s been three years since either of you were even in the same country on the day you swallowed your pride and stormed into his dorm room to confess to him. Sue you for being a bit put out by it.

“Did you poison my dinner or something?” His heart lifts at the small chuckle he gets out of you from that.

“No, but don’t give me any ideas.”

He rests his cheek on the top of your head, eyes still on the TV as he jokes, “Besides, ya think they have any chance of winning without me?”

He feels your smile against his chest, then jolts at the jab you give him in the side. But still you say, “They’d be nothing without you.”

Pulling you into his lap, he cradles your face in his hands and looks at you seriously. And even after four years, you’ve never gotten tired of the way he looks at you—still like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I know it sucks.”

“It does,” you pout.

Pressing his forehead to yours he murmurs, “I’d be with you if I could.”

You love these intimate moments with him, when you both let your teasing natures fall away and all that’s left is how much you love each other. Even after four years, it’s still abundant, and somehow still growing every day. So, you sink into his embrace and reply, “I know.” And you do. That’s what makes it bearable. Knowing that even though he’s off in some exciting country, playing the game he loves—there isn’t a minute that goes by that he doesn’t think about you.

“You gunna watch the game?”

It so happens that this year, his game landed on the exact date of your anniversary. When he’d found out, he’d vowed to make you proud; to make him being away so often worth it to you. And it makes his heart swell when you say without hesitation, “Of course.”

So, a couple days later as he’s about to leave for the airport, he tugs you to him, lowers his lips to yours and kisses you as if he’s going off to war or something. He knows it’s a bit overkill, but he doesn’t really care. He wants to do everything he can to make it up to you. And damn, is he slapped in the face with how much he loves you when you finally separate and you tease him, “Sheesh, you’ll be back in a couple days.”

His response is to kiss you again and again muttering between kisses, “Gotta get my fill now to tide me over.”

He only leaves when you’re practically shoving him out the door. “You’re going to be late!” He reluctantly let’s go of you, hefts his duffel over his shoulder, takes his suitcase in hand and heads down the hallway towards the elevator. On his way there, you shout, “Say hi to the boys for me!”

He smiles smugly, winking over his shoulder at you. “Will do.” Knowing full well his teammates are extremely jealous of him because of you. And why yes—he absolutely does love rubbing you in their faces.

Once he’s out of sight, your smile falters as you shut the door and turn to your now empty apartment. A sadness falls over your heart that’s familiar but unwelcome. You have to find something to distract yourself, otherwise you’ll just let yourself wallow, which you know Atsumu wouldn’t want.

On the night of your anniversary, you eat dinner at Osamu’s restaurant as you normally do on the nights of Atsumu’s away games. You sit at the bar alone, watching the game on the many TV’s around that Osamu always has on the sports channel when Atsumu is playing. Tonight, you notice Osamu chats with you more than he normally does, and you’re certain he’s picked up on your somber vibes.

He even sits at the bar next to you, talking with you about the game and doing an excellent job of distracting you from the hole Atsumu always leaves whenever he’s gone. Tonight, that hole feels even bigger than it usually does.

“He’s playing good tonight,” Osamu notes, his trained eyes fixated on the TV. No matter how many games you watch, or how often Atsumu talks about volleyball, you’ll never have the same understanding of the game that Osamu does.

Chin resting on your palm, you glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Is he?” To you, it always looks like Atsumu is playing well.

But you like listening to Osamu’s technical breakdown of his gameplay and aren’t opposed to helping his endeavor of distracting you. “He’s tuned in,” is all he says by way of explanation.

You watch the TV with newfound interest, noticing that Osamu seems to be right. Atsumu is normally pretty focused, but tonight whenever the camera shows a closeup of him, the look in his eyes is razor sharp. And yet, he’s still making those insane plays that catch his opponents completely off guard. You can feel your pride bubbling up in your chest like it does every time you watch him play, quirking your lips upward into a small smile.

You love how much Atsumu loves volleyball, and whenever you can you go to his games here in Japan because watching him on TV is nothing compared to in person. Plus, it’s way more fun getting swept up into his arms in the heat of the moment after a win than several days later when the excitement has died a little.

You watch Atsumu the rest of the game, noting how the closer they get to match point, the more tenacious he becomes. But unlike other times, when he gets too excited and starts making insane plays that might not work, he seems to be dialing in even further, pulling the best out of all of his hitters even when they’re at the end of their rope. You at least know enough about volleyball to appreciate just how amazing that is.

To your delight, the Black Jackals win, and as usual several of the players get interviewed afterwards. Somehow, Hinata and Bokuto are still full of energy despite playing a full match, speaking excitedly to the interviewer. The coverage switches to Atsumu’s interview, and you can’t help ogling him a little bit. He somehow manages to look good, his hair damp from sweat but eyes gleaming from the adrenaline of the match.

And as you suspect, like Hinata and Bokuto, he’s pretty amped after the game. Amped enough that he completely ignores the interviewer’s questions and looks right at the camera. Immediately, you’re struck by the feeling that he’s looking directly at you. “I’ve only got one thing to say and that’s happy anniversary to the lovely lady I got waiting for me at home.”

The interviewer flusters, changing gears quickly and trying to get Atsumu to comment more on his relationship, but all he does is give the camera his signature smile and a wink before turning his back to the screen and rejoining his celebrating teammates. You don’t hear what the interviewer says next. You’re pinned to your seat, stunned, until your natural reaction is to burst out laughing at his proclamation.

Osamu just eyes you curiously, a small smile splaying across his lips as you say, “Only Atsumu—I swear.”

He shrugs. “Hey, you picked him.”

“Yes,” you laugh. “Yes, I did.” And you really wouldn’t have it any other way, no matter how long or how many times he’s apart from you.

You leave shortly after the coverage of the game has ended, bidding Osamu goodnight and thanking him for his company and hospitality. He waves you out, and once you’re on your way home, you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the loneliness you’ve successfully kept at bay until now. The thought of climbing into a cold bed that feels too big when Atsumu’s not there settles into the front of your mind and it’s hard not to spiral into the sadness that’s been looming over you all day.

You sigh, wrapping your coat tighter around you, trudging towards your apartment that you know is going to suffocate you with its silence. You know it’s pretty pathetic missing him so much, feeling sorry for yourself that you’re alone once again on this day, but you can’t help it. The hope that next year will be different is nearly gone by now, your determination to refuse to accept it finally broken.

Entering the dark apartment, you toss your keys onto the counter and make your way to the living room, fully intending on spending the rest of the night mindlessly watching some TV show until you fall asleep. Subconsciously, your thoughts wander to what Atsumu is doing right now. The team usually goes out after games, especially ones they win. And it’ll be a day or two until they leave wherever they’re at, so they have plenty of time.

Part of you aches at the thought of him out, having a good time with his team, while you’re here—alone, watching some lame TV show and feeling sorry for yourself.

What you don’t know, is that Atsumu has forgone the celebration tonight. In fact, he’s rushing to the airport to catch his late flight back to Japan. He booked this flight the day after he found out he was going to be gone again. He might not make it back in time to be there on the actual date, but he hopes the gesture is enough.

On the flight, he thinks about your reaction, imagining your laugh and beaming smile at the sight of him. Daydreaming about sweeping you up into his arms and kissing you until you’re both breathless and dizzy keeps him awake, though he doubts you’ll be when he arrives. That’s alright, he perfectly happy surprising you in the morning too.

He gets back to Japan in the early hours of the morning, and when he enters the apartment, he finds you fast asleep under a blanket on the couch, the TV casting a faint glow into the room. He smiles softly to himself, allowing himself a minute to appreciate how adorable you look. Leaning down, he finagles his arms beneath your shoulders and legs and hefts you into his arms to carry you to the bedroom. To his surprise, you don’t wake up. Instead, you mumble quietly, and his heart nearly bursts at how even in your sleep you press closer to him.

Tucking you in, he kisses you lightly on the forehead before climbing under the covers beside you. Pulling you into his arms, you fit nicely in his embrace, and he falls into an easy sleep.

In the morning, your eyes flutter open, blearily looking around and realizing you’re now in the bedroom. When did you move in here? Did you put yourself to bed last night without realizing it? It’s then that your eyes snap open at the realization that the apartment smells like breakfast. Heart thundering against your chest, you throw the covers off you and head towards the kitchen so fast you almost trip in the hallway.

Upon seeing Atsumu standing at the stove, his back to you, it’s hard to keep your feet under you. And without your permission, tears well up in your eyes so fast that a few drops are already sliding down your cheeks. You sniff to try and get a hold of yourself, which gets Atsumu’s attention.

He whips around to find you standing at the entryway of the hallway with tears streaking down your face and immediately his heart softens. “Happy anniversary, love,” he says by way of greeting.

You can’t stop yourself; your feet move before your brain can catch up with them, throwing yourself into his open arms. He squeezes you tight, and then your lips are on his, your fingers tangling into his hair pulling him closer as you slot your body against his. He can’t help chuckling at you, despite thoroughly enjoying this reaction to his surprise.

“I’m trying to cook breakfast,” he says between kisses.

You don’t think he’ll be very hard to convince to abandon the eggs on the stove. With one hand, you turn the burner off. “Don’t care,” you say, pushing him back towards the bedroom.

He happily obliges.

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#miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu reader insert #haikyuu reader insert #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenario #miya atsumu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu!!

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sunflowersteves · 3 years

Text

𝒇𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒇 ❅ 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: you needed someone to be your partner to make the holidays with your parents bearable, and bucky was just the man for the job.

author’s note: ssks im rlly don’t like this v much but i had no idea what else to write for fake dating au, i hope you all like it tho sjsjs

warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst, bad parents

holiday prompts m.list

Your leg bounced up and down, making soft noises against the padding of the passenger seat. Bucky let his eyes off the road for just a second, his eyes trailing up and down your nervous state. His attention goes back to the busy highway before speaking.

“Hey, you’re going to be fine.”

You roll your eyes, “easy for you to say, you’ve never met my parents.”

He chuckles, the deep and low sound vibrating against his chest. You could’ve sworn your stomach did summer salts, your heart beating faster by the second. Despite being insanely nervous about Bucky meeting your parents and them finding out it is all a ruse, there was a large part of you that was scared beyond belief about him being your pretend partner.

You had originally asked Sam to be your fake boyfriend instead, but he had to go back home to see his mom, and Bucky immediately offered his services. You knew he didn’t like you in the way you liked him, so the thought of being his girlfriend for a day terrified you.

And so here you were, legs bouncing up and down, heart palpitating, sweat forming in the passenger seat of Bucky’s car. He looked over at you once again, his ocean eyes meeting yours for just a split second. There was a kind of look on his face that you couldn’t quite comprehend, a storm brewing in his head.

“Are they really that bad, doll?”

Your heart fluttered at the little nickname, and you shifted in your seat, trying to ignore the way it made you feel. A sigh left your lips as your head turned to stare out the window, eyes following all of the places you would go to as a kid.

“They had their whole life planned for me and would always tell me that if I didn’t follow their every footstep, I wouldn’t be allowed back home. There was always a joking hint to what they were saying, but I knew there was truth to what they were saying. I don’t even remember the last time they have talked to me without mentioning money, or even an ‘i love you.’”

Bucky’s hands gripped the steering wheel as he thought about the pressures that your family had put you through; all of your insecurities that you laid upon each other during long nights had all come together.

Before you could say anything more, Bucky pulled up into your parent's driveway, “we’re here.”

He had given your thigh a small squeeze in support before the two of you got out of the car. You held in a deep breath as he softly knocked on the door, and a hand came to wrap itself around your waist. He felt you tense under his touch, and he gave your love handles a little squeeze.

He whispered into your ear, his breath fanning up against it, “we’ll be okay. I’ll be right beside you, okay?”

You felt yourself slowly nod, and your eyes trialing up to look at him. Your mother opened the door and smiled, immediately ushering the two of you in. You took off your jackets and followed her into the living room where your father sat reading a newspaper.

“Welcome home.”

Her eyes snapped over towards Bucky beside you, a smirk rising as she saw the expensive suit. You all tried to spread out in the small space; your body was practically on top of Bucky on the sofa. A certain warmth spread through your body as Bucky took his hand in yours; the pads of his fingers skating onto your hand made you shiver.

“Who’s this?”

The air was thick with tension as the silence rose beneath the walls of the house. There wasn’t a single sense of warmth that you felt from your parents, just a cold welcome home. Every single time you had come home for the holidays, it was always the same.

They would ask you how your job was, and if you were following the path they set for you, they would cook dinner and eat in silence, prompting them to pat you on the back and sending you away again. The Avengers felt more like your family than your own family ever did.

Your father didn’t even look up from reading when he spoke; you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Bucky could sense your discomfort and squeezed your hand, his thumb swiping back and forth in support.

“This is my boyfriend, Bucky.”

You could see from the corner of your eyes that your mother tensed; it was quite visible. Your hand subconsciously squeezed Bucky’s; your eyes danced in between your parents as they shared a look.

“What an odd name.”

He just chuckled beside you, and you were about to open your mouth, but he beat you to it.

“It’s a nickname, miss. My first name is James.”

She pursed her lips in disapproval still, your eyebrow-raising slightly at her behavior. You haven’t been here for five minutes, and you already wanted to dart out the door. If you were being honest, you would have been perfectly content spending the holidays with just Bucky and Bucky alone.

“What do you do for a living, Bucky? I noticed your exquisite tailored suit. Maybe a CEO perhaps?”

There was another beat of silence as you wanted to roll your eyes again. You leaned against the coffee table to grab a glass of eggnog, taking a few large sips. This was going to be a long night.

“I’m a part of the Avengers, I work to protect global stability and peace.”

Your father almost choked on her vodka, the name Bucky Barnes now popped into frame. He knew that name was familiar and he finally understood why. He set his drink down and gently wiped his lips with a napkin.

“Really? That’s not what the news said, isn’t that right, dear?”

He turned towards your mother, a slight gleam in his eye that was set with a hard look.

She nodded, “You’ve been on the news for terrorism. That doesn’t sound like global stability to me.”

You felt Bucky go still next to you, his face falling in despair. You felt your blood boil and your heart race against your chest in such ire. But before you could say anything, your mother spoke up again.

“Sounds like you are nothing but trouble to me. How do we know you’re not here to kill our daughter? You’re a murderer, and yet you think you’re good enough to date my daughter?”

“Enough!”

Your parents stare at you wide-eyed at your outburst. Your hand that wasn’t intertwined with bucky’s had tightened into a fist.

“If you had paid attention, mother, you would’ve found out that he was being controlled by Hydra. Bucky is the sweetest—nicest person that I have ever met. He is such a goofball, but he’s the smartest person I know. He’s attentive and sweet; he takes care of me when I’m sick and a coughing mess. He stays up late when I can’t sleep, trying to entertain me,” you pause, your face turning towards his for just a second, his eyes wide and searching your face for any lie. He found none.

“He’s more family to me than you two will ever be. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be leaving now.”

You don’t waste a single moment before dragging Bucky out of there and trying to gather your things as quickly as possible. Before getting into the car, you stop him by gripping his wrist. Your eyes well with tears as you thought about what your parents had said to him.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I should’ve never brought—”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you felt a pair of soft lips on yours, large hands cupping the apples of your cheeks. Your lips melded with his, and you started to relax, letting out a whine at the fiery sensation. Your hands move down his chest, nails dragging against the coarse material of his dress suit. His tongue is devouring your mouth, his heart pounding against yours in a loving embrace.

“I’m never letting you go, sugar.”

marvel: @harrysthiccthighss @fandomsandxfiles @rebekahdawkins @purselover23

bucky: @harrysthiccthighss @rebekahdawkins @marvelous-capsicle @purselover23

permanent: @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan @teenagereadersciencenerd @rebekahdawkins @hailmary-yramliah @stardust-galaxies @wiccanmetallicrose @keithseabrook27

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #Winter Soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter solider x reader #winter solider x you #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky x y/n #vics holiday prompts

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spencereliotwinchester · 3 years

Text

Red Stud (Part 1/3)

Title: Red Stud

Author: Kat

Reader Gender: N/A

Word Count: 8700

Summary: A look at how Jensen met Misha and began their journey. Partner to Submissive but can be read by itself.

Warnings: AU, Sub!Jensen, Dom!Misha, Humiliation!Kink,

A/N: Seriously, not for the faint of heart. No hate. Inspiration belongs to @impala-dreamer

Thank you to @deansbxtch for being my beta

Character: Jensen Ackles x Misha Collins

Tags:

@dr-dean @drarina1737 @zombitch-cas @teamfreewill92 @winecatsandpizza @bees0are0awesome @sierra-grace1227 @chenshemesh1 @weepinghollywoodatsupernatural @im-in-every-fandom-fangirl @rosescarlett @pandazombie69

“What are you doing this weekend, Jensen?” Jared asked as they walked to their ten a.m. biology class.

“Nothing. Maybe doing that ‘American Ideals’ paper for the capstone class,” Jensen responded, heaving his backpack into a more comfortable position. “Why did we take half our classes on Friday?”

“To have Mondays and Tuesdays off,” Jared laughed. “Anyway, there’s a rave happening at this club I know of. Wanna go?”

“A rave? Like, an actual rave, not a house party?”

“Yeah! They have strippers until Midnight, then it turns into a Rave. It goes until the morning I’ve heard. They also have some BDSM rooms, supposedly, but you have to be a member to go in there.”

“What’s the cover?” Jensen asked.

“Fifty,” Jared said.

“That’s cheap for Vegas.”

“That’s the whole point! Anyway, what do you think?”

“As long as you don’t kidnap me into a BDSM room, I’m fine,” Jensen joked.

“Ugh,” Jensen groaned. The taste in his mouth made his stomach turn over. It was like something had crawled in there and died. He sat up, careful to extract himself from the unknown man in his bed. His ass still had a dull throb from the previous night.

Slowly getting out of his bed, careful not to wake up his partner from last night, Jensen made his way to the bathroom of the apartment he shared with Jared. He could hear the sounds of throwing up from inside.

“Jare, I’m coming in to brush my teeth!” He hollered, opening the door.

Jared wasn’t the one in the bathroom. A brunette was heaving over the toilet.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” He said. She looked over at him.

“You’re naked,” She stated.

“Sorry,” he said again, and shut the door.

The door to the apartment opened and Jared came down the hall with a drink holder of coffee. He handed one coffee to Jensen, who took it with a word of thanks and took a drink.

“Still throwing up?” He asked, nodding to the bathroom.

“Uh, yeah,” Jensen responded. “I’m gonna go put on pants.”

As he pulled on a pair of soft sweatpants, the man still in Jensen’s bed stretched and then sat up. Jensen handed him his coffee. The man took a deep drink and handed it back.

“Thanks,” he said, getting up and stretching again. “What a party, eh?”

“Wild,” Jensen agreed. The man’s deep voice and electric blue eyes brought a memory of last night to Jensen’s mind.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard. I’ll bet that’s all you want, filthy slut!”

“Yes, Sir! Please fuck me!”

“Oh, fuck, it’s nearly three!”

He stood up and quickly dressed, gathering the pieces of clothing that had been tossed into various parts of the room.

“Got any cologne I can borrow?” He asked.

“Yeah, on the dresser,” Jensen responded, watching the man get dressed. When the man came up to him, Jensen realized he was nearly as tall as he was, with dark, disheveled hair, and those electric blue eyes that made Jensen feel as though he could see right through him.

“Thanks for last night,” He whispered, Jensen smirked and they kissed.

“See ya around,” Jensen said when they broke apart, though he knew he wouldn’t.

“That party was insane,” Jared said as they sat down on the couch in the small living room.

“I don’t remember much,” Jensen grunted.

“You’ll get some pieces back like usual.”

“Did we… Take anything?” He asked.

“Besides a shit load of alcohol? I don’t think so,” Jared responded absently, scrolling on his phone. “Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“We gotta do that again,” Jared sighed, happily.

“I won’t,” a female voice said. The girl had come around the corner, purse in her hand. “Sorry for spewing my guts out.”

“You okay?” Jared asked.

“Yeah. I’m gonna go,” She turned to Jensen. “You should get on a pole more often.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t remember?” She asked, then continued. “You got up on stage and swung yourself around the pole like you’d been doing it for years.”

“I did what?” He asked, incredulous. Jared snickered.

“It was pretty awesome,” Jared muttered.

“Shut the hell up!”

A few days later, he got a text from an unknown number. He was studying in the library.

I can’t stop thinking about you stretched around my cock, those green eyes rolling up into your head.

He looked around, worried, but no one was nearby.

Who is this?

It could be any of his one night stands from the last few weeks.

I’m offended, we had such a good time the other night! - Sir M

It must be that blue eyed man he met at Frenzy. What did he say his name was? It had been something strange. Another message came through.

You were such a good slut for me. I’d love to have you for myself. - Sir M

Jensen blushed to himself. He didn’t usually sleep with the same person twice. He thought briefly about making an exception. It had been an amazing night. Most of the pieces of the night had come back. The blue eyed stranger had dominated over him, easily taking complete control of their time together. Jensen had thoroughly enjoyed it. As the memories floated to the forefront of his mind, Jensen could feel that his cock was hardening. Another message.

I’ll bet you’re so hot and bothered right now, thinking about the way I owned you. - Sir M

Jensen finally texted back.

Yes, Sir.

It became tradition, each month Jensen and Jared would go to a Rave night at Frenzy. They would stay until the place shut down at 5 a.m. and then crash until late afternoon. Sometimes they brought dates home, sometimes not. Sir M and Jensen continued to message each other. Sir M could be very domineering, even over a simple text and it sent thrills of excitement through Jensen’s body.

About a week after his one night stand with Sir M, Jensen walked into the studio shyly, it was his first time here. He’d been curious about pole dancing ever since that girl had told him how well he’d done.

“Shoes off please!” The teacher, Jaz, behind the desk said sharply. “No outside shoes on the studio floor. Please sign this waiver and set your yoga mat down next to one of the poles.”

Jensen ended up loving pole dancing, going to class three times a week in between his college classes and working a part time job. One day after class, about six months later, Jaz called his name as he was walking out the door.

“Yeah?” He said, walking over to her, his bag slung over his shoulder and a yoga mat in his hands.

“You’re still pretty new, but I know you like to go to Frenzy every so often. They get a lot of their talent from this studio and they’re holding closed auditions for a new male act. I was wondering if you wanted to audition? You’re one of my only male students and I think I have just the song for you.”

Jensen stood there for a moment, his mouth hanging open.

“Oh, I don’t know,” He said eventually, “I mainly do this for fun-”

“Strippers there, especially males, make upwards of $500 a night.”

That was more than Jensen was making now, way more. He thought for a few moments, then relented.

“Let me know what to do.”

Three Saturdays in a row, he practiced one on one for three hours with Jaz. On the fourth Saturday, they ran through the entire routine twice. Jensen was sore, tired, and out of breath.

“You’re ready,” Jaz said excitedly. “I think you’ll take the job easy.”

“You… Sure?” Jensen said between gulps of air.

“I’m damn sure. You’ll knock ‘em dead this afternoon!” She gave Jensen a quick hug and began to ready the studio for her next class. “Make sure you drink plenty of water-”

“And eat plenty of protein,” Jensen finished, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “I know.”

That afternoon, Jensen arrived outside Frenzy at 1:30. Auditions started at 2. He showed his paperwork to the bouncer at the door and was let in. The place was a little unnerving when it was mostly empty and the lights were all on. He made his way towards the Rave Hall and saw a check-in table. He walked up to the two women. One looked up as he approached.

“Here for an interview for the bouncer positions?” She asked.

“Uh.. no,” he said, caught slightly off guard. “I have an audition for pole dancing.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Sorry! Um, name?”

“Ackles,” He said.

“Got it. Locker rooms are that way,” She pointed. “Follow the signs. They’re still doing female auditions, so they may be running slightly late. Do you have a song?”

“Yeah,” he handed over a CD with his name and audition number on it, then made his way to the locker rooms.

As he got dressed, his nerves started to send butterflies to his stomach. He pulled on a pair of tight black cycling shorts and a plain black t-shirt. He had decided to go barefoot for this audition. From the information he had received, there would be a panel of judges and they would ask him a few questions before he danced. Jensen noticed as he waited for his name to be called that most people were doing slow and sensual songs, sometimes even emo. This made him slightly more nervous since Jaz had chosen a fast song for him.

“Next up is Ackles! Ackles to the stage!”

Jensen took a deep breath and then stepped out of the curtain onto the stage. He stood next to the pole and blanched slightly. It seemed like most of the auditioners were staying in the room after they’d auditioned to see the rest of the performers. Jensen only saw three other men in the audience. Then he looked at the panel of judges. Two men and a woman sat there.

The man in the middle had electric blue eyes. Electric blue eyes that made Jensen feel as though he could see right through him. Electric blue eyes that Jensen recognized. Sir M. It knocked the breath clean out of him.

“You used your real name?” The bearded man asked, rolling his eyes. “What’s your stage name?”

“I..I don’t have one,” Jensen stuttered, shrugging.

“Oh boy,” he said in annoyance. “Any tattoo-”

“Red Stud,” the blue eyed man interrupted.

“What?” the bearded man snapped. “Collins, are you in-”

“No, I’m just giving him a stage name. Red hair and just look at those muscles! Yummy.”

“Red Stud, I guess it works,” The man turned back to Jensen. “Tattoos?”

“N-No,” Jensen sputtered, he started to think this had been a mistake. He grabbed the pole, noticing it was on spin. He could do the routine either way, but doing it on spin was harder.

“Why do you want this job?” The woman asked, speaking for the first time.

“I love to dance,” Jensen said smoothly, he was aware his voice had become more even and slightly huskier. “I can dance, and I want to make money doing what I love.”

“Well, I think we’d love to see!” Sir M clapped his hands together. “Go on.”

I saw him dancin' there by the record machine

I knew he must a been about seventeen

The beat was goin' strong

Playin' my favorite song

And I could tell it wouldn't be long

'Til he was with me, yeah, me

And I could tell it wouldn't be long

'Til he was with me, yeah, me, singin'

As soon as the music started, Jensen felt right at home. As if he were back in the studio practicing with Jaz. The loud guitar strums and drum set blasted through the speakers and Jensen opened “I Love Rock N’ Roll” by flexing his biceps, rolling his hips, and showing off his muscles, visible even under the t-shirt, to the various parts of the room. People started clapping along with the beat. When the lyrics started, he climbed the pole to the top, stopping at the end of each line to do various hangs to show off his strength, flowing with the hard rock.

I love rock n' roll

So put another dime in the jukebox, baby

I love rock n' roll

So come and take your time and dance with me

Once he reached the top of the pole, the chorus started and Jensen folded over and around the pole, holding an attitude position before quickly hip-switching to a sundial. He pulled up and inverted into a Fang, spinning quickly with the music before doing a cartwheel dismount.

He smiled, so I got up and asked for his name

"That don't matter", he said, "'cause it's all the same"

I said, "Can I take you home where we can be alone?"

And next we were movin' on

He was with me, yeah, me

Next we were movin' on

He was with me, yeah, me singin'

He pole walked once, before unveiling his next climb. Jaz had spent the majority of their first session teaching him this complex no legs, hand-over-hand climb until Jensen could do it perfectly without falling. Jensen was surprised to hear cheers. He climbed, doing a pull up at the end of each line of music until he was at the top of the pole again. He quickly maneuvered into a cross-legged sit so his arms were free.

I love rock n' roll

So put another dime in the jukebox, baby

I love rock n' roll

So come and take your time and dance with me

Jensen tore his shirt in half splitting it down his chest, then took it off and flung it at the blue eyed judge. He then inverted into a crucifix and nose dived down the pole. Jensen gracefully dismounted as the music faded. He took a bow to the cheering audience before turning his attention towards the judges. Jensen became all too aware of the sheen of sweat covering his face and chest and felt his cheeks reddening - it had nothing to do with the workout he’d just done and everything to do with Sir M staring at him.

“I...I thought Jaz said you were new to pole dancing,” the woman said in awe.

“I mean, I’ve only been pole dancing for about six months,” Jensen responded, shrugging. “Should I go?”

“Can you dance like that tonight?” Sir M asked, his voice deep and vibrating.

“I- What?”

“Can. You. Dance. Like that. Tonight?” He asked again, more slowly, like Jensen was hard of hearing.

“I’d need a new black t-shirt… but yeah, I can,” Jensen felt even more blood rushing to his face.

“Then the job is yours. You’re on at midnight,” the bearded man said. “Be here no later than 11.”

As he was walking out, he heard his name called. Turning, he was shocked to see Jared.

“Since when do you dance?”

“Six months or so,” Jensen said, looking away from Jared.

“Dude, you’re insanely good!”

“Uh...Thanks. Why are you here?”

“Got hired as a bouncer!” He said excitedly.

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Jensen exclaimed. “I gotta go call Jazzy and tell her I got the dance slot and then get ready for tonight.”

“I’ll see you tonight! It’s my first night too.”

Jensen was able to meet most of the other dancers that night in the locker room. It turned out that there were only three other male dancers, so everyone shared one locker room. A girl came up to Jensen. She was dressed in a red thong and red corset. She had blonde hair that was curled in large spirals. He recognized her as the female judge from earlier.

“Hi, Red,” She said, smacking some gum and winking at him.

“Hey,” He nodded.

“Come on, I’m gonna show you the ropes and rules. I’m Cherie by the way. So, tonight. They’re just going to have you open the Rave with your routine, but people will still throw tips at you. Each of us also has a jar at the bar where people can place tips, too. Don’t forget to empty it before you leave for the night. If you have any problems with patrons on the floor, grab one of the bouncers. After a couple weeks, you might do some dancing for tips, or they might have you out on the floor to do lap dances and such. I dunno, Mish will let you know.”

“‘Mish?’” Jensen asked.

“Misha Collins?” She looked at him incredulously. “Big blue eyes, stubbled jaw, orgasm inducing voice?”

“Oh, him.”

“Yeah, him. Let's get some makeup on you.”

Jensen fidgeted as midnight approached. His butterflies were even bigger now and he worried he’d mess up the entire routine. As the acts neared his, the music got faster. Cherie was just before him in the lineup, her song started, ‘Cherry Pie’ by Warrant. Jensen warmed his body and put grip aid on his hands. Cherie came through the curtain. She had removed the corset during her act and was down to her red thong and pasties.

“Good luck, Red,” She winked at him.

He swallowed hard and entered the stage through the curtain. A few whistles met him.

“Please welcome to the stage, our newest dancer. His debut performance right here, right now! RED STUD!” the emcee announced.

‘I Love Rock N’ Roll’ started and Jensen began his routine. He only slipped once and it was barely noticeable. Cheers and applause met him and he bowed. Then, he quickly picked up the cash tips that had been tossed onstage and exited. He’d made nearly $250 from tips he’d picked up off the stage.

Jensen made his way to the bar after he put on another black shirt from his locker. The lights shut off completely and black light turned on. Glow sticks lit up the room. A thumping bass beat blared through the speaker. Jensen sat down at the bar in an open seat and waited for the bartender to see him. The bartender came over to him.

“What can I get ya?” He yelled over the thick bass beat.

“Shot of whiskey!” He yelled back. As he went to hand over a ten, a hand caught him. Jensen turned to see Misha standing right next to him. He was wearing a red t-shirt that was a size too small and stretched dangerously over his shoulders. Up close, Jensen was able to see just how handsome the man- Misha- really was.

“On the house!” He yelled to the bartender. “And make it two!”

Jensen and Misha tapped glasses and took the shots together. After four more shots each, Jensen was feeling much more free and relaxed. Misha tapped his hand against his shoulder.

“Come with me!” He yelled.

Misha dragged Jensen into the Rave and they began to dance together. After the second song they were both drenched in sweat and the alcohol was really hitting Jensen’s head. He hadn’t eaten anything in a few hours. Misha raised his hand to his mouth and swallowed. Then raised his hand to his mouth again. This time he grabbed Jensen’s face and began kissing him. Jensen opened his mouth in surprise and Misha shoved his tongue in and Jensen felt a small pill. Guessing what it was, he swallowed and continued to make out with Misha.

Within ten minutes, the drug was taking effect. Jensen began to feel remarkably loose, happy and floaty. Misha was grinding against his ass and Jensen didn’t mind one bit. The music thrummed heavily through his head, his heart speeding up to match the rapid music. The bass beat dropped and Misha was reaching around palming Jensen’s half hard cock through the shorts he was wearing. His moan was lost in the music as he leaned back into Misha’s solid body.

Then, Misha was pulling him along, through the waves of people. They reached a door on the other side and Misha pushed him through it. They were in a back hallway and Misha pushed Jensen into another room. The lights flicked on. Noise was completely silenced when the door closed but Jensen’s head pounded with the remnants of the bass line.

“Should we be in here?” Jensen asked, eyes widening as he took in the sight of the room. It was a smaller room, but it was beautiful and dangerous. The walls were red, the carpet was plush and black. A few sex toys were scattered around and Jensen could only imagine what was in the armoire at the other side of the room. There was also a double bed in the corner behind the door.

“It’s my private room,” Misha said.

“A private room?”

Misha came up behind him and began kissing and nipping at his neck. Misha grabbed the hem of Jensen’s shirt and dragged it over his head before going back to kissing his neck. Jensen moaned lightly.

“Owning the place does have its perks,” Misha growled, his voice low and lust-filled.

Jensen turned to face Misha and pulled the other man’s shirt off. Misha pulled Jensen over to the bed and pushed him down on it. As Misha kicked his jeans off and leaned down on top of Jensen, something clicked into place.

“Are you a Dom?” Jensen asked.

“You could most certainly say that,” Misha laughed.

“I’ve never really… Except that night with you and I don’t remember everything.”

“Well, it’s up to you, but I promise I’ll make it worth it if you stay, Boy,” the voice slipped down a few notes and Misha reached a hand into Jensen’s hair and pulled lightly. A rush of pleasure flowed through his body. Jensen moaned. “What are your limits?”

“Nothing too crazy, I’m, uh, pretty vanilla you could say.”

“Vanilla it is, but next time we do things my way,” Misha smirked before kissing Jensen again. Blood rushed to his face and his cock, making his brain spin. He laughed into Misha’s mouth, the feeling of euphoria enveloping him again.

As Jensen began to swim into consciousness, he squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. His head was pounding, his muscles ached, his ass hurt, and his mouth was as dry as the deserts surrounding Las Vegas. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around the room. He had no idea where he was. The room was lit softly through thick curtains. The walls were a cool grey and matched the bedding. An unopened water bottle was sitting on the nightstand and Jensen grabbed it, cracking it open and taking a deep drink.

“I was thinking I was going to have to come wake you up. It’s nearly five,” Misha’s voice startled Jensen, and he looked around to see Misha standing in the doorway.

“I’d have been up at three if you hadn’t slipped me Ecstasy,” Jensen grumbled. “Where are my clothes?”

Misha walked over to the closet and stepped inside. He threw a shirt and a pair of jeans on the bed.

“You only had on those pole shorts when we came home,” Misha answered. “Take those. They should fit okay.”

Jensen got out of bed and stumbled sideways. Misha caught him. He became suddenly dizzy and shut his eyes trying to clear the feeling before it made him hurl.

“You okay?” Misha asked.

“Just a bit dizzy… Stood up too fast,” Jensen grunted. He slowly put weight back on his legs and got dressed in Misha’s clothes. They smelled like leather and cologne. An image of Misha pushing his cock into Jensen’s mouth came to mind.

“We should get some food in you,” Misha said. “Do you want to have dinner with me?”

“Sure,” Jensen said, his stomach snarling at the thought.

“Everything okay?” Misha asked.

“When you said ‘have dinner’ I thought you meant a dive bar or a diner or something…”

“Oh no, Sweetness, when I dine, I dine in style.”

“I’m not really appropriate-” Misha cut him off.

“Nonsense. Come on.”

The maitre’d greeted Misha by name and led them all the way to the back of the restaurant to a private booth. A waitress dropped off water, smiling at them before gliding away to the kitchen. Jensen fiddled with the menu, slightly uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?” Misha asked in his low, gravelly voice.

“Just nervous,” Jensen mumbled.

“Listen, about last night-” It was Jensen’s turn to cut off Misha.

“I don’t regret anything.”

“Well… Good, then,” Misha said. “Are you good to go on tonight?”

“Of course,” Jensen waved a hand at Misha.

The waitress arrived with an appetizer.

“The usual, Sir?” She asked Misha. He nodded, then the waitress turned to Jensen, but Misha interjected.

“Let me order for you.” It wasn’t a question.

Jensen, shocked, nodded at him jerkily. Misha whispered into the waitresses ear and she gave him a nod before vanishing again. He turned back to Jensen, and put a hand on his scruffy face. Jensen suddenly had butterflies in his stomach again.

“So what are you into?” Jensen blurted out the question.

“Huh?”

“You know, like you have a private room at Frenzy- Hell, you OWN Frenzy. You’re a Dom, you asked my limits…” Jensen trailed off.

“I’m into things you couldn’t even dream of,” He said, darkly. Jensen shivered. It was strange, the way Misha could make him feel both scared and aroused at the same time. “But for the most part I’m into Dom/sub.”

“Like, whips and chains and ‘Master’?” Misha chuckled at the look on Jensen’s face.

“I’m more into the relationship, the power exchange, not the punishments, and I prefer to be called ‘Sir,’” He responded. “You know nothing of BDSM if you’ve just watched porn.”

Misha began explaining the mechanics and the true BDSM scene. Jensen became much more interested, and aroused, as Misha explained the true relationship between Dominants and their submissives. He never figured this sort of scene would be up his alley, but the way Misha had made Jensen beg for release last night…

“You’ve barely touched your food,” Misha stated. “Eat.”

Jensen did so. Misha smirked at him, his eyes were filled with lust and approval.

“What?” He asked.

“You absentmindedly enjoy being told what to do. I just had a very intriguing thought,” Misha said in a hushed voice.

“What?” Jensen was even more confused.

“Let me introduce you to being submissive. I think we’d be a good match. We like each other and damn you’re just yummy. I can’t get enough of you.”

Jensen looked down at his mostly empty plate, his mind was hesitant, but his cock was thoroughly interested in the idea of having sex with Misha again.

“Try it,” Misha pressed. “If you don’t like it, no harm no foul… But I think you’ll fall in love with it.”

“Fine,” Jensen relented, telling himself he could try something new. “We should get going. I need to go home and shower. I also need to work out a little. I missed my afternoon class today.”

“Want a ride home?” Misha asked.

“That would be welcome,” Jensen whispered.

Jensen finally got back to Frenzy at ten pm. He opened his locker and saw a jar of tips. The jar from the bar. Jensen groaned, knowing he would probably be in trouble with the bartender for forgetting to pick them up. He then pulled his phone out of his locker to check it. He had a message from Sir M.

I need you to open and close the dance acts next weekend. Open with a slow, sensual song for me? Then close with your regular routine. Next week you work Wednesday thru Sunday. W & Th & Sun 7p - 3a.m. Fr & Sat 7pm - 12:15 am, then you’ll join me in the Member’s Club -Sir M

He immediately texted Jazzy to find out if she could help him with a new routine.

We can practice this week, I’ve got a good one for you. I’m here btw! To see you perform.

That week was one of the hardest of his life. He even skipped a few classes at the college trying to get some rest between the club, school, practicing a completely new song, and texting Misha. He barely even saw Jared except at Frenzy.

Friday evening came and Jensen was a ball of wrecked nerves. He was exhausted, but got a jolt of excitement at the thought of performing a slow song just for Misha. The emcee was beginning to announce the acts and Jensen’s whole body buzzed with nervous excitement.

“Let’s open up with Red Stud!” The emcee yelled.

Jensen took the stage and a few whistles broke out above the chattering crowd. He sat down in front of the pole, back pressed against it and nodded toward the emcee. “You’re the Best” by Wet played through the speakers as Jensen began to go through the choreography Jazzy taught him. It was slow and sensual, just what Misha had asked for. Most of the choreo had him on the floor, using the pole as just a prop, instead of being on it the entire time. He ended the song on the floor, in a shoulder mount with his legs split. People clapped, cheered, and whistled. Jensen collected the money on the stage and went back to the locker room, to rest and get ready for the closing act.

After the closing act, Jensen got a t-shirt on and went out into the now Rave Room. As he approached the bar, he saw Misha talking to a few patrons. One girl was draped over his shoulder and a hotness spread through Jensen’s body. Jealousy. They had never said they’d be exclusive, Jensen reasoned, but he still wanted to toss the girl into what was now becoming a mosh pit.

He grabbed a couple shots from the bartender, downing one right after the other. His eyes were trained on Misha at the other end of the bar, the jealousy burning through his veins, just like the whiskey he’d shot down. He finally shoved himself from the bar, deciding he could play the same game. He disappeared into the rave to find a partner for the evening.

As he was grinding with a stranger, he felt a hand fist the back of his shirt and yanked him back. Jensen was shocked, he looked around and saw Misha was the one who had his shirt. He was surprised at the roughness and then saw the look on Misha’s face.

His jaw was clenched and eyes were narrowed in anger. There was fury written into his face. He caught Misha’s eye for just a moment and saw only rage in the flashing blue. Misha shoved him through the same door as last weekend and into his private room.

“Think you’re funny?!” Misha spat as all other sound was drowned out. Jensen opened his mouth but a single flash of Misha’s eyes and his voice died in his throat. “Grinding on some stranger right in front of ME? You’re mine!”

Something strange happened at Misha’s words. He was slightly scared, very much confused and then a shooting feeling of arousal coiled through his belly. Jensen found his voice.

“You had women all over you at the bar! We never said we were exclusive,” He strained his voice to keep it level.

“I wasn’t the one out on the dance floor practically having sex!”

“You were last weekend!” Jensen cried, aware that his words were making less sense.

“You’re MINE, Boy!” Misha barked. The arousal came back, harder and stronger than before.

“Promise?” Jensen breathed.

Anger melted from Misha’s face. He looked confused, then a grin broke across his face.

“What?” Jensen snapped, but the anger was melting completely and being taken over by desire.

“You liked it.”

“Liked what?”

“Being called names. When I called you ‘boy’ I saw your cock jump in those tight shorts. You like being humiliated,” Misha looked at him fondly. “I’ll tuck away that information for later.”

They ended the night a lot happier than it had started, the fight completely forgotten, like the clothes all over the floor.

Jensen was sitting at Misha’s kitchen table. A laptop, books, notebooks and folders were spread out around him. Jensen had his forehead pressed to the cool wood. He’d spent the better part of three hours trying to write a paper for his english class. What does each room color symbolize in Mask of the Red Death? Discuss. Jensen then thought of the two ten-page papers due at the end of the semester. A Topic of Your Choosing Using Compare and Contrasting Methods and How are American Ideals Still Relevant in Today’s Day and Age?

He groaned and lifted his head up. He found Misha standing against the counter to his right. Misha was wearing a suit, crisply ironed, with a khaki top coat over it. From the looks of it, Jensen figured it was probably cashmere.

“Looks like a tornado came through,” He indicated the mess on the table.

“More like a typhoon. I’m drowning in this.”

“I wanted to talk to you about some things, but it can wait if you’re too busy.”

“Please, I could use a break from this.”

“Now that we’re going to delve into this relationship, I want to lay out a couple rules for you to follow,” Misha sat down at the table and looked at Jensen seriously. Jensen nodded. “Number One, you call me ‘Sir.’ Number Two, you don’t cum unless I say so. Number Three, do not lie to me, EVER. And Number Four, is this.”

He took a small, leather-bound book from the inside of his topcoat and set it in front of Jensen. Upon further inspection, it was a journal with lined pages. Jensen cocked an eyebrow at Misha.

“I want you to keep a journal. At least one page per day, more if you feel like it. On the first page,” Misha flipped the book open, “I’ve written some prompts I’d like you to start off writing about, so we can hone and mold our relationship together.”

“So, I’m drowning in homework… And you give me more?” Jensen said, indicating the haphazard papers that littered the table.

“I guess so, yeah. Got a problem with that, Boy?” Misha’s voice dipped into a commanding voice.

“No,” Jensen responded.

“No, what?” Misha’s voice dripped with venom.

“Uh, no, Sir,” Jensen looked down at the table.

“Failure to follow my rules will result in punishment, and trust me, punishment does not equal pleasure.”

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen said, nodding his understanding.

“That’s my good slut,” Misha said, patting his hair. Misha and Jensen had found out fairly quickly that the pet name turned Jensen on to no end and Jensen felt a swell of happiness each time Misha used it. “I have a meeting. Be good.”

As Misha left, Jensen looked at the table. He rolled his eyes in frustration and grabbed the journal. Opening it to the first page, he saw Misha’s handwriting. It was slanted, neat, almost calligraphy

What are your likes and dislikes in the bedroom? Discuss.

How are you currently feeling about our relationship? Write this subject weekly

What do you want from a sexual partner?

What do you need from a sexual partner?

There was a hard line penned into the page

Only Jensen may write, unless he gives permission for me to respond.

This is Jensen’s safe space to write what he needs.

Jensen will never be judged for what is written.

Jensen looked between the journal and the three college papers he was working on. He groaned and pulled the laptop towards himself, deciding to write a little more about Mask of the Red Death before trying to fill out his journal.

The first room is blue, which symbolizes Poe’s own depression…

“You know, maybe he just liked the color blue!” Jensen yelled at the empty house. He tossed The Works of Edgar Allan Poe across the kitchen.

I’m honestly not sure how I feel about the relationship with Sir. I’ve barely met him but I feel like I’ve known him for a long time. I’m nervous and scared, but also aroused…

Jensen felt extremely weird writing in the journal at first, but once he got the first few sentences out, a bunch more were written. He ended up with three pages. By the time Jensen finished his journal as well as the Poe paper, it was nearing 5 pm. Jensen stood and stretched. It was Monday, so he didn’t have work and he didn’t have class: college or pole.

He felt like he hadn’t seen Jared in forever. At least, the last time he saw Jared outside of work or school. They never really had time to talk while busy studying and working. Jensen texted Jared.

Where are you?

Video Games was the response.

Jensen was getting ready to head over to his apartment when a thought struck him. He quickly texted Misha.

I’m going over to the apartment to hang with Jared.

Home by 2am came only a few seconds later. Jensen set an alarm on his phone to go off at 1.

Jensen had only been by the apartment a couple times in the last two weeks and that was only to grab some clothes, his toothbrush, and school things. Jared hadn’t been home. He was splayed across the couch, playing COD. Jensen grabbed a controller and joined the game. As they played, he couldn’t help but feel a sort of tension between them. After about half an hour, Jared shut the game off.

“Drink?” Jared asked stiffly.

“I’m gonna drive back to Misha’s later,” Jensen said. “Is something up?”

Jared finished his own beer and grabbed another one from the fridge. He scoffed.

“What?” Jensen pressed.

“You know, dude,” said Jared, turning to him. “I don’t even know what to say. You get this job at Frenzy, end up in the back room WITH THE OWNER, and then disappear for three weeks. What the fuck, Man?”

“It’s not like that-” Jensen started before Jared cut him off.

“That’s how it looks from my angle! You’ve never been that kind of whore! Tell me, is it true? Are you Collins’ new bitch? I have never known you to sleep with a partner more than once, but now that it’s some rich dude...”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Jensen tried to explain, but he realized Jared must have been drinking most of the day; he wasn’t usually this hurtful. “What?” Jensen was taken aback as he comprehended the last sentence.

“That’s what I heard. That’s what everyone at Frenzy is talking about. You hopping in bed with the owner. Man, I knew you liked to sleep around but this...”

“Jared, I’m sorry, dude. Let me explai-”

“Explain what? Just answer the question, Jensen!” Jared yelled.

“We’re in a relationsh-” Jensen started to yell.

“It’s been three weeks and you’re basically moved in with him! Do you know how worried I’ve been? I would’ve called the cops if I hadn’t seen you at Frenzy!”

“I’m fine, Jared! What? Can’t bear me actually being happy?!”

“You’re a goddamn idiot! You have no idea what this guy’s intentions are! Sure, we’ve all done one night stands, but this… This is a whole new level, even for you,” Jared had gotten right into Jensen’s face. Jensen didn’t back down. The hurt was pumping through his body and he stabbed Jared right where it hurt.

“You’re the one who almost killed yourself over Gen leaving you!” Jensen shoved Jared hard. He didn’t react fast enough to the fist that connected to the side of his head.

“Get. The fuck. Out,” Jared snarled.

Jensen had to sit in his car for fifteen minutes before the dizziness finally passed enough for him to drive to Misha’s...To home. When he pulled into the driveway, he could see the lamp on in Misha’s bedroom. He felt relief at the sight, not wanting to be alone after his fight with Jared. He let himself in the house and went down the hall to Misha’s room. He hesitated for a few seconds before knocking on the door.

“Enter,” Came a distracted response.

Misha was propped against the headboard, wearing only his boxers. He was reading Things Fall Apart by an author whose name Jensen couldn’t begin to pronounce. He felt that, in a way. That his life was falling apart around him. The room began to blur and shift and Jensen clenched his hands at his side. It had been a long time since something like this had happened. His head began to buzz loudly, like angry bees.

“Jensen?”

The room began to come back into focus, but then thoughts of the night and the last month of his life overwhelmed him and the room spun wildly, his heart raced, and tears fell from his eyes. Misha was at his side, steadying him.

“I need. My medicine,” Jensen was almost hyperventilating. “In my bag.”

Jensen curled up on the floor, holding himself until Misha came back with a prescription bottle. He popped it open and handed Jensen one pill. When shaking hands, Jensen put the pill into his mouth and swallowed. It would take about ten minutes for the effect to settle in and calm him down. With arms stronger than Jensen imagined, Misha scooped him up and set him down in the large bed.

“Shh, just breathe,” Misha soothed.

As time passed, Jensen felt his heartbeat begin to slow and his breathing evened out. He became aware of Misha holding him with one arm, the other carding through his hair. The feeling was soothing, comforting. When he felt he could, Jensen sat up and faced Misha.

“Panic attack?”

Jensen nodded.

“That may have been something you should have told me about.”

“I haven’t had one for two years,” Jensen whispered.

“Did it have something to do with the bruise that’s darkening on your face?”

“I had a fight with Jared,” He explained.

“Obviously. What about?”

“This. Us,” Jensen said, apologetically. “I should go lay down. The medicine makes me insanely tired.”

“Stay. I want to keep my eye on you.”

Jensen hadn’t stayed the night in Misha’s bed since their second night together. Jensen felt a swoop of anxiety, but then Misha brought a hand to his face, and it melted away. He leaned into Misha’s touch.

After a moment, Misha got out of bed and beckoned Jensen to do the same. He set the book carefully on the nightstand and pulled the covers back. He indicated to Jensen to get into bed, then slid in after him.

“Why do you have panic attacks?” Misha asked.

“When I was little, and my Mom and Dad were still together, they fought, like, all the time. Downright screaming matches. Their fighting started causing panic attacks. So, now whenever there’s arguing it can cause an attack.”

“I guess the fight just really affected me. I shouldn’t have said some things,” Jensen sighed deeply.

“We’ll have to be careful. Everything will be okay,” Misha soothed.

The light clicked off and Misha spooned Jensen, his arm wrapped around his waist comforting him. Jensen pushed himself back into Misha’s chest and within minutes, the exhaustion from the day as well as the medicine pulled him into sleep.

Jensen woke the next morning, groggy and feeling like his head was too heavy to lift. He was alone in Misha’s bed. Slowly, he sat up. He noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand on top of the book that Misha had been reading. He grabbed it.

I will be in my office when you wake, taking care of some work. Eat some eggs and toast and meet me when you’re through. -Sir

Jensen went to the guest room he’d been calling his own. He slipped into the bathroom attached and did his morning routine. He then made his way to the kitchen, wishing he knew where Misha kept the Tylenol.

As Jensen ate breakfast, he scrolled through his phone lazily. The group chat he was in with the other guys and girls had blown up the previous night. Jensen scrolled through quickly, getting the gist of what had been discussed. He paused, however, when the chat shifted.

Cherie: It’s almost Mish’s Birthday y’all. What are we doing this year? Another showcase?

Brad: Maybe, he never gets tired of watching us dance.

Ariel: What if we did a choreographed routine with all of us? We could do it on the weekend of his birthday.

Michelle: Ooo I like that. Unless @Red Stud has a better idea?

Brad: That’s a good idea. Everyone meet at noon at Frenzy tomorrow. Come with song ideas.

Cherie: Great idea! See everyone then?

Shit. It was almost eleven now. He quickly finished breakfast and packed a bag. Then he went to Misha’s office. Jensen knocked on the open door.

“Enter,” Came a reply.

Misha was sitting behind a large carved desk, looking through a stack of papers. He glanced up at Jensen.

“Where are you off too?” Misha asked.

“Uhh,” Jensen hesitated, not knowing if the birthday party was a surprise.

“Don’t lie to me,” Misha reminded him suddenly, fixing him with a blue-eyed stare that seemed to read his mind.

“Okay, I’m meeting the other girls and guys at Frenzy-”

“Ah, yes. My birthday,” Misha rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I just wanted to give you this and ask you to fill it out. I’m filling one out, too. We will compare them and make necessary changes before signing.”

Misha slid a thick packet towards Jensen. He walked to the desk and picked it up. Standard D/s Contract - Misha Collins was the title. Jensen felt his cheeks heat up.

“Okay,” Jensen said, slipping the contract into his gym bag.

“Okay what?” Misha snit.

“Sorry. Yes, Sir,” He amended. Jensen walked around the desk, so he was directly next to Misha, who had gone back to his report. He gave Misha a soft kiss on the cheek which he accepted.

“Tell the girls and boys not to worry too much. I think I’ll be getting exactly what I want for my birthday already,” Misha threw him a quick, dirty look.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Be good, Slut.”

Jensen closed his eyes for a moment, letting the heat pool in his belly. Then, he left to get to Frenzy. He seemed to be the first one there, surprisingly. He changed, then warmed himself up quickly. He walked out to the stage and placed his phone off to the side, hitting the “Play” Button on the song he wanted. The slow guitar started and Jensen began swaying his body to the music, body rolling on the pole, doing slow spins.

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am home again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am whole again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am young again

Whenever I'm alone with you

You make me feel like I am fun again

“I think Red should do the choreography!” He heard the yell, it startled him and he lost grip on the pole, landing painfully on his elbow.

“I have no idea how to do choreography,” Jensen said tersely, sitting up and rubbing his aching elbow. He looked around and saw Brad, Cherie, and Michelle, who seemed to be the one who’d yelled.

“Yes, you do,” Cherie said. “I know you can. Just by watching that performance, I know you can.”

Everyone filtered in and then Cherie called for silence.

“I think Red should do choreo,” Michelle said again.

“All in favor?” Cherie asked. Everyone except Jensen yelled ‘Aye!’

Jensen groaned.

“Now, what song should we do? Fast or slow?”

“Slow,” Jensen said. “I’m a lot better at slow choreo. Jazzy’s the one who usually choreographs for me.”

It took nearly an hour before they’d settled on a song. Jensen huffed, it wasn’t a very slow song, but he could work with it.

“Give me a half hour to figure out what we’re doing,” He grumbled, grabbing a pad of paper from behind the bar.

Jensen played Breathe on Me at least five times, stopping and starting and writing the choreography on the pad. He called Cherie over and went through it with her. That way she could teach group one and he could teach group two. After about two hours, Jensen called it quits for the day.

After a long shower, Jensen settled down at the kitchen table to do his homework and try to go through the large contract Misha had given him that morning. He’d gotten his english paper done, his journal written in, and was just staring at the front page of the contract when Misha arrived.

“Slut,” He greeted, flashing a smile his way.

“Sir,” Jensen nodded at him, a smile spreading across his face.

“I’ll be in my room. Have fun.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Jensen, in his limited free time, had been doing a lot of research into proper BDSM etiquette and rules. As Jensen read through the contract, filling in the blanks, he was all too aware of his cock hardening. He palmed himself as he went through the listed kinks and fetishes and circled ones he’d be willing to try. One line of the contract kept playing through his mind.

Above all, the primary duty of this submissive is to please.

Jensen grinned to himself. He had a sudden idea, and it sent warm heat through his body as his heart sped up. He hoped this would work, because if not, he’d be having a hard time following Misha’s rule not to cum without permission.

He walked down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. The door to Misha’s room was open and Jensen dropped to his knees just outside the threshold. He put his hands on his thighs and bowed his head, closing his eyes. He’d seen this pose on a website as one of the accepted sub poses. He itched to call out, call attention to himself, but he pushed the urge down, stubbornly. Jensen waited.

A calmness washed over him. His breathing and heartbeat slowed, the thought of pleasing Misha helped him ignore the numbness in his knees. Finally, Jensen heard an intake of breath and the swish of sheets rubbing against pajama pants. Jensen kept still, unmoving. He fought the urge to snap his head up. To meet those blue eyes that could read his mind.

“How long have you been here?” Jensen couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his body at the soft, loving tone. Misha was right next to him. A hand rested on Jensen’s head. Jensen leaned slightly into the touch before remembering to keep his pose. Words were lost to him.

“Speak,” Misha’s voice was still soft, but had an authoritative tone that Jensen couldn’t ignore.

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. It could have been five minutes or three hours. The time had melted away, had become meaningless.

“What do you need?” Misha asked.

“To please you,” spilled from his mouth.

“Good Slut.”

A sense of pride swelled inside him and a jolt of arousal coursed through his cock.

“Crawl in here and take your position,” Misha guided him to an open space in the bedroom.

When Jensen had resumed his pose, he listened intently, trying to figure out where Misha was and what he was doing. Misha’s hand curled into his hair, lifting his head. Jensen struggled to keep his eyes closed, but his lips parted slightly as his breathing quickened. The soft, velvety head of Misha’s cock brushed lightly against his lips. A shiver went down his spine. Sure, he’d sucked guys off before, even Misha, but never like this.

“Is this what you want?” Misha asked, his voice low and growly.

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen whispered.

PART 2

#jensen ackles #misha collins #jensen x misha #cockles #dom!misha #sub!Jensen #humiliation kink

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tiarnanabhfainni · 2 years

Note

Very liberal semi-practicing Irish catholic here. I always hear Americans say “Jesus take the wheel” when they get into shit and in my head I’m like ???? Jesus has better things to do???? Honey the person you’re after is st Jude. Jesus isn’t gonna do shit but st Jude? He is your guy. Your wingman. Your crisis control manager extraordinaire. Do you know how many times I’ve been shitting myself the night before an exam with not HALF the study I needed to to do done and just miraculously gotten through because of him? Too many for me to trust anyone else that’s for sure. And that was after not going to mass for at least six months. Don’t even talk to me about confession. Also at this point me and the man the myth the legend st Anthony have talked so much we are besties. (I think it’s kinda sweet that he’s just become a part of Irish culture nowadays. Like idk anyone who actually prays to him but it’s the first thing anyone ever says when you lose something. It’s instinctive.)

Same anon as before. I completely agree with what you’re saying about the insanity of it all and how many saints there are for EVERYTHING, including small parishes having multiple local saints. To me anyway, saints feel way less big and commanding than say, Jesus or god. They’re just funny little people who you can ask for silly little personal things that really don’t impact the world (or even your life) in a major way. Please don’t let it doesn’t rain tomorrow I’m going out with my friends. Please let me cook this without burning it, I want to impress my date. I’ve had a bad head-cold the last while, can you make it go away? I don’t really pray that much (at all) but I think of it as like how Dean prays to Cas. It’s casual. Jesus Mary and God are off doing Jesus-Mary-and-God-Things and tbh don’t really care if one of your cows dies while calving but St Catherine who lived in your village a century and a half ago sure as hell knows what that’s like and the struggles that come afterwards. So yeah you can bet your ass she’s gonna try and help! Anyway, sorry for going off in your asks OP but I think it’s really interesting how faith works, in that you build up this big god and saviour figure who loves all and will help everyone but the thing is you built him up too big and now he’s not approachable to the average person with average problems. A bit like Psyche. So people make up these smaller figures who they feel they can connect with more and use as a role model in their daily lives.

full cards on the table in that i am not particularly religious nor have my family been other than my grandparents but yes this is exactly what im getting at! like you really need to tailor your prayers to the right place or they’re not going to get answered. god’s getting a million calls from around the world and he’s supposed to differentiate between someone calling about their crops failing, someone calling about their car crashing and someone calling about their lost shoelace?? let the man delegate and address your prayers where they’ll do the most good.

love a bit of st anthony, man gets a full workout in this country.

but yeah in terms of the whole building up a god so big that now you can’t talk to him about the little stuff, i always think about that post where protestants treat god like their bestie and talk to him about every little worry in their lives while catholics treat god as a really intimidating boss of their company and shur look you wouldn’t want to catch his attention for the small stuff. better to go to a more immediate supervisor.

the main thing that amuses me about intercession though is how careful the catholic church have to be to make sure that they’re not promoting polytheism. like yes there are these minor religious figures who often have local pagan roots and yes you can pray to them and receive boons that you’ve prayed for. HOWEVER! it is not the saints themselves who are directly answering your prayers. they do not have any divine power in and of themselves. they are interceding on your behalf with god. i.e. since they’re buddies with god they’re going to pass on your request and therefore give it more weight. ask your supervisor to ask your boss kind of thing. but god is the one actually granting the request or else this becomes heresy.

now this is just the theological justification for it and most people just imagine the saint is the one answering the prayer in my experience but it does make the role of the saints in heaven exceedingly funny to me personally. just a giant switchboard in the sky and god’s sitting in his office with a cigar waiting for st anthony to transfer the call.

#long-winded answer here so sorry #but yeah #also did not learn about intercession when i was attending catholic school or mass #i learnt about intercession in a mandatory module i took about religion in medieval society #which is where i learnt most of what i know about catholic theology #so some of this may be outdated

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

aphrodite

“Aphrodite is just a stage name, but the persona is still you. You might be a total dork, but the person you think you present has always been apart of you.”

— Or, in which Pro Hero Shouto falls in love with a dominatrix cam girl, only to find out that she’s quite a weirdo in real life. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, stalking fan, cursing, unexperienced shouto, camgirl!reader, dom!reader, marking, blowjobs, praise kink

word count: 8,834

a/n: honestly, I did love this fic but mind is BUZZING at the thought of finally getting to write my todoroki family gangbang because I have that shit fucking outlined and I never outline anYTHING!!! but this was fun!!! i did a lot of extensive research into camming to only realize that if I wrote it realistically I wouldn’t be able to write this the way I intended... so camgirl is sorta really inaccurate and im sorry ;-;

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Being a Pro Hero was one of the most rewarding things Todoroki Shouto had ever done. With his day consumed with being in an element where he saved and protected people, there was nothing he could ever hope to improve. Well, as long as you only considered things in a job aspect.

As a Pro Hero, his job was his life.

Day in and day out, he was working.

From the first chime of his alarm at six in the morning until he was crashing on his bed at eleven at night, he wasn’t just anyone, he was Shouto, the Pro Hero.

But Heroes were overworked, with the recent downfall of the League of Villains and the aftershocks that came from defeating a group that changed the world, there was a lot to do. He was twenty years old, two years free from Yuuei, and was a Pro Hero, not a sidekick.

After graduating from school, most individuals had assumed that he was going to work with his father as a sidekick for a few number of years, but that wasn’t right. Bakugou and Midoriya had created an agency together, so with them, the creators, Shouto made up one of the many founding members of this new agency. An agency that was constructed of only graduates of Yuuei, it was strong, promising, and already one that had him and his friends well within the publics’ favorite heroes.

As goes any new Hero Agency, they had to prove themselves, after all, their alma mater was not enough to carry them through everything. Experience was valued higher than name-value after all. So Shouto, along with the thirty members of the agency, worked hard every day to swallow the fear of the reemerging Japan, fulfilling every and all tedious and significant need.

But for all his hard work, Shouto had been neglecting his own needs.

Two years of hard work for a man without a sexual relationship translated to two years without any sort of lover — romantic and sexual.

At first, it was easy to ignore. He made do with sloppy jerk offs in the shower, the warm water soaking into his skin while he came in loads against his fingers, but eventually, it grew tiresome, lonesome, and tedious.

That is until something happened one day.

A single link had been sent his way by Kaminari, the blond man unknowingly sending this to Shouto and not the intended Sero. Shouto had just gotten home, his tired eyes looking at the highlighted hyperlink on his phone. Sighing, he had thrown it up on his laptop, wanting to figure out just what he was sending him of all people, he hoped maybe it was an article on his major rescue today. Kaminari was much better at tracking those articles than he was.

But what he got was not an article on his heroic deed today. No, there was no cold day in hell that this was a news article.

His eyes widened, the texts furiously coming in on his phone, apologizing for the mistake, but Shouto wasn’t paying attention. No, he was transfixed on the video before him and fire, unlike any heat he had ever known burned through his veins. Simmering heat rolling from his skin while he watched on, and just like that, Shouto found a way to feel anew.

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“Thanks for all your hard work!” Midoriya yelled after Shouto, who was three strides out the door once they traded places.

It was Tuesday night, one of three nights that Shouto ever really looked forward to. For the past year, he had always made sure that he was never scheduled on these nights, and well, no one had objected, so he was still taking them. The travel back home was a five-minute commute via train, but always, as Shouto sat there, he felt as if the train was barely inching along.

But as soon as the train docked, there was no time to waste. Shouto was out of the crowded train and practically racing to his house.

The door was slammed and locked behind him, and while practically stripping in his hallway — he didn’t need to care about a trail of clothes as he lived alone — he made it into his bedroom.

7:59, his clock read, and he cursed, moving even faster to set himself up.

Shouto couldn’t help but feel the burning embers of shame igniting in his chest, his heart rate soaring to the sky, when he clicked the join button. This was utterly shameful… twenty-one years old and he was in love… he was infatuated with someone he couldn’t have.

The screen darkened for the room he was looking into was dark, nothing but fuzzy pixels where you sat on the bed, legs crossed, and a sly grin on your face.

“Hi, love,” you coo. Shouto couldn’t make you out exactly right now, but on god, he already knows your lips were painted a deep red that always captivated him, your eyes insanely large with the thick and long strand of eyelashes you wore.

He wants to say good, he wants nothing more than to respond to your greeting, but he’s speechless. Besides, he knows you wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway.

“Now, now, don’t be shy,” you pout, standing up and nearing the camera, your strides were slow, smooth, terribly seductive and Shouto was taking you all in.

However, Shouto’s heart stops when your figure becomes more distinct. Red leather lingerie and toys strapped to the iconic utility belt you don. Even in the alluring lighting of your room, Shouto can see that your eyes are dark with amusement, glee, and lust. He groans lightly, the fabric of his boxer briefs tightening when you lean in close.

“I want to hear you cry my name…”

Shouto splutters at the whisper, feeling submerged into your show despite his brain telling him you didn’t know him. Regardless, his finger trails the trackpad and clicks the blue ‘donation’ button, the amount put at the full maximum the site would allow.

“Aw, thank you for the donation icy-hot,” you purr, your eyes fluttering on the camera, almost as if you were looking right at him. And Shouto delights at the sound of his username dripping like honey from your tongue. “I knew your slutty needy cock wouldn’t disappoint me. I wonder if you’re already touching yourself at the thought of me…” he watches your pretty red lips stretch from a pout into a Cheshire grin, and a pleasurable wave encases his body, his cock twitching against his restraint. “I hope you’re not, after all, I haven’t given you permission yet, have I?”

Shouto exhales shakily, the sultry confidence in your face, tone, and stature overwhelming him.

He watches your eyes fall to where he knows the chat is located on your screen, and the bell-like giggle swims in his mind while you amuse the many different viewers on this chat.

Aphrodite, that’s what you went by.

The goddess of love, beauty, procreation, and pleasure.

With the way your eyes pierced the camera, legs spread open to reveal your cunt for your viewers, Shouto hissed in need for him to grab his cock, he knew better by now.

“Don’t you wish you were here so I could ride your small cocks instead of my fingers,” you sigh, and Shouto wets his lips, fingers that ached to give attention to his pulsing cock digging into his thighs. “If you want me to let you touch yourself,” you sigh, tossing your head back, your eyes glinted with power and coercion in this position. “Throw in a little donation for your goddess, whores~!”

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It pained Shouto to admit it, but he had a sincere and deep attraction for the girl behind Aphrodite. He didn’t need to check his bank account to know that outside of his daily things, the thing that he was freely spending money on was your shows. The more people donate, the more you would do, the more dominating, demeaning, and almost sadistic you would get. Most nights, like last night, Shouto would collapse on his bed. His cock a flush red from the aggressive fisting he had done, a desperate attempt to make himself pretend it was your tight and sopping cunt around his cock and not his heated hands. The room was always foggy, steam pouring from his skin because his control still went up to smoke whenever he watched you on the screen.

There was nothing more to say except that he would do everything in his power to make sure you were gaining enough money from these shows, and that his screen name would drip past your lips every show. Even if you would never do private shows, he would make sure you knew who he was.

But this wasn’t the time to think about you.

“Todoroki!” Bakugou yelled from a distance, and Shouto looked up to see Bakugou staring at him, his face set in annoyance. “Ponytail has a job for you.”

Shouto had just walked in through the door to the agency, but his lips pulled into a slight smile. His head nodding, “Okay.”

In the agency Momo, Iida, and Midoriya were the ones who were best suited at handing out missions and assignments. With Iida on temporary leave as he was on vacation with his family and Midoriya, who was on a week assignment with Bakugou, there was only Momo to hand intensive things out right now.

Saying his good mornings to the people he passed, he eventually made it into the back room with the door closing behind him. He made eye contact immediately with Momo, who seemed to be jabbering with the client, but he knew her well enough to see that under the cheerful personality, there was something worried in her gaze.

“You wanted to see me?” Shouto asked the second he stepped in.

“Ah, yes, Todoroki-san!” Momo nodded her head, the smile on her face remaining keen on her face while she gestured to the person before her. “This is y/l/n y/n!”

Nodding, he looked down at the client and stiffened only slightly when you turned around.

Y/l/n… y/n… you were Aphrodite.

Shouto’s mouth went dry but also began salivating at an extremely high rate the second your lips pulled into a greeting smile. Was this real?

Would you be dominating in public? Your dominatrix bleeding into your personality outside of the screen? Would you rise to his eye level when you finally stood? He always imagined you would. Were you wearing something flirty, cute, or alluring underneath that jacket you had on your body? Your make up was done in the same matter as the shows, but the red lipstick he loved was substituted with a natural lip color, brightening the shimmer in your eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you greeted, and Shouto nodded dumbly, words failing him entirely at this moment.

Was that what he expected you to say as a greeting? Well, he guessed you saying something along the lines of ‘welcome you dirty fucking slut’ was a bit out of the picture considering they were in public and you didn’t know him. But still, a part of him craved to have heard that utter from your lips, because there would have been no stopping the way that he would have sank to his knees for you.

“Y/l/n-san is here with us because she’s been a victim of a past B&E’s,” Momo’s voice pierces through Shouto’s thoughts, and he breaks his stare on your — sweetly? — smiling face to look at his friend. “We also have reason to believe that such offenses are because she also has a stalker.”

“A stalker?” Shouto repeated Momo’s words.

“That is correct, and said stalker seems to be in possession of a strong quirk,” Momo nodded her head, her face still kind for you, but her eyes calculating and sharp. “I’m assigning you on her case for a few reasons, firstly because you are capable of handling the perpetrator, and two, you live a block from her apartment, so defending her will be accessible to you.”

Shouto’s stomach jumped at those words, all this time you had been a mere block away from him?!

“Isn’t that a bit too much?” you laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. Shouto blinks, that was a move most people made when they weren’t confident… you were always confident. “I mean, yeah, I don’t want to be like… hurt by this man, but there’s no way he’d do anything bad, right?”

“Are you serious?” Shouto asked, his voice leaking with his evident discontent to your answer.

Momo, however, redirected your attention back to her by grabbing your hands in hers, “There’s a possibility that there’s nothing bad that he’ll do, but that’s not something we wish to risk.”

“I have pepper spray, a stun gun, and a strong uppercut; I think I can handle this,” you say, pulling your keys up, showcasing the arrange of weapons you carried casually around you.

“The pepper spray looks like you haven’t used it in ages,” Shouto immediately pointed out. “You need to use it about once a month to ensure it works.”

“Wait, really?!”

Momo giggled, watching in the way that Shouto looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, and how you looked up at him with wide eyes. “I can understand that you believe that you’re confident in your ability to take care of yourself! We aren’t trying to imply that you couldn’t, but your cousin brought you here or a reason! It’s easier to let us do our job, to make sure that you don’t ever have to put into a trying situation.”

Your bottom lip juts out into a small pout, but ultimately you sighed, nodding. “Okay… how long would this take, do you think? It’s just that I can’t have Shouto by my side at every instance of the day.”

Momo’s eyebrows quirked into a questioning stare, and Shouto could feel his body temperature rising at those words.

“Oh? How come?”

You still, as if you hadn’t expected Momo to further question why you didn’t want to be watched at all hours of the day. Loudly you splutter, unable to come up with an excuse through your panicked and while Shouto watched and listened with crumbling hope that your dominatrix personality was something that you held in every aspect in life. Your cries that you were an up and coming YouTuber — which explained the stalker — and needed to film your muckbang videos in peace made Shouto realize that you were not some sexy, confident woman at every instance of the day. No, you were awkward, weird, and dorky, but it still did nothing to calm his hammering heart when you stood up at the end of the meeting, clad in something that had to be pulled from the Lisa Frank collection and you hurried out.

“If I analyzed all of her police reports correctly, the stalker should be back by next week, falling on either Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday night,” Momo informed Shouto, passing the case folder his way. “Take care of y/l/n-san, and be safe.”

Shouto nodded; that was something he didn’t need to be told twice, “Of course.”

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You were a camgirl.

For most of your life, you had been someone who was overlooked by most. Being quirkless in a world where having a quirk, even the most useless quirks, was needed to gain success in your peer’s eyes truly sucked. It hadn’t stopped you from being successful, of course, you had worked hard in every aspect of your life, but it kept you from attaining your dream job because having a quirk was essential for it — even though you didn’t need one.

So with a minimum wage job to cover the costs of living and your long journey to prove your worth to get your dream job, you were quick to realize that you needed more money.

And one day, after a long day at failing to find a second job, you were in bed, reading over fanfics to distract yourself from a failed day when a particular story caught your eye.

A story about a camgirl, and then it hit you.

You could be a camgirl!

It took a month of planning, nights spent on creating a persona, a person for you to become when the camera went on.

You would turn into Aphrodite.

With such a stage name, you knew that you had to become the goddess of love herself. Your personality was quirky and dorky in real life when you only had to be you, but Aphrodite was all leather, lacy, skimpy hotness. She was daunting, commanding, dominating. It was almost as if the second you turned on your Livestream, the goddess herself possessed your body, turning you into someone that you could only dream to be.

You performed three times a week, precisely at nine and end sometimes even at two in the morning. Within a matter of ten streams, you had exploded in viewers and donors. You had been making around five hundred thousand yen a month, that is until your most special viewer icy-hot had made his first appearance.

Icy-hot was someone who seemed to have a deep interest in you, and even deeper pockets because he alone doubled the price of your average income from camming. You were obsessed with him.

There was also another reason why you were obsessed, and it might have a little bit to do with the tall man walking behind you, just far away to make you comfortable, but close enough to keep you from harm’s way. Oh yes, in a world of celebrity crushes, you were in love with Pro Hero Shouto.

It was stupid really, but as a fifteen-year-old girl watching Yuuei students who were your age beating the shit out of each other left an imprint of his then fifteen-year-old abs in your brain and you were hooked. Your crush was always shallow, of course it was, you didn’t know him, but he still provided you with a sense of comfort. The fact that he had lived so close to you for so long sent embarrassing flames to your face, how would he ever react to knowing that you needed time away from him so that you could control people into fucking themselves online? Or about how your stalker was a possessive man who watched your streams?

You had been fine with just informing the police, but apparently, the man had been apprehended before and had his quirk registered. He was dangerous, and with you being quirkless and the cops being unable to use their own quirks, your cousin dragged you to the local hero agency, proclaimed you needed help, and left.

Little did you remember that this was the hero agency that a lot of recent Yuuei alumni were at, and of course, the one that Shouto worked at. Heroes latched at your side, worried for you while taking you to the back to talk to the Everything Hero: Creati. With the police files on her computer, the two of you discussed everything that was happening with ease and sharp detail, and then Ground Zero barged through the door, yelling about something Deku was doing.

Creati talked with him, both of them coming to some understanding and a simple line from her mouth, effectively ending your entire life.

“Will you call in Todoroki-san when he gets here?”

It wasn’t that you were dressed ugly or wrong, but you were definitely dressed up in bright colors because you were trying a Lisa Frank aesthetic before your cousin dragged you off. Tugging at the ends of your hair, you looked back at Shouto, who was silent, his eyes looking at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his buttery voice soothes down your spine, and you threw a large thump up in his direction with a nod.

“Never been better!” you lie. This was bad this was so very bad, you wanted to push him into an alleyway and run away, why must the world curse you into looking like you were related to booboo the fool on the day you finally crossed paths with Shouto. Not to mention should he find out about your career? Would he think you deserved everything coming your way?

“It’s okay to be not okay,” he spoke up, his head tilting to the side, trying to figure out where your thoughts are. “You know that, right? You’re going through a lot right now.”

You blow a raspberry, your ears burning when you look back in front of you, your head shaking. “I’m perfectly fine, I wasn’t even in immediate danger! Besides, I have you here now, don’t I?”

They were familiar words heroes heard every day, maybe not those words exactly but similar enough that they weren’t unusual. But still, to Shouto, those words curled warmly in his chest, vibrating deep within his sternum while he nodded.

“You do.”

“See!”

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To say the least, Shouto was genuinely shocked to figure out who you were as a person.

The biggest thing he could put together about you, the most essential detail he saw was the fact that you were stupidly a dork. You had just about one hundred colorful mugs with weirdly dumb inspirational quotes on them. Whenever he showed up at your apartment in the morning — the nights you insisted he couldn’t sleep on your couch because of your recordings, which worked out because he would just go home and watch your stream with only the slightest guilty conscious.

You had a colorful arrange of sweaters and shirts, none of which were anything that he would have assumed initially you would wear, to begin with. Leggings and sweaters, joggers and tank tops, that seemed to be your style in the warming days of spring, and he was all for it.

With nothing more to do with this assignment, then stay close to you because the police where in charge of trying to find the man, the two of you grew close. Shouto often amused himself by asking you about the videos you were making for ‘YouTube,’ each time you came out with a poorly failed excuse of a lie for him, and every time you believed that he believed you.

It was a month into the assignment, and nothing had happened so far, nothing but late-night conversations and late-night cam sessions. Still, Shouto was a devoted watcher, and with each passing day, his ears no longer blushed scarlet at the sight of you the following mornings.

The two of you were proper fans, and the crushes you had for each other still held true, only now reenforced with the appropriate images of each other.

“You have to go now!” you complain, trying to shove the much larger man out of your apartment’s front door. It was Thursday evening, and with only an hour until you were to stream — an accident on both of your parts because you had been distracted with watching an anime with him — you needed to get ready quickly. “Shouto, oh my god, I swear if you don’t leave, I’m going to pepper spray you!”

Shouto was pretending to be lost in thought, his body stable and unshifting while you attempted your hardest to get him to move. “I don’t remember you ever cleaning your pepper spray… it’ll end up hurting you more than me in the end anyway.”

“You don’t know that!” you grunt, your hands pressing against his spine, your feet slipping against the wood while you push with all your strength. “Even if it hits me, it’ll hit you too!”

“I’ve been pepper-sprayed before, apart of hero training, I can handle it, y/n,” Shouto points, and he finally takes a step forward, your body stumbling into his side where he graciously steadied you. There’s a silence between the two of you when he realizes just how he caught you, and you feel the temperature fluctuate around you when he pushes you to your feet, throwing on his shoes and leaving with a stiff wave.

“See you t-tomorrow!” he rushes out, leaving you with a burning face in your doorway.

But as you closed the door, rushing yourself to get ready for tonight, you didn’t get to see the way that Shouto stopped at the staircase, his eyebrows scrunching when an uneasy feeling filled his gut. Could it be that the perp was finally going to make their move tonight?

In thirty minutes you had managed to get your makeup done, the sharp black eyeliner paired with large full eyelashes, your skin perfect from foundation and contour, and of course, the painted red lip. With only ten minutes to spare, you threw your camera set together, connecting it at eight minutes to spare. You sweat in nerves while you hastily threw on your lingerie. Black lacy panties that sculpted your ass, and a bra that left your breasts looking delectable. Then the leather garter belt hung around your waist, attaching to your thigh high stockings with a cute red bow.

With the countdown on the screen, you flopped on the bed, cameras rolling as soon as your clock read 9:00.

“Hi, love,” you began as you usually do, confidence flooding your person while you sat up from your mattress, your hands smoothly gliding against the soft fabric of the comforter.

Your show went as it normally did, harmless flirting with your viewers who craved more, thanking donator after donator, your smile growing into a smirk with each passing minute. You noticed that icy-hot was on, his avatar always pinned to your screen when he joined, but he was silent. Not a single donation.

Normally this would scare you, drilling ice-cold anxiety through your veins, but you weren’t you right now; you were Aphrodite.

“Icy-hot,” you drawled, your voice husky and low, a subtle show to your dominance while you leaned forward, your cleavage only accentuating between your pressing arms. “What are you doing?”

But before you could continue on, before you could utter more phrases to get some sort of response from your favorite viewer, there was a rustle in your apartment. You froze immediately, was Shouto in your place? No, that couldn’t make sense.

Then in an almost slow-motion horror, you watched your bedroom door slam open, and a man you didn’t recognize appeared before you. His transfixed on you as if you were a true goddess, his muscles taut, lips perked into a lusting smirk.

“I finally found you, Aphrodite,” he whispered like a prayer, his feet taking several fast strides in your direction, and as the chat exploded in their confusion, your jaw dropped in an ear-splitting scream.

>> ‘Is this for real?’

>> ‘Is aphrodite finally fucking a man for us? I’m jealous it’s not me!’

>> ‘Holy shit, I think this is real?!’

The facade of Aphrodite was gone on you, no longer possessing you, but instead the meek and weird you. There was no stopping his conquering pace when his hand outstretched for you until he was frozen in place.

“Shouto?!” you squeak, looking to see your hero standing at the door, his cheeks flushed from most likely rushing over, his eyes deadly and severe. His eyes glanced you over, and embarrassment shrouded you when he eyed over your lingerie, but he said nothing of your state of appearance thankfully.

“Go into your bathroom, and don’t come out until I tell you it’s over,” Shouto commanded, and breathlessly you nodded, stumbling over into the bathroom as the perpetrator broke free from the ice. One lustful eye turning sinister and dark, and with an animalistic bellow, he charged Shouto when you closed the door.

You weren’t sure how long you lasted in the bathroom; the only thing you knew is that for ten seconds, it was loud with the clear sounds of battle before quieting. There had been no crash, nothing to tell you that the action had been taken elsewhere, only that you had heard the familiar sound of Shoutos singing ice and then silence. You pulled on your fluffy white bathrobe that hung by the door on your bathroom, your pacing unstoppable in your inability to calm down.

Was Shouto alright? They didn’t both die out there, right? No, Shouto was more durable than that, you reasoned, your hands aching with your nerves.

The pulsing beat of your heart sat heavy in your throat, your fingers trembling with shot nerves and fearful thoughts until a soft knock on your door alerted you that someone was there.

“H-Hello?” you stammer, unable to keep yourself from speaking.

“It’s me,” you hear Shouto’s voice tiredly stated, and without so much as wondering if it really was him, you threw open the door.

Shouto stood there, a bruise on his jaw, a visible injury he had sustained from this fight.

There was no stopping you throwing yourself into his arms, your own arms throwing around his neck in your dopamine surge. He had saved you, he had finished this.

“Sorry that took so long,” Shouto murmured into your ear, his head burying into the crook of your neck, sending intensive static down your spine. “Bastard took us seven blocks away; apparently, he has a pretty shitty teleportation quirk.”

“That’s okay, I’m just glad you’re okay,” you sigh, not wanting to let go of him anytime soon. “Was it just the bruise?”

“Mhm,” Shouto informs you, his fingers running against the thick fluffiness of the robe. “Quirk side effect is that it makes you stupidly dizzy after using it, and that includes everyone he takes with him. So I nearly was throwing up when he landed one on me. The police will take you in for questioning tomorrow morning if that’s alright? I figured it was too late, and you went through too much to be questioned tonight.”

“That’s perfect,” you agree, not at all caring when the interview would be, just as long as he was with you.

Shouto eventually pulled away, his hands remaining on your waist while his eyes looked at you warmly, “Okay, well let’s get you on your bed, I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You nodded dumbly, following after Shouto when he guided you back into the room that was liberated from his ice but had obviously been fought in on account of your fallen books. You sighed when you sat up on your bed watching Shouto stand in front of you, observing you in your fluffy white robe.

“Shouto?” you asked while Shouto observed your face in the better lighting of your room, his finger soothing tear streaks you had long ago cried while he made sure you were okay.

“Mm?”

“How did you get here so quickly?”

“I thought something was going to happen tonight. I had this feeling when I was leaving and decided to stay until it happened.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I had screamed until after he was in my room,” you accuse, your eyes narrowing.

Honestly, you had no idea how he knew… unless…

“I’m icy-hot,” Shouto states simply, but you couldn’t ignore the way that your body literally rejected this claim, how it sizzled to life because he knew what you did on these nights, and how you sparked at the thought of how he’d been supporting you for a year.

“You’re — ?”

“Yeah,” Shouto smiled, pulling away from you with a soft sigh, his arms folding across his chest. “A friend of mine accidentally sent me a link to your cam sessions when you first started, and I was hooked.”

“You’re telling me all this time, you knew?!”

Shouto nodded, unsure as to what you weren’t quite understanding.

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” your voice raised dangerously, your spine shot straight while your world both crashed and built around you.

“I didn’t think it was appropriate to tell my client that I watched her strip and fuck herself on my leisure time,” Shouto sighs, his eyebrow-raising in amusement.

“You’re a dick!” you exclaim, but your words were one of wonder, your eyes brightening in this new knowledge. “I can’t believe you, honestly!”

“Well then, I guess I can tell you a string of truths, and you can do nothing about it,” he challenges, his face nearing yours, dangerously close. His warm and mint breath fanning across your face. “I have feelings for you — deep and honest feelings for you, I think this piece you’re wearing under the rob is by far one of the best pieces you’ve ever worn, and I’m hard right now.”

“You know that Aphrodite is a facade,” you disclosed, your eyelids feeling like weights while you stared up at him, unmoving, unchallenging.

“I don’t think it is,” Shouto challenged his hands, tugging at the fabric that held your robe closed. “Aphrodite is just a stage name, but the persona is still you. You might be a total dork, but the person you think you present has always been apart of you.”

Your tongue is dry, but still, you wet your lips, confidence, and fear meeting in the middle of your chest in an all-out war to see which would win. It was to no one’s surprise that you wanted Shouto, but for it to be reciprocated was a bit beyond you, and finally, you inhaled a bit sharply through your nose, “If you want me to fuck you, you better ask properly. Like a good boy.”

His eyes glint in an unreserved way that sends fire through your spine and a heat flashing in your core. It had been a while since you’ve fucked anyone, and here was Shouto implying that you fuck him. He also seemed to want to be dommed, and if there was something you weren’t expecting from him, was that.

Shouto licks his lips, his hands moving from your waist and pressing onto the mattress so that he’s forcing you to lean backward, trapped in his hold.

“I want you to fuck me,” he breathes, and in a similar exhilarating thrill of Aphrodite possessing you before a show, that electrifying courage courses through your veins and grabbing onto the thick fabric of his costume and bring him into a simmering kiss.

Your fingers wound in his hair, the intensive heat and passion exchanging between your lips were insane. It was mind-boggling as it was breathtaking. Your head tilted, and you pressed in more, feeling the weight of the bed dipping as Shouto climbed onto the bed with you. Shouto was bigger than you, in just about every way of the word, but still, with your stocking covered leg, you wound it around his waist and spun in your place.

Straddling his torso, you pressed incessant kisses to his mouth, his desperate return sending confidence to your head, a warm pulse in your body.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a bottom,” you murmur against Shouto’s throat, your hands pressing flat against his chest, moving to unravel the restraints holding it together. You get the top of his jumpsuit undone, watching has his pale and toned chest slowly peeking through the growing opening. Your fingers move against the plains of his abs, nails moving against his hardened nipples while you sigh against his throat. “Such a good boy.”

Shouto heaves, his breathing uneven, unsteady, and unsure. For someone so confident thirty seconds earlier, he seemed to be crashing from that stream of confidence quickly, almost dangerously. Skirting around this knowledge, you removed your robe, discarding it onto the dirty floor with a content smirk.

“I, um,” Shouto swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering at the sight of the lacy black undergarments and, for the first time, genuinely getting to appreciate them in real life. His fingers grab onto your waist, his hot as fire hands tracing your smooth skin, tracing against the hem of your panties until he got to the cleavage of your ass, stopping where your body met his. “I’ve never done this.”

“That’s alright,” you say, hands pushing the blue fabric of his costume off his shoulder, making quick work of it, and finally, your get to press your hands against his broad and naked shoulders. Your lips move unhurriedly against his neck, moving down until you reach his collarbone, taking a long swipe of your tongue against the protruding bone.

“Fuuck.”

The words that had meant to come from Shouto’s lips drifted towards the ceiling, no longer viable with the way that he folded against your touch. With your lips back against his chin, your right hand stretched behind you and pressed firmly against Shouto’s hard buldge palming against the clothed erection. His eyes close immediately, the touch of another on his growing cock was foreign to him, but it was igniting something within him while you continued your ministrations. A strangled moan vibrating at the back of his throat, his hips rising to buck and grind against your cupping hand, only hindered by your teasing retreats and bell-like giggles.

“So desperate already, baby?” you whisper against his ear, your mouth coming back to his, meeting his trembling lips into a passionate kiss. When you pull away, he makes a noise similar to an animal in heat but is quickly silenced by your teeth biting gently against his lower lip. “Let’s get you out of this uniform.”

Shouto helps you make little work of removing his costume, the dark navy blue material joining your robe on the floor, and you straddle him one again. Only this time, it’s your cunt rolling against his clothed cock.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you ask, your lips pressing painted marks against his chest. The red of your lips shining like rubies against his pale skin, but it does nothing but stirs you on. It wasn’t a mark like a bite, but it was an acknowledgment that as of now, for this very moment, he was yours. The red lip print proof of this bond. “Do you want my mouth around your pretty cock?”

Shouto shudders at your words, his hips involuntarily bucking at your ask, and he nods his head. His cheeks dusted red, and his heart hammering in his throat, “Y-Yes, please suck me off.”

“Aww,” you coo, your fingers hooking around the waistband of his underwear, your cunt grinding against him. “You said, please!”

The underwear joins the rest of Shouto’s outfit on the floor, and you stare at Shouto’s cock in its full glory. The long thick length bouncing against his stomach, precum dripping slowly from its tip. The knowledge that he was already leaking from your gentlest attempts of domination sent power through you once again, and you smirked leaning down so that you were level with his cock.

“Such a pretty cock,” you sigh, wrapping your hand against his length, your mouth watering at the fact that you couldn’t encompass it in your hand. “So beautiful… now, I want you to stare at me the entire time I’m doing this icy-hot. I’m putting on a private show for you, and I expect my favorite viewer to watch the entire time.”

There was no need to wait because Shouto was ready for your mouth, and with one final roll of his pink head with your fingers, you began.

You brought your mouth to Shouto’s cock and licked a clean line from balls to crown, the back of your tongue swirling around the head.

Shouto’s moan was nothing short of pornographic, and near animalistic in the way that it sent shivers down your back. Most definitely caught in the feel of things, Shouto arched his ass from the bed to thrust right into your waiting mouth. With the confidence of who you tried to be as Aphrodite, you decided to be the best at what you were doing for Shouto, hopeful this would be something he would ever forget. Adjusting to his lifted hips, you gripped and pumped the lower half of Shouto’s cock while slathering and sucking attention at what you could fit into your mouth – he was a lot bigger than the dildos you used for your show.

Your mouth was heated sin to Shouto, unafraid to choke a little, gagging ever so often to send incredulous vibrations through his sensitive sex. You were also a bit sloppy, saliva and drool leaking with his precum down his length, dribbling from the corner of your mouth while he pressed further into you. You then pulled from his length, oxygen burning your lungs to take each of Shouto’s balls into your mouth and delicately roll them with your tongue as your fist capriciously switched between fast and slow over his throbbing cock.

Mouth hanging wide and silent, Shouto stared intensely at your slowly blinking form. You nuzzled your nose against the trimmed fuzz at the base of his hot dick, your lips creating a wet pop noise against his balls. The soft touches of your nose against the vein on his cock ignited a broken and almost needy rasp against Shouto’s chest. And when a thumb, wet with your spit and his precum, trailed a line down the backside of his cock, Shouto’s heavy tongue caught up.

“That feels so good!” Shouto moaned, his voice gruff and near unrecognizable by its tenor. “More, y/n, please, more.”

And who were you if you didn’t comply?

You groaned at the lewd position you were in, his intense duel eyes focused on every move you made while his cock twitches in front of you, your tongue flicking out of your mouth licking the bead of pre-cum on his tip making your cunt throb in anticipation.

“Look at you, so needy, so innocent,” you giggle, using the hands that had been sensually traveling up and down his cock to angle it better for your await mouth. Brushing his head against your tongue, his pre-cum gathered on the slick surface, you delighted when his stomach contorted with his tightened breathing. You wouldn’t close your mouth to taste him, so saliva dribbling down your tongue against his length. Your hands rubbed it against his cock, using it as natural lubrication as you continue, “desperate for my mouth, aren’t you?”

Shouto tried to nod his head, which made you giggle, grinning down at him as you once more push his cock inside your heated cavern. Pulling it out slowly when you notice that his eyelids close for a little longer than a soft moan.

“Keep your hands on me, icy-hot,” you coax, tangling his fingers onto your scalp. Keeping your left hand against the back of his thigh to land a slap against his skin to keep him focused. It was something that he found to be shocking, but the hair tugging that followed the surprising hit sent a proper shiver down your spine. You pushed his cock forward again, pushing inside you deeper this time, so his length hit further than the back of your throat.

The motion once more sending Shouto to some other dimension as he hissed your name. The tightness of your throat, the muscle contracting against his thick cock, and the cold drool the dribbled from your lips sent his mind spinning. He only wanted more, and he craved more. With ragged breathing and the sight of his contracting stomach, his hips began to thrust into your mouth, pressing his cock further into your throat. Each desperate thrust had him hitting the back of your throat, drool slipping out of your mouth as you tried to breathe through your nose, groaning against his length, sending vibrations along Shouto’s cock.

Your eyes began to water at the slightly suffocating sensation. Still, you were excellent despite the tears slipped down your cheeks, his hips thrusting into you roughly, the sign of an inexperienced man. Moving your hands to his upper thighs, you tried to slow his forceful thrusts, trying to allocate for time to adjust to his size in your throat. Instead, Shouto’s thrusting hips only stammered more, the sinful noises in your throat, sending only better feeling through his body. His eyes can read your eyes that told him this was okay.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Shouto babbles, his hands clutching your hair, fingers digging into your scalp using it as leverage to move you against his length. “I never thought, shit, I never thought it would feel like this, yes, yes do that!”

Your moans vibrated around his length as you let the larger man manipulate your wet cavern. Your tongue now rolling along his length, tracing the sensitive protruding veins on his cock, and with the speed in which he was thrusting into your mouth, it only heightened the desperate noises pouring from his mouth. So much so that he almost stopped shifting his powerful hips all together.

You felt Shouto’s thrusts stagger as he came closer to his release, his hips speeding up, your head bobbing with his final desperation as he gave a final hard push into your mouth. His tip hitting the far back in your throat, and he came inside you with a snarl. His hands held your head down on his length as you grunted, trying to take in all fast release in one swallow, but some spilled out of your mouth. His hot sticky seed dribbling down your chin.

When you moved pulled to remove his length from your mouth, you immediately closed your mouth, tongue lapping at the cum that escaped your lips.

Crawling back up to Shouto’s face, you gave a tight-lipped smile when his clammy hands rested against your waist, and with fluttering eyes, you connected your lips again. The minority of his cum still sits in your mouth and is pushed into his mouth with your tongue.

You sat up, your lips still connected to his with a string of entangled saliva and cum, his hands coming around to cup your ass, and with the sexiness, only one could achieve through countless times of stripping, you were finally free from your own lingerie.

“What’re you—”

A gust of air ricocheted from Shout’s lungs as his back slammed into the mattress once again, your hands planted against his shoulders, your head cocked to the side with a mischievous smirk. Shouto doesn’t know how to react, for someone who couldn’t shove him out of the doorway was suddenly handling him just fine in bed. But the thought of that stirred his cock back to life, something you noticed the second it rested against your ass. Shouto groaned in embarrassment, but it didn’t matter to you, who arched down to nuzzle his nose. Then you were licking searing stripes along his neck, teeth nibbling and pulling at his ear, digging at the joint of throat and shoulder, Shouto’s tilted chin and swollen wet lips.

Knees dug into the sides of Shouto’s chest, your nails cutting crescents into the slick shining mountains of his shoulders, Shouto hands grasped onto your naked form for dear life, coercing the storm of your shared desire. The impatient and growing unignorable weight of Shouto’s cock slotted between your slick and sopping cunt. Sloppy wet with your untouched arousal, a ticking timebomb of pleasure each time you thrust back against his rehardened cock.

“Y/n, please—” Shouto choked on his words, a lusting cry when he cracked his head back against the soft mattress at the moment you carted his hot cock against your dripping, aching cunt with one firm and delicate palm and your other pressing your weight against his chest. “Oh shit, yes, fuck – yes, more. Please, put it in, y/n. I want, shit, I want you to fuck me properly, y/n—”

“So fuckin’ needy,” your breathlessly giddy reply came, your words soaked the ear and filled Shouto’s head completely. Tightening his grip on your waist to accommodate a stronger hold on you in a desperate thought to sane himself, you began a more frantic rhythm of work-roughened humping. “Is this how you responded back to me when I stream? Do you listen to my instructions the entire time, Shou-to?”

The squelch and wet noises of your hips dragging staccato against Shouto’s throbbing skin was maddening, dumbing him down to strangled huffs and squeaks against your swollen lips. The pulse against Shouto’s own lips raged, a frantic desire for him that both weakened and empowered him to the bone.

Shouto’s finger dug into your skin, leaving imprinted bruises where he touched, his hips slamming up into yours. Wanting more, craving more, and with nothing more to hold from him, you complied and with a wet noise, sunk all the way down against him.

“Shit, shit, wait,” Shouto hoarsely whispered, his nails ripping moons into your skin while he panted against your skin. “You’re too tight, Imma cum, fuck, wait…”

You laughed against his mouth, but you didn’t move, allowing him the time to adjust his brow slick with sweat, eyes closed in concentration. Regardless, your walls fluttered around him while you adjusted, and he shivered with every involuntary move. “You good?” you murmur against his mouth, tongue lapping at his pressed white lips.

He nods once, and you grin, taking that as means to push as far up as you could, and with your entire weight and clench of your muscles, sunk back down against him.

A savage snarl ripped from Shouto’s throat, more animal than man as he tore at your lips, his mouth open with a hot tongue and teeth that tugged at your lips. You had no choice but to open up, letting his tongue meet yours while you felt his cock throbbing against your clenching walls. You met him in full innocent need, your kisses were uncoordinated attack from all angles, his hand working their way to your ass, once again gripping and pulling that the soft and warm flesh.

Your hips rolled against his, lifting up and falling with growing forces,

The small of Shouto’s waist burned raw from how it kept curling into the mattress, his shoulders singing with sharp pain from your fingernails. Your breaths puff against Shouto’s lips as if you had never taken a single deep breath in your life like you’d flung yourself into the open flames just to fuck Shouto. The fill of his cock, the maddening way that his cock filled you out, it made your head spin and your knees tremble. With each twitch of his cock, his protruding veins pushing against your spongey walls, increasing the sensation, sending fire to your curling toes. Your weight pushing heavy on Shouto now, sandwiching him hard against the gentle mattress when he couldn’t meet you in an upwards thrust, too lost in the sensation of your smoldering cunt around his cock.

Shouto’s thighs and stomach quivered in your conquest, his words an unclear babble in his prayer to you. The air was filled with the scent of sex, sweat, cum, and something else. Something you couldn’t put your tongue on, but it stirred you on more with the wet slapping noises of your meeting hips.

It was too much, too much, yet nowhere near enough.

“Y/n, I’m gonna—” Shouto searched for his words a short raspy cry, his cock swelling up and pulsing in your clenching walls, his fingers clenching around the nape of your neck. Bringing you in for another hot kiss. “Gonna—”

“Cum for me,” was the only thing you rasped in his mouth, your lips a deceivingly soft push against Shouto’s bruised lips.

Shouto shot off inside of you like an exploding fire, his eyes squeezed shut so tightly he could only see white and feel you. His grip tightened around your body, pressing you slick against him. But the increased angle is what sends you over the edge, your eyes rolling when your body tenses, pleasure, and relief swallowing you whole when your orgasm overcomes you.

“Shouto,” you mewl in a cracked croak of a voice, your face buried in Shouto’s shoulder as he feels your walls spasm against his cock in almost insane ways.

“That… shit,” he breathes, unable to think.

“Yeah, same,” you mumble, moving to press a kiss onto his lips.

His body rolls off warmth from his skin, and together, the two of you fall asleep on the bed, entangled in sweat and cum and only elation in your blood.

bonus!

“TODOROKI-KUN!” Iida’s voice pierces through his phone when Shouto wakes up the next morning.

“Iida,” he greets, watching while you brush your teeth, studying the various marks on your body from the night before.

“WHY DID YOU RELEASE A SEX TAPE?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Iida?”

“CHECK THE NEWS RIGHT AWAY!”

BREAKING NEWS: PRO HERO SHOUTO CAUGHT IN BED WITH CAMGIRL UNDER THE NAME APHRODITE

It was then that the two of you realized you had never turned off your session.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha x reader #bnha

826 notes · View notes

valkyrieofsmut · 3 years

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I should be asleep but this haunts me. What head over heel romantic nervous like tropes so the skeletons usually do? I mean the whole "i can't stop staring at your lips when you talk ." Or "You smile and my brain short circuits." Or "I am usually really smooth but when you come around I get tongue tied." Or "I cant stop blushing when you're around" or "I talk a mile a minute" and etc etc I hope I worded this right

I JUST REALIZED THAT THE WAY I WANTED TO ASK THE LAST QUESTION WAS HOW ARE THE BOYS LIKE WHEN THEY'RE YEARNING FOR THE READER. I'm sorry im sleepy

I think what it boils down to is "what are the skeletons like when they have a crush?" If I'm reading it right. Yes?

Classic- When he has a crush on someone, he plays it cool. He’ll be all buddy buddy with them, and very cheeky/ punny, throwing out humor, but none of this is really different than being really close friends with him- except the staring. In a situation of watching tv and hanging out; friends- joke, watching the show... joke about the show... laughing and watching the show with stupid commentary. Crush- joke, pretending to watch the show, steeling glances at them from the side of his socket. Joke about the show, laughing... watching them out of the corner of his sockets. Joke about the show, maybe a friendly bat with a pillow or soft food item like popcorn... It turns into an all out rough house, tickling, flailing, trying to escape, knocking each other over... whatever he can do to get close to them without it being obvious.

Creampuff- It is really hard to tell when this boy has a crush! And also not at all. He will be more excitable than usual, though he’s pretty excitable already, and he gushes about them, more than he does his friends, which is still quite a bit. It would look a little something like; friend- THAT PERSON IS AMAZING! THEY’RE MY FRIEND! THEY’RE ALWAYS DOING AMAZING THINGS, AND WE DO THEM TOGETHER, TOO! or crush- CAN YOU BELIEVE HOW WONDERFUL THEY ARE? THEY’RE AS GREAT AS ME! I HOPE WE GET TO SPEND MORE TIME TOGETHER, SOON! NYEH HEH HEH HEH!!

Red- Strangely, it’s hard to tell when he has a crush, unless you start looking for patterns. He flirts with everyone, and tries to get into anyone’s pants, casually. Friend- heh, nice shirt. it’d look better on my floor. Enemy- heh, if ya wanted me ta fuck ya up, ya coulda jus’ took off yer pants and bent over! Crush- hey, doll, nice haircut, it’ll look better after ya roll around in bed wit me. The patterns are what gives it away. He’ll fluster someone he’s good friends with, or even strangers if he’s feeling it, he’ll also just hit on them and proposition a one off with them. If they say yes, he’ll either tell them he was joking (if he’s just messing around) or they’ll go to it. If he likes what they’ve got, he’ll come back around, play a bit of game, and get another round if they’re agreeable. The next time, less game, and so on until it’s just, “hey, feelin’ horny. wanna fuck?” With a crush, when he jokingly offers a night together, if they say yes, he’ll get flustered, instead. “i- i mean- i was kiddin’, but if ya wanna-!” The second time he comes around, more game, more flirting, like he’s working them up to ask them for the first time again. The third time is like that, too, and so on, and so on, until their relationship changes. And then it’s just a cute little lean over and nuzzle to their neck and a soft, “hey, sweetheart, i got an idea... wanna go do somethin’ fun?” They’re also the only one he doesn’t talk about at all. He doesn’t generally boast about his conquests, but he’ll mention something if some asks about things he’s done, or needs advice. But his crush? He may admit that they’ve been together... but not much more than that.

Edge- One word- tsundere. He for some reason always ends up having to be in the same place that his crush is. “IT’S NOT LIKE I’M HERE BECAUSE YOU ARE! I JUST ALSO HAPPEN TO NEED TO DO LAUNDRY TODAY!” He also has a tendency to do things for them because of their “incompetence”; “JUST LET ME DO IT- IT’LL BE DONE FASTER!” Somehow, this mess of a boy can manage to be super abrasive, but also super sweet at the same time. And the glare when he’s trying to hide a blush... pretty cute...

Blue- The most noticeable thing? He’s quiet. And very talkative. In shifts. It’ll make your head spin! “I REALLY LIKE THIS ONE SHOW THAT’S ABOUT THIS HERO WHO CAME TO EARTH AND WAS CONFUSED ABOUT THE CUSTOMS HERE- I RELATE TO THAT A LOT SINCE IT’S SO DIFFERENT FROM MY HOME- AND THEN HE HAS TO DEFEAT THE BAD GUY AND HE HAS THIS PERSON HELPING HIM THAT IS REALLY COOL AND HAS NO POWERS BUT A LOT OF SKILLS, AND WE SHOULD WATCH IT TOGETHER SOME TIME! WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE SHOW?” *silence as he listens intently* He also stares a bit (a lot), and is silent while they just relax together. He’s also somehow made them believe that he’s just a super cuddly skeleton! He wants all those cuddles! ... so he can practice what makes them comfortable, and when they’re all comfy laying there one day, he plans to smoothly nuzzle them, and say, “You Know, We Do A Lot Of Cuddling For Just Friends... Do You Like Cuddling Me? ... I Like Cuddling You, Too... Maybe We Should Do More Than Just Friendship Cuddling... Maybe... I Could Kiss You, And We Could Work From There?”

Stretch- He might be the hardest to know. He has that thing where he doesn’t really like someone, but somehow, he still ends up being nice to them...? what the fuck... god damn it... i meant to tell you to go eat dick, not that your shoes are nice... hell... And the emotions that show on him the easiest are amusement and irritation. So he could hate someone and be laughing at their misfortune, but they think he’s just sharing friendly comradery. The easiest way to tell if he likes someone is if he actually spends time with them, not just, he happens to be in the same room and they’re both watching tv, but, he actually meant to find them and sit down to watch the show with them. Maybe share some snacks.

Black- For some reason, it seems like he’s always just trying to control some people, but... he’s really just trying to be friendly and spend time with them... It’s just a bit awkward when you don’t know how to people in a society where you don’t have to pretend to hate everyone, or be sucking up to them or that you're more forceful/ powerful than them. Back home a conversation between him and Alphys might go, “ARE YOU GOING TO COME EAT LUNCH WITH ME, OR GET WEAK AND DIE?” (want to eat lunch together?) “Fuck off, I’m doin’ other shit.” (can’t, have to finish this work/ bullshit) “OH, GOOD, GO EAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S TWAT, THEN!” (fine, be like that (friendly)) Nice, friendly conversation! But he’s lost here, and when trying to show affection, he’s just so caught up on how much danger it will put on those he loves/ wants to love, so he tries to protect them by making it seem like he’s big and tough, and forcing them to hang out with him- so that his enemies don’t hurt them.

Mutt- He cuddles them. He becomes super cuddly. But he's from the same world as Black where any affection puts a target on their back, so, by being super cuddly, he's basically taunting everyone else, telling them that he's not afraid of them, and he can take out anyone who tries anything, he won't even have to let go of his crush. Come on, bitch, I dare you to try, with a dash of, the second you get too close, you're dead, and a whole lot of, this person is mine. They're mine. Mine! Mine mine mine! Touch them and die. He actually loves that due to the cultural differences, his crush thinks he just wants to cuddle all the time, but he's actually being super territorial and getting his scent all over them so there's no mistaking it. They are his, and anyone who challenges that will be at the wrong end of a burst of overkill attacks.

Axe- Protecting. When he has a crush, he wants to make sure they don't get hurt, and will do whatever it takes to do so, including stalking like behavior, threatening those he thinks has put them in danger or maybe just done things he doesn't like, like make them uncomfortable.

Crooks/ Bun- He wants to be around them. He wants to spend lots of time with them, and take their wants and preferences into consideration. He'll stand up for them, do his best to find and give them things they like, and always try to defer to them. He's ace, so there's not a lot of making out, tension, that kind of thing, but there is lots of fond, friendly, loving cuddles.

Dusty- You won’t know. Hell, he won’t know. He’ll have no idea, just start the yandere insanity of, “i’m really obsessed with this person... i must be really wanting to kill them... i wonder why...” So... until about forever later, when he figures out that he doesn’t want to kill them, they should probably stay far away.

Ask Masterlist?

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queerconfusionthings · 4 years

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Fetch

13th Doctor x reader

This idea truly came out of nowhere and i had to write it down, which means it could be absolutely awful. either way i think i'm going to write this concept into something fully fleshed out and angsty and actually written well onto ao3 when i have time

Taglist - @psychobitchtess @oster-hagen @dykecious @lostshadow12 @thejinxmaster @bitemealiienboy @ellacannotdance @hcney-lemon @im-tired-24-7 @sweetlittlesoufflegirl @truthbehindthemysteries @startrekkingaroundasgard @ettorah @theaussietimelord @captainlgordon @findingyouagain @fabulous-jj-style @kinglivv

"Lycanthropy. I've met a werewolf before, not a very nice one mind you."

You sat unnervingly still on the steps, watching her flap around the console without a care in the universe. She seemed just fine, but your throat was so dry you almost feared it'd ignite at any moment. "That's uh, that's great, Doctor, but I don't unders- "

"You won't be like him," she interjected, suddenly looking very gravely in your direction. Well what was that supposed to mean? "Not technically a werewolf either, that's more of an Earth thing. This is different. Less like- like an infection and more like- " her shoulders deflated, arms falling down by her sides, "I don't know, I haven't really encountered this planet before. See their name on a lot of ice cream and it's a proper good ice cream, so I thought we could check it out."

Your usual enthusiasm for her ramblings had crashed and burned with immediate effect, your leg now bouncing of it's own accord. "Doc, please, I don't understand what's gonna happen to me."

You hoped her look of sympathy meant she'd stop attempting to change the topic. She tended to do that a lot. Not to mention that even the generally relaxing ambience of the TARDIS was starting to hurt your head. There were far too many lights. Why were there so many? They were all over the walls, lining the columns, the console.

"'S there any way to, like, reverse it? I don't- I mean, how am I supposed to go about my life occasionally transforming into a huge dog. Alright in the movies an' everything, but how do you even manage that?"

As soon as she even spoke, an unbearable scent of motor oil, and maybe even vanilla wafted straight into your face. God, it made you feel sick. Not- not the Doctor's scent, that was always nice, delightful even, but it was just so heavy handed this time. You tried shaking it off in favour of having the rare intimately friendly moment with her.

"Look, I can try. We need to go to the medbay anyway, look everything over. And if not- if you're stuck this way, which is perfectly fine, then I'll help you figure it out. Trust me, I've met plenty of people over the years. Yeah?"

Her hand landed on your knee, preventing it from bouncing any further. You only stared at it, nodding. The scent was stronger. "Hate the medbay. All hospital-y."

You were in a grass field now, one that the TARDIS had already generated. The Doctor had let slip how much time she really spent in there, just sitting alone doing god knows what, but there was no time for voicing concern over her constant chattering and instruction.

"If you can learn to control it, that's better for everyone."

She'd taken her coat off, which was a distraction in itself, a tennis ball in hand. It did feel slightly demeaning, knowing you'd probably be bounding to catch it like a common houshold pet in a moment or two. Regardless, you tried to keep yourself stable and focused, a feat a little hard when standing in the bare minimum clothing, grass tickling your feet.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Doctor? What if I hurt you?"

"You won't!" She called back. She must have noticed how unconvincing that had sounded. "And if you do, I can take it. The TARDIS'll protect me."

You gave a curt nod and swung your arms from side to side, trying to hype yourself up for what was about to happen. You say what was about to happen, it could so transpire that you didn't manage to turn at all, and that you remained looking slightly insane in this solitary field with just the Doctor and not much clothing at all.

"Would it help if I gave you a countdown?" She called across.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, do that. Am I going on one or g- "

"Three!"

Oh shit, you supposed you were doing this then. How embarrassing would it be if you didn't manage it?

"Two!"

On the other hand, surely it would be substantially safer in that instance. And what would you do when transforming back? You'd just be naked in a field, in front of the Doctor of all people.

"One!"

Her voice almost acting as a catalyst, you felt it happening in near slow motion, the seems of your vest tearing apart, your form shrinking down. Your human sense of conscience seemed to tear apart in the same fashion, senses heightening, impulse control depleting.

There was still this voice in the back of your head, which was a relief, but everything in your mind was screaming at you to go absolutely mental. You barely registered you were running until you knocked straight into the Doctor. What was most embarrassing was the way you sniffed around, attention grabbed with immediate effect once she simply held the ball above her head.

"Oh that's it," her other hand reached to scratch behind your ears, which would bring a bright flush to your skin in any other scenario, but it made you feel absolutely gleeful.

As soon as the tennis ball left her hand, you were after it like a rocket, and you had to admit, the way you sprung into the air felt oddly freeing. Even as you bounded back to the Doctor, crashing into her once more, you simply felt amazing.

"I'm gonna try communicating with you in your head now." You weren't paying even remote attention, you just wanted to grab the ball back. It seemed much more fun than the Doctor's scientific experiments. Far too wordy, not to mention the incomprehensible rambling.

At least that's how you saw it until her hand was back behind your ears, that combined with a stern glance - the type of stern glance you'd give your pet, which made you feel beyond sheepish.

"You can get it back once we've tried this, hm? I'm sure the human inside you isn't too happy about not being able to talk."

Her hand was against your head then, and for a moment, all you felt was a blinding hot pain in your temples, one you usually associated with an awful headache. There was a sort of static noise too, ringing in your ears. You even heard a howl, which you soon dejectedly realised must have come from you.

"There we go! Sorry about that, you're very stubborn as a wolf."

Her voice felt as though it was echoing around the walls of your head, which was a very odd sensation.

"How are you feeling?"

It took a moment, but you figured out how her strange Time Lord trickery, if that's what you'd call it, worked. You simply imagined your lips moving and came out with. "Embarrassed. I just slobbered around a bloody tennis ball."

"I thought it was fun! An' you can't help what you enjoy in a completely different form." True, you supposed. "It's like... it's like when I regenerate, I can go from absolutely loving apples to despising them. Haven't tried one yet in this form, not sure I want to..."

You managed a slight bit of a laugh at that. She was trying to reassure you, and that was nice in itself; the sentiment was there.

"And anyway, you'll just learn to control yourself the more you practice. The more human aspects of your brain will become more and more in control of the, well- the wolf-ish part of it."

When she'd finished, the static noise was back, up until you woke up entirely yourself, laying underneath the Doctor's coat.

Oh.

Okay.

That was fine, perfectly fine, laying naked underneath her coat, that wasn't an issue.

I mean, she didn't seem deterred by it at all, only sitting beside you with a grin oblivious to your wide eyes. "That was proper brilliant! I took a picture so you could see yourself, I think I got it right- Ryan showed me what to do."

"Oh, yeah- right, that's- that's great- "

"Hold on, I'll go grab the blanket and the spare change of clothes."

Beside the embarrassment, it was quite lovely. The grass was a little itchy, but the sight of the sky was certainly something to behold. You hadn't took the chance to glance up beforehand, but the TARDIS had really outdone herself, as usual. A beautiful blue, two suns, the colour darkening as time passed. You could almost see some stars.

"Here we go, I'll hold up the blanket as you get changed if you like."

You only let her hold it up, her head turning away for your sake more than anything else, as you stumbled into the clothing in a desperate need for speed. God, they smelled like her. She'd barely touched them, they were your clothes after all, and yet she was absolutely all over them. You hoped the extra sense of smell died down over time; having a heightened sense of the Doctor was perfectly fine, but what if there was some, I don't know, spoiled milk?

You pushed it to the back of your mind, and lowered the blanket in front of you back down. The Doctor was still smiling. She must have been much more excited about this than you were. The flip phone came out of her pocket in an instant, she was that desperate to show you the photos.

You weren't sure what you were expecting other than a ginormous wolf with fur near the same colour as your natural hair, but the Doctor was oddly delighted by it. Better one person be excited by the prospect of you being a glorified wolf than none at all.

"Right, ice cream then?"

Oh you still had plenty of questions, but the Doctor was always reluctant when faced with them herself. You supposed you could enjoy the moment of bliss for now. Her company was always much nicer when she wasn't getting defensive or moody, and you didn't want to ruin a good thing. And ice cream did sound good.

#doctor who #13th doctor #thirteenth doctor #13th doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #doctor who imagine #13th doctor imagine #thirteenth doctor imagine #the doctor #the doctor imagine #the doctor x reader #jodie whittaker #jodie whittaker x reader #jodie whittaker imagine #doctor who x reader #dw #dw imagine #dw x reader

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misstrashchan · 3 years

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So just as a heads up, this is a continuation of this post about which of Smirke's 14 Fears from the Magnus Archives team RWBY+Pyrrha would be aligned with and @im-the-king-of-the-ocean asking my thoughts on Winter, Ozpin and Oscar (sorry it took so long to get back to this! I've had it sitting in my drafts for a while)

Winter: The Slaughter

Winter as an Avatar of the Slaughter is something I hadn't thought of but it actually fits insanely well. The Slaughter does often bring up the question of whether anger and violence is just senseless and mindless, or following orders followed by rationalisation; or if we're entirely conscious of the choices we're making, and which is worse, which is something that Winter's arc has been dealing with A LOT. In how she follows Ironwood's orders and has to rationalise his actions to justify her own and her "choices", like how she explains to Weiss how she accepts her role as the Winter Maiden being her destiny, though it was something Ironwood groomed her into and how she tries to explain to Penny why they have to internalise however they might feel about abandoning Mantle and trust Ironwood.

There's the element of anger which you bring up, and Winter's relationship with anger is interesting to me to think about, because she seems very much afraid in indulging that emotion, or any emotion, and because of the military industrial complex and her abusive controlling upbringing, leads to a lot of emotional suppression and refusal to think on those feelings or deal with them in any healthy way. Which of course leads to everything boiling over, and there's this. Rage, an passionate fury that's boiling inside her. But I wouldn't say it's something she thinks she needs or enjoys right now, quite the opposite. (the idea of being afraid of being hurt, of needing to have control of her situation and to throw back her hurt of the world fits more with Cinder than Winter in my mind, and I think Melanie's relationship with anger and needing it reminds me a lot more of Yang. It justified her need for it and fed into it, and Melanie liked that, she wanted it, but for Winter her anger is something she's ashamed of, something to be locked away)

But I actually do think with where her arc is headed that thinks she will come to indulge in that feeling more. The one time we see her have an angry outburst expressing her true feelings is at Jaques at his dinner party, and she scolds and shames herself for allowing herself to get angry, that it was childish and immature. To which Penny disagrees, saying she thought she was just speaking from the heart. But Winter believes that to precisely be the problem. She cannot allow herself to think, or feel just for herself, because that terrifies her. So she only allows herself to follow orders. Again, similar to a lot of the Slaughter statement givers who were soldiers in wars of some kind and become numb to the atrocities they are made to commit, the sensless violence of it all, but her choice to accept her lack of agency and self worth still makes her complicit and is still a conscious decision on her part. This sort of meandered and I'm not sure if it made any sense but yes, I hadn't thought of it but the Slaughter actually fits Winter really well for a lot of reasons. And I think we will see her Go Feral in the near future, the thing she's most afraid of, showing how she really feels, and oh boi all that confusion, emotional repression, the lingering bitterness and jealousy towards Penny being the Winter Maiden, and projected feelings of thinking of leaving or betraying Ironwood she's been having and her conflicted feelings pushed onto Weiss, who betrayed and left first, just a whole over boiling pot that's a mess of emotions manifesting as Big Feral Winter Feelings.

Ozpin:

The Eye, Ceaseless Watcher, Beholding/The Vast, the Falling Titan, Awful Deep

Ohohohoho Ozpin. I can't tell you how many times I've listened to TMA 151 imagining Ozpin as Simon Fairchild or vice versa. Simon's VA was told that his character had to give off the impression that he might offer you a plate of cookies or fling you off a cliff and when I heard that my mind immediately jumped to Ozpin back in v1. And Ozpin's VA said that if he didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders, he'd be a lot more chaotic and fun. And that's the thing with Ozpin though, is that he wants to be Simon Fairchild, so so badly. I think he wants people to see him as that kind of person too. But in reality, he's stuck being Jonathan Sims. (The Ceaseless Watcher's/God of Light's Special Little Boy assdkjhkk) Oz is 100% an Eye Avatar. Fair warning, like with Ruby and the End, I have a lot of Big Feelings with this one.

I see where you're coming from, but the thing with being an Avatar of the Vast is being so overwhelmed by the expanse and eternity of everything that you just accept your own insignificance as well as everyone else's, hence why they rarely form attachments or work with others. It's a very nihilistic perspective that it's Avatars tend to be very hedonistic as a result, we're all insignificant, nothing matters, let's just do whatever we want and try to have a good time, who cares what happens. And I do think Oz is Vast aligned, since he encourages the people around him, and tries himself, to enjoy the little things and have fun when he can, since he knows Salem is unstoppable and everything could go to shit at any given moment. And yknow. Him enjoying flinging students off of cliffs during initiation a bit too much.

But Ozpin cares so much about humanity. He desperately wants to believe, and tries to, in humanity, and tries for them. He's been fighting so hard for so long, and believes humanity is worth fighting for (even if he has trouble actually having faith and believing in them). Everything matters to him. He agonises over every choice he makes and impact that has, takes on so much responsibility on himself, is so guilt ridden that he admits to making "more mistakes than any man, woman or child on this planet" that he practically paralyses himself with indecision and guilt. He’s also someone who has been shown to be paranoid, (his reluctance to fully trust the people around him out of constant wariness that he may be betrayed) and afraid of being perceived for who he truly is and having his secrets exposed, which are all very Eye related fears. Ozpin’s very much in this position in which he is the one who knows everything, who passively watches and waits and knows, from up high in his tower. “Oh please, your god is nothing! The Eye, Beholding, Ceaseless Watcher, whatever you call it, that’s all it does, it watches and knows, sitting bulbous and comfortable in the ignorance of infinite knowledge.” (TMA 89) In the Lost Fable, he believed he needed to be the one to know everything (think to how he only trusted himself to hold onto the relic of knowledge, believing it to be “his burden to bear” and was desperate to take it back from Ruby) and as shown in his past lives, sought after Jinn’s knowledge in the belief that knowledge would help him in his cause, only for the ultimatum of the answer in “Salem can’t be killed” to break him and make him lose all hope of doing anything more than maintaining a perpetual stalemate. In the words of his speech in vol1, in which is a very good example of Ozpin desperately needing to practice what he preaches;

“I'll...keep this brief. You have travelled here today in search of knowledge--to hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy, in need of purpose – direction. You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step” (RWBY 1x03)

There’s also like. A lot of Eye statements, particularly those relating to Jonathan, that relate heavily to Ozpin and his character, including this one:

“And at last, the Archivist looks up. At last, he looks into the eye that sees all, and knows all, and clutches at the secret terrors of your heart. The Ceaseless Watcher of all that is, and all that was; the voracious, infinite hunger that tears at his soul, invoking him to discover, to observe, to experience all, and everything, and forever. It stares into him, and it stares out of him, and he is falling into the devouring eternity of its pupil. He wants to cry out in horror, but he cannot.

He. Is. Whole.

And still he does not wake. Wandering his slim collection of gifted nightmares, passing the grey and lifeless remains of severed dreams he can no longer watch, he waits- but not for long- before they can all begin again”

Like if that doesn’t describe Oz’s endless reincarnation and merging, becoming “whole”, and living all these lives is discovering, observing and “experiencing all and forever” then I don’t know what does. And then there’s the last statement we had before the s5 break, also an Eye one, revolving around the “Minister” which also gives off major Oz vibes:

God, the children. They won’t stop looking, won’t stop following him with their piteous, desperate gaze that speaks so loudly his knees feel like they will buckle. ‘Help us.’He will. Of course he will. He wants to. He hasn’t lied to them, he really hasn’t. He used to be one of them, he remembers what it can be like. He is there to speak for them. And if necessary, he will join them again. The minister grips his black leather briefcase closely to his chest, bile rising in his throat at the sudden jolt of fear that races through his veins. Where did that come from? Is he afraid of it, returning, of that sharp stab of hunger, the shivering of a cold you can’t escape? Or is he afraid that should it come to that, they will see him as a deceiver?”

“On his side of the arena the shouts should be sharper, more angry, but their tone and pitch are such as to merge seamlessly with the others. There are no golden stakes on this side pinning down his would-be comrades. But the minister must be careful not to look too closely, or else he might see how many of his allies are fused to their own chairs, on which they have sat comfortable for so long"

"His eyes drift away, through the walls to the crowd outside. Their baying cries for justice cannot be heard in here. If any whisper should make it through, it is utterly destroyed in the deafening shouting that surrounds him. But he cannot forget their eyes, watching him, piercing him with their wounded humanity.”

Another thing is that one of Ozpin’s allusions aside from the Wizard of Oz is Odin, and Raven and Qrow are meant to be his Huginn and Muninn, two Ravens that act as his “eyes” spying and gathering information for him. If you look at Raven and Qrow’s emblem, they have a left and right bird’s eye respectively, with Oz’s gear emblem inside the eye. In v4, Salem, upon hearing that Tyrian poisoned Qrow, says “the last eye is blinded” as in,the belief that with Raven having left Oz and Qrow now dying, Oz would have no more eyes to “see” with. You also have Jonah Magnus, whose corpse is missing his eyes, but is able to watch through the eyes of the Archive employees. That and the whole body hopping host thing is a little similar in concept (and Peter Lukas mentions near the end of s4 that if Elias died, Jonah would have chosen Jon as his new host which is just. Terrifying). There's a lot of other little things too, like Oz in the first three volumes is usually shown watching events like the iniitiation, the fight at the docks, and the vytal festival through his cameras in his office, a passive observer rather than someone who is actively involved. And Yang at the end of v6, when Oscar tells them about Oz saving him, says "so he's just been watching is that whole time?" The underlying tone suggesting that he could've come back at any tike but chose to watch them instead, through Oscar, and everyone looking at him like that's pretty weird or creepy (except Ruby tho, because she's Ruby)

I feel like I could go on, but this is probably waaaaay too long, so, in summary, Oz serves the Eye, is basically a perfect candidate for the Archivist, and is also Vast aligned, and in different circumstances would have totally been a great Vast Avatar.

Oscar: The Spider, the Web, Mother of Puppets

Oscar. Was. HARD.

This lil shit is part of the reason it took so long to make this post. Because see, with other characters the most obvious indicators would be their semblances (which are often manifestations of coping mechanisms for their personal fears or trauma) or songs (which delve deeper into their characters), or have very specific fears that I can focus in on as to how that factors into their arc. But Oscar? He doesn't have a semblance. His whole THING is that he's scared. All the time. His song is called Fear for Pete's sake. Now, he is Oz's reincarnation, and Oscar does also share a fair few things in common with the Archivist and his character arc, (Elias's plan and the whole plot of the first four seasons was that he was trying to align Jon by having him touched by ALL the fears, aka, to fill Jon with fear of everything, so that he became a walking living record of fear) he persistently calls out people's BS and takes issue with people withholding information, also similar to Yang (who I firmly believe is Eye aligned). So like. Eye, right? But that just... doesn't properly fit Oscar. He's not Ozpin. The Stranger, then, becoming a stranger to yourself, perhaps? That is something Oscar's afraid of, right?

"Everything changes when you see a stranger, feel proud or betrayed" (Fear)

But Oscar is growing more confident in his own identity and figuring out who he is. He’s not becoming Oz, he's becoming his own person. And even if he was becoming Oz, Oz is hardly a Stranger to Oscar. The merge, from how it's described in the show, seems more similar to how the Distortion functioned, except Oscar and Oz don't fit into most of the Distortion's themes.

I was sort of uncertain, and I wanted to wait and see till I was more certain of where Oscar's arc was headed this volume, since he's being pushed to his limits and wanted to see how he acted and what choices he made. At the start, because of how he was regretting all the choices he'd made previously, and was telling Oz how badly he didn't want the merge to happen, I was speculating about the possibility of him being manipulated by Salem and Grimm!Oscar happening, which might fall him into the Corruption, but no.

Oscar is the Web.

It fits with his fear of being controlled, of his will not being his own, and like Jonathan, who was marked and scared for life by his encounter with the Web as a child, it is his greatest fear. Only, where Jon was so afraid of the Web he sought the Eye as his refuge, believing it would keep him safe, Oscar realises that can be used to his advantage. (Which actually makes him more like Anabella Cane, which is. Hilarious) He's trying to do what Salem does, focus in on people's weaknesses and fears and dig at them, manipulate and push them, divide them, only like, steering them into the opposite direction than Salem. He's trying to use the fact that people see him as Oz to his advantage and trying to manipulate their impression of him. He's just got this very sneaky, cunning and pragmatic streak in him that people overlook because he's also incredibly kind and just. Good. But those qualities very much scream "Web" to me the more I've dwelled on it.

#rwby #winter schnee #ozpin #oscar pine #tma #smirke's 14 #the entities #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #the web #the slaughter #the vast #the Eye

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wastelandcrown · 4 years

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logan lark’s adventures in trying to appease his parents

CHAPTER 6: don’t lose ur head (the terrifying tales of the grimm monarchy)

Summary: Logan Lark is a fairly average high school student. By all means, he should be impressing his parents on all grounds. Except...he doesn’t exactly have a social life. So after his parents give him puppy dog eyes, he decides to join the local theatre's youth production. Good grief...His life is about to get weird isn’t it?

Warnings: Potential ooc behavior, Roman is a teenager who makes bad choices EXTREME edition, Remus being Remus, Intrusive Thoughts, Minor Bad Parenting, so much swearing it’s insane (If I miss something please tell me!)

Notes: This fic is based off an idea from @under-the-blue-moonlight. If you wanna be tagged in chapters, please ask!! I love this freaking chapter SO much but I’m really scared of how it’s going to be received. All feedback is extremely welcome!!

Pairings: Intrulogical, Eventual Rociet, One-Sided Logicality, Platonic DRLAMP

Tagslist: @under-the-blue-moonlight @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @im-actually-ok @hauntedturkeycalzonedreamer @croftersjam15 @rainbowsixth @snaketho @wasinotwantedatthisexactsecond @a-soul-among-the-stars @sweet-razz-tea @the-cactus-lord

Over the course of the next month Logan learns that despite their reputations, Roman and Remus are the opposite of what everyone thinks of them.

Logan is the smartest person he knows, there is no way in hell he’d ever miss Roman’s multiple attempts to sabotage his role as Hamilton. Smart, and yet so oblivious. Each time Roman had tried to mess with Logan after he began cultivating a friendship with Remus he was miraculously saved from the torment at the last second. Remus is a hundred percent certain that Logan has no idea that he’s fighting off his brother at each and every turn. He’s not certain of much, so it’s saying a lot. There is a beautiful dichotomy in Logan’s logs of the events and the stories Remus tells about his brother’s scourge against his brand new ‘enemy’. On a page labeled ‘Roman Incidents’ in Logan’s succinct handwriting documents every incident through the month when Roman attempted to sabotage him.

July 20th - Roman tripped near my things in the drama room while holding coffee. When I went to check on my things, someone had removed the contents of my bag and filled it with around six pounds of glitter. If this happens again, throw the bag away. Glitter makes anything unsalvageable. You will keep finding it everywhere.

Remus knew Roman had been planning something. Of course he did. Though they didn’t share a room anymore, sneaking into it had never been exceptionally hard. Neither had eavesdropping, when it counted. It counted now more than ever because Remus had become unreasonably attached to Logan and when he heard Roman talking to himself and mentioning the name of his favourite little nerd badly he knew it was now or never. It took two excruciating hours of sitting still and listening to get the juicy stuff. He almost got caught by their mother twice. She’d only been home for three days and she’d checked on Roman twice in one night. If Remus told her about the amount of effort he was putting into something she might keel over dead from shock.

What a funny sight that would be to him. His mother, dead from the shock of his hard work to do something good, thumping onto the floor. He laughs a little, quiet enough to keep Roman from hearing. His brain supplies the rational next step of Roman running out of his room and distraughtly cradling their mother’s head in his lap. Roman sobbing. Roman blaming him. Roman screaming about how it was his fault. And it would be, if she died like that. Remus doesn’t think it’s all that funny anymore, but once the train of thought starts it can’t be stopped. He decides that eavesdropping isn’t fun anymore and makes his way to the kitchen, trying to shake the idea of his brother cursing him out for killing their mother out of his mind.

It doesn’t really work, but he tries anyway. The kitchen is full of distractions, good and bad. The knives in the block look so enticing to his self-proclaimed ‘shitty-dick-wad brain’, but the cookies he nabs from the cupboard are so easy to shove into his mouth that he figures it evens out. He sits at the kitchen island and doesn’t even bother to turn on the light. It takes six cookies in his mouth at once before he can direct his thoughts somewhere else momentarily. How in the hell is he going to combat Roman’s plan? He spits all the cookies onto the counter as his brother walks in, flicks on the light, and sighs deeply.

“You could at least do that onto a plate.”

Remus just shrugs, so Roman speaks again, “How’s your evening been?”

“Before like...five minutes ago I was really liking it.” Which was true, Roman slides into the seat next to him and picks a cookie from the box.

“What changed?”

“Shitty brain,” He replies, “Y’know how it gets.”

“I do indeed. Do you need anything?” His voice is surprisingly soft with him, to the point where Remus has to give him a confused look before deciding what to say next. He figures out how to fuck with Roman’s plan in that moment.

“I wanna go to Party City and terrorize the night staff.”

Roman only chuckles, Remus watches his twin put away the cookies and grab his car keys from the bowl on the counter.

“Come on then, we can buy some of those plastic babies you like so much.”

As Remus is falling asleep later that night, his chest feels warm. He attributes it to the upcoming scheme-ruining scheming. It’s easier than admitting that that was the first time Roman had willingly hung out with him alone since elementary school. He knows the next morning that Roman is most likely buttering up because he suspects Remus knows. Which is...fair. Even if it hurts a little. They get coffee on the way to the theatre and separate. They both have important things to do. The best part about their somewhat rocky-relationship is that they always know where the other is in order to avoid each other. Remus knows that Roman has gone to see Janus and probably make heart eyes and pine over him like a dumbass. Roman knows that Remus is off drooling over his arch nemesis. Today it is more imperative than ever. During practice Remus manages to steal Logan’s backpack while he’s busy.

He swaps the contents out with the six pounds of glitter he bought the night before and shoves Logan’s things into his bag for safe keeping. Nobody would dare look into Remus’ bag for fear of gore or weird pornography, even if he only has one in his bag at the moment. He’s shoving a small notebook in when he catches a title. “Hamilton Performance Experiment”. It takes literally all of his self-control not to immediately snoop. He makes it through, eventually meeting up with Logan and even carrying his bag to ‘be nice’ so Logan doesn’t pick up on the bag glitter. When Roman walks by with his coffee and “trips”, spilling his coffee all over Logan’s bag, Remus smiles.

“Oh! Logan I’m so sorry! What a terrible accident!” Roman cries, ever the actor.

Logan looks downright frantic as he lunges for his bag and rips it open. Glitter goes everywhere. Logan’s hair, Roman’s shoes, the entire dressing room floor. The look of distress fades from Logan’s face momentarily, returning full force when he realizes his things are missing.

Remus pulls them out of his bag in secret, walking to the corner of the room, walking back and exclaiming, “What a good prank Roman! You must be taking some tricks from my book!”

When he hands the things back to Logan, Logan smiles. He decides not to ask about the notebook.

July 27th - One of the props from the prop room was moved in with my things. I suspect Roman because of the look on his face when Remus took the fall for me.

Just because he didn’t ask about the notebook does not mean it left his memory. By the time he gets in the car alone with his brother he realizes that Roman is pissed off at him.

“Couldn’t you have left it alone? How did you even find out!?”

“I have my ways. Now shut up about it before I tell mom about that time in 8th grade-”

“Okay! Okay! I’m shutting up!”

And he did. However that included no longer voicing his plans out loud. Which meant Remus had to get creative. He was very very good at getting creative.

Dinner with their mother was much more quiet that week. Both twins brooding and not speaking with each other, their mother only prompting Roman to talk. It was too familiar in the worst possible ways. Remus despised his mother, but he knew how much his brother loved her. She was...well she was beautiful, intelligent, a very influential fashion designer, extremely supportive. Roman would go on about how perfect she was for hours. Sure, Remus could concede that their mother was beautiful, intelligent, and a very influential fashion designer, but whenever Roman talks about her he never says she’s at all a good mother. Especially not to him. He watches her laugh breathily at one of Roman’s shitty anecdotes from practice and decides he’s had enough of family dinner. He gets up and dutifully cleans his plate and places it in the dishwasher. The chef gives him a smile, and he smiles back.

“Remus, dear,” His mother begins in her shrill voice, “If you’re not going to eat with us, at least go and shower. Your smell is unbecoming.”

Then she turns back to her food like she didn’t just attempt to insult him. Jokes on her, it takes a lot more than that to hurt his feelings. He still ends up forcing himself into the shower for thirty-five minutes that night.

The rest of the week he’s more tired than usual, which the others notice. He makes an effort to not be, he really does. When his mom is in town, everything just sucks. He hangs out with Janus three times and Virgil once to get out of the house and away from his family. The other nights he spends sitting outside the convenience store with a monster or two. He ends up calling Logan one of those nights out of need for company. Logan chuckles when Remus makes up a silly reason for calling that he can’t even remember now, but he can remember Logan’s laugh. He listens to Logan talk about the book series he’s been reading and he feels a little lighter. He never ends up finding out what Roman has planned, but it’s so easy when it’s happening right in front of him. Despite his lethargy lately, he feels a fire lit in him when the missing prop is found with Logan’s bag.

Virgil and Janus are the only two teenagers with keys to the prop room. If Logan stole the missing prop, he would have had to steal the key. No one but the twins even knew Janus had a key, and Virgil was dead set on not letting a soul into the prop room. The idea that Logan, precious little innocent fucking lamb Logan, committed theft not once but twice enrages Remus. When they find it with his things, Logan is utterly baffled. Then he realizes the implications and his face pales. Roman calls for Thomas, spouting off about how Logan stole the prop and he should face consequences, when Remus laughs as loudly as he can.

“Hah! You guys are so funny! You think specs could ever!? Guess my prank worked out pretty damn good if you actually think Mr.Goody-Two-Shoes could commit such a heinous fucking crime!”

Thomas sighs, tells Remus to just ask next time, and leaves. Roman stares at his brother for a solid minute with his mouth slightly ajar. Janus and Virgil are both looking at him like he’s insane because it’s so obvious to them that Roman did it. Patton is looking not at him, but at Logan, with so much concern. And Logan...Logan stares up at Remus with the look of a small and confused animal.

“Did you really do that?”

“Of course I did! I’m the resident rat bastard, I have to cause a little recreational chaos.”

He’s pretty sure Logan believes him until they’re leaving for the day and Logan whispers a ‘Thank you’ to him as he walks by. He would have melted into the floor if Janus hadn’t put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him down to whisper to him.

“Why the hell did you let Roman get away with that?” Virgil is on his other side now with a scowl.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about JJ! I committed a very heinous crime!”

“Then why did Roman ask to borrow Janus’ key earlier?” Virgil asks, and Remus drops his smile to replace it with an annoyed look.

“He just fucking asked for it!? I can’t even believe I’m related to that half-witted twit.”

“Yeah,” Virgil scoffs, “Not really the sharpest sword in the armoury, is he?”

“Please, we’ve known that for years. What I’d like to know is what are we going to do about it?” This quieted Remus, but made Virgil smirk a little.

Janus continued, “After the backpack incident, and now the stealing incident, I’m half-convinced we have a brand new chaos demon in the group.”

“At least Remus’ chaos is fun sometimes,” Virgil mutters, “Roman’s just an ass.”

Remus gets away with being quiet as they talk until they get into Janus’ beat up old van. He doesn’t call shotgun, doesn’t slap the car's ‘ass’ as a joke, he just climbs into the back and sits there. He’s so quiet that Janus and Virgil are a little shell shocked.

“Remus?” Virgil asks quietly and pensively, it sounds just like that soft tone Roman used with him last week.

He’s quiet, Janus starts the car and clicks his tongue, “I’m going to shove Roman down a flight of stairs.”

“Don’t.” He manages, and the boys in the front seats go quiet. Virgil passes him the aux cord.

He plays “Call Them Brothers” by Regina Spektor and Janus and Virgil know that tonight will be a very quiet outing.

They’re sitting at IHOP drawing dicks on their pancakes in syrup when Remus’ phone rings. Janus and Virgil know who’s calling the second Remus sees the caller ID and smiles.

“Evening Logie-Bear, why do I get the pleasure of hearing your devilishly sexy voice in this IHOP tonight?” Remus says and Janus groans loudly.

“You’re at IHOP?” Is the first thing Logan says, which makes Remus smile even brighter.

“Yes, sir! I’m with Virge and Janny too, you wanna say hi?”

Logan sounds a bit contemplative when he mutters, “I was hoping you’d be alone...”

Eavesdropping Janus and Virgil make surprised faces, Remus smacks Janus in the arm, “Oh you were, were you? Why? Phone sex?”

“I wanted to ask for an opinion on a predicament.” Virgil smirks and Janus nabs his phone to speak for Remus.

“Remus would love to-Remus let me talk-You should come have some pancakes with us-Ow, watch the face!-and tell us all about how your science is going.” Janus can hear Logan hiding his laughter through the phone as Remus wrestles with him in the booth.

“It’s more of a philosophical predicament.”

Janus nearly sees red, eyes widening and making Remus cackle,“Why in the world would you ask Remus Grimm about phi-”

It’s silent for a few moments then Logan hears a familiar voice. “It’s Virgil, we’re at the IHOP on 81st and Green.”

Logan laughs brightly, “I’ll be there. Order something for me.”

They spend the evening with breakfast for dinner, and the four get into a fairly heated friendly debate about moral ethics. Janus isn’t sure he’s ever had more fun in his life. When he’s driving away from Virgil to drop Remus off at home, he can’t help but smile at Remus’ improved demeanor.

“Remus,” He starts after they’re alone, “I thought you and Roman were doing better, did something happen?”

“He tried to sabotage Logan twice for entirely selfish reasons, I wouldn’t care if he dies!” Remus dramatically cries.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

They’re quiet the rest of the ride, and Janus gets out to give Remus a hug before he goes in. Remus ignores Roman’s questions about his whereabouts and locks himself in his room to try and keep his mood up. It doesn’t work, but he tries. He does.

August 3rd - Roman gave me a “peace offering” in the form of lunch. I am led to believe he was attempting to give me food poisoning, as Remus ate the lunch and has now come down with food poisoning.

His mother leaves for her office in Paris on August 1st. Roman cries and hugs her, says he’ll miss her, goes on and on about how it’s so terrible how she’s never home. He does this every time their mother and father leave, he has since they were young. Remus couldn’t give less of a shit. His plan now was finding out what Roman’s next move was. Which was hard because they were back to avoiding each other like the plague. They’d spent a few months getting better at being brothers, then one of their parents shows up and ruins it. This time it was great, Remus would never admit it, but it was. Roman made an effort when their parents weren’t around, a few months ago he started doing things like making dinner for them both and bringing it to him, offering to do a load of laundry for him while he was doing it, being mindful of his volume when practicing his singing and acting, all these little things.

He’d even started initiating physical contact again, which Remus couldn’t get enough of. Literally. An occasional pat on the back, a grab of his hand to pull him somewhere, a light slap to his knee or arm when he said something distasteful. Giving physical affection to Remus was something that seemed to be unique to Roman. It had always been like that when they were younger, and Remus didn’t think he wanted it to stop. Any time he thinks about it he always drifts back to his head against Roman’s knee a few weeks ago when Roman had carded a hand through his hair and then a few minutes later practically tackled him to douse him in perfume The shit smelled awful, but afterwards Roman had slung an arm over his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. That and the closeness with Logan kept him buzzing for the next two days.

Now there was nothing again. It was like Roman could turn off his affection for Remus and pretend he didn’t exist. Remus tried not to be angry about it, he really did, but he couldn’t stop the fire that he felt when the other people on stage got his praises and affection. Both of them were incredibly clingy, but Roman was so much worse at hiding it and it made Remus nearly scream. He piled all of his affectionate behavior onto Logan, and Logan never really minded. He’d place his head on Logan’s shoulder, hold his hand on stage, sit pressed up against him offstage. He loved it, he did. He loved protecting Logan, talking to Logan, existing in the same space as the dork was exhilarating. He hated having to protect Logan from his brother. There was no way in hell that Remus would let anything terrible happen to Logan, but there was no way he would ever let his brother’s stupid selfish decisions fall back on him. He knows he shouldn’t give a single shit, but he does.

His tiredness fades with his mother, but he’s still exhausted because Roman keeps trying to fuck with Logan when he knows damn well Remus won’t let him. The selfish ass. This time, Roman has the gall to pull his entire scheme in front of Remus.

“Logan,” He starts, his affected air is slightly dim today and his hands are hidden, “To apologize for my unkind actions, I have brought a peace offering.”

Roman hands Logan a little bag from a restaurant Remus swears he recognizes.

“Oh, thank you.” Logan says quietly, opening the bag and pulling out a wrapped burger.

Logan takes it out and inspects it as Remus wracks his brain trying to remember where he knows the packaging. It hits him right before Logan takes a bite. This burger is from the restaurant that gave Roman food poisoning a few months ago. It looks like the same burger too. At this point, Remus is half-convinced Roman is taunting him. He’s in a bit of a panic and doesn’t think before he snatches the burger and shoves it in his mouth.

“Remus!” Both call out, the wrapper is still on the end of the burger so he pulls it out then chews and swallows the thing whole.

He coughs and sputters for almost two minutes after, then shoots Roman an awful glare.

“What just happened?” Logan asks, extremely puzzled.

Roman is gawking at Remus again, “Why did you eat that!?”

“Fuck you that’s why, you horsefucking shiteating egomaniac bastard.”

Roman walks off in a huff, Remus lays on the floor.

“Are you alright?” Logan questions, handing him a water bottle.

Maneuvering onto his side, Remus takes a sip and his throat feels miles better, “I just straight up ate a burger whole like a fucking snake, how do you think I am dipshit?”

“Hm,” He pauses to think, “Bad.”

Both boys laugh, and Logan joins Remus on the ground.

“I am beginning to believe your brother has a vendetta against me.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Logan pauses, looking at Remus who is still occasionally wheezing.

“Are you alright...emotionally?” Remus wheezes and laughs at the same time, sounding something similar to a goose.

“‘Thought you didn’t know much about those, poindexter.”

“I do not. However, as your friend I feel like it’s important to ask.”

Remus just sighs, closes his eyes, and blows a raspberry at the ceiling.

“Me and Roman are complicated.”

“I can tell.” Remus laughs, Logan really is something else.

It’s quiet when Remus asks, “Do you hate him?”

“No,” Logan’s response is measured and confident like he’s asked himself this question a hundred times, “I don’t hate him. I think he’s got some things to work out, and is taking out his frustration on me as of late.”

He keeps talking, Remus covers his closed eyes with his arm, “More importantly, do you hate him?”

He almost rockets to his feet when Logan says curiously, “Or, more interestingly, do you love him?”

It takes him nearly two and a half minutes sat up and sipping water, watching Logan pack his things, to muster up the will to tell the truth.

“Of course I love him. Nobody else is gonna fucking do it.”

He could barely comprehend Logan’s response to his admission so he shoved it out of his mind with all the force he could muster, then waved a goodbye to him when he parted and left Remus with his mind.

He ends up going home early because his awful decision ended up actually giving him food poisoning. He takes a sick day the next day, and spends most of the time feeling like shit physically and emotionally. His brain has kept tabs on all the shitty feelings and thoughts he’s had and is now playing out a full length shitty horror movie about his life and his dumb brother and his shitty summer crush. Then there’s that conversation with Logan. The last sentence is running through him over and over again. He keeps coming back to it, though he’s sure Logan didn’t even mean anything by it. Seventeen words and his world was sent spinning.

“Ah, I understand, it’s hard to love somebody when they don’t act like they love you back.”

Logan doesn’t even know the half of it.

August 20th - Roman asked me directly to leave the production. Though I admire the effort, all it achieved was a quite awful night, and an angry lecture(?) of sorts from Janus. I do not believe Roman will be trying this tactic ever again.

Roman tries to apologize multiple times, but something angry and petty in Remus doesn’t accept any of them. They’re both getting more and more frustrated by the minute. By the time the thirteenth of August rolls around they aren’t on speaking terms again and everyone can tell that it’s taking its toll on them both. Remus acts out more than usual against people he doesn’t usually target. He scared an ensemble girl one too many times, to the point where she ended up slapping him. He deserved it, but it still stung. Roman poured himself into his role more than ever, but it only ended up stressing him out even more than usual. When his voice so much as wavered on stage it shattered his confidence.

It affected their friends as well. Roman spent more time with Patton and Emile, avoiding Remus and Janus as much as he could possibly manage. Janus rolled his eyes but just resigned himself to the tech booth with Virgil, Remus, and Logan. The only good thing that was happening lately was Janus’ newfound attachment to Logan. The pair's insane intelligence and love of debate meant one was nearly guaranteed every other time they were in the same room. It was exhilarating to watch, and probably exhilarating to take part in. Remus didn’t much care for debates, but watching Janus and Logan go at each other with an occasional snarky comment or new suggestion from Virgil was making him grow a fondness for them. At this point there was barely anybody in the theatre who didn’t adore Logan.

The staff, the cast, the tech. Everyone adored him. He was smart, diligent, and hard-working. He asked questions, didn’t undermine others, and respected the entire cast's talent at what they did. It was magical to watch everyone in the auditorium drift under Logan’s thumb. Remus was included. They were saving Say No To This until near last because of the lack of dancing involved, but it didn’t even matter. Say No To This was not needed in Remus’ seduction plan because Logan seemed to gravitate towards him with ease. He is a damn good friend and Remus is determined to make that boy his bride.

Despite his growing lack of sleep and reliance on caffeine, Remus is skating by just fine without anything bad happening. Until his brother decides to fuck with his life again. He’s on the thin line between being shitty in secret and full-on breakdown, Roman really isn’t helping his case. Remus is lounging on the floor while Logan reads in a chair next to the makeup mirrors. He hears someone enter, but isn’t bothered enough to move.

Ever the polite, Logan greets the newcomer “Ah, Hello Roman, how are you?”

“I need to ask you something.” His brother asks, and Remus turns his head away from the noise.

“Alright, what is it?” Logan sounds so measured and calm.

There is a long pause, “What is it going to take for you to realize you should quit?”

The calmness in Logan’s voice wavers, and Remus can hear it wobble, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! I mean, it’s obvious I've been trying to get you to leave, so what’s been keeping you!?” Roman raises his voice near instantly, that same childish selfishness burns from his tongue.

“It is none of your business.” There’s a dignified fire raging under his voice now, it’s like he’s been practicing for this.

“You’re not even a good actor! From what I can tell, you’re entirely uninteresting and way too intellectual to be here!” Roman continues, Remus feels the urge to get up but he can’t find the will to move.

“Roman, please think before you say something you regret.” Remus knows what Roman is going to say before it happens.

“No!” His brother is so typical, “You have no idea what this role means to me, why can’t you just leave!?”

That’s typical too, Remus opens his eyes and looks at the pair. Logan looks pissed off, Roman looks pissed off, and Janus is watching from the doorway.

“I try very hard to give you the benefit of the doubt in regards to your debilitating egomania, but it is beginning to appear as if your whole sense of stability and purpose is built upon some false reality where you need to be the star at every possible moment. Go to therapy about it, and leave me alone.” Logan spits this in Roman’s face, then turns back to his book.

Clenching his fists and staring at the ground, Roman looks almost defeated until he catches Remus staring and his face morphs into something so bitter he has to force himself to look away.

“No. I will not leave you alone until I get this part. None of you have any idea how much I need it.”

“Roman-” Janus speaks up daringly from his spot by the door, his tone is enough to warn him to stand down.

Roman’s eyes are squeezed shut, his fists are clenched, “I know we have the same face, but I’m not a failure like my brother.”

That sends Remus to his feet and out the door before anyone can say a word. As he passes Janus on the way out Janus tries to stop him but he pushes past him, past everyone, and out the front door of the theatre.

Janus turns on Roman in an instant, walking slowly into the room and shutting the door with purpose. Roman’s eyes are sewed shut and all the guilt he tries to push down floods him when he makes eye contact with his pissed off friend.

“Roman, we need to have a talk.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #ts remus #ts logan #ts roman #ts janus #ts virgil #intrulogical #REMUS BABY IM SO SORRY-#this title could just be titled 'roman fucks up for 4k words straight' and it would fit #i genuinely loved writing this chapter and i hope it goes over well with yall #roman IS going to get kicked in the teeth with character development #the boy has been self-sabotaging himself so hard #Honestly after chapter 6 imma need to tag 'The Grimm Parents' A+ Parenting' like i'm on fucking ao3 or some shit #anyway!! theres the fic!! happy reading!!#Love you all and goodnight!!

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kwrittink · 4 years

Text

Unless?

Pairing: Reader x Im Jaebum (FTL)

Genre: PWP

Warnings: language, sexual insinuation, mentions of hanjob and description, mentions of bowjob and description.

"Fuck, I'm so tired..." Your friend groaned as he dropped on the couch beside you, hand reaching out to pinch at your sweater, slightly pulling you towards him.

"Rough day?" You snickered, giving in and leaning on his side, his arms immediately encasing you against his chest, squeezing you once and sighing. That kind of coziness was usual with you two, knowing each other since your teenage years. It had something else mixed with it, you had to admit, but it was easy to ignore that itch and avoid risking that friendship.

Though discreet teasing wasn't beyond any of you.

"Yeah, my whole body hurts, who would have thought producing songs could stress someone out like this." He rolled his eyes tiredly, head tipping back to the couch. You couldn't help to stare at his jaw and neck, having the urge to press your lips on the skin and discover what sound Jaebum would make, what would happen next. But again, you kept it to yourself in favor of friendship.

"Do you want a massage or something?" You still offered, knowing he enjoyed a shoulder rub sometimes and making an excuse to put your hands on him. It wasn't like you had ulterior motives every time, just that you did see the pros and cons of your actions.

Jaebum shook his head. "No, I just want to stay still for a bit, recharge my spirits." You smiled as he pulled you closer, making you rest your head at his chest, the steady rythm of his heart your personal favorite beat.

"You know, I'd advise you to take a bath and go beat one off, but you're very comfy," you joked, hearing him bark a laugh and shake his head at you.

"Why do I feel like that comes from experience, hm?" He looked down at you, a smirk playing in the corner of his lips.

"Because it does. An orgasm really does the trick, you know." You stared matter-of-fact, trying to keep a serious expression on, but failing miserably as you held your gaze for just a couple seconds. He

"Must be nice. But I'm too lazy to move my arm right now,"

"I could do it for you, if you want,"

"... What?"

"What?"

"Did you just offer me a handjob?" He turned his body to face you in surprise, one of his legs bending in front of him, unconsciously pushing you away.

"I mean it's a joke," you shrugged awkwardly, face burning as you tried to look away from his now falling expression.

"Oh..." And the disappointment was so clear on his voice that you felt compelled to look back, swallowing dryly.

"Unless..."

There was silence. For what it felt an eternity, you stared at each other's eyes, trying to grasp the seriousness of the other.

"But what about us-"

"This doesn't have to change anything if you don't want to," you started, pulling away from his body, putting some space in between your bodies to properly look at his face. Jaebum had his jaw slack as he stared back at you, shock completely stamped on his face. "W-we can even pretend I've never said anyth- Oh dear." You almost choked as your eyes glanced downwards, meeting a very prominent outline straining against your best friend's jeans.

"I don't think I'm able to forget what you've said at this point, Y/N." His voice was low, eyes never leaving your face. You breathed out almost... Relieved in a way, grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

Slowly you crawled back to him, closing the small gap back again, kneeling in front of him. "Okay then Im Jaebum, I'm going to touch you."

You were able to see his face finally relaxing as he nodded, eyelids lowering as he pressed one elbow on the armrest behind him, leaning the weight of his torso on it, stretching the previously bent leg beside you and, efficiently putting himself at your mercy. You had to bit your lower lip while admiring the image in front of you as you touched his knees, sliding your palms upwards.

"Fuck," you heard him curse under his breath, your fingers barely reaching the now twitching bulge. It made you smile, ego swelling in your chest to see Jaebum this riled up about whatever you would do to him.

Ignoring the silent beg to be touched properly you kept your way up his torso, breaching his shirt and feeling soft skin under your fingertips, teasing it with your nails just to test the waters, get to really know what would drive him insane. Jaebum sighed as he saw you had no intentions of giving in just yet, closing his eyes and enjoying your exploring.

In a sudden move, you flicked his nipples lighty, making his eyes shoot open and gasp, about to ask what you were doing, but you quickly drew back, giving a firm squeeze to his crotch and immediately making him hiss at the sudden contact, even if still over the clothes.

"Y/N, pl- C'mon..." His frustrated tone shouldn't please you so much, the way he pinched his shirt discreetly, eyes pleading.

"Sheesh, a girl can't have her fun..." You joked under your breath, not even trying to hide the wide grin on your lips as you looked back up again, meeting his glare.

Getting back to your task, you struggled a little with his belt before yanking it open, starting to get eager yourself to unwrap him. You glanced at Jaebum again, finding him focused on your hands with a bitten lower lip and breathing heavily, only hitching quietly when you were able to pop his button and drag the ziper down.

"Raise your hips a little please," you asked, voice faltering as he looked up at you again. Jaebum almost made you feel nervous, wasn't for how aroused you were already by just his expressions.

As he did as you requested, you made quick work of both the jeans and boxers underneath, tugging them down in a swift movement, just enough that his erection sprung free, slapping up his clothed stomach. Both you and Jaebum cursed quietly. You could only imagine how his cock was before but somehow the real thing was better. More fitting.

Tentatively, you wrapped one hand around the shaft and gave it a small squeeze, watching as Jaebum tensed immediately, gaze trained on your movements.

"Feels so hard Bomie," you tried to speak, licking your lips in an attempt to make your mouth work properly. "Does it hurt?"

"Hah- A little," he cleared his throat, also having some issues with communication. "On the tip..." He pointed out and as if by prompting you moved your hand up, caressing the pointed out part, smearing the precum that already oozed from the head. Jaebum hummed pleased with your ministrations, giving you the last of confidence you needed to really get your hands on him.

Wrapping both of your hands around his cock you started to jerk him slowly at first, putting some pressure on his tip and dragging long groans from his throat, Jaebum gradually getting louder as you made him feel good.

"F-fuck feels good Y/N," he started when your pace got random. "Your hands on my cock, shit, so damn good!" He grunted, closing his eyes and you observed his face, noticing sweat starting to form on top of his furrowed brows.

"You wanna cum already? You can cum whenever, I wanna make you feel good, m'kay?" You reassured him but Jaebum shook his head.

"No, 'm not cumming yet." He stated, and you weren't sure if he was telling you or trying to convince himself of that. His dick throbbed in your hands flushed red, and you wanted nothing more to make him release, feel his cum stain your hands, your face...

"Jaebum," you called him, forcing him to open his eyes and look at you in a haze, lower lip caged between his teeth. "I want to taste you, so bad."

For a second you noticed he didn't know what to do, eyes shaking and lips gaping before your friend nodded brokenly, down to whatever you wanted to do to him by that point.

You were trying to keep in control, on the back of your mind thinking that going too deep with the whole thing would be bad. But by then you too were barely stopping yourself from straddling him and letting Jaebum have your way with you.

Scooting back a little, you focused on his cock and practically salivated as you leaned closer. This was to be etched in your memory forever, the stare Jaebum was giving you, looking so fucked out already as he sat up straighter to watch you better, fingers running over his tousled locks.

"Hnng- Holy sh-" you could physically feel the shudder that ran over his body when your lips wrapped around his tip, suckling experimentally. You hummed at the tang of his precum, eyes falling close as you lowered further, tongue flattening on his length.

"Y/N, damn- That's so good hah," Jaebum straight up moaned, one if his hands shooting to the back of your head, just as a reflex. "Just like that, that's it!"

His sounds had your gut twisting and tingling, so much it was hard to avoid moaning around his cock every time the tip hit the back of your throat. You could feel his fingers twitching on your hair, eager to control your movements, fuck your mouth on his cock.

The breaking point was your fingers reaching his balls, delicately rolling the heavy loaded organ in your hand, causing his hips to jut upwards, the other hand finally joining in the back of your head and grabbing at your hair carelessly, pressing you down till your nose was pressed to his base.

"Y/N I'm- I'm gonna fuck your mouth I need to mmh cum in your pretty mouth," you forced yourself to keep your eyes open to look at Jaebum as he thrusted up shallowly into your mouth, grunting nonsense with every thrust. You were gagging, spit pooling at the sides of your lips by then, eyes teary with the invasion. But in a weird way, it felt so good to see him loosing his mind over you.

The closer he was to sweet release, the louder he got. Among moans he changed your name, forcing your head deeper down as you struggled to keep a pace between sucking and laving his cock, that throbbed hard inside your mouth. And you wanted nothing more to see him finish, so you tried the move that for him crazy one more time, fingers touching delicate skin before grabbing at the sensitive organs and rolling them carefully, watching Jaebum trash and tremble with his head thrown back, mouth slack as he breathed hard.

"I'm - fuck - cumming! I'm cum- hngah shit I love you I'm cumming Y/N, fuck fuh!" And as foretold, ribbons of thick cum started coating the inside of your mouth while you tried to swallow, helping his high with a lazy hand stroking at his base.

You heard what he said, you heard the confession but, in the midst of an orgasm it was really easy to say those things, to blurt enhanced feelings.

"I said it, didn't I?"

"What? You said a lot of thing, Boomie," you tried to play dumb, cleaning the corners of your lips with your thumb, feeling a sorta welcome soreness in your jaw.

Not a man of patience, Jaebum groaned in frustration and pulled you by the arm, and hadn't you held on his shoulders, you would have tipped off the couch. But there was no time to complain of his roughness when his lips pressed against yours, skin a little cold from the recent climax, his still trembling hands reaching to grip your face and keep you there, stunned, till you found the way to breathe again and sighed against his lips, finally kissing him back.

Before the exchange got deeper Jaebum pulled away, still holding your face as he pressed his forehead to yours.

"Please let's not ignore this happened. Be with honest me, Y/N."

"Jaebum you-"

"I know. I know you think I said that because of the moment, but I already loved you before. I couldn't hold it any longer."

You opened your eyes to look at him, smiling a little as you moved to hold his sides. "That's what he said," you joked, making him roll his eyes and groan.

"Look I love you but shut up and kiss me," Jaebum scoffed, pressing his lips back to yours again and you chuckled, responding to the request by wrapping your arms around his neck.

_____________________________________

drabbles/scenarios

#jaebum x reader #jaebum smut #jaebum pwp

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mirror-juliet · 4 years

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hi, may i request a smut scenario about rough sex with leedo on the kitchen counter, thank you so much!

Tagging @youneedapiratekink our thirsty af captain. I hope you also enjoy bby

Thank you so much for requesting hun!!! I had a lot of fun writing this🤍

Warnings: Unprotected sex. Kitchen sex, teasing, rough sex, slight degradation, oral sex (giving and receiving.)

Other Plans {Lee Geonhak/Leedo}

Geonhak had asked you to help him come up with choreography for the group, you two met up at your house where you could practice in your dance room. The both of you could have practiced in the Oneus dance room, but you didn't like it when people saw you coming up with new moves. Besides, you had other plans for your boyfriend

You had made sure to dress in a loose-white shirt and rather short, form-fitting shorts. Your hips would purposefully brush against him, pretending like you simply aren't paying attention.

It's obvious that Geonhak is trying his best to concentrate, his breathing becoming longer and his grip got firmer. The both of you quickly became aware of the tent beginning to root in his sweatpants, a grin forming on your lips.

"Do you think the others will mind this much skin ship, Darling?" You pushed your body flush against his, reaching your arms up to lock around his neck behind you. Your eyes make contact in the large mirror the both of you are gazing into.

Your actions caused the lower part of your stomach to show from Geonhak being to tall. You couldn't care less that he was obviously drinking in your image, you threw choreography out the window once he walked into your home."Isn't this a little much Y/n? We're all close, but not this close." He grabs ahold of your wrists and removes them from his shoulders, trying to take back the authority which he had lost in this situation.

That wasn't something you planned on giving up willingly today. You we're going to push Geonhak to his breaking point, seeing how long it will take.You turn around and put your palms on his chest, locking eyes with him more intimately now.

"What did you have in mind then?" Your words come out velvety, laced with promises you new wouldn't be kept.You watched it, the hormones that are so easily agitated in boys have been tuned on in his brain, drawing him closer to you.

"I think we should practice later, i think we should begin something more.....Fun." Geonhak slows his words, delicately undoing the string to your shorts, pulling his head closer to yours.

His lips nearly graze yours when you move to his cheek and blow on it, distracting him enough for you to slip out of his grasp completely.

"i'm going to paint my nails, feel free to keep me company." You leave the room, leaving Geonhak a flustered mess.

He soon joins you on the couch, turning on the tv, allowing you to rest your legs on his lap. Actually, it was more of you placing your silky legs on him; trying to keep himself content while you rub your legs together.

You admire the red lacquer that stains your nails, remembering how Geonhak loved the shade on you. "Do you like them?" You show him your nails, in response he bites his nail and rubs your legs.That was your Queue to leave. Couldn't have him get comfortable

*********

You had him following you around your house for about two hours, now, a normal person would have gotten annoyed and left about the third time you teased. Geonhak was not normal towards you, he was crazy for you. He would follow you to the ends of the earth if you wanted him to.

He also loved being in control when it came to the hormones you two caused each other, this experience was foreign to him. Never once have you ever made a dominate move towards him in this way, not for this long at least.

Right now, you were reaching for a snack bar in the cabinet that happened to be on one of the higher shelves. It had you bending slightly, trying to reach the back of the cabinet.Geonhak did not let this opportunity go to waste, he had been waiting for you to loose your guard. He came up behind you, pressing against you and caging your body into the counter.

"Surprise." He laughed, slipping his hand under your shirt to rub your stomach.You turn around to face him giving him a view of the blush blossoming across your chest.

"Y/n" He grabs your hand by the wrist and presses it against his hardened bulge, humming in half discomfort and half pleasure."Do you feel what you have caused?" He presses your hand harder against him to match his tone slowly dropping in octaves.

You had to admit, the way he shifts and feels under your palm made it seem very uncomfortable or borderline painful for him. If not borderline then fully painful. Geonhak seems to hear what you think, shoving your hand down his pants and boxers.

"My dick has been throbbing for so long, do you know how painful that is?" He rests his head on your shoulder, allowing you to hear every grunt and shaky breath he takes as he uses your hand to get himself off. Your hand is lubed with his sweat and precum leaking out of his throbbing tip.

You unfasten his pants, pulling them down along with yourself and his boxers until you're on your knees. Your allow most of his girth to be engulfed in your mouth before gently sucking on him. You bob your head down an turn your head slightly, moving the other way as you bob your head up.

The plan to give him a good blow and hand-job crumbles to ashes as soon as he takes hold of your hair, shoving his member farther into your mouth.

Strings of moans and grunts escape his mouth as he fucks your face. Determined to make him break his dominate role, you bring your hands up to grope his ball sack. He only thrusts faster, making your jaw ache every time his pelvic bone smashes into your face.

You flatten your tongue, feeling the thick vein on the bottom twitch from doing so, making your jaw go as slack as possible helps relief some of the uncomfyness "Just like that baby. Oh fuuck."

He quickens his thrusting, throbbing inside you. "Nghah. Im g-gonna cum." His deep, velvety voice turns you on, prompting one of your hands to reach down and palm against your heat; only enough to tease yourself.

You suck hard on him, his grip on your hair becoming painful, he tries to pull you off. "No-t Yehht." Your hands hold onto his thighs from the back to keep him in your mouth. He was going to submit to you.

He lets out a long groan as he stills in your mouth, his head rests in the back of your throat and shooting his hot semen down your throat. You swallow all of it. This time Geonhak seemed to make much more than usual, most likely the result of your teasing.

You clean him up as he comes down from his high, too dazed to stop you, only letting out soft moans. Your hot muscle proves to be too much on his sensitive cock, he pushes your head away, breathing now ragged.

Your fingers twist together behind his neck, plump lips meeting his own. "You drive me crazy, do you know that? Do you know how much of a whore you are?"Geonhak rips your shirt over your head, his large hand shoving down your shorts

His fingers don't bother to wander further than your clitoris, the stimulation alone would drive you insane. Without delay the pads of his fingers rub fast against your clit, making your knee's buckle"Geonhak, sl-slow down." Your small hands wrap around his wrist, trying to pry him off of you. He chuckles in your ear.

"But you don't really want me to, no you want me to keep rubbing you until you're screaming in pleasure." He drags you to the island with his hands still rubbing you, he pushes you, your back arching onto the surface.

He picks your hips up and places them on the counter, giving his easier access to pull your shorts off."No underwear. You slut."

"Hmmm-aah!" Two fingers turn to four now rubbing side to side.

"Oh quit whining, i could do this." Three of his other fingers dip into your hole, hitting your g-spot immediately. "Now this is the amount of pleasure that warrants those screams. Not just your clit."

Your hands grab hold of his wrists, not doing much to stop his strong ministrations."Geonh- i'm gon i-i m gonna."

"Do it, cum over my fingers." He pumps them faster, making you clench hard around him

"Nugahhh! GeonhaAH!" You squeal out as the bubble in your gut bursts. Geonhak only removes his fingers inside of you, allowing the warm liquid to escape your clenching hole.

He doesn't stop rubbing you, only speeding up-if that was even possible, but it very much was. Another wave of cum spills out of you onto his shirt and the floor, your thighs were shaking, preparing yourself for a third orgasm.

"Please, i want you in me for the next one." The words are hurried to escape your mouth, you let out a shaky sigh of relief as he takes his fingers off of you.He pulls your hips to the edge, flipping you onto your stomach; your short legs dangling off the edge.

"God you're so sexy when you squirt all over me. You'll do it again for me wont you." He kisses your neck gently"Hnuh!" You groan out as he shoves his fat cock in your pussy, bottoming out right away.

'Okay, he wont give you time to adjust, that's okay' You think to yourself, he begins to mercilessly pound into you, your hips shove against the corner of the island; a painful sensation drowned out by the cock inside of you. The girth stretches you out beautifully, feeling every inch of your soft core.

Geonhak rakes his hand up the back of your scalp, pulling roughly on your hair once at the crown. His other hand pushed the middle of your back, giving him two very different anchors to shove into you over and over.

"Tell me how much you love my cock, slut.""I love you cock so much Geonhak! It stretches me so good. Please fuck me harder!" You push your hips into him, your ass jiggling at the motion.

"You asked for it, remember." He nearly laughs at you. He pulls you back further into him, bringing your sex's together hard enough that your hips begin to bruise from his. A loud smacking sound echo's through the kitchen, his balls hitting your clit with every thrust.

Both of you moan and grunt into each other, Geonhak's deep voice now beginning to whine. It was something you never heard before, sexy as hell to say the least. You wanted to hear it more.

"Please, cum all over my ass Geonhak." His member begins to twitch inside you as his hips become greedy, signaling his release soon to come

A few more thrusts later Geonhak is screaming out a groan while releasing strings of semen on your luscious ass. He enters you again to help you with your final release that has you digging your nails into the counter top.

You both calm down, Geonhak leaning on you while sort of hugging you. His chest feels nice as he breaths against you.

"I'll say it again. You're so fucking sexy when you cum like that." laughs erupt in the kitchen, something that came easy for you two during sex, because it was with you two."But baby girl..." He growls. "Next time you try to take control like that. I won't fuck you like that for a month." His words excite you, but also terrify you sexually. That was something you were going to have to try out, knowing somewhere in the back of your mind he would keep his promise. But where's the fun in being safe?

#oneus #oneus smut #leedo #leedo scenarios #leedo smut #anon #creampirate #asks #oneus imagines

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