#IM FIGURING OUT PROCREATE thank GOD | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

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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

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dsmpdaily · 3 years ago

Note

god your linework is SO nice, i know this can be a bit of an annoying question you get a lot but i've tried skimming through your blog to see if you keep your list of brushes anywhere?? i couldnt find it but im sorry if its just right in front of my face anyways :,) i just wanted to ask what kinds of brushes/application you use for your sketches and linework?? it's very nice and i love your art style!!

oh thank you so much!! linework is a pain for me, so i mostly try to stick to sketches instead of actual linework ^^; so to see that you like it is a nice compliment!

i do not have a list of my brushes on the account.. i make my own custom brushes in procreate and ive never tried to export them before, so im unsure how to link them? i really only use two specific ones

i won't have my tablet on me for a couple days, but when i get back i'll try to find a way to export em and post them on my account for you!! it's not an annoying question, i completely understand, i am also the person who likes to ask for brushes lmao

if i cant figure out how to export them i'll just have to screenshot each of the settings in procreate and post them LMAO but somehow i will get them out here!

#asks

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extremelyblackandwhite · 5 years ago

Text

the unseen one - 18

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: (fun fact i wrote this listening to beautiful ghosts which i have now formally induced into the fanfic’s playlist bc im a nerd who rly likes soft music) this is probably my longest chapter, yay me for writing a long one. hope you guys enjoy it xx

Next Chapter >>

Y/N looked at her reflection on the golden mirror standing in front of her. She studied the features she always saw in her own mirrors, the same face, the same eyes, same nose and same lips, however the reflection staring back at her was somehow different, similar to those renaissance paintings of mythical female sirens, goddesses, princesses and other deities. She had her once free flowing hair in a hellenic up-do filled with various flowers and a gold like chain intertwined with one of her brains. A few perfectly curled ringlets fell to frame her face which was still makeup free from last night, with a blossoming red tint on her upper cheeks.

She was dressed in a garment made of two parts, a linen white tunic and a clock held together by an ornamental claps with Hecate’s torch insignia at the shoulders and a light pink sash at the waist. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what her mother would think of her clothing. When she was younger, she would religiously dress as a Greek Goddess for Halloween yet nothing she’d worn compared to what she looked right now.

Minthe had been silent throughout most of it, sometimes even giving her judgmental looks whenever she questioned about the fabrics and flowers being used to adorn her. She didn’t completely blame her for doing such things, deities were only found of mortals for two things: war and procreation. It didn’t take long for her to return to the gardens, being placed in front of Hecate who was commanding her maidens like a captain on a ship.

- Do you know anything about gardening? - she looked down on the mortal dressed in deity clothing, which she had to admit, seemed to fit her better than the cheap satin piece she was wearing.

- I can manage. - Y/N rubbed her hands out of anxiety when talking to one of the goddesses of the Underworld.

- Well, pick something and get to work. - Hecate pointed aimlessly towards the groves and their dying flora. Y/N heart tightened at seeing the muddy green colour that the plants had beginning to take, a stark contrast to the lively, colourful flora of its surroundings. Her eyes locked on a particular rose bush whose roses were brownish white, some of its petals constantly falling to the ground whenever the slight summer breeze hit it. She took it upon herself to tend to it, walking over the to wilting bush and sitting gracefully on the grace, hands softly touching the dead flowers which she once imagined to have been the most beautiful flowers.

Y/N decided to take care of the flowers the way she took care of her little plants back in her flat. She started by getting rid of the dead leaves, carefully pulling them from the branches and onto the floor, trimming it to the best she could possible manage. Y/N kept on trimming, eventually reading the thorny white roses, some which were just in desperate need of water and others which were past the point of no return. She directed her attention to those, pulling a few out and onto her robes until a specific one found itself a challenge. The young girl extended her hand deeper into the rose bush, pulling the flower at its base, finding it rather hard to pull it from the branch. She kept on pulling and the flower eventually gave up, detaching from its base and sticking one of its thrones deep into her thumb. She let go of a tiny wince, not wanting to bother the other maidens.

Carefully, Y/N removed the thorn from the flower, throwing it forcefully on the ground before turning her thumb so she could face it. It had a tiny wound, so tiny that if she hadn’t known it was there, she would’ve never realised it was there. However, it was bleeding heavily, the scarlet liquid dripping and running from her skin to the green grass nearby the bush, staining it the same colour as the liquid.

She sucked on her thumb, mindlessly dabbing it against her clothing and returning to get rid of everything that did not belong to a healthy plant. Y/N was so into her craft she didn’t notice James returning to the Elysium. He watched her from afar, her lips and nose crunched as she inspected the rose bush with a might which in his mind was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

- Did you discover anything? - Hecate walked up to the God of the Underworld, curious for any developments.

- We are not entirely sure of who stole the pomegranate but we did discover her friend is an oracle. - Hecate rolled her eyes, if there was any type of witchcraft she hated the most it was prophecy telling. The prophecies were always unnecessarily over-detailed and more like riddles than actual pieces of helpful information. She already couldn’t stand the Fates and their seeing eye, but mortal oracles? They were the worse.

- Tell me you turned her into a fish ... or a plant. - Hecate was particularly found of permanent punishments. She thought curses and death were much too simple, however James was one to dabble in cursing rather than metamorphism.

- Y/N wouldn’t be very happy with that.

- Y/N is not the Goddess of the Underworld is she?

- You have absolutely no reason to despise her that much, Hecate. It is out of character for you to judge before meeting.

- I know how this ends, Hades. You are not the first god to take liking to a mortal and trust me it never ends well. - she sighed, arms crossed in front of her white gown. James had to agree with her, he knew way too many myths of when a mortal relationship went wrong but he couldn’t help it, she was just so magnetic and entrancing. Besides, part of him wanted to be next to her all the time and make sure no harm came to her which harshly differed from other deity/mortal relationships which were normally based on lust or petty jealousy between other deities. - You’re a King before you are a man. Remember that.

Y/N got up from her crutching state, standing on her legs as she patted the dirt and petals off her garments and onto the floor, a proud look on her face as she looked at the relatively healthy looking plant. She let out a little happy sound, hands clasped in front of her collarbones as she turned on her heel to go and find something else to do. Instead, her eye caught James’ figure who was standing next to Hecate in what looked like a innocent conversation.

She wanted to wave at him, maybe even give him an innocent kiss but Hecates’ words were still very much present in her mind “You are not to be intimate with the god of the Underworld” so were Minthe’s remarks about how he was expected to be seen with someone of higher blood. She wouldn’t want to get him in trouble and perhaps they could speak some other time when they weren’t surrounded by other people.

- What are you doing standing up there? - Minthe came up from behind her, a condescending tone present. - Ogling the god of the Underworld?

- What? No. - her cheeks turned into a colour that matched her pink sash, as she tried to hide her face in her hands. Somehow, the fact that he was, well, he was who he was, made her feel like she needed to keep everything shrouded in secrecy. - Is there something else needed?

- You know what? - her face contorted into a calm expression she couldn’t really figure out. - We could use some help from some new maidens.

- New maidens? - Y/N felt like a child, questioning everything and everyone around her.

- Yes, you see if you go straight ahead until you reach the river and ask the Charon to take you South you’ll be able to find them. Tell him it’s for Hecate.

- Oh, alright. - she nodded her head and wandered off into the groves, looking around at the decay. It looked like that particular piece of land of the Elysium was doomed to disappear. She kept on walking as instructed by Minthe until she reached the river where a boat was awaiting her with the same faceless figure. She had to admit that it freaked her out that someone without a face could speak but she tried her best to stay climb as she climbed on the boat, putting on her best courageous face. - Hecate asked for you to take me to the South.

- The South? - his voice was rather warm for such a menacing figure. - Are you sure?

- Yes.

She couldn’t see him do anything, however, she understood he had accepted her request once the boat started to move. Y/N remained silent, repeating Minthe’s words in her mind. How hard could it possibly be to lead a few maidens back to the Elysium? It was easy, she kept telling that to herself even as the boat reached shore. The sky had turned into a dark scarlet and the chirping of birdies could be heard no more. She looked around but all she could see was darkness.

- Are you sure about this, miss? - the Charon questioned, noticing the uneasiness of her step as she disembarked. - I’m sure Hecate can arrange for someone else.

- No. - she shook a forced smile out of her worried expression. - It’s fine. Thank you.

- Of course, m’am.

You can do this, she told herself as she stepped onto the darkness. There was no sound, the once dark scarlet sky had faded into pure darkness and it was cold, so cold. Her hands went to her own arms, rubbing them in order to keep warm as she dwelled deeper into the unknown, the only sound heard being that of her shoes clicking against the pavement.

- Hmm ... Hello? - she spoke up, gathering every bit of courage. She was in the Underworld after all and this was no longer the Elysium.

She kept on walking until she hit something, a blue and reddish tint coloured the dark room but once she saw what she had hit, her heart stopped beating for a second. She was standing in front of a skeleton. As she place her hand over her chest to regain her breathe the bony arm grabbed her cloth, forcefully pushing her and ripping her tunic.

- STOP! - she pushed her hand against the skull, trying to get away from the grasp, eventually gathering enough force to walk back. Screw this task. However, once she tried to find her way back she found herself surrounded by more skeletons and translucent figures all coming towards her. - HELP!

James and Hecate were still in their friendly debate with the goddess being of the opinion that all of this was madness and mainly caused by both of them being ignorants, something he had already heard before. As he was about to shut her to go and tell Y/N of the developments, a bunch of water nymphs came running their way with worry written all over their faces.

- My Lady, there’s been a security breach in the Tartarus. - they all said at different speeds and different pitches, which made James’ head hurt at all of that. Hecate took a defensive stand, turning to look at James who just moved his head is disbelief.

- How is that even possible? It’s probably just a false ala ... - he was about to dismiss their claims until he noticed a very missing Y/N from her once beloved spot. His eyes scanned the crowd of maidens looking anywhere for her but she was nowhere to be found. - Y/N!

Once he heard no one calling back, his mind immediately rushed to the Tartarus. She couldn’t be there, she had barely been in the Underworld besides no one would take her there, she was a mortal. However, in a snap of his figure he’d been transported to the Tartarus, staff in hand as he strutted down the halls of the Tartarus. He hit one of the walls with his staff, which turned dark blue, giving light to the constantly dark Tartarus. With the new founded light, he could see a bunch of condemned souls surrounding a particular spot.

- THAT’S ENOUGH! - he screamed in a tone that could scare even the biggest of deities, even Gaia herself. The souls, noticing their leader was amongst them, broke their surrounding, returning all to him. - NOW DON’T MOVE IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU.

James strutted further into the Tartarus, finding bits and pieces of white linen which could belong to her along with several fresh white roses. Maybe she had been picking them prior, he did not know. His heart clenched as he called out for her name but heard no answer, maybe it wasn’t her, maybe she wasn’t ...

- B...Bucky? - James heard her faint voice and as fast as he could followed it until he found one of the souls pressing her against one of the walls, boney hands around her neck. He hit the staff against the ground, the once pressure around her neck vanishing as she slide to the ground, hand coming to touch what he guessed was a very sore spot now. She lifted her head to stare at him, a look of regret and fear in her beautiful eyes. - Bucky, I’m so sorry.

- Y/N. - he rushed over to her side, leaning so he was standing at the same height as her, hands coming to hold her jaw. - Are you hurt?

- I’m okay, I’m okay. - she leaned her head onto his shoulder. It didn’t take long for him to feel his clothes had begun to dampen. - I messed up ... I messed up.

- Hey, look at me. - he tried to move his shoulder so that she would look at him, but she refused, maintaining her face buried them. - Y/N, c’mon, sweetness.

- I don’t want you to see me cry. - she sobbed through her speech, arms coming to wrap around his body. Bucky pulled the pin that was barely keeping the now very messy hairstyle up, throwing it onto the floor as her hair descended from the once tight hellenic hairstyle before proceeded to card his fingers through it, every once in a while kissing the top of her head. Y/N eventually stopped her crying, removing her head from his shoulder to stare at him, the look of uttermost regret slowly breaking his heart even more as he saw it on her expression. - I’m so sorry.

- This is not your fault. - he helped her get up, holding her hands in his as if something returned to dare and harm her. Not that they would, they’d have to be crazy to mess with the King of the Underworld. - I should’ve never taken my eyes off you.

- Bucky. - she wrapped her arms around him and for a second it felt like things were back to normal. It felt like things were normal again that she didn’t know he was the God of the Underworld and that she wasn’t doomed to remain in the Underworld. He melted and relished into her hug but couldn’t help but feel how cold she was. She was still a mortal and remaining in the Tartarus would do her no good.

- Let’s go before you freeze to death. - he joked, not expecting to get a laugh out of her after the current events, however she showed him a small smile.

He held her hand as he guided her through the Tartarus, her eyes scanning the souls that once were harming her now stood without moving, not even daring to make a sound in front of their King. Something in that made her courage swell up, seeing them helpless standing around her without being able to touch her again. Her head held up high however once she noticed the fresh white roses on the ground, she couldn’t help but stop her step.

- They’re beautiful. - she mumbled under her breathe.

- Are they not yours? - he questioned at her astonishment with the flowers.

- No, I wish I could have such beautiful roses. I thought flowers only grew within the Elysium.

- Don’t bother your head with it. - he reassured her, although the question was still very much puzzling to him. - C’mon, let’s go.

tag list: @philogrobizedvee @keithseabrook27 @inlovewith319

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aesop1 · 5 years ago

Text

clumsy [4]

pirate!chanyeol x reader

a/n: hello hello! i just finished this segment of the story and i want to thank everyone again! you all keep me so motivated, i am so grateful! i really feel like im improving slightly? so really thank you for sticking with me through this chaos lol. please enjoy!

word count: 4.3 k

warnings: more and more cursing, mayhaps some cringe

(i do not own the gif)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

-----------------------------

“what the fuck just happened?” baekhyun asked, his tone a mixture of fear and confusion.

“yixing, what was that?” junmyeon questioned the man who still had a grip on your shoulders. “what did you show him?”

“what the fuck just happened?” baekhyun repeated, same startled tone and expression.

“is she an ancestor?” sehun chimed in, voice soft as if to not provoke you.

“what the fuck is an ancestor?” minseok sputtered out, staring back at the cloaked figure as their ship dove deeper into the fog.

“they’re ancient beings who helped to form the natural feats of the world. they blend in with our society nowadays as normal people, and even procreate with them,” jongin explained in a monotonous manner. “God, I hate that I know that. thanks a lot, sehun, I’m sick of your fucking fairytales.”

“what the fuck just happened?”

“well it’s my fairytales that have given us some insight to the situation. otherwise, we’d probably be dealing with bangtan right now.”

“it was yixing who showed the guy her neck,” kyungsoo sassed to sehun, pushing his shoulder.

“how would yixing have known to show her neck if it weren’t for me?” sehun went face to face with kyungsoo, who glared up at him with the same ferocity as two wild animals in a showdown.

“what the fuck just happened?”

“you didn’t say anything about a neck,” jongdae accused, then pointed to yixing, “you mentioned a marking and yixing then showed her neck.”

“I should still get credit for this,” sehun demanded, backing away from kyungsoo to look at the crew.

“what the fuck just happened?”

“ENOUGH,” chanyeol shouted, stepping away from the wheel to confront his hectic men. “everybody just calm down.” at his words, everyone began settling from their panic, swallowing down arguments laying on the tip of their tongues, ready to spill and cause more bedlam amongst one another. you remained frozen, staring down at the many boots circling you, awaiting answers. you lifted your head, eight pairs of eyes glued to you expectantly. dread seeped into your bones, a lump forming in your throat as tears began welling up on your lash line. your hands began trembling and you frowned at everyone before you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered out, head hanging down while your arms hugged your body.

“look,” yixing began, squeezing your shoulders in a reassuring way. “I saw a tattoo on the back of her neck when I was sewing her cut. or at least I thought it was a tattoo.”

“what was the tattoo?” chanyeol pressed, stepping closer to you both.

“it’s a shell, it’s just a shell,” yixing explained. he gathered your hair in his hands and lifted the wad of locks up, softly apologizing to you before leaning your head down for everyone. they all gave sounds of acknowledgement as they were now pleased with the intel given to them. “i didn’t know anything, I just decided to take a chance. I mean, mystery girl with tattoo on the back of her neck?” everyone nodded in agreeance, lingering together in silence, lost to whatever they found themselves venturing in.

kyungsoo was the first to part from the group, wandering over to the bow of the ship in hopes of spotting something through the dense filter of gray. after that, everyone began trickling away, leaving you, yixing, and chanyeol who refused to take his eyes off you.

“yixing, man the ship,” chanyeol commanded, hand gripping the back of your neck to guide you elsewhere. yixing was hesitant to let go of your shoulders, but had no choice as chanyeol had already whisked you away from his claim on you.

he took you down the familiar hall leading to his quarters and shut the door once within the safety of his room. the candles littering the walls and surfaces were still alight, providing a low yet sufficient amount of lighting; enough to admire the shadows casting across his worried features.

“what’s going on?” he started, standing unnecessarily close to you, but he didn’t seem to notice. however, you did, and your mind became muddled with other thoughts at his proximity. from here, you were surrounded by his intoxicating aroma of sea salt, and another scent that could only be described as him. his hair was tousled by the ocean breeze from his sailing, pushed back to reveal his tensed eyebrows. a fluttery sensation occurred in your abdomen at the sight of him, heart stuttering at his intense gaze.

“I don’t know,” you unconsciously spoke, eyes still locked with his. your heart stuttered when you saw his expression soften. why wasn’t he yelling at you? you would’ve assumed that your lack of knowledge on the situation would’ve infuriated him, yet here he was watching you with considering eyes. he bit his bottom lip, staying like that for a few more seconds before shaking his head.

“you havent the slightest idea to how you got that,” his hand laid on the side of your neck, his fingers stroking what you assumed was the mysterious marking on your skin. you found yourself tilting your head more into his touch, a heat like no other distracting you from any sort of reasoning your inner thoughts may be yelling to you. chanyeol smiled inwardly at your actions, but proceeded nonetheless. “if you’re not sure who you are, then who were your parents?”

at the mention of your parents, you were brought back to reality, retracting from his touch and turning around to hide your desolate expression.

“I lost my mother when I was younger, and my father…” you trailed off, your blood boiling at the memories flooding back. how could you forget who you were in the presence of? you were growing feelings for the very man who killed your father. as if aware of your conflicted thoughts, chanyeol placed a hand on your back, resulting in you jerking away from him and curling into yourself. “I lost my father to you.”

“what?” chanyeol spat, whirling you around and clamping his hands down on your shoulders. at first, indignation radiated from him, but the longer he looked at you, the calmer he became. “is that what you think happened?”

“it’s what I know happened, I saw you over his dead body.” his eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he thought back to the day they pillaged your town. to his knowledge, he killed no one that day. he was focusing on gathering as many resources as he could, letting his crew weaken their men. he stepped up to your doorstep where your father lied, and was distracted by you falling at the top of the stairs. at the memory, he gave a light snicker and looked back down to you. you were staring to the side, refusing to give him your attention.

“hey,” he guided your chin up with his index and middle finger, breath faltering as you looked to him. he’s never been this close to you, never was able to admire your features from this close. your eyes spoke to him like never before, like a ballad lulling him into a dazed state. “I killed no one that day.” you scoffed and tossed your head to the side again, causing him to immediately turn you to face him again with a hand on your cheek, the other still laying on your neck. “if you don’t believe me, we’ll ask the crew. we’ll find the truth.” your eyes began to water the more you thought back to your loss, but also because of the conflict occurring in your heart. “I can assure you, not as a pirate, but as the man I am, that I did not kill your father.” you lightly gasped as his nose met yours, your lips only centimeters away from meeting. you could feel the warmth of his breath hitting your skin, causing shivers to traipse down your spine. chanyeol was just as affected by this as you, finding himself taking in a shaky breath and stroking your cheek, almost lovingly. “I could never do that to you.”

you remained like that for a few more moments, just barely kissing when a knock had you both stumbling away from each other. you tripped on your own foot as you pulled back, arms flailing at your side to gain balance. you felt yourself tipping back and prepared for the impact of the hard wood. with a yelp, you landed into a set of arms you already knew had to be chanyeol, peeking through your shut eyes to see he had lunged forward to catch you. at the lack of response, the door opened to reveal junmyeon who took one look at the two of you and coughed, turning away at the rather intimate position you were found in.

“we’re approaching land,” he informed, backing away from door and gradually closing the door. “we’ll wait for your next word.”

when the door shut, you pulled yourself away from chanyeol and dusted yourself off. your cheeks flared up as his touch lingered on you, flames dancing beneath the skin he touched. your heart thumped against your ribs in a miserable attempt to reconnect with him, yet your mind kept you grounded in your spot.

“I’ll see you on the deck, chanyeol,” you informed, gliding out of the room in a swift and professional manner to make up for your mishap a minute earlier.

who were you kidding. they all knew you were a klutz, they all knew you were sporting two left feet. you could never change who you were. you would always be called a bungler for the rest of your life.

“are you okay?” kyungsoo asked you, holding your upper arm and staring at you with concern. baekhyun was standing beside him, reaching out and wiping a stray tear of yours with the knuckle of his finger.

“oh,” you swiped at your cheeks, discovering you had begun crying on your way up. “oh, im fine. im okay. just confused.” your voice drifted off towards your last statement, almost speaking under your breathe rather than to them.

kyungsoo didn’t press the matter, offering a grin before turning to the rest of the men gathered at the bow of the ship. in the distance was a slab of black across the horizon: an island. you rushed over, peeking over sehun’s shoulders to get a better look. many ships lined the perimeters of the land, ranging from simple sail boats to massive vessels.

“jongdae, sehun, start lowering the sails,” chanyeol’s voice commanded from behind you all. the two men quickly parted from the group and ran to their duties. you glanced over your shoulder briefly to find chanyeol gripping the wheel again, a stern expression across his face. with a lazy shift of his eyes, he stared back at you with an intensity equivalent to that of the sun. a rush of heat flooded to your face, coating your cheeks in red. with a whimper, you turned over and kept staring forward, avoiding his leering. biting your lip, you glanced over to the man on your right. jongin.

you weren’t very close to him, maybe one or two brief encounters through other members. he seemed polite enough, at least to the others. maybe it wasn’t the wisest decision to have your first conversation be so heavy, but you were far too curious to chanyeol’s claims.

“jongin,” you leaned over to him, speaking softly into his ear. he hummed as a response, eyes still raking over the new found land. well, here goes nothing. “did you kill my father?”

“pardon?” he finally looked over to you, eyebrows scrunched together in puzzlement.

“at my village, there was a small restaurant by the seaside, on the right of the main dock.” you sighed to yourself, memories tormenting your sanity. with a shaky breathe, you continued your investigation. “did you kill the man at the doorstep?”

“no, I ran directly to the repository to take all the gold standard supplied there.” he answered. you could tell he was being honest, so you leaned against the railing in temporary defeat. there was a moment of silence before jongin cleared his throat to fill the tension. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“s'okay,” you mumbled, eyes falling to the black water below. “just trying to find out the truth.” there was a moment of silence between you two before he cleared his throat.

“I’m…” he trailed off, reconsidering his wording. “I’m in charge of tactiles. if it’s any consolation, I could tell you the potential culprits.”

“you’d really do that?” you asked, bottom lip jutted out, eyes wide at the prospect of him helping you

“yeah, sure.” he clapped his hand over your back, leaning some of his weight on you as he neared your ear. “I can tell you now, chanyeol was the last one off the boat; he couldn’t have done it.”

before you could question him on how he knew your motives, he was already waltzing over to junmyeon and yixing to keep looking at the approaching island.

chanyeol was the last one off the boat

you breathed heavily as you recounted the words just told to you. could you trust chanyeol solely on jongin’s claims? he seemed rather genuine, but it could always be a guise to dupe you and shield his captain. if that were the case, wouldn’t all of the men do the same? pirates must be incredibly loyal to one another to survive together, so you’d assume they wouldn’t toss the blame to one another. so based off that insinuation, could you trust any of the guys?

you watched as the once distant island grew larger and clearer the closer you got. the sea was eerily silent, more so than usual. the fog consumed everything like a maelstrom, all remnants of sun absent from your surroundings. the creaks of the ship seemed to intensify, the sloshing of water near deafening as your nerves began to fire up once more. your chest tightened when you started clarifying outlines of buildings and figures. there were people here, a fact you somehow forgot to consider. what if they questioned your validity? they could probably smell an impostor from a kilometer away, would they believe the measly tattoo on your neck?

the ship began to slow down with the lack of wind, and began dragging to a stop as sehun dropped the anchor. the vessel seemed to blend with the others around it in size, only one or two larger, as well as a few smaller ships. no one was on the deck, so you still had time to prepare yourself. how would you communicate with new people? you had known everyone in your village your whole life, and you met these pirates in a rather undesirable way. can you actually approach a person normally? you began rehearsing various conversation starters in your head, unaware of the irked captain approaching you.

you snapped out of your revelry as a hand clamped around the back of your neck once more, swiveling and guiding your body to the rest of the group.

“you need to focus,” he reprimanded you, keeping a firm yet painless grip on you. “listen when I’m calling your name. as much as you hate me, I’m your ticket out of here once we feel it safe for us.”

“who were they? the men you all evaded?” you asked, chanyeol slowing his steps to delay your arrival to the rest of the crew.

“they’re pirates, just like us,” he explained. “we’ve had a lot of run ins with them, and we can usually overpower them. it’s just exhausting. this time around, I didn’t know what to expect. that ship they were sailing was newer, so I wasn’t aware of what weaponry they could’ve had stowed away. I found it safer to evacuate than to go in and risk the death of one of my men.”

you gazed up at him, that recurrent feeling fluttering away in you once more. his expression was rigid as stone, yet his touch was feather soft. at that moment, all precaution flew out the window as you only saw a caring and good hearted man hidden beneath a hard exterior. how could such a devastatingly handsome man you’ve only known for a mere day have this sort of effect on you? it was like you suddenly disregarded his conviction and fell for a potential murderer.

“(y/n)?” a faded voice called out to you, but you were far too preoccupied admiring chanyeol’s long lashes, your eyes traversing down his slim cheeks and to his sharp jaw line. you watched the bob of his Adam’s apple before your eyes drifted to the broad expanse of his shoulders. oh, the weight he must be carrying on them. ever since you showed up to the ship, he’s only ever shown signs of distress and anger. what you wouldn’t give to see him genuinely smile; preferably towards you. “(y/n)!”

“huh?” you finally looked over to see kyungsoo beside you, as well as the rest staring back at you. “sorry. I lost my train of thought.”

“focus,” chanyeol squeezed the back of your neck for a second before dropping his hand to his side and going over the plan of action for their endeavor. “we treat this island just like we would any other, aye? junmyeon and I find an inn for the night, you guys find the tavern and get some information out discreetly. we don’t want to seem completely out of the loop.” you jumped when you felt his hand hover over your midback, barely skimming the worn out material of your shirt. “we will take (y/n) with us. we could use her marking in case of emergencies.”

the men all agreed before descending down to the dock using a wooden slab. the fog was still ever present, the only factor breaking through being the distant lanterns adorning the streets. chanyeol guided you closer to the island, perspiration creating a thin sheen on your face. the dock felt as if you were actually walking the plank to your doom, your escorts’ sea status adding to the irony of your conjured predicament. who knew what lied at the end of this death walk.

you were met with a rather anticlimactic conclusion as the streets were filled with normal looking civilians. well, if the civilians were all sailors of some sort. layers upon layers of thick clothing to protect from the harsh sea conditions, scars garnishing every exposed skin, swords and guns out in the open as if they were just parasols and books. all of this, yet you found a strange sense of comfort at your surroundings. intimidating as these folks were, they paid you no mind.

the group divided, the majority making a beeline to a building where music and guffaws resonated out into the once still night. chanyeol and junmyeon wandered down the main street, revealing more of the intimidating population. the island was swarmed with various inns, so junmyeon just chose the one most disjunct from the rest.

upon entering, you were thoroughly bewildered at the domestic scenery. various portraits of windjammers and fields of flowers filled the otherwise beige void, a clean cut boy stood behind the counter, offering a welcoming smile to you three.

“we would like to check out 5 rooms for the night.” junmyeon reached the counter, lifting the small bag of gold within his pockets.

“we only have 4 available,” the worker creased his brows in worry, perhaps feigning empathy for his job.

“that’ll do,” chanyeol responded, ushering you in front of him and pressing his hands into your shoulders. “two rooms will have three people, nothing we can’t overcome.” the boy handed junmyeon four keys and you proceeded to the tavern afterwards.

once you walked through the doors of the bar, you acknowledged how the crew was scattered about in different locations, sparking up conversation with various groups or individuals. junmyeon went over to yixing with a group of men who looked like undead fishermen due to how gaunt they appeared to be. chanyeol maneuvered you over to sehun and jongin talking to a trio of boys around the same age as them.

“chanyeol, this is Jackson, Jaebeom, and Jinyoung,” sehun introduced, the strangers nodding in greeting. “fellas, this chanyeol our captain, and (y/n).” chanyeol pulled a seat from a nearby table and sat you down in it, sitting beside you in the last remaining chair.

“they also have one link to an ancestor with them, like (y/n),” jongin explained, nudging Jinyoung beside him who cautiously revealed his wrist where a minuscule bird lied. “jinyoung, explain to them what you told us.” jinyoung sighed to himself and turned to the two new faces, already regretting accepting sehun and jongin into their table.

“you already know what ancestors are, correct?” he asked, to which the duo confirmed. “you should also know they procreate. their procreations are called descendants. they’re basically the equivalent to demigods in the fact that they lack the full extent of powers their parents harness.”

“what’s your power?” chanyeol asked, leaning more on the table in concentration.

“my father controls the winds of the Arctic. what people call the Katabatic winds. he distributes the cold from Antarctica to the warmer regions of the Earth.”

“what’s your power?”

“I can control simple gusts of wind. it helps with sailing.” chanyeol leaned back, nodding and rubbing at his jaw in thought.

“so you must be the descendant.” the center man, jaebeom, began. he quirked his head to you, scanning your body for any markings.

“it’s on the back of her neck.” sehun stated, leaning closer to you. he paused for a moment, waiting for your permission before lifting your hair and revealing your back. you heard someone choke on his rum, hacking away to dispose of the alcohol coating his throat. you turned to find it was jinyoung who was nearly dying. jaebeom patted jinyoung’s back to help clear his airways as the rest of you sat there, rendered silent through your befuddled stupor.

“that’s the symbol of Calliope,” he wheezed out, punching his chest. the confusion remained evident through you all.

“elaborate,” chanyeol demanded, gripping your forearm and pulling the appendage closer to him as if the name just uttered would cause you to dissipate into thin air. once jinyoung could breathe clearly again, he glanced at you nervously before directing his attention to chanyeol.

“she’s the ancestor of the seas, the counterpart to Poseidon.”

your brain remained muddled, eyebrows creased as you processed his words.

“what are you insinuating?” chanyeol’s voice changed, abandoning his usual commanding tone for one laced with concern. your hand was now clamped between his two larger ones, alleviating some of the anxiety bubbling within you at the excess of knowledge hitting you like a tsunami; one wave after another burying you beneath the weight of the ocean. breathing became an obstacle on its own, your lungs working double time to keep you afloat during your turmoil. you already assumed what his next words would be, yet you were still impacted by them when they came out.

“she is the daughter of Calliope,” your face paled, clutching chanyeol’s hand and biting the insides of your cheeks. “she is the Princess of the Ocean.” a sense of vertigo hit you and you slumped back against your chair, eyes glued to the mahogany of the table before you. you could vaguely make out sehun and jongin making sounds of wonderment at the news, asking more questions to jinyoung.

sensing your inner conflict, chanyeol shifted towards you, one hand abandoning yours, opting to lie on your cheek. the other continued to hold your hand, thumb caressing your knuckles as he turned your head to face him.

“hey, hey, look at me,” he cooed to you, soft voice wading out to you and only you. he was blocking your surroundings, swarming you with only him. his voice, his touch, his scent, his gaze. you bit your lip and finally scraped the last bit of courage you had to meet his gaze. you were met with nothing but concern, his eyes darting over your features. “just breathe, focus on me, ignore everything.” he instructed to you, bringing your hand to his chest. almost subconsciously, you mimicked his breathing pattern: deep, heavy inhales and exhales. he continued shushing you, directing all your attention to him during your crisis.

time seemed to drag on infinitely as you finally began stabilizing. once he noticed you were calming down, he offered a lopsided grin, eyes sparkling with warmth and comfort; undeniable adoration. you felt yourself smiling as well, melting in his gaze and his touch. your mind tried screaming at you to gain some semblance of reasoning. you just met this man, what were you doing falling for someone so quickly? sure, you’ve never felt any sort of affection towards anyone but your mother and father, but this couldn’t have been too different to that. rather than a sense of familiarity you received from your parents, you were given something else from chanyeol; security. you felt safe around him, especially now. who could harm you when you’re in his presence? you felt like you were on cloud nine, like nothing could ever bring you down from this very moment where you were willingly drowning in your affections for him. yet fate just had to come and strike you down, taking the form of a baekhyun who slapped your back repeatedly through his excitement.

“(y/n), (y/n), you’ll never believe who I just met,” he let out in one breathe, bright and stretching across his features.

“wait what,” you turned around, still dazed from whatever trance you were locked in. stepping aside, baekhyun revealed a woman standing behind him. her expression was at first stoic until she met your confused stare with one of shock. just like that, your world crumbled around you again.

“mother?”

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taglist: @serendibidibidis @mrinalexo

#chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fanfiction #chanyeol x reader #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic

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juichi-bey · 8 years ago

Text

Blight’s Back Story

Im just gonna add this little thing for @ichiro-artosaki bcuz for reasons. But yeah. Here you go fam ama go sleep. But honestly dont bother reading it if you find it boring cuz honestly its so god damn long.

The origin of who Archer Reynolds, aka Blight, is, begins way before he was even born, and begin with the history of another man, Arthur Reynolds, who would not only become his father... but also his creator.

Arthur Reynolds was a renown genius in the field of genetics. He attended one of the most prestigious univerisites and advances various studies and researches in said fields, greatly contributing to the history of mankind in both medical and scientific ways. The world expected so much of the young genius, that it was a baffling mystery to everyone when he chose to not persue any type of career upon graduating as top of his class, yet the answer was simple. The man wanted nothing more than to accomplish his one and only the goal, the reason he persued genetic so much: To engineer the perfect human being.

As the young student lay dormant inside his tent, he was awoken by the sound of a heavy explosion in the distance, as a bright light filled the dark sky for a small moment. The scientist rushed over, to find a meteor at the location of impact, a finding he would take with him to his lab for analyzing. Upon further studies he’d discover something that he’d imagine would help him reach his goal even faster than he could have imagined: a virus. Of alien origin, the organism was primitive, yet complext and violent. Small, but with great potential, held back only by the lack of resources. The virus had two simple things in mind: Survive, and Expand... And from what Arthur had observed he had certainly done well to survive, being able to remain alive in the vast void of space. He knew, that this what exactly what he needed in order to reach his goals, but the virus was too aggressive, consuming everything it came into contact. He knew that if he was to experiment with it, to engineer the perfect human, he needed a lab rat. If he died, so would his research, along with hopes and dreams. He needed something... someone, who he could take risks on, but also someone who shared his genes, so that he could pick up if the worst came to happen. The logical choice? An heir. A son.

The man was dead set on creating an heir, and being a genetics nerd, he wouldn’t be satisfied with nothing but the best woman to carry his child and pass on the genes. Not only would the child have to be strong physically, he also needed to have a big gene pool, and various variables came into play... but as time and luck would have it, Arthur would eventually find the perfect woman for the job. A carefree young lady, beautiful with golden curly hair, blue eyes, and delicate smooth skin. Surely, someone like her would never want to concieve a child, especially at her young age, even if it was from a rather handsome man, however Arthur gave her an offer she’d find hard to turn down. He offered her a hefty amount of money, in exchange for her uterus. He’d give her enough money so she could give grandly for the rest of her life, and in exchange all she had to do was carry his child for 9 months. The temptation was far too great... and so, she gave in. During her pregnancy though, she suffered through what she would consider her personal hell. Not only was carrying a child tougher than it sounded, she also couldn’t do anything of the things she liked such as dance or drink or smoke, plus Arthur was extremely strict with her diets, and took extreme care of her, something she’d eventually grow attached to, as she found it tender. Time passed, and ever so slightly feelings arose between the two, who spent time together nearly 24/7. At the end of the 9 months, love had been born, and like an ember, it had been kindled into a growing flame. The notion of plans, goals, and deals, long gone before the anticipation of searching for names, guessing the gender, looking for clothes, and all the notions the came with the birth of a baby.

However that wasn’t the end...

Five long years passed, and the young child had grown into a small boy, who the couple, now married, decided to name Archer. But on a fateful night, Arthur was greeted by a fateful nightmare, one where he saw himself, sitting amongst the dark, as his vision for the future had been clouded, his goals long gone before something as idiotic as chemicals and something so primitive like the need to procreate and reproduce. He was a joke to all the greatest scientist to have ever existed. He awoke determined, readied to make his wrongs right, and set back onto the path that was best for humanity.

Around the time Archer reached six years of age, Arthur aproached his wife. ‘We’ll be leaving for a camping trip dear’, he’d explain. Something about Archer becoming a man now, and how it was special bonding between the two. The oblivious mother happily agreed that it was something they should do, and saw the two off, as they drove away, awaiting for their safe return

‘Did you have fun with daddy on your camping trip?’ his mother would ask. ‘I... don’t know...’ Archer would reply confused. At the end of every month, for five days would Arthur take out Archer on their camping trips, and every time his mother would ask, the small boy would reply with the same. ‘I don’t know’ he would say. This went on for an entire year before the sudden dissapearance of Arthur, leaving Archer’s mother devastated, and young Archer without a father for the rest of his life.

The reality of these camping trips were much more darker than what one could imagine. In reality, these trips were, simply put, trips to Arthur’s private lab, where he’d run tests on his son, finally begining to advance onwards towards the goals he so much desired. Through this he figured out that virus inflicted a great amount of pain upon it’s host, and that in order for him to fully implement the pathogen onto it’s host, the victim would have to remain conscious in order to not be completely overtaken by the now symbiote. It was at this point that Professor’s work turned dark, as he was blinded by his own greedy goals.

He begun “catering” his own son to get assimilated, not only to the symbiote, but also... to pain. Each month young Archer would have to endure countless amount of jolts, as his father continued to remind him that this was for the greater good, for the best of humanity, and to be strong and make his daddy proud. He tried, god knows the poor small child, barely even able to comprehend wh his beloved father would make him go through such hell, tried. As much as his little body allowed him, he’d withstand jolts of electricity, burns to the skin, cuts and tearing... all for the sake of his father. Trying to make him proud... but it all proved too much for him, so much that he couldn’t make it past the 3rd day, and he’d run away from his father. Arthur knew, that he needed more time, that just one trip wasn’t enough... so he had to keep Archer quiet, and the safest way to do this? Drugs. A special drug that erased the toddler’s memory, but it’s side effects still unkown. For a whole year Arthur was able to keep this farce up, this horrible secret, to the point where young Archer’s tolerance to pain and physical trauma, was perfect to begin the experiments Arthur had longed for...

The small child, laid against an inclined metal table, held down by the wrists and ankles thanks to metal cuffs, much like a prisoner. His kidnapper? His own father. The man approaches him, carrying a petri dish with a small black smudge on. As soon as the kid spots the dish, his eyes widened, tears accumulating on the corner of his eyes, as he violently begins shaking trying to break free to no avail. He shouts and begs for his father to stop, pleading, calling out for his mother to come save him, But she won’t come. No one will. The man gently passes his hand through the boy’s hair, trying to calm him down, yet an air of hypocresy clung around him. The boy can’t do nothing but watch, as the man takes the small flakey substance from the dish using special pincers and begins bringing it closer towards the flesh of his skin. The young victim at this point is practically paralyzed with fear, his eyes fixated on the man’s slowly moving hand... until the tweezers pressed the thing the boy feared so much against the back of his wrist.

His shouts echo through the entire room as the scientist steps back to watch the horrible scene, taking mental notes of what’s happening, while a video camera records the ominous event, ever so silently watching like an omnipotent presence that is unable to interfere with the ongoing events. The boy tries so desperately to break free, that the cuffs begin cutting his delicate skin, and the dark matter that was pressed against his flesh, begins spreading steadily. An eternity passes in the following minutes, and although the child has stopped moving vigorously, his body still twitches, his small shrill voice now hoarse and tired from all the screaming, yet still shouting, begging for relief, his eyes swollen and red, dry and out of tears... and his arm... Oh god his arm. Black. Dark. Glowing red veins visible through it, pulsating like a hearbeat, and oozing out black tar, with the consistency of oil. A siren starts going off, the scientist turns his back on his subject, heavily focused on the computer. The experiment was a failure, the virus proved to be too agressive. His ideal result was to force the virus into a symbiotic relationship, instead, it desperately try to take control of its host.

The Professor takes out a key from the pocket in his labcoat, jams it into the control pannel in front of him, and a red button pops out. He considers for a small while whether to press it or not, as he eyes the decreasing vital signals on a far away monitor, showing that his own son is dying. He doubts. The he presses it, as the metal table the poor kid rested on, was lowered, an opening on the floor widening, revealing a pool of strange liquid in which the barely conscious child is submerged into. He gargles for a while, bubbles blowing up into the surface of the liquid, as he struggles to breath, a sizzling sound and steam coming from his arm. Soon... he gives in, his struggle ends, and his body becomes limp. At this point the table once again rises, returning to it’s original level, and the hole in the ground closes, as the scientist approaches his experiment. He uses the same tweezers to take the dark matter from his son’s arm, now restored back to normal, and places it back on the dish, before turning back and entering a large white room with a huge mycroscope in the center. The cuffs on the boys limbs loosen, and open up... and much to anyone’s surprise, his eyes slowly open, as his head shift towards the huge glass door where he could see his father observing something so intently. Then... something inpredictacle happens.

A burst of dark from the petri dish. The grown man now lays on the floor. The boy struggles to get on his feet, quickly falling down, as he crawls towards the glass door and uses it as support and finally manages to stand, his small palm against the glass. The man laying on the floor, his back towards the kid. He trembles for a bit, before he suddenly twitches into another position, letting out an extreme scream. He looks towards the glass door, the skin around his left eye revealing to be the same tone as the boy’s arm was a while ago. He tries to get up but quickly falls on all for, as he grunts in pain, and tries to drag himself towards the exit of the room. He tries pushing it open, desperately trying to get himself into the liquid he had submerged his patient priorly... However the door doesn’t budged. His pupils widened, as he slowly and heavily raises his head, to meet eyes with his own son. With this small... frail... and young little boy. He begs for him to open the door, but his stare is indifirent, his expression frozen and uncaring at the sight of the agonizing main writhing in pain. Nothing changes on him. As the man bangs his fist against the glass, the dark pigment on his skin spreading now across his entire face and down his neck.

Now he, much like the boy, and much like a baby, begged for mercy, begged to be let out, to be saved. Yet the boy stood there, staring. Silently, as the muffled screams of his father reached his ears, his banging against the door growing stronger by the minute, and the grip of his fist so tight, that blood trickled down his wrist. The pain was unbearable, he wanted to scratch away his own skin, in hope that it would soothe his agony, yet all he could manage was nothing but beg... and as he looked once more at his young boy... he saw... how his lips curled... into a perfect and sadistic smile. Right there, in front of him, his hand against the glass. Enjoying every single moment of the man’s torture...

Days later, Archer was finally found, unconcious by the side of a highway in the middle of nowhere. It was assumed he walked there after he was kidnapped, however his father was nowehere to be found, never to be heard of. As for the child? His memory was completely gone. Hardly could even tell who he was, and recognize his mother. Amnesia, the doctors said, and with no evidence to follow, the case was soon closed, and the scientist Arthur Raynolds soon forgotten... to all but one person.

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