#thumb-over-the-mic ass video of all time. I like it. It’s raw.

[honeymoonjin]

part of the Roll Deep project.

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genre: pornstar!au, pro dom!jin || word count: 7.4k || warnings for sexually explicit context: bdsm, sex work/porn, use of safe word, oral (m receiving), fingering, anal play (f receiving), unprotected sex, sex toys, bondage, humiliation/degradation, pet play, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, jin is a filthy bitch, please heed the tags, dom!jin, sub!reader, voyeurism/exhibitionism.

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The longer you stand outside the door to the dungeon, the more nervous you get, but you imagine that's rather the point. It's cold in the waiting room, especially when you'd been already instructed to remove your robe, leaving you in the plain white lingerie all subs on the show wore.

Although you had seen every single episode of Play Hard at least twice (once out of curiosity when you were applying for the show and a second time to try and prepare yourself) the actual behind-the-scenes information was kept under lock and key. You had even signed a non-disclosure, stating that you couldn't publicly or privately reveal any of the goings-on that weren't released in the official episode.

It means that you now feel unbelievably off-guard and underprepared, shivering in the waiting room. It's silent apart from the metallic whirr of the air-con. There's not even anyone in here now that the director had slipped inside to check on the proceedings.

You can't help but scoff a little. Director. One of the few things you had managed to glean from a past costar was that the director was there to arrange the setting up of equipment and then sit and watch. The middle-aged American guy had introduced himself to you in the waiting room, given you instructions and taken your robe, then left promptly, but that short time was enough for you to realise that what you had heard was probably true. He was so spineless and jittery you could've mistaken him for a trainee PA.

Two solid thuds ring out against the heavy metal door, making you jump slightly, a fresh wave of goosebumps breaking out on your upper arms. That was the signal to go inside. Suddenly you want to turn tail and run away. Instead, you push open the door and step inside.

He is the first thing you see upon entering. His back faces you when you walk in, and you swallow hard. His shoulders are so broad that it blocks you from seeing anything on the table he's standing at, so you simply hover awkwardly, wringing your hands together as you hear the doors shut behind you, and the director scamper back off to his seat.

He ignores you, fiddling with something metallic on the table, and although it builds that anxious feeling in your gut, you take the opportunity to look him over properly. His hair is a natural inky black, so glossy the backlight reflects off it. His clothes are intimidating, even from behind, even though you've seen them a hundred times before. Stretched tightly across his shoulders, a black button-down shirt is bracketed by a leather harness that cinches around his waist, and again halfway up his torso. There are two thick silver loops attached to that upper band on either side of his spine, and you know from watching his show there are more on his front. A spike of electricity jumps through you when you remember one of his more recent episodes where he had locked a sub's wrist cuffs to the back loops. She was a tiny girl with short arms, and by the time she was locked in she was completely pressed up against him, speared on his cock; helpless and unable to get off it. Fuck, what was a girl like you doing here?

"Eyes on the floor."

Your head shoots down immediately before you even consciously process his words. His voice is low and resonant, a richer timbre in real life than the mic clipped to his shirt could ever hope to pick up. You hear his feet, clad in heavy black shoes, shuffle against the hardwood floor as he turns to face you. You curl your bare toes against the cold, varnished planks. You'd never look up, never dream of disobeying his orders before you've even really begun, but you couldn't have predicted just how blazing his gaze feels on you, even, especially, when you can't see it.

"Babybaby223?"

You nod your head at the sound of your username. Even though it's obvious he would know it (he personally cherry-picks subs he wants to work with, after a rigorous audition period), it brings to mind the thought of him watching your videos. You bite down on your lip to fight a wicked smile. The image of the famed professional dom jerking off to one of your livestreams is delicious. You feel your nerves melt into raw excitement.

"You've only been in this business for two months, is that right?" You nod again, more enthusiastically. "Yet you think you can handle me. Ambitious little whore, aren't you?" He's on the move again, each step echoing dully, growing louder. You can see the tips of his perfectly-shined shoes right in the top of your vision when he stops. Eyes straining, your head tips up just slightly so you can see a little more of him. "You were a very good girl in your audition. I liked that little schtick about denying yourself so that you can come for Master. Very cute. Are you going to be a good girl for me again today?"

You nod again, taking the opportunity to raise your gaze a little more once your head stills again. You can see most of his pants now, barely able to make out where the black fabric strains over his thighs. Just a little more...

He stomps his foot suddenly, bringing it down hard and fast on the floor to create a sharp thud. Instinctively your eyes shoot up to meet his but he's storming towards you, and you get only a blurred glimpse of the glare on his face before a hand is coming out and pressing down hard on the crown of your head, forcing your chin to press uncomfortably on your sternum. You wiggle, trying to bend your spine and ease the tension, but he keeps you there, fingers tightening around the top half of your scalp, nails scratching slightly in your hair.

"Apparently not," he growls, and you squeeze your eyes shut in regret, "I guess you were just faking it in that audition tape, then? Because so far I've only given you one command and you've already disobeyed me."

"Sorry, Master," you rush out, but the sound is squashed and guttural with the tight bend in your throat.

His fingers curl into your hair, tugging at a handful of it in one sharp yank. You wince, but stay otherwise silent, drinking in the sensation of his hand on you. Suddenly there's a pressure against your cheek, and a whisper in your ear. "Did we agree that you could speak?"

You tremble, the warm air brushing down your neck lighting up your nerves. You shake your head, bowing your head even further.

Suddenly, his grip eases off, and the hand begins to smooth out your hair. "It's okay," he says lightly, though there's a sharpness to it, "I'm sure you know the two strikes rule."

You nod, his cheek warm against yours as the muscles in your neck ache. His two strikes rule was famous, even featuring in his logo as two slashes across the web-series' name. Taken from the well-known 'three strikes and you're out', this version meant dictated that if Master gave you two strikes, the rest of your session was punishment in any way he saw fit, no matter how much time was left. Pathetic sluts don't deserve three chances, he'd often say.

You mentally berate yourself on getting a strike so soon. One time last year a bratty sub had gotten on the show and blown both strikes within ten minutes. The video was a brutal documentation of her almost four-hour long disciplining. You didn't think you could handle that.

You bite down hard on your lip to stop yourself from apologising verbally, instead focusing on staying as still as possible.

With one last demeaning pat on the top of your head, he removes his hand and stands back up to his full height. You keep your eyes focussed firmly on your own two feet as he walks away, calling out to you in a firm tone. "You may look up. Join me at the table."

You scamper over, but with his back to you again, you take the chance to glance over at the production team.

They're, for the most part, all bunched up along one wall doing nothing but twiddling thumbs and watching. You've never had a problem with being watched during sex (it would make shooting porn very difficult if you were) but going from self-filmed cams to a web-series was a lot to take in.

The director watches you as you cross the room, meeting your gaze for a moment, simply shrugging in response to your concerned look. He wasn't going to help you here. Unless you used the safe word or something went seriously wrong, your only shot at leaving here without a bright-red ass, or worse, was to be the best-behaved sub Master had ever had.

He doesn't even look at you. "Wrists."

You hold them out to him hastily, watching in wonder at the effortless grace he has in looping a raven-black rope around one, then the other, before tightening it so they draw together, pressed tightly against one another. The feeling of danger spliced with security is always addictive; even at home you'd sometimes practice self-ties for your livestreams, though it was always different knowing someone else was in control of your mobility. You shift your hips slightly, clenching around nothing.

Once he's finished, he steps back from you. "Try to get out."

You jiggle your wrists, only to have no give, and look back up at him. His mouth flattens and his jaw tenses. You swallow hard, taking a deep breath before tugging more vigorously, expelling all your energy into slipping them off or pulling them apart. Once again, they don't give.

"Good. The EMT shears are with the director; if either you or me needs to use them, use the safe word plus "rope". If for any other reason you or I feel like we need to use the safe word, say it verbally, or if you can't, use the hand motion." You nod obediently, feeling yourself calm down again with this brief respite. This was never included in the episodes, but you appreciate the reinforcement of a safety net around the scene. "Say the safe word and do the gesture so I know you remember it."

You close both of your hands into fists, leaving the pointer fingers out and wiggling them. "Purple."

He nods once. His face is still taut and his mouth hard, but there's something lighting up his eyes. He's excited about this. "Finally, if you say the safe word once, it stops that particular activity, if you say it twice in a row or on more than one occasion, it stops the scene. Understood?"

You nod again, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. This was great; you didn't know what you were so frightened about. You think back to the list of kinks you had to submit with your application; a comprehensive check-mark list of all the things you could possibly be into. Ropes and bondage was definitely one you checked off, and you're suddenly feeling euphoric, filled with anticipation of all the kinks you loved. You couldn't wait for him to try them out on you. It had been a while since anyone other than yourself had given you pleasure.

"On the table, facing me."

You step up to it, turning in anticipation, only to freeze. It's higher than you were expecting. The edge of the table rests on top of the swell of your ass, and you futilely try lifting a leg up one at a time to shuffle on, but it's no use. You could jump, but with your hands tied you'd risk falling and injuring yourself.

A dark chuckle breaks your attention away from the table. You stare up at Master with wide eyes. His lips are full and rosy, even when they're stretched across his face in an amused sneer. "Need some help?"

Your bottom lip sticks out slightly as you nod. He could've let you get up and then tied your wrists together. But his smug grin as he wraps his hands around your waist tells you that getting you off-guard and reliant on him was exactly the point.

You squeak as he lifts you up with ease and dumps you down ungracefully on the table.  You suck in a hiss through your teeth. The table is wood, too - the same dark grain as the floor - and it's freezing against your ass, the thin fabric of your underwear doing nothing to provide any insulation.

Your eyes are on his. You feel electric, liquid excitement running through your veins and  gathering between your legs. He quirks his eyebrows in thought, letting his eyes run over you. Automatically, you find yourself straightening your spine and sucking in your tummy, conscious of the way it would look on camera. Your eyes dart nervously over to the cameraman who paces in closer to you in a crouch.

Goosebumps raise up on the tops of your thighs. God, why was it so fucking cold in here?

You jump slightly when a hand comes down on your thigh. It's not hard, nothing more than a warning swat, but you swallow hard at the fire burning in his eyes.

"Who's your master here?"

"You are," you reply immediately, with a dutiful head-bow, only to jump again when a harder slap hits the sensitive skin of your thigh.

He's looking at you in disappointment now, a pensive frown on his face as he reaches around behind you, and somehow that's much worse than anger. His face is leaning over your shoulder as he reaches for something, pulling back a slip of black fabric.

You bite your lip, toes curling. A blindfold. One of your favorite accessories in the bedroom. Everything always felt more intense when your vision was restricted, and it would help you forget the intimidating presence of an entire production team.

"Now," he states brusquely, running a veined hand over the fabric to smooth it out, "I noticed you checked off sensory deprivation on your list of kinks, so I thought I'd be a generous master and give you a blindfold. But it seems you can't keep your fucking mouth shut, so I'm gonna have to use this to shut you up. Open wide, princess."

The corners of your mouth quirk down with the sarcastic pet name, but you open your mouth for him nonetheless, biting down on the thick twist of black cotton that he slips between your teeth, tying it tightly at the back.

With that done, he resumes his inspection of you, completely ignoring you as he runs his fingers lightly and impersonally over you, like you were a doll he was inspecting.

Over time you can feel the cotton wicking away all the moisture in your mouth, and your glands start to work overtime to produce more saliva. With a growing dread, you can feel lines of drool slipping down your chin. Every societal instinct in you screams to wipe it away, but he currently is holding your wrists up, a single finger looped in the rope, pulling it away from you like an afterthought as he inspects your breasts, head cocked to the side.

Here was another procedure you had never seen on his show, and you were feeling as off-guard as ever. With no clocks in here, you had no way of knowing how long it had been, but it felt like hours before he finally reached your head, tipping your jaw up and to each side, moving you like an object.

Once he lets your jaw go and looks at your face, he spots the spit on your chin and laughs. "We've barely even started yet and look how messy you are. Don't think I didn't notice how you've ruined your panties already."

You make a little whine and widen your legs, arching your back as best you can.

"Baby, baby," he coos condescendingly, referencing your username. "Are you feeling needy, hm?" You nod. "Tell me what you want."

You blink at him for a moment. How were you supposed to-? Though your grin isn't visible behind the gag, you know he can see the way your cheeks lift and your eyes light up as you get an idea.

Lifting a leg up, you use the tips of your toes to poke his crotch teasingly. To your delight, he's rock hard.

He runs a hand through his hair, disrupting it slightly as it parts to reveal his thick brows. With one palm on your knee and the other on the table beside you, Master steps forward, your foot pressed flatly against him, bending at the knee. His voice is deceptively smooth, a sharp edge dripping with honey. "My sub wants me to fuck her?"

You nod quickly, though your eyebrows crease at the way he talks about you in third person, instead of directly.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't do that just yet." His pink tongue slips out to wet his lips. "What kind of dom would I be if I let my sub tell me what to do?"

The back of his hand strikes across the bone of your ankle, batting your foot away. He steps right up, pressing his hips against the edge of the table between your legs, crotch right on top of yours. Any levity or humour has disappeared as he reaches out and latches onto your chin with an iron grip. He turns your head harshly towards the cameras and leans in, nipping at your earlobe once in warning. "Don't think for a second that this is about you. I'm sure you've heard many times that the one with the most power in a scene is a sub, because they can call off the scene at any moment. Perhaps you can call off the scene if you need to, but that does not mean you have any power here. The scene ends, your contract ends, you hear me?"

With wide eyes you attempt to nod, though his grip is too tight. He uses his hand to make you, guiding your jaw up and down. His grip is so tight, his fingers press through the meat of your cheek and squeezes on your teeth. You wince, but he doesn't let up.

"We all know that subs come here for one reason, and that's to get publicity. Cams aren't enough for a greedy whore like you, are they? Well, let me tell you a secret, princess: every single one of those twelve million viewers on my series don't want me to let you have your way. They don't even want me to fuck you." You tremble as he bites down on your ear again, tugging at the lobe before growling in your ear again. "They want me to ruin you."

All of a sudden he's letting go of you completely, and you hastily prop yourself up with your bound hands to prevent yourself from slumping over. You run your tongue over the inside of your sore cheeks as best you can with the gag in, panting.

"Turn around. Ass up, tits down."

It's surprisingly easy to navigate onto your stomach once you get your knees up on the table, and it's actually kind of comfortable letting your chest rest on your tied wrists, knees tucked between your tummy to prop your ass up.

Of course, comfortable was not in your contract. You suck in a shocked breath when his hand comes between your legs, lifting you up by your crotch until your knees no longer touch the table. You squeeze your eyes shut as you put your focus into staying stable with your front half securely pressed against the table.

"Are you a fucking amateur? Spread your legs."

You do as he says, hovering them open in the air, your shins bumping against the table edge, and finally he lowers you back down. Once he removes his hand, you whimper at the loss of pressure against your clit, feeling unbelievably vulnerable, but still it's not enough for him.

"Wider," he commands impatiently as he presses down on the middle of your back so that you have no choice but to arch further, knees splayed out wide. It's only once you reach this position, tensing your thighs slightly, that you realise that you can't get up anymore. Your legs are so far apart that you couldn't get your knees under you if you tried, and his palm rests heavy on your bare back, a reminder of the dominance he has over you. If you had ever doubted it before, here was the first-hand confirmation that he was a profession, and the thought of what he might do next makes you keen, whining again.

He hums to himself in consideration, and you hear him shifting around behind you. Another pair of footprints patters up, something metallic clinks, and hand rubs your back almost soothingly. "Now," he begins, moving around to your side, "you've shown me that you're incapable of following instructions, so I think I'm going to have to take some precautions."

You drop your head onto your hands, the rope on your wrists rubbing the tops of your breasts. The urge not to swivel around and see what he's doing only increases tenfold when the hand on your back disappears, but you force yourself to stay still. Two strikes, you remind yourself, and only one left.

To your left, you hear a swipe, some clanking, and then a tug. You almost jump right off the table when a solid strap of leather is thrown across your back, just below your shoulder blades. It lays there loosely for only a moment as he walks around to the other side, but soon enough you feel it growing taut over you. He pulls it tighter and tighter until your top half is completely flush against the table, your arms squished in between, and your back arching up to present your ass.

Your breathing picks up again, constricted slightly by the tight angle, and your eyes fall shut again, head to the side on the table. You can feel yourself truly slipping into subspace; it's liquid, like falling asleep or relaxing in a hot bath. The realization that you no longer have control, and that resisting it is futile, settles into your bones, and you feel your muscles ease.

"There," he drawls from somewhere above you, "that's sure taken the fight out of you, hasn't it? Now you're mine to play with." You shudder when he pairs his comment with a finger trailing up your spine, and he chuckles low in his throat.

His voice echoes, moving behind you. "In fact, if I wanted to, I could scrap all the other plans I had for you and just use you as my little cocksleeve. Fuck; if I got tired I could sit back and let the others come and have a go. If that's what I wanted, there'd be nothing you could do about it. You'd just have to sit there and take it."

He's not telling the truth; the safe word is firmly etched into the contract, as well as the fact that no persons were allowed to engage without also signing the contract, and no one had. Still, as a fingernail drags ever-so-lightly across your behind, along the seam of your panties, the thought causes you to whimper.

The teasingly featherish tough changes to a surge of heat as both his palms flatten over the globes of your ass, long fingers slipping under the fabric as he massages the flesh. "...but as good as that sounds, I have something much better in store for you, something I'm quite looking forward to seeing."

His hands move against you, shifting around to either side, gripping at the fabric. The white lingerie every sub on the show wore were purpose-made to be extremely easy to remove. As such, the seams on the panties were practically perforated, easy to rip off in the situation that you couldn't simply slide them down. It only takes two purposeful tugs before they tear, and the fabric falls away, clinging to your folds momentarily.

You sigh out at the feeling of the cold air on your center, the slick that's made its way all over your folds quickly cooling. A finger or thumb running down your middle has you biting down on the fabric between your teeth.

"I'm a big believer in lube," Master divulges, "but I prefer mine all-natural. So before we get to the main event, I'm going to have to replenish my stocks."

In your sex-hazed mind, you don't understand what he means until a single finger is sinking into you, enough of an intrusion to send your nerves alight, but not enough to give you any real relief.

It leaves you, and you hear the obscene sound of him sucking on his finger with a wet pop. He groans. "God, if you hadn't been so poorly behaved, perhaps I'd have given you a reward and eaten that pretty pussy of yours." You make out a disappointed sob, attempting to shift your hips back for more friction although the tight band across your middle keeps you infuriatingly stuck.

"Mm, you're soaked as it is but better to be safe than sorry, no?"

Your heart is pounding in your chest as he leaves quickly to grab something else from the props manager, and you swear it stops for a minute as you hear him plug something into a wall socket. You make a questioning whine from behind your gag.

"Well, we don't have all the time in the world," Master explains as he presses something silicon-like and firm against you, slicking it up. "The quickest way to get you dripping for me is an orgasm, and I'm not going to waste my time making it special for you." He flicks a switch and an audible buzzing vibrates powerfully between your legs, causing the muscles in your thighs to jump. "Now hurry the fuck up and cum for me."

You recognise this raw power immediately. A plug-in-Hitachi. Famous in porn videos everywhere, you had been inspired to splurge and buy one yourself once, only to realize just how powerful it was. You had used it once, too much sensation to even orgasm, and given it away.

It's infuriating, unbearable, having the wand pressed up to your clit as he runs it back and forth impatiently. It's too much to take, but you physically have no choice but to take it. Your teeth are clenching tightly around the fabric, drooling onto the table, and your hands are squeezed into fists, the muscles of your abs, butt and thighs flexing even though they can't move you away from the torrent of pleasure.

"Pweathe," you gargle, "koo ngucks!"

"Too much?" he questions, though his voice is tinted with bemusement rather than any genuine concern. "I don't care."

You let out a frustrated scream from the back of your throat, feeling tears squeezing out the corners of your eyes. You crack them open to see the director in the edge of your vision, staring intensely at your hands, waiting for any sign of the safe word signal.

Although you're so sensitive you can't help but cry, and your nerves feel like they're being electrocuted, something runs deeper, a viscous current of pleasure building up inside you. Oh, god. You're actually going to cum.

The moment you entertain the thought that you were getting close, the orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing over every inch of your body. You feel yourself convulsing on the table as much as your bondage allows, spit pooling around your cheek as you hopelessly drool around the gag. As soon as you cum, you're already being thrust into oversensitivity, and your master cruelly keeps the vibrator held against you as you sob hopelessly.

Then you feel something, a strange object swiping between your legs against your folds, dipping in slightly. The wand falls away, and you go silent, feeling that weird sensation as you lie bonelessly on the table, knees parting even wider as they fail to hold you up at all.

A soft chuckle is pushed out of his nose. "Mm, that shut you up. Bet you're wondering what this is, huh?" You pant, managing to summon enough energy to nod, twitching every time that hard yet thin thing gets too close to your abused clit. "Let me show you."

You knit your eyebrows and open your eyes, blinking against the bright backlights, as a waist comes into your line of vision.

You crane your neck to look up him, hyper-aware of the wet patch on the table, but he doesn't comment on it, instead cheerily showing you a small clear squeezy-bottle and a spoon. Tears of humiliation spring to you eyes as you see him discard the spoon and produce the bottle's top from his pocket, twisting it on and testing it, squeezing out a small amount of what could only be your slick onto his finger.

He rolls it absentmindedly between his thumb and pointer finger, staring down at you with a smile you haven't seen before. "Good girl. Now we can move on to the fun stuff, hm?"

You shudder as he moves away. If this was just a preamble, what the fuck did he consider the fun stuff? Your muscles ache when he loosens the belt across your back and removes it, though a slap to your ass and a barked command leave you spread open on all fours for him.

"Now, my sources tell me you like being called baby and babygirl, is that right?"

You make a noise of confirmation, too weak to nod.

He places a hand on your behind, spreading your cheeks. You jump when a warm liquid drizzles down your crack, and a finger presses against your rim. "Well, I'm not going to call you that today. In fact, you look so pretty on all fours that I think I might call you..." he trails off as he pushes past your tight ring of muscles, pressing a single digit deep inside you. "...my puppy."

You shake your head resolutely. "Ngo."

"No?" He laughs, slowly fucking you with the one finger. "'No' isn't our safeword. It's sad," he muses, squeezing out some more of your juices to make the slide a little easier, picking up the pace. "Because if you're a good little puppy for me, I might just fuck you like a bitch in heat, just like you wanted. Does that sound good?"

You whimper when he slips his finger out and you clench around the empty space, but he's reaching forward to undo the knot around the back of your head and suddenly you're able to spit out the gag, sucking in lungfuls of cool, fresh air.

"Answer me this time. Do you want to get fucked, puppy?"

Your breath leaves you in a hopeless sigh as he moves back, upgrading to two fingers inside of you. "Yes, please," you whine.

"Oh? That's interesting, I didn't know puppies could talk. I don't want words. One bark for yes, two barks for no."

Your hips lift up off of the intrusion. "No, purple, I'm not- I-"

"Hey, hey," Master eases, rubbing your back soothingly, "it's okay, you don't need to explain. Do you want all of this to stop?" You shake your head reluctantly. Even though all you want to do if bury your head in your hands and disappear, you can't deny that his finger inside you felt unbelievably erotic. "Just that last bit?" A nod. "Are you gonna be good and let me stretch you out for me?"

You nod one last time, breathing unsteadily, shuffling a bit so that the ropes on your wrists no longer dig into your sternum, instead laying them out in front of you so that you can rest your head on the softness of your upper arm.

He puts his fingers back inside you, and you swear softly at the intrusion, the unusual pleasure that it was causing in the pit of your stomach. Although you'd been careful to muffle it against your arm, you hear him give off a warning growl, crooking his fingers inside you. You squeak and your hips waver, but he leaves it at that, and goes back to scissoring you open patiently.

You have the realization in the back of your mind that he's easing you back into things, instead of going full Master immediately, but soon your gratitude melts away with the addition of a third finger. Every breath comes in a snapped huff; you feel unable to hold your breath for longer than a second, as every movement inside you makes your toes curl. You feel your brain turn to mush when they slip out of you, and you groan lowly in protest.

Your disappointment is short-lived, however, as soon after a cool glass object is being pressed firmly into you. Your mouth falls open as you widen around it. Above you, Master rubs your ass, keeping your cheeks spread. "Silly puppy forgot her tail. Luckily I have one for her."

Your top half goes slack with resignation. Even as your cheeks light up with embarrassment at the thought of wearing a fucking tail, the widest part of the plug slips inside you and you feel so addictively full. You clench around it a couple times, shivering.

"Alright, let's get you off the table. Puppies belong on the floor."

You let him wrap his arms securely around your middle, lifting you up off the table and lowering you down onto the ground. Your knees knock painfully against the wood, but you get your bound hands down in front of you soon enough to hold yourself up.

You look up at him, at the glimmer in his eye. He grins back down at you, holding a palm out. "Stay," he commands softly, in the same tone one would use for dog training.

You wait obediently as he turns and walks down towards the filming crew in front of you, reaching into a large black box filled with equipment. On your hands and knees, you fight the urge to swivel around and look at the plug. You know you could easily see if you wanted to, and as it is you can feel something soft brushing against your cheeks, but you worry that if you saw it with your own eyes, you'd be too humiliated to continue on. You bite your lip and glance at the main camera. You can't afford to use the safe word again and end the scene, not after you've already done so much. You need this episode to go public so that you're not stuck in the camgirl scene forever.

"Good girl," Master cooes when he returns, ruffling at your hair affectionately. He crouches down in front of you and shows you a collar, a dark red, glossy leather one with a silver buckle. After the plug, this is nothing, and you simply tilt your chin to give him more room. His eyes light up with something akin to pride, and you feel your chest warm as he fastens the collar around your neck.

Once he finishes, he sits back on his heels to look you over, tucking two fingers under the leather to make sure it's not too tight. You swallow hard. You have to admit, there's something deeply satisfying about the way it feels around your neck, the way it digs in when you duck your chin. The reminder that you're his.

"Stay," he commands once more, before standing up and moving over to the other side of the room, pulling up a chair and sitting down in it. He pats his thigh. "Come."

You glance down at your bound wrists, then back up at him in question. He simply cocks his head to the side and waits, legs wide open and pants tented.

With a reluctant sigh, you begin to awkwardly hobble over to him. It's slow going, and you feel yourself blushing all the way down to your neck as the softness between your legs tickles the backs of your knees, but you force yourself forward, crawling forward as if you have three limbs, moving them one at a time, feeling the plug shift teasingly inside you the whole way.

After an age, and some seriously sore knees, you stop in between his legs, and glance up at him question.

"Good puppy," he praises, "now sit."

You do as he says promptly, hissing when the plug is pressed up into you suddenly. He laughs as you try and make yourself comfortable, sitting back on your heels.

You watch with a salivating mouth as a veined hand comes down to play at the button of his pants. He pops the button, pulls the zip down next, and silently lets you watch him with wide eyes as he pulls out his cock, knitting his dark eyebrows when he grips it loosely.

After a few self-indulgent strokes, Master looks down at you with lidded eyes, and scoots his crotch even closer to your face, his thighs on either side of your head. "I'll give you what you want, puppy, just let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours first."

You whimper. Whoever had said that the camera removes a few inches was right. Watching his series, you always knew he was big, but now that it was right in front of your face? There was no way that was fitting inside you, no matter where he tried to put that thing. Still, you open your mouth and stick your tongue slightly out, and the swear he lets out from the back of his throat makes it all worth it.

This was what you had been waiting for. The chance to make him lose himself, become just as fucked out as you were.

Master reaches down with one hand and hooks his finger underneath the collar, making it completely taut against your throat, and uses his other hand to guide his cock to rest on your tongue.

It's heavy, and the slight tang of precum has you wanting more. Risking punishment, you bat your eyelids and take initiative, lapping at his head like a dog. He lets out a guttural noise again and tips his head back. You watch with satisfaction as he swallows hard, his throat bobbing. "Oh, that's a good puppy," he praises.

With the hand tucked partly into your collar, he pushes your head down on him suddenly, and you gag around him as he forces himself to the back of your throat, but instead of letting up, he holds you there, moving his hips to increase that friction.

You force yourself to widen your mouth and breath through your nose, knowing that the more you think about it, the more your gag reflex will kick in. Gradually, Master grows more aggressive with his thrusts, until he's practically face-fucking you, and your eyes pool over with tears. Desperate to feel something to tide you over, you begin subconsciously grinding your ass against the floor, feeling the plug move inside of you, and you begin to moan on his cock, rutting yourself more to chase the feeling.

Above you, your master is moaning through clenched teeth, some of them coming out more like a growl, and his eyes are fixed on you, lidded with desire.

Finally, just when you splutter, unable to stop from choking on his cock, he tugs roughly on your collar and pulls you off of him. You gasp for air, eyes streaming and lips swollen, as he grips himself tightly to keep his orgasm at bay.

"Good girl," he praises gruffly, "good girl." Once the two of you take a few deep breaths and he comes back down from that edge, he runs a hand through his hair and grins down at you. "Puppy loves her tail, doesn't she? I saw you rubbing yourself against the floor like a horny bitch." You flush, but he just reaches down and hooks the ropes around your wrists, deftly untying them. "As promised, since you were a good little puppy for me, you can have your reward. Does puppy want the plug out first?"

You bite your lip, eyes glazing over as you consider it. You probably should. It was embarrassing having to act like a dog, and he's so big that you can't imagine they'd both fit. But then....

You shake your head. Master nods proudly. The ropes send warm lines of friction across your skin as he undoes each tie, and soon enough your arms are falling loosely apart.

"Up you get," he instructs, and you push yourself up, stressed that the plug is going to fall out even though you know realistically it's definitely snugly stuck in there. It shifts slightly as he grabs onto the tail, and uses the other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you closer, your legs on either side of him. With a twinkle in his eye, he looks up at you. "Puppy, sit."

You bite your lip and take a steadying breath, grabbing his slick length and placing it at your entrance. Painstakingly slowly, you lower yourself down onto him, feeling him open you up inch by glorious inch. You stop halfway, panting, before a quick tug on your tail gives you the motivation to lower yourself further, until your ass cheeks rest on his thighs. The zipper will probably cause you a few rashes on the insides of your thighs by tomorrow, but for now you're so drunk on pleasure that the pain feels good too.

You rest your head in the crook of his neck, legs gone weak. You feel so unbelievably connected and close, and so full, that you can't even move. Luckily, all it takes is one strong hand cupping your ass, holding you up, for Master to begin thrusting into you.

Immediately on the first snap of his hips you cry out loudly in his ear, fingers curling around the thick metal loops on his harness like they're handles.

"Feel good?" he asks, grunting with effort as he fucks up into your pussy.

You make out half of a 'yes' before you're moaning hopelessly again, rendered incoherent by the slide of him inside you, of the wall that divides him from the plug.

"Fuck," he groans, "I've been hard as a- a fucking rock this whole time, I- I'm gonna cum soon."

You whine, secretly grateful, as each time he impales you on his cock, you feel yourself punted closer and closer to that edge. "Mmme too," you manage to make out, "s- oh, so full!"

"Yeah?" Master begins to pant lowly, using up the very last of his energy to bring the two of you to your ends. "Puppy, come."

You let out a scream and do as he says, the orgasm ripping through you violently, leaving you like dead weight on his chest as he pushes down on your ass cheeks, holding himself bottomed out in you as he releases with his own cry.

You shudder helplessly, every slight movement triggering aftershocks, your body completely lax on top of his. He rubs your ass lazily as he comes down from his high, his cum slowly leaking out of you.

"Cut!"

#btssmutclub #thekimlinenet #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #bts smut #jin x reader au #bts x reader smut #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #ksj #seokjin smut #god what the fuck am i doing

[moviestorian]

Queen on Fire - Live at the Bowl 1982 concert (Hot Space Tour) LIVEBLOGGGGGGGG

As promised! :) Initially I was supposed to go directly from Montreal to Wembley, but dear @his-majesty-king-mercury convinced me to do Live at the Bowl before, and I’m glad she did!

Background: The concert is dated at June 5, 1982. As I wrote in the title, it was part of the Hot Space tour and was initially supposed to be played at Arsenal Stadium in Highbury. A day before the gig Freddie had a nasty fight with his then-boyfriend who had bitten him between a thumb and forefinger.

Let’s begin! - ugh Hot Space - but hey, it's gonna be fun! It's Queen, and Queen always puts the bestest live shows! - oh wowzie, this is mah first liveblog since April, long time not seen right? - my pizza's ready, my coffee's ready, my dip is ready - I think I can start watching now - Ooo wow, this concert lasts an hour and 43 minutes? I would die if I had to play on stage for that long - I can already feel the enthusiasm!!! The ENERGYYYY - FLASH AAAAAAHHH AHHHH - they're leaving the plane and look so hella cuuute - oh hi Crystal! oh hi Phoebe! Great to see you all! - gotta say... Freddie's outfit is fabulous. - Brian: plays the guitar and jumps the Crowd: HELL YEAH - I'm only 3 minutes in and my current mood is: fuck the critics whoever trashed Queen and disrespected their music skills - WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU - I love the fast version, slaps 100 times harder than the studio version - Deaky looks awesome in blue, I mean I already noticed that when I watched Rock Montreal, but let me reiterate - It's only been 5 minutes but let me tell you...not enough zooms for Roger - Freddie's in a good shape and form... not that I'm surprised - ROGER - cute red little scarf on mah boi's neck - THE FIRST FREDDIE AND ROG INTERACTIONS, I LIVE, I'M HAPPY - "hello everybody" "hey hey hey" good time to miss Freddie - Action This Time... Anyone surprised that it sounds better live than on the album? - ROGER'S VOCALS HOTDAMN - Brian's hair is floofy as usual... why am I acting like it's an unusual thing - I really really miss hearing Freddie and Roger together... POWER DUO - the synths get introduced... I neither love nor hate it tbh - okay not Queen related but the pizza is not bad, for a frozen one - Freddie, you feeling too hot for that jacket? And you Deaky, too? Get undressed, babes, I certainly don't mind - Play the Game! I love this song... Also Freddie playing on a piano is a blessing to us all - He really puts his soul into this one... Bless this man - Brian's backing vocals always sound so soft... My tenor angel - THANK FRICKING GOD THE SYNTHS IN THE BACKGROUND ARE BARELY AUDIBLE - LOL FREDDIE - he put a towel on his head I'm XDDDD what a legend - this and the famous plastic bag is a thrilling saga - AAAAA YOOOO - LMAO at Freddie throwing his...water?beer? at the audience - *Hot Space apologist speech* :P - we're at the funky part, I guess... - Brian and John's synchronized movements :)))) - ah okay it's Staying Power... I forgot what the song sounds like - Roger in black... I'm swooning - Roger has a nice closeup view on Freddie's butt, I mean back :D - This is not bad, but I'm gonna bet that I'll forget what this song sounds like again in less than two hours - John's haircut is cute and adorbs :D - OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO - Somebody to Love!!!!!!!!!!!!! - The intro...sounds so sublime, soft, and raw at the same time - I love that it sounds slightly different, depending on the concert - This is really emotional... We shall see how it goes, but so far it surpasses even the god tier Montreal version! - Forgive me for not saying too much now... I'm fully sunk in the sheer beauty of this sincere performance - Love Roger's drumming and the crowd clapping to the beat! - "I like it" ME TOO FREDDIE - I wish we could hear Roger a tiny bit better! I love the crescendo part - That was beautiful :') - Now I'm Here!!!! asjgashasashjgas - I love it when they perform it at higher speed - The jumping crowd fairly represents what my brain cells currently look like - I hella love Roger's drumming in this song - well not just this song but y'know - Freddie...what was that??? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THAT FINGER??? - hehe you can tell that Brian's very into it :D - Brian trying to get Roger's attention... Rog is, however, fully dedicated to his drums :D - Freddie lying down after the song is a post-exercise or post-dinner mood - "Let's play a game" YES SIR - yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah - "Go pretty boy, go" I'm SOFT - hear that bassline? YES ME TOO - (it's Dragon Attack if anyone's wondering) - Freddie Mercury: lead singer AND fitness instructor - wish I could make some screencaps, alas I'm watching this online so it would take too much effort so here we are - Fred, let BRIAN PLAYYYY nooo don't distract him! - out of context those cuts and shots look like John is jealous of Freddie and Roger XDDD this is gif and meme worthy (around 39 minute) - btw probably no one is interested because you came here for the Queen concert liveblog, but I got my period and I'm starting to feel it - IT SUCKS - ooooo Brian speaking! His voice is so soothing, I could listen to him all day and it would probably calm my nerves - acoustic guitar...I'm already in - WHY SO QUIET THOUGH - Love of My Life, I'm cry - Everyone's singing along from the very first line... this is beautiful - Everyone united by this song's pure beauty :))))) I'm not crying you are - Do you sometimes think about Brian playing the acords for this gorgeous track and there is no Freddie sitting beside him? - Yeah, I hate myself for that thought too - I might be a little bit emotional - No wonder it was this particular song was the one that finally convinced Bri's father to FINALLY accept his son's career - Brian's gentle smile I'm :') :') :') - *clap clap clap clap* SAME - We're at Save Me now... Are we doing a crying compilation or what? - This is almost as bad as the Queen Forever album I recently bought.. TOO EMOTIONAL - Don't get me wrong, I ADORE Save Me - But this is too much - Almost 50 minutes in and Freddie's voice is still STRONG AS A BELL - Remember what I said about the "fuck the critics" mood? Yeah the mood is back - Even the cute Roger/Freddie interaction almost makes me cry I'm agsahjhsAAAAAAAAA - I need a more lighthearted now BLEASE - I'm a tough cookie but when I have Queen feels very little can help! - Is this Back Chat? OH GOD - Please bring me back to the crying mode, I DIDN'T MEAN THIS - (I'm sorry Fidan and all the Back Chat fans over there, I'm not a huge fan of this song :-*) - We get a nice view on Roger's back, though *Lenny face* - The synths sound like a main theme for some mystery-drama tv show from the 1980s XDDD - I forgot how long this song is... - Get Down Make Love *insert Lenny face again* - Okay I gotta admit... lyrically this song is a mess and borderline cringey in the first verse, but I really like it musically - I GIVE YOU HEAT - I GIVE YOU MEAT *three Lenny faces* - Okay, let's just listen to the song and pretend we all forgot the English language, maybe? - That mid parts always makes me feel like I'm about to be abducted by aliens - Thank God I don't do drugs, I would start thinking I might be hallucinating - I assume that Brian's guitar solo starts now? - Nice intro! - And Roger gets time to breathe, the boy needs his oxygen - Actually, this may be one my favourite of Brian's guitar solos? - Brighton Rock :))))))))))))))) - Brian's hands are very pretty - oh noooooo - an error? - poor Bri - that disappointed guy who screamed "No" when the guitar stopped playing :D - thankfully he issue quickly got solved! - hi Roger, nice to see you back <3 - It's Roger's time to shine! - YEs, Under Pressure! - The Montreal version is gonna be hard to beat, though - Let's see - uu I like Fred's red jacket! - ...do you have any shirt underneath, though? Naughty boi - he does not LOL - "HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH" - let me tell you again...Roger's mic is definitely not turned loud enough - This is great but still, I prefer the Montreal one - That beer always amuses me XD - Freddie, you want us to slap your ass? - Oh no, he's just announcing Fat Bottomed Girls XDDDD - "I was just a skinny lad" the editing team: cuts to the camera angle which shows Brian first and Freddie after him - Roger's "oooh" is funny because he's really into it :D :D :D - Freddie is now a pole dancer, he changed profession - The crowd, always cheering when Freddie gets undressed :P - I sense Crazy Little Thing Called Love incoming! - yes it is Crazy Little Thing! - Freddie's joke about the three guitar cords XDDD - This song always slaps - "she drives me crazYY" - ReAdY fReDdIe - FREDDIE PLS STOP FCKING YOUR GUITAR - this is pretty - BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY YEAH - he sounds so soft :)))) - and now so raw - "Momma UwU" - can't unsee this fricking meme now ajsdhjgdhjds - My favourite guitar solo :')))) - they actually played the video??? - I miss spaniel haired Deaky tbh - *instense drumming* *fireworks* - Oh Brian is wearing this cool shirt he also wore in Montreal! - jumpy Deaky...too bad you can onnly see him from the distance - GONG - that was sexy - Roger hitting that gong in the black outfit is sexier than shirtless Rog hitting the gong, change my mind - TIEE YOUR MOTHER DOWN TIEE YOUR MOTHER DOWN - There's only some 15 minutes left... The time always passes so quickly when I'm watching a Queen concert - Another One Bites the Dust! I've been waiting for thiiiis - Deaky: happy jump - He knows it's his time to shine - wait a second, when did Roger change his shirt? - I need a good closeup - Freddie be like *imma slap my thigh now* - ooo I see Roger's Japanese shirt now! It's pretty cool! - Brian looks great too - Those flashing light are kinda migraine-inducing, thankfully I don't have an aura today - SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER heartattack - Looks like Freddie is flirting with Red Special :P - they're going absolutely crazy XD - WE WILL ROCK YOU DRUMLINE INTENSIFIES - LOL the sombrero on Freddie's head :P - ups mr editor dropped a frame - And now we're truly heading towards the end... I'm gonna start associating We Are the Champions with farewells soon - Well done, boys - I know I say it every single time - But you can't stress this enough - :)))) I'm glad I did this liveblog - They look exhausted but very satisfied :))) - Bye bye!

Next time I’ll be doing Wembley 1986, hopefully soon!

Tagging all the people who expressed their wish to read my ramblings. :) Enjoy!

@his-majesty-king-mercury, @x5vale, @radio-ha-ha, @mephisto92, @39-brian, @melisa-may-taylor72, @silapril, @kitty-rushes-in, @lydiannode, @an-abyss-called-life, @litsy-kalyptica, @importantmuggoophero, I hope I didn’t forget anyone! ^^ Comments are nicely welcome! :3

#wera talks queen #liveblog #milton keynes 1982 #queen at the bowl #long post

[ohnojustimagine]

Someone Not You

Kenny Omega/Reader, mentioned Kenny/Kota Ibushi 2210 words; Smut and Angst

This is set after the G1 finals.

Anon requested post-match smut with Kenny and I’m pretty sure this probably isn’t what you wanted because it’s basically angst with more angst on top, so I’m sorry about that! But there is smut in it? At least?

***

You always watch Kenny’s matches from backstage. He’s asked you a few times if you’d rather be in the audience, but you prefer it this way, with some distance. You love to see him do what he does best, but sometimes it’s not easy for you, to witness what he puts himself through. And tonight you know he won’t be holding anything back, so you take a deep breath, steadying yourself, eyes glued to one of the monitors as the final begins.

It’s full on right from the start, and you’re familiar enough with Kenny’s body by now that you can see how he’s favoring his knee even when he shouldn’t be, tension knotting in your stomach as things progress. The botch with the table is so bad that you have to turn away for a while, but you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to watch: every bump, every blow as it continues.

He’s utterly brilliant, magnificent even in defeat, and it never fails to stun you how much of himself he gives to his matches, leaving nothing behind, prepared to sacrifice his whole being in the service of what he loves. But tonight, it’s all for nothing, and Naito’s already on the mic, accepting his trophy and his due.

And at last Kenny staggers into the room with the Bucks either side of him, giving you a weak thumbs up as he collapses down onto a bench. The three of them are almost immediately in deep discussion about the match, reviewing footage on someone’s phone, Kenny still breathing heavily with an ice bag pressed to his neck. “Here,” you say, standing behind him, taking the bag, holding it in place, and he glances back up at you, giving you a small, gratefully affectionate smile before continuing on with his conversation.

Eventually, he limps off for a shower, and you wait, making aimless small talk with Matt and Nick for a few minutes before they start going over the match again, between themselves, so you move away a little, giving them some space. They’re never anything but polite to you, but there’s a guardedness, a distinct reserve in the way they treat you. You used to think they didn’t like you, and maybe at first, that was true, as they’re so protective of Kenny that they don’t trust easily, but as time has passed, you’ve come to realize it’s more that they don’t feel there’s any point in getting to know you. You’re aware you’re just another in a long line of Kenny’s relationships, none of which have ever lasted.

And you want to tell yourself you’re different, that you understand him, that, unlike some of the others, you don’t demand any more than he’s capable of giving, but you’re not so sure that even matters. Not in the long run.

Kenny’s first priority is his career, always, and perhaps that should bother you, knowing that you come second, but his dedication and ambition, that clear-eyed single-minded focus, are all part of what you love about him, so you accept it.

Or, at least, you try to.

You all head off for dinner with Masa and some sponsor, and Kenny’s even quieter than normal. He’s exhausted, of course, you wouldn’t expect any less after a match like that, but there’s another aspect to it tonight. There’s an edge of restless tension to him, the hint of something not quite resolved, as if the tournament isn’t actually over.

And maybe it isn’t, not really, because this tournament hasn’t been like any other, and you’re not stupid.

You know why.

You’d asked Kenny about Kota when you first got together, curious with all the stories you’d heard, wondering how much was and wasn’t true.

“Ancient history,” he’d scoffed, and even then, you’d known he was lying. And not so much to you, but to himself, as if you weren’t the person who he needed to convince.

But you’d let it go, told yourself that whatever had happened, they were no longer together, that Kenny was with you. It’s only now you’re starting to suspect that Kenny hasn’t ever really been with you, not wholly, that there’s somewhere within him you won’t ever reach, a piece of his heart that can never be truly touched by anyone less than golden.

He’s silent in the taxi on the ride back to his apartment, and you offer to go home to your own place if he needs time alone, but he gives you a look, like you’re crazy, and says, “Of course not.”

And as soon as you’re inside, the door shut tight behind you, Kenny pulls you close to him, arms wrapped around you, and he just stands there like that, holding you, breathing. You gently hug him back, taking care with how you touch him, not wanting to cause him any more pain, aggravate any of the hurts he’s received over the last few weeks. You feel his body start to relax, his muscles loosening, and after a few minutes, he starts to kiss you. You’re expecting something slow, unhurried, but there’s an urgency to it that surprises you, and you respond in kind, your arousal quick and intense, rising within you, uncontrolled.

He unbuttons your skirt, and you pause long enough to take it off, your panties removed along with it, kicking off your shoes before reclaiming Kenny’s mouth with desperate insistence.

He walks you backwards towards the dining table, and you’re expecting him to lift you up so you can get your legs wrapped around his waist, but instead he turns you around, pushing you down face first so you’re bent over the surface. He shoves your t-shirt up out of the way and unfastens your bra, running one hand up and and down your back, his other hand between your legs, two fingers rough into your wetness.

He fucks them in and out of you, and you shift your hips, greedy for more, needing his cock, but instead he drags his fingers upward, one teasing at your ass, circling over your hole before pushing in. You moan, because yeah, you know what he wants, and you love it like this.

“Don’t move,” he mutters, the words sounding so much like a threat it sends a cold thrill through you, so you wait, listening to him walk off, looking back over your shoulder as he returns with lube. And this isn’t a seduction, there’s no slow tease here, only ruthless efficiency as he slicks up his fingers, two inside you, then three, and you’re more than ready.

He enters you slowly, and you inhale, letting yourself relax into it, because no matter how many times you do this, Kenny’s still big, and it always takes you a second to get your head round the feeling of it, but then you nod, say, “Okay.”

“No,” he says, a strained impatience in his voice. “Don’t talk.” He starts to move, and he doesn’t hold back, going rough and hard right from the start, and fuck but you can feel it, the sharp burn of every thrust, the pleasure of it so viciously crude you have to bite down to stop yourself from crying out, not wanting him to ever stop.

You manage to get your hand under yourself, rubbing your clit, and you’re soon coming, tightening around him, and you hear him moan, low and harsh, slamming into you one last time as he finishes.

He pulls out of you, and you wince at the feel of it, but he doesn’t say anything. You can hear him panting, his hand still pressed into the small of your back, holding you down, and after a few moments, he stalks off, silently, into the bedroom.

You don’t move, gathering yourself, but then you push up on your hands, standing, heading straight for the bathroom where you shower. The water’s too hot, but you don’t adjust it until it feels like your skin’s on fire, scalded raw.

Kenny’s asleep by the time you make it to the bedroom, and you stare down at him. He’s usually peaceful in slumber, but tonight he’s frowning, lines etched across his forehead. His legs twitch, and he murmurs something that you can’t quite make out, even though you lean in, trying to decipher the words.

You sigh quietly to yourself, and climb into the bed, lying beside him, gazing up at the ceiling.

***

You wake early, slipping on a robe and leaving Kenny snoring as you head out into the kitchen to make some tea. And you’re idly scrolling through twitter when you see it, the video of the two of them backstage last night, right after the match. You suddenly sit up straight, immediately tense, watching it all the way through and then watching it again.

And it’s not as if you didn’t know, but knowing something and seeing it are two utterly different things. The way they look at each other, what passes between them, unspoken, their touches, their posture, their bodies expressing so much more than mere words could ever hope to.

You breathe in, placing your phone face down on the table and taking another sip of tea.

An hour or so later, Kenny wanders in, still naked, sleepily rubbing his eyes. “Hey,” you greet him, and he bends over, kissing the top of your head. He opens a cupboard, rattling around, fixing himself one of his high-protein shakes, the blender buzzing as he mixes it.

He’s leaning back against the counter when you turn, watching him carefully, waiting for his reaction when you say, “Do you want to talk about Kota?”

And there it is, that flash of something in his eyes; passion or hatred or maybe both, an intensity like nothing else, but it’s only the briefest second before his face goes hard and blank, shuttered against you. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I saw the video of you two,” you say, aware that you’re likely pushing too far.

But he only says, “Yeah,” perfectly, evenly casual, as if it’s nothing. “I’m sure everyone’s seen it by now.”

He gulps down the last of his drink, putting the container in the sink and walking back into the bedroom. You sit there a while longer, thinking, but then follow him.

He’s sitting up in bed, tapping a message into his phone, and you can’t stop yourself from glancing at the screen long enough to check, noting that it’s Matt he’s texting.

“You should sleep some more,” you say, and he shrugs in reply.

“How’s the knee?” you ask.

“Okay,” he answers, the word short and curt.

“Don’t forget you’re seeing that surgeon tomorrow,” you remind him. The appointment was booked weeks ago for straight after the finals, because he’ll need as much time as possible to recover before the Destruction series starts.

“I remember,” he says, finally looking up. He smiles at you, eyes so tired it makes you ache, and lifts up the covers beside him, inviting you in. You snuggle up next to him, your arm draped over his waist, head in the crook of his broad shoulder, wanting this to be the place you belong.

After a while, he puts down his phone, lying down on his back and pulling you over on top of him, kissing you. It’s warm and familiar and comfortable, everything last night wasn’t, and you reach down, taking hold of his hard cock, lining it up against your waiting cunt, sinking down on to him.

You roll your hips, riding him good and slow, making it last as long as you can until he comes, watching his face, how beautiful he is, wishing more than anything this could last forever; one pure, true moment that never ends.

When he’s done, he spoons up behind you, kissing your ear. “I love you,” he says, softly. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I know.” And you do, because he does, but what you also know is that he doesn’t love you enough, that his affection for you is merely that: affection, not some grand sweeping passion that legends are made of.

But if that’s all you can have of him, you’ll take it. And maybe that makes you sad, or pathetic, but you don’t care.

“I love you too,” you say. You lie there, waiting as you hear his breathing deepen, feeling his chest rise and fall against your spine as he drifts back into sleep. You slide out of his embrace, sure not to wake him, and wander back out into the living room. You tell yourself you won’t watch the video again, but you do, letting it loop over and over until you finally close twitter, tossing your phone aside in anger, a sour, metallic taste in your mouth. And it’s yourself you’re furious with, not him, because you don’t know what else you expected.

You’re aware the rational, dignified action would be to break things off, give him the freedom you suspect he can’t or won’t admit he needs, but you’re far too stubborn to take the easy way out. You and Kenny have that in common, at least, you think bitterly.

You’ll fight for him, and you’ll lose, you’re certain of that, but you won’t give up.

Not until the very end.

#kenny omega #kenny omega angst #kenny omega smut #kenny omega imagine #njpw imagine

[ackackh]

HBO War YouTuber Headcanons

(SO MUCH MORE under the cut)

BAND OF BROTHERS

George Luz George has a review channel He sits at his computer at his desk where his camera is set up A lot of the time, you can see his (big ass) mic in the shot. He doesn’t care. He’s almost always wearing headphones. Either apple-type earbuds with the cord under his shirt, or giant headphones, one covering an ear, one tucked behind his other ear. He’s really onto hi-fi audio tech, it’s where most of his spending money goes. He reviews music, tv shows, movies, books, video games. Anything popular and anything he likes. 

The reviews are always fair and he tends to review things he likes anyway so there aren’t a lot of negative vibes on his channel. He also does some reaction videos. When he’s feeling up to it, he’ll make fun of Trump (and when he does it’s hilarious) but the boy has his limits. He wants his channel to be a reprieve for himself and for others. He has a lot of followers and they all just fawn over him because George has such an animated face and he gets so excited about things he likes. It’s adorable. Too pure. He also produces some original music! It’s mostly beats and he has a SoundCloud and a Patreon. He uses Snapchat and Vine a lot, in tandem with his channel. What’s on his snapchat/vine you ask? Every. Impression. Ever. And George is really good at them! They’re funny and accurate and his viewers really like them! He also has a million videos of him bugging his friends (mostly on vine). His favorite stunt is to see how long he can film Joe without him noticing. Spoiler: it’s not very long. Most of his vines end with him running away from an irritated Joe or with Joe smacking the phone out of his hand. The phone falls to the ground and you can hear George whine “What’d you hafta do that for?” He loves to do Special Guest Episodes! Sometimes the guest is Perco, sometimes it’s Skip, or Don, or even Carwood. He’s a good friend and if they have a channel he’ll plug for them. BUT he gets the most requests for Special Guest Episodes with Joe Toye! Joe will pull up his own desk chair beside Luz and reviews things with him (George will pick things Joe is actually interested in for the video). Joe has a harder time remembering that there's a camera and a mic to perform towards, and he’s quieter than Luz, but he gives his honest opinions which are always well thought out. Plus the viewers dig his voice. People will comment or email Luz, saying how much they love their banter, their chemistry. How they love how earnest Joe is (he’s a naturally charming guy!) Sometimes they get carried away with the “light” flirting, always smiling and always completely focused on what the other has to say. Joe doesn’t always stay for the whole video because he has shit to do, ya know? So he’ll get up and kiss George’s head or squeeze his shoulder and say “later, Georgie” And George will look at the camera and and yell to him “I LOVE YOU, JOE” and you can faintly hear Joe somewhere else in the house say, “love you, too, idiot!” And George giggles and gives the camera a wink.

Carwood Lipton Carwood keeps a video diary! He just films wherever he feels is right. Sometimes the family room, sometimes the office, sometimes the bedroom. The vibe is really chill, relaxed. You can almost think of Michael Aranda’s What I’m Doing Right Now He has a modest following, but he’s really interactive with the community: frequently answering questions, participating in conversations and debates. His vlog is multimedia! He uses twitter and snapchat a lot too, sometimes incorporating them into his videos. He loves to take candid videos and pictures of himself and his friends, with or without their immediate knowledge. (He always gets their permission before he posts anything) Viewers will often times find his video for that day is a mash up of videos of time spent with friends, Ron, Harry, Kitty, Dick, and Lew, on some small adventure. There’s some pleasant, energetic music playing, spliced with audio of the original video when someone says something particularly interesting or funny. His videos are for his followers, but he also keeps in mind that some of his family watches too, so everything is pretty PG. Ron isn’t super interested in YouTube, but he like’s to watch Carwood’s videos. He lives with the guy, and he always sees the bits and pieces as Carwood puts it together, so he likes to see the finished product. Sometimes he’ll come sit and be in a video, just for a little while if Carwood asks him. And of course they’re super in love, and Ron is so taken with Carwood, that the community comments like, “WE LOVE RON, GIVE US MORE RON PLS.” Ron will sometimes sit down with Carwood and answer questions. Either from the viewers or from a top googled list. It becomes a segment, titled something like Everyday Answers with Ron. And people love it because Ron can’t be anything but himself and he’s so oddly charming and adorable with how straightforward he is. he doesn’t quite understand why people like him so much. Carwood’s most viewed and most liked video is the one of the day Ron proposed. Harry, Kitty, and Nix were all in on it and got the whole thing on video and made sure they got footage of the celebrations afterward. He recorded in their bedroom that night, all sleepy and lovey with Ron, who kisses his cheek and thumbs over the band on Carwood’s finger.

Kitty Grogan Welsh Kitty’s channel is full of really fun things! Like stories, adventures in things like baking or hand crafts, personal make up tutorials. And, maybe most surprisingly, video games. So, she doesn’t do the average let’s plays. She’s not actually interested in showing people the game. Instead, she picks a topic, often sent in by fans, and shares her thoughts and ideas on this topic while she plays whatever games she likes. She plays games like, FIFA, Madden, Overwatch, and random platformers. These are her most watched videos. Maybe about once a month she has Husband Episodes where Harry sits and plays with her or watches her play while they discuss whatever topic they’ve decided on. He’s adorable and she spends a good amount of the time teasing him. Upon many, many requests, she has posted both a “My Husband Does My Makeup” video and an “I Do My Husband’s Makeup” video. I can’t reiterate enough how adorable Harry is here.

Joe Liebgott and David Webster Joe and Web don’t share a channel. Because that would be a disaster. But here’s how they know each other: That Prick YouTuber Whose Opinions Are Wrong Joe’s channel is mostly about music. He reviews artists, albums, and singles. AND he records original pieces and post the videos to his channel. He’s really. really. good. His emotions are so raw, he doesn’t even have to be singing for them to come out and it’s frankly… enchanting. A decent chunk of his viewers started watching because Joe is hot AF™ but they stayed because he’s talented and smart as a whip. While Joe does love The Clash and other punk groups, he one thing that speaks to his soul is an angry John Darnielle. That’s right kids: The Mountain Goats. They serve as a lot of inspiration for his original songs. So Joe plays and talks mostly about music, but he also talks about things like art, fashion, and COMIC BOOKS. Listen, he preorders that shit, he has whole videos just about how excited he is for some edition of some comic. So, Web stumbled upon one of his videos, this particular one about an artist, and ugh, everything about this guy just rubs him the wrong way. He falls down a rabbit hole of Joe’s review videos and he decides he basically can’t stand him or any of his very wrong opinions. Don’t ask him why he hit subscribe. Joe finds Web in his Suggested Videos Feed and listens for maybe two minutes to Web talk about his college classes and all the literature he’s reading and all the things he knows now and he’s like, fuck this guy. Joe just thinks he’s so pretentious. He likes The Catcher in the Rye. Like, come on, dude. Most of Web’s videos are about literature. Books and Poetry he’s read and likes/dislikes. He really enjoys the Transcendentalists. He loves the themes of man v nature and the natural imagery and how they talk about what makes up the human soul. Joe fucking hates Transcendentalism. As far as he’s concerned, they were a bunch of rich, white men who pretended to be one with nature or some bullshit but didn’t acknowledge the privilege of their status or even mention the fact that they could go back to their cushy homes whenever they liked! Eventually they bump heads and get into a few times through comments. They can’t stand one another, can’t see anything from the other’s point of view… UNTIL Until Web listens to one of Joe’s original songs. And it’s so raw and personal and the lyrics! He can’t believe how beautiful the lyrics are! They’re simple and effective and they hit him right in the chest. Until Joe listens to some of Web’s spoken word poetry. It’s not his usually style, it’s flow-y and flowery and romantic. But it’s fucking beautiful and it stirs emotions in Joe he’d forgotten about. Joe also listens to Web go on and on about his ideas for the books he wants to write. And he finds it’s almost impossible not to fall in love with Web like this, so animated and happy. Here’s what happens: they meet sometime in real life, maybe at Vidcon, and after arguing for forever, they decide to try and put there heads together and write a song. Joe on the music and Web on the words. And it’s great. Their ideas are different, but they feed off of each other well, and they find a good balance. They record a video of it, Joe performing with his guitar and Web watching him, taking notes, even. And when the music trails off and they fall into each other, the kiss doesn’t make it to the final cut of the video. Neither does the making out on Joe’s hotel bed.

Babe Heffron and John Julian Their videos are just fun and silly shenanigans. They play games (lots of Cards Against Humanity) and do every youtube challenge. ever. Chubby Bunny and the Cinnamon Challenge are two of their most viewed videos. So many stupid dares. So many ER visits, all filmed and all with an angry Guarno grumbling about how fucking stupid these “kids” are. Julian: I am not a kid! Bill: Come talk to me when your foot isn’t in a boot, alright? They have more than one video of them trying to do parkour. I mean, how do you think they ended up in the hospital? The channel is called Orange Julian and their icon/header image is the two of them, wearing only boxer-briefs, completely covered in orange body paint. They’re standing next to each other, purposefully looking a little awkward. Like, it’s almost album art worthy. All of this for a stupid Orange Julius pun that only like 1/3 of their viewers get.

Renee Lemaire Renee has a small channel about her life! It has lots of sweet things in it! Soft, gay vibes!!! Her dog. Her cat. Her good friends, Gene Roe and Ralph Spina. Delicious food and cooking! Crazy/hilarious/gross stories about working in the children’s ward of the hospital. Her experiences in America as a French woman. French history lessons! French language lessons in modern day/interesting/specific vocabulary! Gene and Spina often come on and they have culture clash videos about France and America at large. Sometimes Gene will talk about Cajun culture or stories or food. And Renee and Spina will sit there just bewildered by everything he says. Sometimes Renee and Gene will trail off in French conversations together, leaving Spina to either complain loudly OR look into the camera like he’s on The Office™ Renee can only upload like every other week or so because she’s so busy. But her viewers don’t mind! Her videos are like little presents!

GENERATION KILL

Rudy Reyes Rudy also keeps a diary! It’s called “Fruity Rudy” and the graphic has a cute lil peach on it. He always films in his living room during the day. The video and audio are both super high quality and he even has a nice front light. He looks fucking beautiful, as always. He just talks about his day, his friends and family, whatever subjects he’s been thinking about recently. And his house is always fucking perfect. 9 times out of 10 Pappy is in the kitchen cooking, slightly out of focus, while wearing an apron. He likes to listen to Rudy do his thing while he prepares dinner or w/e (cooking and baking is a big hobby of his). Every once in a while he’ll comment on something Rudy says or talks about, or he’ll poke fun at someone or tell a joke. Usually the mic picks up what he says, but it’s faint and Rudy adds in little subtitles in the bottom of the screen. And he either reacts with a fond smile of some kind of comment or comeback. The viewers love their banter because they’re HELLA MARRIED Like literally. And also figuratively. Like sometimes Rudy will call back to Pappy to ask him questions, sometimes looking for a real answer, sometimes because he knows the kind of sassy reaction he’ll get, and he’ll just roll his eyes at the camera. He gets like a million comments a day telling him that they adore Pappy. “omg u guys are so cute” “I wish pappy was in more videos!!” “is pappy his real name? if not, what is?” When Rudy hits 10,000 subscribers (“wow, that’s insane, thanks you guys!!!”) as a present, he makes this big reveal video of Pappy’s name. “Drum roll please… *drums on his thighs* it’s Larry.” *in the background* “RUDE, WHAT THE FUCK?” *uncontrollable giggles from Rudy* *the camera is lifted from it’s place by ~~someone~~ unseen and a blurry Rudy can be seen half-heartedly protesting before the footage cuts*

Ray Person Ray is basically iDubbbz/h3h3 He’ll get all of his friends to participate in stupid videos. Mostly it’s Walt, Christenson, or sometimes Q-tip or Gabe. But sometimes he’s by himself, it just depends. So we get lots of these types of gems. (x) (x)  Brad hardcore pretends like he doesn’t want to be a part of it but look, he operates the camera for every video, he’s not fooling anyone. It’s hard to mistake his laughter when he’s right next to the mic. Sometimes Ray keeps in the little bits where Brad comments or calls him an idiot and you can see Ray look behind the camera, laughing and smiling or giving it right back. Ray’s channel is nuts!! but every once in a blue moon Ray will upload a video called “Serious Talk #1” (and so on) where he talks about something he really cares about or is really bugging him. And people are like, I knew you were smart, but oh jeez, this is scary.

Nate Fick The videos started out as study tools for his undergrad students but eventually gained a legit following. So, it’s basically an educational channel, but there’s no company or anything funding him. He tries to be as professional looking as possible, though. He talks about history! All types of history! And guess what, this boy is salty about the many, many important peoples and their accomplishments that are always left out of textbooks and shit. And he’s going to do his best to cover them properly. As in, entire episodes dedicated to shit (most) people don’t know. And he was in the military, so he has… lots of feelings about that as well. If he talks about military history or social issues he puts a disclaimer in the beginning of the video like “This is tainted by my feelings, I can’t help it, but this is my channel and I’m gonna say what I like.” He has some crash courses and some videos that go way too in depth. Like, maybe calm down, boy scout. Brad and Mike are his most frequent guests. He’ll do things like quiz them (on shit he knows they don’t know) or ask them for their opinions or direct the whole freaking lesson just to them. Brad and Mike really like picking on him, but he knows they love him. He invited Ray on the channel once. Once. It was… an experience. But Ray surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, has some really well educated and in depth thoughts on certain subjects. He gets lots of comments from girls/boys being like, “Hello, Professor Hottie.” (He gets the same reaction from many of his undergrads, so he’s used to it.) BUT most of his following watches because they’re interested in what he has to say, so don’t worry.

Poke Espera Poke has a channel with no schedule or organization. The video’s care shot from a cheap video camera and he doesn’t have a proper mic. And you know the Channel name is literally just his name. It’s literally all just videos of him from the chest up with titles like: “THOUGHTS ON ALL THE BULLSHIT” and “I’M GONNA KILL ME A WHITE BOY” and “PAUL RYAN CAN SUCK MY THICK LATIN DICK” They’re always in all caps. You knows the type. Yes, he does have a whole video dedicated to the story of the time he saw a dude get killed behind a Tastee-Freez. He has over 2 mil followers and all the boys are like …how? He just has good things to say, yo. People appreciate the cruel honesty.

Q-Tip and Christenson These cute boys have a let’s play channel! It’s pretty straight forward, they just play whatever games they like the best and sometimes play other games on request. It’s got Game Grumps vibes because it’s these two dudes who are BEST FRIENDS and they spend nearly every episode talking about whatever they want. And usually they want to talk about each other. Because they’re hardcore Bros. They get some of their friends to sit with them and play or just talk, depends. But their most requested repeat guest is Ray. Because Ray sure as hell doesn’t need a camera on his face to be animated as fuck. Also There’s lots of singing. Almost too much singing. At least they have excellent taste in music.

The Lady Marine (Whose Name We Unfortunately Don’t Know) She has a youtube channel that she really enjoys putting a lot of creativity into! Like, it’s great quality, for starters, and she also designs her own awesome graphics and animation!! She’s so talented!! Because everything is so damn quality, she only puts out a video every couple of weeks. But they’re pretty lengthy and always SUPER worth it. It’s about her (current) career in the military and focuses on a lot of social justice themes. Not only does she a) have a lot of interesting/enlightening things to say, but b) she also understands her privilege as a white woman and plugs for a lot of other women of color vloggers when she talks about something a little out of her depth or better said by someone who actually experiences it. She has a very complex view of the military and simultaneously knows how it manipulates/harms people and can’t help but love her job. She feels like she was born to do it, honestly. Idiot men come at her in the comments and she gets a lot of harassment. But let me tell you… She takes those motherfuckers out. You thought she was just talking shit? Bitch, she has 8 peer-reviewed scientific studies! She can cite her sources, all 2 dozen of them! She knows her shit, don’t test her. And if that doesn’t satisfy you, she’s always got her M16. One time she slams a dude so hard it goes viral over night and she gets hundreds of new followers, most of them young women looking for some source of empowerment and encouragement. She takes her new role very seriously. She will always, always listen and talk to young girls who are struggling or need an outlet or someone to talk to who won’t get upset with them for thinking X or Y. I love her, she’s my wife.

THE PACIFIC

Bob Leckie Leckie’s channel is called “Dear, Vera.” Each video is an adorable virtual letter to his wife, who he is just crazy smitten with. They started out as literal messages when Leckie was traveling for his first book tour (very proud of him). Like, he would literally just write out letters and then read them to the camera. Of course, Leckie is the most poetic idiot on the planet, and lots of people started following him because his words were honestly so beautiful. Even if he’s extra as heck. The following isn’t huge, but it’s substantial, and he still addresses each video to his wife. So he talks about whatever he likes. It was updates about his life when he was traveling, but when he’s home he likes to get creative about it. And not every episode is so serious. He invites dudes from Team Leckie to come hang all the time! And the boys are always like, “Hi, Vera!” and wave like she’s actually there. (She’s in the next room doing a Sudoku puzzle or something). Every video, he signs of with, “Yours, Robert.” AND AND AND when Vera tells him they’re going to be parents, Leckie gets extra extra. But it’s so cute, like, he makes a single video about it. He opens it with, “To my future child” And he basically goes on this whole teary-eyed kind of schpiel about how he’s so exited to meet them and how he and Vera are going to love them unconditionally and protect them and do their absolute best to keep them happy. He signs off with, “With love, your father.”

Hoosier Smith Hoosier is literally Cr1tiKal

Eugene Sledge Eugene’s channel is about ornithology, botany, and BEES! He loves bees! He uses the channel to geek out over biology things and it has so many cute graphics and jingles. Like, I mean, it’s hella gay. And he’s kind of awkward, but it’s so endearing. Most of his subscribers are girls and mlm and he’s just like, huh *shrug* He has little segments about current scientific events/findings. He has a birb of the week. It’s just… so nerdy. Like, chill out, dude. (Jk pls don’t ever chill out, follow your passions.) Snafu refuses to be in videos but he shouts at him from other rooms in the house, being a dick on purpose, calling him nerd, telling him to shut up. But Eugene is pretty good at coming back at him. He’s known Snafu too long for that kind of shit to actually bother him. And Eugene is like 70% sass, anyway.

Eddie Jones Eddie has a channel entirely dedicated to his original music!!! All his spending money goes to instruments and high quality recording equipment and audio editing software. He’s so good. Like. He’s got this warbling kind of sweet and broken voice. It’s very similar to jpitts, actually. And there’s so much heart in it. Not to mention the songs he writes are amazing and have clever lyrics. And guess what, boys and girls!!! Andy Haldane can sing. But he’s super shy about it. He and Eddie have had so many conversations that are like “Andy, come on, one video” “Nooo…” “Just one!” “Eddie, I caaaan’t” (Andy gets a little whiny when he’s nervous) So Andy won’t sing in a video BUT his soft voice can be heard harmonizing in some official recordings. Eddie loves listening to Andy sing. He’s not perfect or anything, but his voice is pretty and light and Eddie’s head over heels for him, so he can’t help but love it.

So, like I said. Way too long. But I had so much fun thinking up this stuff, so time well spent! I just did the boys (and girls) who came naturally to me when I tried to think of who would have a YouTube Channel. If anyone feels like adding to this monstrosity, go for it!

#hbo war #band of brothers #the pacific #generation kill #headcanon #my headcanons #youtube #yeah again #sorry this turned into an enormous monster #but i still love it #this isn't really edited so forgive me my mistakes #my writing