Open RP Post

[dreamedboy]

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

Comments

[dreamedboy]

[There was a reason Proko was Kavinsky's favorite but he wasn't going to get into it right now. There were good times and bad times to drop the 'I'm a dream' bomb on someone and this definitely wasn't a good time. Ronan had other things on his mind; Proko would rather focus on those, instead.]

I've fucked up things, too.

[Not with Kavinsky, but- things in his life. His life, specifically. So it wasn't just Ronan who had experience with ruining things in a bad sort of way. But Ronan had never needed to worry about Proko stealing Kavinsky from him. Things hadn't been like that. And Proko wasn't as into the stealing thing as Kavinsky was.

But- here he'd been planning on sitting next to Ronan, reassuring him there was nothing to be embarrassed about, that he was in good hands. But then Ronan had to go and look sexy and Proko wasn't shy about looking him over, gaze lingering here and there. So, instead of sitting beside him, Proko settled into Ronan's lap, draping his arms over his shoulders.]

Thought about it before a few times. Was kind of hard not to.

[He shrugged, sliding one hand to the back of Ronan's neck.

Kavinsky made it sound like Proko was- some kind of professional or something. He just mostly knew what he was doing and he enjoyed taking people apart under his hands and mouth and body.]

So, yeah. I do.

[He leaned in closer, close enough that he brushed his mouth against Ronan's, not quite a kiss. He wanted to kiss him though, but he wanted Ronan to kiss him first.]

[threesecrets]

[Ronan's breath catches in his throat as Proko settles into his lap, his arms over his shoulders, and he can't help that he leans into the contact. Prokopenko is shorter than him, by not by much, so with the other boy in his lap they're pretty much eye-to-eye. He lets his fingers rest against his hips, but with his mood, he can't stand just holding on, and so his fingers push under the hem of his shirt. Words like submissive weren't really a good fit for Ronan. Even when he wanted to be, he didn't really know how. He always pushed the lines, was a brat more than anything, not above flipping the tables in the right mood. But well, Kavinsky had never really minded.

But tonight he wants to be ruined. Not broken, but he needs someone to make him feel, to take him out of his head, out of himself. Maybe it's that he doesn't know how to be this, doesn't know how to find it by himself. He hums with approval and it almost sounds like a purr as he says yes, and Ronan leans into his hand on his neck. He wanted it. It wasn't something that he'd thought of in a purposeful way before, but he had thought about it before.]

I uh- I thought about you both fucking me a couple times, taking me together. Pushing me to my limits, fucking me like-- like I could just let you use me.

[He'd never talked about it, or done anything about it, but- like Proko said, it was sort of hard not to imagine it. The boy he liked and his hot best-friend, like that wasn't everyone's fantasy. Even if Ronan's take on it admittedly went a little darker than most. But he'd stopped worrying about what the church said, acknowledged that there was a difference between his faith and the mortals that made it into reality. And what was Ronan? And did any of that even apply? And it made it easy to be greedy, to let himself ache for the desires that curled in him.

Ronan had played with Kavinsky enough that he sort of had a feel for it -- he knew what he liked, which was just about everything rough, that made his body ache and burn. It was pleasure, it made him come alive, feel like someone better than who he was without it. Not that he knew how to articulate that to anyone. It was part of why he was awkward about this, because it did something to him. And he loved it, but it felt intimate, vulnerable. More so than the sex.

He whined in his throat when Proko brushed his lips against Ronan's mouth, and he kissed him in return. Like he needed it, like he couldn't help himself. The kiss was messy and desperate and his fingers clutched against Proko's skin. He felt-- he couldn't quite put his finger on it, or maybe he didn't want to. But he was something- familiar. An ache that Ronan couldn't help chasing.]

--I want you to. Need you to. Mark me up and ruin me so I can't feel anything else, can't breathe without thinking about your hands on me.

[dreamedboy]

[Proko hummed softly because, yeah, he'd imagined a threesome with him, Kavinsky, and Ronan before, too. He'd never acted on it, of course, because- he hadn't thought Ronan would agree. He'd been worried that having sex with Kavinsky would change the shape of their relationship into something he couldn't undo. Something where he'd be left yearning for him when Kavinsky was in love with someone else.

But Ronan didn't belong to Kavinsky anymore. Maybe he never had. The point was, Proko clearly had Kavinsky's approval in this case. He could do this with Ronan. He could give the other boy what he wanted without feeling guilty about it. So when Ronan kissed him, Proko all but melted into it, pressing closer, other hand clutching at Ronan's shoulder.

Dozens of different options were running through Proko's head, all the ways he could give Ronan what he wanted. How did he feel about knives? Did he enjoy being choked? Maybe Proko could handcuff him. He didn't have a headboard but there was still a little bar at the top and bottom of the bed.]

Okay. I can do that.

[Ducking his head a little, he kissed at Ronan's neck, nipping here and there.]

Why don't you tell me some things you like?

[threesecrets]

[Ronan had belonged to Kavinsky, once. He'd enjoyed belonging to him, even. And then he'd wanted to put a name to the thing they'd had, and it had made Ronan realize some very scary things. So he'd pulled away, or maybe he'd pushed Kavinsky away instead. He honestly wasn't sure. But he'd been so wound around Kavinsky that the idea that it wouldn't be something they worked through had never even occurred to him. Ronan hadn't thought it was possible.

But he doesn't belong to Kavinsky now. They play, sure, and Ronan loves it more than he'll ever tell the other dreamer, but it's different. And he had basically arranged this, which kept him from worrying. And he likes the way that Proko feels against him, how he feels in his lap. He wants to fall back onto the boy's bed, but for the moment he liked being close too much to give into it. Which is a choice that pays off, because he kisses at his neck, and kisses turn into teeth and Ronan whines in a way that's please and not a protest.

But he doesn't complain when Proko asks the question. He flushes a little though, because this is the part that's hard for him so often -- saying the things that he wants. Having to own them like that. So he hedges, instead.]

I mean, I'm into basically everything Kavinsky is, except from the other side of it. Except- we never did the branding for real. But we talked about it and I liked the idea-- back when.. you know. [He stumbles on the words, his voice catching and he keeps talking almost like he's trying to distract from that.]

I like knives and stuff, too. Just- if you're gonna leave scars tell me.

[The way that he says tell me is clearly intentional; it is not ask first. It is make sure I know, because sometimes I don't -- that it isn't just a scratch. Sometimes he can struggle to tell, where pain tilts to pleasure and he can't trust what his own body's telling him until someone brings him down.]

And okay, I guess I like- impact stuff more than he does, though. I like fighting; so yeah, I like it when it's something else, too. I like the marks and the bruises and the- the feeling of it, I guess. Having ropes on my wrists and a hot boy's dick in my mouth and he only lets me breathe when he wants me to.

[His voice rushed, changing from commentary on what Kavinsky had liked to Ronan's own desires. Like he'd come out of his shell eventually if you were quiet and you listened.]

[dreamedboy]

[Proko made a thoughtful, interested noise while he listened. If Ronan was into a lot of the same things Kavinsky was, but on the receiving end, that meant he was probably pretty similar to Prokopenko himself. It made sense; Ronan and Kavinsky had always clicked in a certain way. They'd gotten along, generally and sexually, until they hadn't. Things could be messy; Proko was well aware of that. He might have been upset with Ronan for hurting Kavinsky at first, but he'd gotten over it.

Brushing his mouth along Ronan's neck, he worked his way up to his ear, nipping and tugging before murmuring-]

Branding how?

[There were so many potential outcomes to that, he needed some more specifics. Well, wanted was more accurate; he was curious. There was a lot he was curious about, and he was also pretty well acquainted with the whole liking impact stuff...thing. Though probably not as well acquainted with it as Skov was. Point was, he was familiar with it and he understood. He understood a lot of what Ronan was talking about, on a personal level.]

I don't have rope but I do have handcuffs. Got a knife, too.

[He wasn't sure about doing any scarring on their first date, though. That felt like rushing things a little. But a little cut, a little blood- that was a different story.]

You don't have to be shy. I know talking about shit can be hard, but I'm not gonna judge you.

[threesecrets]

[Ronan moaned softly, a tremble in his body at the way that Proko's mouth slid up to his ear. The way he nipped and pulled against the lobe of his ear with his teeth, and Ronan couldn't help grinding against him. He was already helplessly turned on, helplessly captivated. Prokopenko had been there before, but Ronan had always been looking at Kavinsky.

Now it was... something else. The question burns with an ache in his chest that he does his best not to think about. Instead he catches one of Proko's hands, almost suspiciously soft as he presses the other boy's fingers to the space just below the inside of his collarbone.]

Here. It was going to be his crown.

[His voice is soft, a little lost if you listen for it. But it had been easier to say it in gestures like that- even if it had never happened, he'd been willing. He'd wanted it, or thought that he had. And now?

He flushes a little, looking up at Proko, still holding his hand just shy of his throat.]

What would you- tell me what you'd mark me with instead.

[His voice changes, shifting past old memory to what they're doing now. It's almost dirtytalk, a purr as he leaves Proko's fingers there against his collarbone, his own hands shifting to curl to the boy's hips.

Fuck, but he doesn't even know what he can possibly say when he tells him that he wont judge him- so he doesn't. He looks at him, he holds on tighter, and he presses a kiss to his shoulder. Like he's trying to find a way to say it without the words because they feel too big, too much.]

I like handcuffs too. And fuck, you should cut me at least a little. I can dream you some rope for next time-- if you want that. I just like.. hurting for someone. But I like feeling good about it, I guess? Knowing I'm doing it right, anyway. Like the way he used to call me names, but they were always good when he said them. And I like losing control; how he'd fuck me when I was drunk and high on his pills, or blindfolded and tied down, and he'd put his hands on me and murmur all the filthiest sort of things that he could do to me, and how I wouldn't stop him. And I just--

[Ronan doesn't give Proko all of it, not every shred of what he's into. But he still gives him a lot, including some of the edgier things. He's clearly trying to believe him, to trust that he won't judge him for his desires. Because he isn't really all that shy. And oh, he wants this so much.

There's also that brief whisper of something more, of a next time, before he quite catches himself. Because Ronan is a masochist, but there's something soft here, too. Not obedience, but something else instead.

At minimum, this isn't a one-time-thing unless Proko wants it that way. But really, if you knew anything about Ronan, that isn't surprising. This was always going to mean something: maybe that's why Kavinsky made sure it was Proko. Because there's something magnetic, there's chemistry in how Ronan looks at him.]

[dreamedboy]

[What would he mark Ronan with instead? It was a good question. Proko wasn't sure there was anything that represented himself as much as K had crowns (and dragons, though Proko wasn't sure how many people knew about those). So he took a moment to think about it, sitting back a little and brushing his fingers gently over the spot where Ronan had placed them.]

Fuck if I know. Maybe a sunflower?

[He was a little shy about that suggestion, not because he was embarrassed of it--sunflowers were Ukraine's national flower, after all--but because he didn't know if Ronan would laugh about it or not.

But then Ronan was talking about the things he liked and Proko's skin flushed all over again. He liked a lot of those same things, both being on the giving and receiving ends of them, and he could imagine the kind of creative filthy shit K would come up with. He'd meant what he said though; there was no judgment here.

Though, he almost missed the way Ronan said 'next time' because he was so caught up in thinking about everything else he said. It brought a lot of attractive images to mind and he got lost in them for a moment before kissing Ronan almost sweetly. More sweetly than not, at least.]

Dorogoy. [My dear.] I can cut you. Cuff you to the bed and fuck you.

Ya tebya kochayu. [I want you. His voice was a low mumur and he nudged his mouth against Ronan's again, a brief kiss.]

You know you're hot, right? Cause you're super fucking hot.

[And Proko wasn't even trying to flatter him; he was just trying to express how much he wanted Ronan at this moment.]