#also he’s always described as obedient and good

[moonchild-nissa]

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng invented love 💖

[prettyboykatsuki]

exception(al) | sunday hsr

𖤓 tags ; afab + gn!reader, established relationship, established d/s dynamic (implied to be 24/7), extremely submissive!reader, soft dom!sunday, shoe humping, oral (m!recieving), cock worship, deep throating, lots of praise / pet names, thumb sucking, cum swallowing 18+

𖤓 wc ; 2.2k

𖤓 a/n ; if you care abt me you won't say a word about this post. okay. alright. takes place in this universe, but not required reading.

𖤓 synopsis ; he'd give you anything you ask for. his one love. his only exception.

If Sunday could use one word to describe you, he would pick the plainest option: obedient.

You're other things. Loyal, desperate, beautiful, adoring. There are other words more well-fitted to your character and better words to describe the way you look through his lens. Ethereal. Charming. Provocative

But above all else, if Sunday had to sum up all of your parts he'd choose to put your obedience on the pedestal it deserves to stand on.

Obedience like yours can't be bought with fear, can't even be bought with manipulation. You have to get lucky to find someone so perfectly, unflinchingly obedient in the same way you are.

The leash Sunday keeps you on, intentionally tight, never appears that way on your throat.

That is to say: you bear the suffocation of Sunday's affection so well, a lesser person would be at risk for taking you for granted.

Not Sunday. Never him, of course. No one knows better how much you deserved to be cherished then him. That's how the cycle between you always goes. You live at his beck and call— his mercy. You're obedient with his whims and patient with his insecurities. Eventually, after some time passes, he'll praise and reward your efforts.

(The truth is, Sunday is always one difficult day away from spoiling you. Showering you in his affection after the thread-bare strands of his patience snap is his idea of letting go. There's few things more precious than how doe-eyed you get when he does.

But, a good owner knows to raise loyal pets - you must let them work towards rewards. He refrains for your sake. Always for your sake.)

Sunday always asks you what you want as a reward. Your requests are usually innocuous. Prey-like innocence in your eyes as you fiddle with the ends of his coat and ask for things like a date together or a bath or matching rings.

Sunday sometimes wants to tell you that's not the sort of thing you really need to beg him for. Sunday wants to tell you everything in his order is also yours.

He is yours, just like you're his. Mind, body, soul—devoured heart and all.

(Later, when Aeons abandon Sunday, he will find contentment in the fact you still belong to him. Even falling through Dreams or chained to hell. Still his. )

He doubts he ever will. He will continue along with rewarding you ask. Anything you want, you can earn.

It's rare you ask him for anything sexual so overtly. You do often beg to touch him and it's rare that Sunday lets you. He doesn't like to indulge too often, lest he lose the control that binds him so tightly.

Your latest request is half surprising. The desire to pleasure him being predictable and your bashful request to rub yourself against the toe of his dress shoes being the surprise.

He could tell at the time that it took all of your courage to ask. Clenched fists at the knees, gaze cast down instead of looking into his eyes, fidgety and uncertain.

It's an easy desire to fulfill and Sunday is, by all means, a loving master. If you want it, he'll will it by any means.

"Are you sure this is what you want, my heart?"

The affection bleeds into his voice as he cast his gaze at you. Bent down on your knees, naked from the neck down with the exception of a heather-blue collar with golden embellishments. You flicker your eyes up to him after he speaks to you, but don't talk.

"You may speak," He hums. He places a hand on your head, reaching down to pet your cheek and scratch under your chin. You preen under the silent doting. "It's your reward today, remember?"

"It's important to mind the rules no matter what."

He thinks about bending down and kissing you with a hand on your throat but keeps his composure. Instead, he pats your head and offers a smile. "That's right. Very clever, my dove."

You're elated just hearing it, staring at him. Pure need paints your expression, eyes wet as you squirm naked underneath him. He meets your look patiently, expectantly.

"Use your words."

"My reward," You swallow thickly. "Is it okay if I have?"

"Of course," He appeases your anxiety with a hand cupping your chin, thumb running your lower lip. "Do as you please."

You always wear your heart on your sleeve but it's times like this he finds it most impactful. Excitement radiates off of you in waves, shaky hands fumbling with his slacks. Your fingers are shaking as you unzip them slowly. Each step you take to get him undressed, you look up at him and wait for him to nod. Always obedient.

You get him partially undressed, each step slow - before you permit yourself to pull the rest of his clothes down. His cock springs free from fabric confines as you tuck the band underneath it. He hitches a breath trying not to lose his composure.

"You're hard," You observe in awe. He laughs breathlessly.

"Of course," He tells you staring down at where his cock cast shadow over your face. "It's you, after all."

The praise makes you wide-eyed. You mutter some kind of thank you that he smiles at gently. He can't help but be entertained by how you assess him. You've seen it before, a few times - yet you're awestruck. Every movement is tentative despite all of his encouragement. You mostly stare at it.

"It's alright. Take what you want." Sunday tells you, like it's some sort of gift. You treat it as such.

He feels his stomach tighten as soon as your hands fist the shaft of his cock. You frown a little. "It's really okay?"

"Yes," He hums, suddenly feeling aware of every nerve in his body. Spurred by his approval, Sunday merely watches you. He's fascinated, in his own right.

You're shaking with want by the time you move to do anything.

You stick your tongue out of your mouth tentatively, eyes transfixed on the tip so eagerly it makes his chest feel tight. Sunday is more familiar than most with desperation, but yours he knows like the back of his hand.

And Aeons, don't you look so desperate? The warm wet slide of your tongue is messy as you run it from base to tip, spitting gathered saliva on the tip with each go. It's clumsy, too desperate to count as a kitten lick and too practiced to count as virginal. It falls somewhere in between, like watching desire mix with your perfectionism.

He adjusts himself slightly. He tugs on the leash in your hand to pull your closer until you're wrapped around his leg, cock pressed against your cheek as he pushes you down by the shoulder. You squeak suddenly at the sensation, too enraptured with his cock to remember the other half of your request.

"I won't help you," He hums, teases - something he rarely does. You nod, not expecting it. You never are and it endears him.

There's parts of him that couldn't understand that this is what you wanted. You begged him for it but it felt unfathomable before now.

Your longing for his cock down your throat, in your mouth is so obvious it makes him waver. It's not something he gets used to. You slide your tongue all over his cock, drool giving your skin shine as you wet it over and over not even taking it in your mouth. Just spitting and licking like you're trying to remember every inch with your mouth and burn it into your memory.

Blissed out with your eyes nearly lidded shut, he can feel you rut your soft cunt over the point of his dress shoes over and over all the while.

It's interesting to affirm all the ways you feel pleasure. Sunday knows you let to put something in your mouth. He's fond of the habit - opts for cum soaked gloves or his own tongue to fulfill the urge for you.

This is an extension of your baser desire. Still, still - you do it with remarkable enthusiasm. It would almost feel torturous if you weren't so thorough. You remember points of pleasure on his cock. Along the veins, underneath the glans.

When the arousal starts to floor his system, you dip your tongue messily into the tip - precum staining your saliva with a pale white.

It moves you further along. You open your mouth up all the way, staring as you hollow your cheeks around the shaft of his cock with impressive ease. Fluttering your eyes shut, you hold onto his thigh and ease yourself as far down as you can go.

Your throat is wet and wanting for him. Over eager even with all the patience you try to demonstrate.

A thought passes by him as he watches you do it so expertly. The warm, slick cavern of your mouth accommodates him perfectly. No teeth, just throat and spit and drool. The corners of your lips flood with saliva as you take his cock in, breathing through your nose.

"Have you been practicing? To do this?"

You jolt, suddenly embarrassed. But you don't move to pull yourself off of his cock. Instead you stay for several moments, stretched throat - nose pressed into the thin hair above his cock and breathe him, humping his dress shoes like you're in heat. When you look up, he gets the confirmation he wants.

He's impossible endeared by you.

There's something strange in that it seems you relax after making it down. Heat stricken, swallowing his cock, chasing animalistic pleasure - truly content as your whole body begins breaking out in an aroused shudder. He can feel your chest against his leg, hardened nipples evidence of your arousal. Your wetness shines his shoe till it's reflective.

When you find you can no longer hold it and breathe, you pull back - a filthy slurping noise resulting. The tip sits on your tongue afterwards as you hum. It's lewd and filthy, not something he thought he'd be so interested in.

But it's you, after all.

Sunday admires you. How wrecked and lustful you look. How excited you are from something like this. An extension of your loyalty to him, down to bone.

He'd underestimated you, somehow. His mistake. When you pull off, before you go back down - he hooks his thumb into his cheek. His voice is thick with desire. The arousal is painful in his stomach as it ties in knots, cock twitching at the sight of your spit-soaked face.

"What do you want?"

You look at him confused before something seems to cross your mind. He encourages you. "Tell me,"

"Cum down my throat," You offer, debauched beyond his understanding. "Please."

Fuck. He takes in a breath.

"If it pleases you, dove," He says, then pets you affection as you go to deep throat him again. He decides to praise you. He can't think of anyone who would deny how sincerely you've earned it. "It feels good. You're thoughtful, hm? I'll return the favor ten fold after, like always."

You make a strangled noise as his cock hits the back of your throat again faster. You're sucking hard this time, quicker - your hand massaging his balls as you do. You hold his gaze the entire time even when you gasp for air, nose running. You're still perfect somehow, doe-eyed and innocent to him despite yourself.

"You're beautiful," He tells you and means it more than anything. Means it as you swallow and suck on his cock like it's everything you could ask for, means it as you hump against his shoes and stare up at him with crushing reverence.

Beautiful, perfect, the sweetest thing he's ever felt in his life. His most obedient possession. His from top to bottom, skin and bone and mind and body. Everything in Sundays possession - wholly his.

He pets your cheek as you move back and forth slowly, doing it properly. Bobbing your head back and forth, slow and smooth and deep with each motion until you feel comfortable enough to go rhythmically without gagging in excess.

You suck with such fervor he's inclined to believe you feel more pleasure than he does. Muffled whimpers and whines as you chase your own high. Sloppy at both ends.

Sunday lets himself slip. He moans - moans your name, soft and sweet and watches your whole body go alight at the reaction.

He can feel you cum before he can see it, the wet pulse of it and the sound of your high pitched whine.

It makes you cum, hearing Sunday express that. So he lets go, just for you, like always and watches tears fill the corner of your eyes like it's the happiest you could be.

Obedient thing you are, so tender - sweeter than all things in the world. Sweeter than a a dream. The thought makes his body lurch. His hips thrust this time and you let him with ease, shaking as Sunday lets himself fuck your throat a little harder.

"Gonna cum for you, sweet thing," He says, holding you close as he bottoms out again. He puts a hand on the back of your neck to hold you steady.

Sunday groans, shudders as an orgasm rips through him something irreparable. He cums hard, and you swallow all of it like it's easy despite how far he is down your throat.

He stays like that, catching his breath until he's ready to pull off. A long thick trail of saliva follows, drool dripping down against the hotel room floor as you leave your mouth open to show you swallowed it all.

Your expression morphs into fucked out pleasure, voice hoarse as you smile. "Thank you,"

You're his exception, Sunday thinks. If he's to deviate from structure, order, routine - it'd be only for you. He wipes the spit from your chin as he bends down to kiss your forehead.

"You made me feel good and did exceptionally well," He murmurs, soft and sweet. You melt under the touch, under the praise. "I love you,"

You smile happily. "Me too. I love you,"

"Now get up," He says, stroking your skin. "My turn, hm"

[ellecdc]

elle elle elle can i request something with moon water killer (i think that's with barty?😭) with a reader inspired by the song Matilda by harry styles???

Since i saw you haven't gotten many requests with song inspo

omg! I'd never heard this song before! it's really beautiful, so thank you for sharing! also....I hope I did it justice <3 ** .... fuck ok I posted this and noticed you perhaps asked for reader to be Matilda coded? sorry I didn't catch that at the time

poly!moonwaterkiller x fem!reader who exceed expectations

CW: mention of Barty & Regulus' shitty childhoods and families (but nothing is described), lyrics are in a different font & the lyrics I inserted directly into the fic are in blue

You don’t have to be sorry for leaving and growing up. You don’t have to be sorry for doing it on your own.

Being born a Black came with a lot of expectations.

A young Black was expected to be well-groomed at all times, to be quiet, obedient, well-mannered, and have proper etiquette training.

They were expected to be dutiful sons and daughters, driven and successful students, and to keep up the family’s good name.

They were expected to grow into robotic adults, find a partner who was probably not too distantly related from them, and raise the next generation of Black children who would then wash, rinse, and repeat. 

Regulus Black expected the same for himself. 

He expected to be a dutiful son, a diligent student, a successful heir to the Black family name, and produce a suitable offspring who would amount to much the same. 

And by some brilliant stroke of luck, he did not meet those expectations. 

Though he tried to be a dutiful son, and he was indeed a diligent student, it hadn’t seemed to be quite enough for Orion and Walburga Black. 

And it wasn’t until Sirius left that Regulus realised that it would never be enough for them. 

So he left, too. 

You can let it go.

And when Regulus believed that there was lingering Darkness that flowed through his veins, he had found three people who saw the Light in him… even when he couldn’t. 

And Regulus won’t bore everyone with the details; but somehow that Light brought him here, to this day, with these people. 

And though both you and Remus were privy to the life Regulus lived growing up, neither of you truly understood it; and Regulus was happy for it.

But Barty did. 

Barty knew what it felt like to never live up to the expectations that came with your Name, to be perpetually wrong and disgraceful, and unfortunately that the consequences of such were really quite high. 

But they made it. They made it out.

Though it was not without scars.

Birthday’s had always been somewhat touchy for Barty, which may seem strange for the boisterous, egotistical, cocky son-of-a-bitch that everyone knew Barty to be.

A whole day? Dedicated to you? Where people were obligated to shower you with love and gifts? What self-absorbed, high-performing only child wouldn’t like that?

Barty didn’t.

Though Regulus supposed it was less that Barty didn’t like the idea, and more that birthday’s had never been a positive experience so he never quite knew how to handle them.

But - God love you both - you and Remus were determined to change that; and Regulus thought you might actually be succeeding. 

Because Regulus stood in the backyard of his small, cosy, modest townhouse with string lights hanging between beams and bannisters, basking the space in a golden glow as the small fire crackled and music played softly from Evan’s sound system that he brought for the event.

The event being Barty’s birthday. 

Everyone Barty loved was crammed into the small space; and the people Barty claimed not to love but rather tolerate (read: Remus’ friends) had shown up too. 

Throw a party full of everyone you know.

Regulus had the prime view from where he stood leaning against the wooden fence; some drink in his hand that Potter insisted was “so sodding good, mate, you’ll love it” - that Regulus could admit wasn’t horrid - as he watched Remus twirl you around in sloppy circles that the two of you seemed to think was a dance (years of proper etiquette and dance training would have Regulus saying otherwise). You threw your head back in a laugh that echoed in Regulus’ rib cage as Remus dipped you low; his honey brown curls glowing ethereally in the golden glow of the string lights as he pulled you back up to your full height to press a kiss to your lips. 

And Regulus’ prime viewing location also allowed him to watch Barty as he, too, watched the two of you.

Barty always talked of the pain like it’s alright; ever the comedian, he was always able to play off some of the most traumatic stories from his childhood as funny. And Regulus understood that; nothing about the way either of them had been treated had ever seemed especially alarming until now…until they saw that it could be better, that it should be better. 

Barty had been laughing and chatting with Evan, Pandora, Dorcas, and Marlene from the deck, but he had since opted to lean against the bannister as he watched two of his lovers enjoy the party; his party.

A party that Barty likely never imagined…expected for himself, a party that would have seemed impossible years ago. 

If the subtle glisten in Barty’s eyes and the mystified look on his face was enough to go by; the sentiment was not lost on Barty, either.

Their eyes met then; two boys whose families never showed them love who moved on to find freedom in love and a family that they started all on their own. 

It should have been impossible for Barty’s face to soften anymore than it had been as he watched you and Remus dancing, but it seemed to do just that when he shot Regulus a wink.

Regulus raised his glass to his boyfriend then; to growing up, to moving on, to showing love, to their little family.

And to exceeding every expectation either of them ever had for themselves.

[denileisariver]

pairing: batman aka bruce wayne x f!reader

summary: you move into wayne manor, but not everything is as it seems. pt.2

warnings: smut, some non-con/dub-con but not really, doggystyle!, creampies ♡, mentioned babytrapper!bruce but nothing happens (or does it 🫣?), some anal play but also not really, unprotected sex, descriptions of male and female genitalia, bruce is not the best father unfortunately, age gaps, uses of the word(s) 'baby' and 'daddy' like once or twice, non-consensual recording?, reader is described as dating girls in the past.

a/n: i guess this is a small continuation. i'll still be tagging as yandere due to some slightly darker undertones kinda. i'm not sure how i feel about this one but oh well :).

bruce never believed that he was a good man.

he could care less for all the praise he received throughout the years. fundraisers and charities, his image as a loving adoptive dad who took in struggling and orphaned children, or as batman. deep down, he knew he was selfish.

everything he did, he took too far. whether it was to fulfill a pipedream he realistically knew would never come true at the expense of others. or even with love, using the people he cared for the most just so he could gain something out of it. he considered himself lucky that all the little vigilantes he collected over the years stayed. and he was even happier you decided to stay as well.

bruce knew fear like the back of his hand. he could easily recognize it in your eyes whenever your eyes met his. whether it was subconscious or not, something in you knew that you should be cautious around him, and for good reason.

he couldn't quite pinpoint when his infatuation with you started. the only thing he knew was that it had crept up on him slowly, and it had been far too late until he realized its claws were sunk deep and he wanted you wrapped around his finger.

his mind would drift off sometimes, wondering if it's because of how closely he's been able to keep tabs on you over the past couple of years. you were strong and independent, more than able to take care of yourself, and others if given the opportunity. he admired that you were bold and selfless, driven. and he wanted to control that.

he stood by on the sidelines for far too long, watching you be strung along like an afterthought. he hated seeing your pathetic dates that always turned out horribly, pitiful men who only wanted one thing from you and girls that led you on because they were 'experimenting'. he hated the sad puppy look in your eyes whenever you hung around dick, before he invited you into his family, even if it was unintentional.

whether you believed it or not, bruce truly wanted what he thought was best for you. and if that meant keeping you under his surveillance, where you were at arms length 24/7, then so be it.

bruce wanted to train you how to be obedient for him. you were already establishing your own place in his household, practically marking your territory there, and he enjoyed every bit of it. for the most part, at least. there were still some challenges he needed to overcome, but you'd always been a good girl for him. that much he knew.

you tried to be grateful for him as much as possible.

even after his creepy behavior and even weirder training, you wanted to trust him. it felt wrong not to. everyone had been kind and did more for you than anyone else in your life had, and bruce set the foundation for all of it. you'd finally got a taste of being part of his family like you always wanted, and you weren't willing to let it go just because of eccentric assumptions and silly feelings.

you did find all of it a bit extreme, though. the excessive amount of gifts, the kids were attentive as ever, and alfred practically babied you. but it was normal. completely normal. at least that's what you chalked it up to, living under the roof of a well renowned billionaire, and you weren't about to complain about it either.

being around all the other wards put you at ease. regardless if you truly saw them as found family or not, you considered them your best friends. whether it was helping alfred around the manor as much as possible, burning pastries in the kitchen with the girls, playing video games with jason (which grew to be one of your favorite pastimes), you found yourself letting your guard down. like you could finally breathe and be safe in your own home, which was basically never while you were still surviving on your own back in gotham.

speaking of jason, you think maybe you are beginning to like the boy. sure, he had always been attractive, but you never actually got to interact with him longer than a short conversation here and there before dick decided to butt in. he had always been protective of you like that. you figured whatever you felt for jason might've been weird at first, but considering tim and stephanie dated for a little while, and they were still here, that it was okay.

you tried to subtly spend more time around jason. sitting close by during dinner or while catching a flick, offering to be by his side during patrol. maybe you were a bit more obvious than you would've liked, but jason took it well, much to bruce's disdain. the boy started to talk to you more often, more lively around you than ever, staring at you from across the room, making physical contact. and you greedily accepted it.

and of course dick would be the first to pester at you about it. he'd snuck up from behind, startling you when you were too engrossed in a romance book that you'd discovered while exploring the ginormous library.

"so you and jason are a thing now?"

the sound of his sudden voice makes your body jolt, damn near dropping the precious book you were reading that probably cost more than your entire life. the only people in this world that could make you flustered the way you are now are all living underneath the same goddamn roof, and you've successfully trapped yourself in it, willingly.

"what're you talking about?" the blank look on dick's face makes you cringe. in all your years of friendship, the two of you never really fought. the thought that he'd be mad about you being with jason was almost enough to make your heart sink. but the truth was, you weren't really actually with him anyway. things were just.. different.

all of his rigorous training with bruce had apparently worked off, because almost right on cue, dick notices how anxious you are right now. he shifts his body language to a more lighthearted demeanor, no longer as stiff. his voice is soft. "listen, i don't care, kind of, but.. just be careful." the way he says it almost makes you feel better, like he cares, and of course he does, but—

"what's that supposed to mean?"

your defensiveness is no surprise to dick. the look on his face let's you know he expects it, and you almost hate yourself for being so predictable.

"i don't want you to get hurt, that's all i'm saying." he tries to reassure, but it does nothing but the opposite. hurt you? you never expected much to come out of your tiny fondness for jason, and even if it did, you knew better than to think it'd be something that'll last forever. "I won't get hurt."

you say it like it's a sure thing. there's this unreadable look in dick's eyes. something that you don't think you've ever seen before, and it almost scares you. like he knows something you don't, but you can't tell what the hell it is. he curtly nods, forcing back that charming smile to his face, but you're no idiot, especially when it comes to him.

"i don't doubt it." and with that, he's gone.

☆☆☆☆☆

it's been a couple of days since your little talk with dick. well, more of a warning than anything, so that's what you take it as. you started being more mindful, not just around jason but everyone. more observant and aware of how you interacted with them. and after a while, you deduced that whatever dick was thinking is just part of his overprotective nature, both as a brother and as a friend. that he'd grow accustomed to you and jason just like everyone else was.

that was up until you noticed your possessions were starting to go missing. it started with just panties, then a bra or two, eventually your sweaters or jewelry. at first, you thought you were going crazy, just misplacing and losing things, but it was happening way too often. bruce spoiled you enough so that everything was replaceable, but still. was dick right?

was jason some sort of pervert or stalker?

well, you think all of them had the stalking part down, getting it from bruce, but you aren't completely oblivious to the fact that jason harbored reciprocated feelings for you. but to go as far as stealing your stuff? even dirty panties? there's no way. it couldn't be. if it was true, you were daring enough to confront him about it. you'd just have to wait for the right time to do it, but that proved more than difficult. there seemed to never be a perfect moment.

bruce had been more rough than before during sparring. and honestly, you didn't mind. at first, it scared you. but with the emotional turmoil you were suddenly experiencing, you almost liked it. those damn hands in your hair, a tight headlock cause his bicep was wrapped around your neck, a muscular thigh between your legs. it felt better than you would ever admit, and you found yourself almost looking forward to it. it was just because you needed some stress relief, right?

bruce intimidated you more than anyone you've ever met, but that didn't stop you from checking him out occasionally. the older man was more than attractive, and no one could deny that, not even you, regardless if you thought he was a bit peculiar.

if you hadn't been so enamored in your thoughts, trying to convince yourself that you weren't just another perv, maybe you would've felt bruce's growing hard-on accidentally poke your ass. or that he's held you in this same position for too long, admiring how you looked bent over for him like this and wanting nothing more but to make you take him right then and there. but he was upset with you.

you were getting too close to jason. on a fatherly note, he knows he should be happy. jason always had trouble around others, and he was probably just another reason for you to stay. but a larger part of him wanted to spank your ass over his knee, gag your tiny mouth on his cock in front of everyone so they knew who you belonged to.

he has to be more careful. he'd barely gotten ahold of you, and if he pushed too much, he'd run the risk of you trying to escape. but he couldn't bear to just stand by and watch while you and jason tried to pursue a relationship. no.. that couldn't happen. jason would have a knife at his throat if he caught bruce just now, that he'd hate him even more if he found out that the girl he was crushing on was being lusted on by his father figure.

but bruce could live with that.

that's why he doesn't say anything when he gently bounces the leg that's slotted between your thighs, your clit grazing against him through the thin fabric of your workout shorts. he only gauges your reaction to it, waiting, expecting you to fight back but you don't. the movement was soft enough for you not to notice it at first, but when the rubbing gets repetitive and you finally realize just how long you've been in such a comprising position for him, a flood of both excitement and anxiety goes straight to your core.

it almost feels like a betrayal to jason, even if you owed him nothing. you couldn't even remember the last time you hooked up with somebody, and it was actually good. you'd been stuck with making yourself cum, and that got old very quickly. on one hand, doing this with bruce could potentially ruin your relationship with his other wards if you were caught, and on the other hand, you were horny enough to not be thinking straight. even if bruce was a weird fuck that you didn't trust fully.

you manage to let out strained whimpers, hoping to appeal to bruce so he'd let you go. the arch of your back had become strenuous, but even then, you found yourself yearning for more. if this is what he wanted, you couldn't bring yourself to stop him. your hips move on their own accord, rutting and pressing the plush lips of your cunt along the thick muscle, face contorting slightly in pleasure whenever your sensitive bud received the attention it craved so much.

he allowed you to hump his leg like an animal in heat, his hips jutting out forward and now fully pressing a heavy cock against your ass, the clothed tip resting by the lower half of your back. whether you fully wanted this or not, it didn't really matter to bruce. the arm that was wrapped around your neck moves down, then squeezing a handful of one of your tits, appreciating its weight and how squishy it was in his grasp.

the differences in sizes made your body appear tinier than it really was, and bruce thought that was cute too. his other free hand wrapping around your body so he could feel both of your pillowy breasts in his hands, his groping making you squirm. even if you encouraged this more than you probably should've, you wonder if this is moving way too fast. he's your best friends dad for christ sake. jason's dad. (as much as he liked to deny it). and you were already living in his mansion.

all while these thoughts swirl through your head, bruce is slipping his hands beneath your shirt and moving the cups of your bra out the way, twisting and pinching at your pert nipples. his teeth find your neck, biting, a tongue licking the sensitive skin. you felt helpless to how quick and overwhelming all of it is. it doesn't take long for it to feel like his presence and touch is suffocating you, and bruce is even more greedy than you are.

"can i touch you baby?" the grufness of his voice sends chills down your spine.

you don't know why he even asks. you stupidly nod your head in agreement, even though rough pads of his fingers are already eagerly shoving themselves into your shorts and cupping your tiny pussy through cotton panties. he hums in content, noting the warmth of it and the gentle rhythmic pulses. your heart races, resisting the urge to hump his hand just like you were on his thigh.

much to your disappointment, he slips his hand out of your shorts, whining at the loss of contact. that is up until your bottoms are being pushed down your legs, and suddenly, you're conscious of how anyone could walk in on the two of you. and you still can't bring yourself to protest.

bruce bends you over once more, your face down and ass up for him. his cock aches in its confines, throbbing and begging to be released, but he holds it off. he stares at your exposed cunt, making you feel subconscious for a bit. your lips are soft and glistening, tiny clit shyly hiding beneath the hood. his thumbs spread your cheeks a bit, your slick holes on display for him.

your arousal drips down, dripping a bit onto the sparring mat in the process. your openings wink at him a bit with small flutters, and bruce leans down slightly, using his own spit to lube up your asshole and rim it with his thumb, even if he wasn't going to use it yet.

your body jolts, yelping a bit in surprise. no one had ever touched you there, and you certainly weren't expecting it just now. your hands move to try and cover yourself. "wait— i've never—"

bruce interrupts you with low shushes, kneading the soft flesh of your asscheek in his hand. he decides to feel your clit instead, his thumb working its way down your slit and easily finding the tiny nub. the constant and steady movement ties a knot in your tummy, instinctively pushing your cunt against his hand, soft moans emitting from you. fuck, he was good at this.

you were no stranger to playboy bruce wayne. ever since you've met him, he always had a litter of lovers that followed him around like lost pets, people that he'd never commit to always at his beck and call. you think you might understand why, now. he was a provider, strong, handsome. and even though you hadn't felt his cock inside you yet, you feared you might not ever want another one again after this.

your pussy fluttered desperately, needing something inside you, an impending orgasm building up but frustration was still there. one of his long, thick fingers offers you grace, gently pushing into your cunt. it was almost comical how easily he got you to gush and make a mess of his hand, the digit rubbing and pushing at that sensitive and spongey spot deep inside of you.

"fuck!— bruce—" you cried out, back arching even further, hair sticking against your forehead due to your sweaty state. you pant quickly, trying to regain composure, but your heart only beats more wildly, like a tiny prey animal, the sound of bruce's clothes being removed filling your ears.

you twist your body and head a bit so you could look at him, the sight making your mouth fall open slightly, practically drooling while you oggled him. regardless of his age, the man before you was built like a damn sculpture. hand-crafted to perfection. he was still toned in all the right places after all these years, even if his body had grown softer during his time as a father. coarse hair that led down to a fat cock that was standing up at full attention.

you whimper a bit, unsure if you were really prepared for this. you assume that whatever this is will have an unspoken agreement to be kept secret, at least you hope so. bruce was sometimes unpredictable, but if dick or even jason found out, you'd imagine you and bruce would be killed.

"don't worry baby," bruce grunts softly, as if he knows exactly what you're thinking. the head of his cock teases your entrance, before moving his hips in a mimick motion of thrusting into you, fucking himself in between your thighs and cunt. the tip of his cock smears pre-cum along your stomach, a thick vein protruding from the shaft, and you worry your guts are about to be rearranged, not knowing if you'll be able to walk without a limp tomorrow.

you haven't been able to catch a good look at his cock yet, but you're sure he's gonna have the biggest dick you've ever had. it's proven to you quickly, the air being knocked out of your lungs when he fully sheaths himself inside, bottoming out without warning.

bruce grins above you, his hand resting on your lower back, just above your butt so he could watch the delicious jiggle of your ass bouncing on his cock. he keeps a slow pace at first. judging by your reaction, he knows the stretch hurts you a bit. your baby pussy was so taut around the meaty length, lips struggling to open up for him, even after playing with it.

soft ah ah ahs spill from you, body quivering ever so slightly. it would've been unnoticeable to anyone who wasn't watching you as closely as bruce was. you wanted to take it. you wanted to be good for him. you didn't want to disappoint him. you needed to take his cock like a big girl, even if you didn't fully understand why you wished to please him so much. maybe it's just cause you were sick of feeling like a child in front of him. like you had something to prove even if it wasn't needed. he'd adore you either way, but you didn't know it yet.

bruce was surprised you even succumbed to him as easily as you did, an adorable determination in your eyes, he presumes for a number of reasons. you were deprived just as much as him, which sometimes led to some questionable decisions. which meant he also knew you'd regret this later. but those were problems for another time.

one of his hands finds your wrists, keeping your arms pinned behind your back. bruce imagines the dainty fingers struggling to wrap around his thick girth, how pretty you would look with a cock fucking down your throat. he had fantasized about this happening for too long.

he fucks you with consistent movements, cherishing this moment in case he wouldn't be able to get it back. you were a kind girl. he knew all about the conflicted feelings that were settled deep in your heart because he felt them too. the teary look in your eyes, not knowing if you wanted him to stop or fuck you even harder, but he'd do the latter. with or without your permission.

bruce snaps his hips with more ferocity, keeping his focus on the recoil of your ass, his cock getting getting increasingly wet with creamy white slick, a ring of cum forming at the base of his length. you shudder a bit, his heavy balls slapping against your clit, and you shift your hips to fuck him back, needily chasing your own orgasm.

"that's it— use that little pussy on daddy," bruce hisses through his teeth, his nails digging into your supple flesh, all the filthy sounds that you and that sweet pussy made had his cock pulsing.

you could barely register a word he said, completely forgetting about anything other than the persistent pounding your weeping cunt was receiving. tears prickle your eyes, spit spilling out of your mouth. you looked a damn mess, barely coherent other than the small chanting of 'daddy' just like a prayer, mindlessly accepting the title.

this was something that bruce could get used to. everything about you was just so damn perfect. he shamelessly hoped that you were ovulating, wishing to fill your womb with his seed and make your belly full and round with his child, then you'd have no reason to leave. even if you tried, he wouldn't allow it.

your toes flex and curl, legs trembling from a wave of ecstasy. your poor cunt spasms uncontrollably around his cock, a strangled but sweet moan forced out of you while you rode out your climax. bruce stuffed you full, plugging himself deep inside of you. he stayed there for a moment before fucking you with slower but unmerciful strokes, skin slapping against you with a force that made your breasts bounce harshly.

your pussy squelches, juices leaking all over him. you struggle to crawl away from him cause of the overstimulation, aching and already sore due to the ceaseless strech. but he only pulls you back, growling at your disobedience, swatting your ass with a calloused hand. bruce cums with a raspy groan, a bruising grip on your hips, the sticky substance painting your velvety walls.

the mat below you is drenched in a mixture of yours and bruce's fluids, sure to leave a stain unless poor alfred was stuck cleaning your mess, and you had a feeling bruce wouldn't do it. you'd be willing to clean it yourself to save the embarrassment, but your weak limbs had other plans.

you think he's finished with you until you're hoisted up, forcibly turned around so bruce could see the rest of your naked body. he wastes no time to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak. he wasn't going to allow you to leave here without leaving his mark on you, claiming you by filling up and covering your chest with his lovebites.

he could care less if anyone had seen how effortlessly he managed to corrupt you. all it took was to turn you into his perfect little cocksleeve. it'd be damn near impossible to avoid him after this. even if he wasn't around, the memory would be forever ingrained into your mind, and you wouldn't be able to look at dick or jason or any of the other wards without the reminder that you fucked their father.

you gently try to push at bruce's broad shoulders, the effort not doing much other than making him bite down on your tit, then moving along to the other. you guess the post-nut clarity had hit you, and a tinge of guilt welled up in your chest.

your brows furrow a bit in a feeling of discomfort when bruce glides two fingers through your folds, then gently massaging the swollen button above them. but your heartbeat picks up again, cunt clearly working with a mind of its own.

strained whimpers spill like honey from your lips, now finally shaking your head and attempting to push yourself away in defense when it's what you should've been doing since the beginning. bruce let's you break away from him though, his lips pulling off of you with a pop.

stern eyes meet your lustful but ashamed gaze, a state of displeasure evident on bruce's face. it's something that worries you, unsure of what that might entail. you don't want to make him angry, and you also don't think you're ready to leave the manor just yet, but you also don't know if you can act indifferent around bruce and the others.

maybe if he wasn't around as often, things would be easier, and you'd be able to pretend like this wasn't a mistake. your throat bobs, swallowing your anxiousness, wanting to reevaluate yourself, preferably alone.

you kneel there and wait, half expecting bruce to just fix himself up and leave without much regard for you, because you assumed that's the type of man he would be after fucking someone, but he doesn't. instead, he let's out a small disgruntled noise, collecting your panties and shorts that he had pulled off of you earlier.

his cum is still seeping out of you, a thick load slow to ooze out of you when bruce had emptied his balls inside your abused pussy. he doesn't ask if you want help or if you wanted to be cleaned up, simply raising the fabric up your legs and thighs till the most precious parts of you were covered again. the cotton becomes damp, your wet core coating them with the evidence of yours and bruce's sex.

he shortly cups the tiny cunt in his large hand, gently swiping his thumb over your mound. a small sigh leaves his lips, almost as if he was sad to be leaving the warmth and tightness of it so soon. you're not sure if you're comfortable with how easily he assumed he should have access to your body, but you guess it's also partly your fault, so you allow it for now.

his lips find yours, surprisingly gentle and loving, a stark contrast to how hard he was pistoning his dick inside your belly. but it's pleasant, so you welcome that also. bruce's tongue is smooth and soft, gliding along yours for a moment before he breaks away, a hazy look in his eyes. something you don't think you've ever seen there before, and you swear he's so dreamy to look at.

it's when you remember he's still undressed, eyes shifting below between your bodies and honing in on the massive cock that bruce endowed. even if it was gradually getting softer, he was still semi-hard, his blood pumping to that area just in case he needed to go another round. he'd be more than willing to stuff that tiny hole for you again, and he wished you'd ask him to, but you don't.

but maybe you will someday.

he let's you stare at his cock unabashedly, his breathing heavy and shaky. he slowly moved his hand, gently jerking the long length since you were gawking at him. you let out a cute squeak, suddenly remembering you were about to leave.

bruce doesn't seem to care that it's getting late, or that the rest of the family would be heading down to the cave sooner or later, his focus purely on what was in front of him. but he can see the look of worry written all over you, and it deters him. he stands up to his full height, your eyes widening slightly, his cock dangled in front of you shamelessly, and a small smirk forms on his face.

he has to refrain from grabbing your hair and prodding his dick between those pretty lips of yours. he moves to tug his joggers back on, his cock slapping a bit against his thigh from the movement. you never break eye contact, and neither does he, your thoughts plagued by bewilderment and amorosity.

you stumble over yourself while picking yourself up off the ground, barely reaching bruce's shoulders. you have to tilt your head up just to look at him without straining your eyes, uncertain of what to say or how your relationship with him will be like after this. it's distressing for you, but you're even more concerned with how you're gonna be able to look dick or jason in the eyes again afterwards.

you push away your apprehensiveness, chewing on your bottom lip so you can find the right words. "this— this never happened," you stutter out, your voice coming out more frail than you intended.

bruces lips curl a bit in dismay, his jaw clenching. out of everything he wanted to hear you say, that was certainly not at the top of his list. his hands ball into a fist, his nerves tensing up. he would never think about hurting you. not physically, at least. but you didn't know that. bruce scoffs lightly, almost amused that you actually thought he'd let you off that easily.

you scramble a bit, trying to get your point out before he can get a word in. "if anyone found out–"

"who i fuck is my business only," he cuts you off, already knowing what you'll say next. it's something he's thought over plenty times already. dick had been suprisingly compliant with bruce thus far, so he wasn't an issue according to bruce, and it was easy to get to him anyway. but he didn't foresee his other sons feelings coming into play, or yours. "and you're not an innocent little girl either, so don't act like one."

shit. you were practically digging yourself into a deeper and deeper hole since you moved here. you stare up at him with pleading eyes, and he can't help but soften up a bit. if you were more smart, none of this would've ever happened. how the hell are you gonna be pining after jason now? and bruce.. he seemed less than pleased at the moment. and your gut told you that he wouldn't be letting this go anytime soon.

but he was at heart, a family man. everything he did was out of love, and a desire to protect others so they didn't have to experience the pain he felt when he lost the people most important to him. at least that's what you liked to believe. after jason's passing, they worked so hard to rebuild their relationship, and the trust between them had slowly begun to resemble what it used to be, even if there were some slight changes.

there was no way in your mind that bruce would destroy all of that just for you. you were just some girl, who occasionally hung around his son, but that didn't mean you held as much value in his life than his adopted children. he wouldn't go as far as breaking down his own home, again, just for you, would he?

"if this ever happened," you gesture between the two of you, shaking your head, already gathering how he must've felt about this based off his demeanor. you were no master detective like he was, but being able to easily read body language, sensing people's energies, and intuition, you were good at. "it would ruin everything."

"we're not going to argue about this." he rebutted, taking on a more stern tone, his voice raising above yours. like he was already making the decision for the both of you, and you weren't having that. you want to say more till the sound of footsteps catch your attention, a familiar voice resonating from the stairwell.

"master bruce, is everything alright?" you silently thank whatever higher power that it's alfred instead of someone else. alfred has had his fair share of catching bruce in.. less than favorable circumstances. but the look of surprise on his face isn't something you can miss, even if it's only there for a split second. you'd been caught.

alfred's eyes wander down to the floor below you that's still wet with juices, registering what it was quickly. his eyes meet yours for a moment, smiling at you weakly, then taking a step back from you and bruce. "sorry for the interruption, sir." the older man says formally, turning on his heel to leave, but you do the same before he can.

"actually, i was just leaving." you glance at bruce whose eyes haven't left yours since even before alfred entered the cave. and then you were back to feeling small and helpless around him, back to square one. you sigh and roll your eyes at his poker-face, trying to rush out the cave to escape the awkward interaction.

alfred's eyes follow you with worry, only turning to bruce with a vexed expression once you're gone, shaking his head in disappointment. bruce stared at him blankly, already knowing he was about to get a scolding. "i'm a grown man—"

"precisely." alfred cuts him off, sass in his voice. "she's over a decade younger than you, your sons friend. you have no right to take advantage of her." he argued, pointing a finger in bruce's face.

"she can make her own decisions." bruce seethes, unwilling to hear him out. he hates himself for knowing deep down the butler was right, but he didn't force you to do anything. not really. he knew this wouldn't be without repercussions, but alfred wouldn't say anything either to avoid suspicion.

everything would blow up in bruce's face, and maybe he'd take some accountability for once in his life, but alfred highly doubted that would happen anytime soon.

bruce faced away from him, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. he hated how easily you turned this around on him, turning into a little cock-drunk slut while having sex and then turning around to be angry at him, but it was something he'd seen coming. bruce huffs out a heavy breath, ignoring alfred's smoldering expression. "just get out, i'll clean this up."

"and what of the girl?" alfred asks, side-eyeing the man he raised. he cared more for your safety and how you felt rather than getting on bruce's nerves. "that isn't your concern. i'll take care of it."

alfred was less than enthusiastic about what that could possibly mean, or what any of this would result in. his heart ached for you and jason, even occasionally eavesdropping on the time you spent together, and the friendship had blossomed. maybe it could have turned into something more, but he isn't so sure now.

he turns back into his more reserved and neutral state, giving bruce one last judgmental stare before leaving him to tend to him thoughts. there was no point in trying to reason with him, so he wouldn't waste the energy. he'd only watch you like a hawk now. and bruce included.

with alfred away now, bruce makes quick work of his computer. he searches for the camera he placed in your room upon your arrival to the manor. there's a weird feeling in his chest that he can't quite explain, unsure of what it even was, seeing you curled up in bed, staring off into space. this was one of the rare times he wished he was meta, just so he could read your mind, pick your brain, even if just for a little bit.

you didn't seem sad or angry. just more confused by what he could tell. your eyes shifting like you were thinking up all the possibilities and outcomes of this, and he hated to see it wrack your head. he wished he could say something, or hold you, anything that would give you comfort, but it'd probably just have the opposite of his desired effect.

he had hoped to dwell on the fact that he finally got to penetrate that pretty little cunt of yours more without having to stress over issues that were nonexistent for now, but that wouldn't be the case. there was always something there to bite him in the ass and humble him if need be.

now he could only dream that whatever emotions you possessed for jason would alleviate. that he was an option you didn't know you had up until today. he hoped that he could make you his. and he would. just one day at a time.

he makes sure to save the footage that the security cameras all over the cave had captured, for later usage. he didn't think he'd get an experience like that again anytime soon, that he had just gotten lucky this one time.

but you were almost too eager to fuck him back. bruce wondered if maybe he had more of a chance than he thought, but he didn't know the extent of the loyalty you held for jason or him. or if you would want to avoid the situation completely and decide to leave the mansion. he was never a religious man, but if there was anything for him to pray for, it was you.

he didn't know what was worse. his eyes narrow, analyzing you for a quick moment before shutting off the computer, his head almost beginning to hurt due to the frustration.

just one day at a time.

[romaritimeharbor]

a platonic writer? thats so awesome!!! for the open kny slots, would it be okay to ask for a reader & giyuu found family troupe? would be nice if reader was in their teens♪ mainly about the dynamic and perhaps post final battle

ELUSIVE CARE. — In which the Water Hashira unwittingly attains a younger sibling.

— trigger & content warnings. none applicable.

— pairings & notes. fluff, found family. tomioka giyuu & teen!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). 1.1k words.

— author's thoughts. giyuu's so silly. such a guy. very older brother coded tbh <3

✧ FIRST MEETING

giyuu, though a quiet and reserved soul that often believes himself to be inadequate, is certainly not a heartless man nor is he one who cares too little (perhaps it could even be argued that he cares too much). he wouldn't ever let someone die if there was something he could do to prevent it, and maybe it is killing a demon that first leads him to the little teenager that he will one day grow fond of, [name].

his first instinct is, of course, to reunite them with their family if they have any living relatives. if that is not an option, his next instinct is to send them off somewhere he knows they'll be safe—maybe urokodaki needs someone to stay with him, a companion. he's always been a good caretaker even when not training a demon slayer to-be, and surely he gets lonely in his older age..? or maybe those girls at the butterfly estate would take them—shinobu's... nice enough. to young kids, that is. not him, of course, but he doesn't dare deny her kindness towards younger ones. she would probably be more than happy to take them in, or she would be pissed that he would have the audacity to ask something like that of her... but he still believes that she would do it.

ultimately, wherever he does leave them, it's almost guaranteed that he'll encounter them again. teenagers are rarely known for being obedient; as such, he would probably find them actively seeking him out at his estate. to thank him, to simply visit and stay for a while, to bring him gifts... they aren't annoying per se, but giyuu does wonder for how long he will have to endure it before their visits lessen in number.

he did save their life, so maybe he should just accept it.

and perhaps, once the final battle has passed and the greatest threat to the world has been eliminated, he will not be so opposed to having a regular guest. maybe he'll even ask them to stay.

✧ GENERAL DYNAMIC

giyuu is not known for being open and friendly. that said, i do think he would have some kind of a soft spot for a young kid who has suffered the effects of demons roaming the earth.

maybe he sees a little of himself in them. he wasn't always this way, you know? there was a time where he was softer, more open, and had a more positive outlook about the world. so maybe, just maybe, he sees some of that in the little teenager he saved from death.

his kindness shows in weird and hard to understand ways, and he would rarely make it obvious that he was checking up on them; he probably wouldn't visit often. that said, if [name] were to ask around, maybe they would hear about a recent influx of letters from a certain water hashira concerning a certain victim he recently saved.

as he grows closer to them, he would begin to buy them little trinkets. if he sees something he thinks they would like, he would totally pick it up for them and leave it by their room's door at wherever they're staying. he never signs the gifts, but it is nonetheless very clear who is buying them.

he also does what he can to ensure that they're well-cared for—contributing to the cost of caring for them, mainly.

giyuu, to me, seems like a very attentive person. he's a type i would describe as having a quiet love language—someone who does things subtly (more or less). so, while he does not verbally connect with them often, he can offer a listening ear and will always pick up on the small things.

headpats. giyuu is a headpat man. it's a fond gesture that he uses to communicate a number of things—'i'm proud of you,' 'good job,' 'you're alright now,' 'i'm here for you.' it's one way he communicates nonverbally. he's not great at expressing his care with words, but there are plenty of ways such as this one that are more than sufficient without the use of any words at all.

given that his haori is made up of two halves, each from someone he deeply cared for, i think it's safe to say that he has a certain sentimentality about him. any gifts they give to him will be treasured (and if they happen to give him something he can wear without getting in the way of his job, he'll find a way to incorporate it into his uniform).

he's quite fiercely protective of them. if someone is bothering them, giyuu is more than happy to simply stand behind them and give the one annoying them a simple stare, which is more than enough to solve the issue permanently. as a hashira, the lower ranked corps members are already rather scared of him, so he doesn't really have to do much at all to deter anyone from harassing them...

on a similar note, he will put extra care and attention into killing off any demons lingering around the area that they reside in. he's failed so many people before and is not keen on doing so again.

he would very much prefer if they didn't become a demon slayer, especially after his relationship with them has developed a little more. any attempts to ask him about joining would be cut off with a short, firm 'no.' though, with enough insistence... that answer could change.

ultimately, what they do is up to them, but giyuu would prefer that they stay as far out of harm's way as possible. not every victim is meant to, nor do they have to, become a demon slayer—he hopes they know and understand that above all else.

✧ POST-FINAL BATTLE

following the end of the final battle, giyuu would be a little more open with them in quite a few ways.

for one, he's more expressive, offering them something other than his usual stoicism every now and then—a smile. his expression in general softens significantly in their presence once everything is over.

he also grows a little more comfortable expressing himself verbally with them. he's still not exactly... articulate when it comes to expressing his care with words, but it's the thought and effort that counts.

he would also move them into his home at that point!! since he doesn't have to be away constantly now, he feels more comfortable having them stay with him. before, if a demon had showed up to his secluded estate while he was gone, it may have very well ended poorly, had they been staying there. given that this is no longer a concern (and he's also home far more often now), he doesn't mind the company whatsoever.

post-final battle, he would also spend more time around them. it would be then that they would really get to know him. his hobbies, his interests, maybe his past. eventually.

things take time. opening up takes time... and once muzan has been defeated, there is plenty of time for them to get closer with their elusive older brother-like figure.

please consider supporting me if you enjoyed! the best ways to do so are as follows: comments, asks, reblogs, and reblogs with tags.

[luvfy0dor]

Good day! How are you doing? I'm back with a small request. A reader keeps three kitties at home, but no one knows about it. What would happen if Chuya or Fedor stopped by to visit for the first time and three different big fluffy cats met them on the doorstep? Thank you for your artwork. They really are so awesome.

I hope I've made the right request. Have a great day!

“Guess I'll Just Stumble on Home to my Cats !! ♡” - Chuuya Nakahara x Gn!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; i like describing really enormous cats, which is made obvious, some swearing, it's pretty silly

Description; Chuuya interacting with cats.

A/n; Bro I love cats sm I was so excited to do this request my bsf and I have matching cats theyre both orange and named garfield, but I'm gonna do a second part with fyodor! I just wrote a whole lot for Chuuya so I thought I'd separate it : ] OH ALSO TYSM FOR THE COMPLIMEBTS FJEJSJDJ ❤️❤️💖💖

• Chuuya is definitely more of a dog person, but that doesn't mean you'll never find him lying on your couch, hat over his face and a cat or two (or three) loafed on his chest.

ೃ⁀➷

You decided to invite Chuuya over for dinner in celebration of receiving a promotion at your job. You liked being able to share such an exciting moment with the people you loved, and Chuuya was absolutely one of them.

Chuuya had yet to venture to your house, not because he didn't want to, but because it was really hard to find time for anything recently. He had been very busy with work, and the distance from your place to his work or his house was rather inconveniencing. But, he wanted to join you for dinner, so that was just what he was gonna do.

So, there he stood, a small flower bouquet in hand and dressed in his usual classy clothing. He almost hesitated to ring the doorbell, but he pushed his pointless worries aside. There was nothing to be nervous about, after all. It was dinner with his lover, how scary could it be?

"It's unlocked!" You shout from the kitchen, cleaning everything up and plating the food. He twists the door nob and pushes it open, walking in before tripping. He caught himself, but he looked down, wondering what you could have possibly left on the floor right next to the door. Instead of finding a shoe or clothing item, he saw a fluffy black mass peeking up at him through it's furry coat. It meowed at him, skittering away into the kitchen. He was very confused as to where you had gotten a cat, you've never told him about this! He chalked it up to cat sitting before following in the cats footsteps and heading into the kitchen. He found you shooing the cat away very politely, waving it off towards to other room; and much to his surprise, it obeyed.

Chuuya had not once seen a cat so obedient, he always thought of cats as careless and independent animals, but apparently they listened just as well as dogs if trained right. Your eyes lit up when they landed on your boyfriend, then on the flowers, making your heart melt. "Aw, Chuuya! You're too sweet to me, you didn't have to bring me flowers!" You say, approaching him, he sighs and puts an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. "I know, but it's the least I could do for you, I mean you're making me dinner." He says, kissing your forehead and handing you the flowers.

"Still though. Thank you, Chuuya." You say excitedly, walking towards the cabinets and grabbing a vase, filling it up about a fourth of the way with water. "Yeah, it's no problem, doll. Hey, uhm, you never told me you had a cat around." He says with a slight laugh. You turned to him, furrowing your eyebrows before a look of realization came over your face. "Oh! I'm sorry, yeah, I have three cats." You gave him a grin, which widened when you saw his surprised face.

"Do you not like cats? I'm sorry, I should have told you." You say, straightening out your shirt. "No! No, it's alright, darlin', it just caught me by surprise, you know? I'm more of a dog guy..." He murmurs, hugging you and looking over your shoulder at the food. "That looks really good though." He compliments, gently cupping your cheek. You thank him and guide him aside with your hand on his waist in order to bring the vase to the dining room table. He jumps upon feeling something furry rub up against his pant leg, looking down to see an entirely different cat. He stares at the furry animal before hesitantly squatting down to pet it.

Running his fingers across the felines head, he smiled a bit, scratching it behind the ears before standing up to wash his hands. The cat, however, did not take no more for an answer. It butted it's head against Chuuyas calf, purring as it did so. Chuuya rolled his eyes and looked at it again, resisting the urge to pet it and have to wash his hands all over again. You return to the kitchen to grab the plates, setting them at the dinner table with a smile. Chuuya follows you out, the cat following him, like a train. Chuuya sits across from your seat and watches you situate yourself, a sort of love struck expression on his face. You notice and blush, a small and breathy laugh escaping your lips.

Chuuya is snapped from his adoring gaze by what feels like a trillion pounds of bricks being dropped into his lap, causing him to let out a loud "oomph." You look at him with confusion and concern and Chuuya looks down at his lap, seeing a massive and utterly colossal, prodigious, party-sized ass cat loafing in his lap. How it even jumped up onto him was entirely out of his scope of knowledge. You peered under the table and saw your largest cat on your boyfriends lap, making you frown.

"I'm sorry about him, he's on a weight loss journey, I promise." You apologetically say, getting up to remove the stupendously sized cat from Chuuyas thighs, gently plopping him down on the floor. He nods in response, putting his hands up defensively. "It's not a big deal, I promise. He looks like he's got the spirit to get to that goal." He says, remote enthusiasm in his voice. You nod with a smile. "He definitely does. I think you'll get along with all three of them well, I think they already really like you, especially (cat #3's name)." He smiles a bit and nods, taking a bite of his food, humming in satisfaction. "You're such a great chef, doll. Did you have the cats pick fresh herbs and spices or somethin'?" He playfully says, making you scoff.

"I wish those cats could help out. They're wonderful for moral support and occasional obstacles, though." You sarcastically reply. He smiles. "Do they actually knock stuff off of tables? I've heard a lot of cats like to do things like that, or sitting on keyboards?" You nod, taking another bite of your food. "Yeah, they've done it a couple times, they knocked pepper all over the place once and when they hopped down on the floor none of them could stop sneezing. I felt so bad for them." You say, reminiscing on all the times your animals inconvenienced both you and themselves with their antics.

Chuuya laughs a little, resting his head against his knuckles. "What poor little things they are, huh?" He laughs, looking at the three cats that were now sprawled out on the couch. You nod. "Maybe they just need another parental figure." You say, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. He looks over at you, his cheeks slightly red and his lips parted. "What, do you want me to be their second/father?" You nod with a grin. "If you'll accept the offer." You smile, sipping on some water.

Chuuya smirks, leaning back in his chair and adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. "Obviously I'm going to, I would never deny you." He says, his pearly white teeth flashing as he speaks. Everything about him really was perfect to you, especially his willingness to be included in your little cat family. "Great, hopefully they'll learn to be a gentleman just like you." You say, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and leaning into him.

A/n; dawg I'm posting this from a movie theater this movie is kinda boring and I gotta be here for 2 ½ more hours send help. Also if I flop again I'm crying tbh (Edit) WALKED OUT THAT BITCH LAST NIGHT W OLD ERAS TOUR MOVIE MERCH BECAUSE I WASNT ABLE TO GO SEE IT ORIGINALLY AND GET IT SO ALL IS WELL

[hi-there-buddies]

Just got back from watching Transformers: One

WOW

HEAVY spoilers under cut!:

Ok, the first thing I need to say is this:

If the cybertronians in this movie were humans, and this was a live action film, this movie would be rated R

The level of violence in this movie is something I seldom see in actual live action movies. It was insane

At one point at the end of the film, Megatron RIPS Sentinel in half with his bare hands, and you can SEE the “guts” and wires as you see the light disappear from a bisected Sentinal’s eyes. It’s crazy

There was also a point where Optimus was accidentally shot by Megatron (who was trying to kill Sentinel), and he started falling off a ledge. Megatron then catches him, but you can SEE in his eyes the hatred growing more and more, and then his eyes shoot up at the camera, blood red. He then says something like “I’m done saving you” and LETS OPTIMUS FALL

There was also a bit of an underlying “we can’t kill them, we’ll be as bad as them” point. But it’s not like you think. What Optimus mainly said was “we can’t start off the rebuilding of Iacon with an execution” and I think that is actually pretty sound advice, and makes more sense than “we can’t kill them cause we’ll be just as bad” when they were just murdering people five minutes ago. It also kinda fixes Optimus’ character (comparing it to what happened in Dark of the Moon; another movie where Optimus had the opportunity of killing Sentinel, and he took it).

Overall I think the way they used the theme was pretty good, and they definitely did a good job at making Megatron a hypocrite. At some point after they find out Sentinel is a villain, Megatron says something akin to “I’ll never trust another so called leader again”, and then he basically becomes a leader that demands obedience. His descent in to madness was pretty chilling to watch.

There’s one point where he looks Optimus dead in the eyes and goes “I…Got…It” and it’s fucking horrifying

He is the one who made Starscream’s voice all fucked up in this continuity too, which is crazy because in all the other continuities his voice was just kinda like that, so I was NOT expecting it.

Anyway, great movie.

Had a brilliant structure, and you always knew what the plot was. A lot of movies are struggling with that lately. No scene drags on too long, and the humor is actually pretty good (I love Bumblebee)

Also, Bumblebee did NOT lose his voice, and he also didn’t get renamed to bumblebee, so this actually might be a prequel to the Knightverse (he was also called B-127, which was in the trailers)

I’d give this movie and 8.5 or 9 out of 10, but that might be because I’m a Transformers fan. My sister doesn’t know anything about Transformers, and she gave it an 8/10, which kinda points to another fact: this is an AMAZING starting point for new fans!

Watch it if you haven’t, because I only described some of the movie here! It’s crazy seeing it in theaters

(If you have any questions about the movie, feel free to ask!)

[yuikomorii]

Idk if it is just me but i feel like yui has a different personality when she is with ayato,unlike when she is with other diaboys, i mean i feel like yui would act like her true self and so comfortable around ayato, she is even cheaky around him,which tbh for me i think they are a cute and best couple (if we didn't count the dark ofc) unlike when is with other diaboys, correct me if I'm wrong tho....

(tbh i don't know that much about others but from what i saw,that with ruki so obedient and literally would ask his permission for almost everything,kinda kou and yuma too,maybe don't know)

I was having this thoughts and loved to share it with you since you love yui :3

// That’s actually a very popular opinion, haha. Or is it a fact? Well, what matters is that we collectively agree Yui’s true self is in Ayato’s routes. It seems people find her the most likeable there, lol.

I honestly believe the reason Ayayui’s chemistry works so well is that they behave like real teenagers in love. In the Western fandom, I've seen some people complain that Ayato and Yui aren’t 'serious' enough compared to other couples, and that always confuses me. A good relationship doesn’t have to be like that, in some cases it’s better when you can just be cheerful and silly with your partner. Ayato doesn’t look down on Yui or treat her like a goddess; he simply sees her for who she is. He’s even said that he likes her because she’s simple, cute, and stupid, which honestly describes Yui perfectly, lol.

What I also appreciate is that Yui isn’t the reason Ayato learns to value life, but rather he’s the one who helps her live life, so as they can have fun together and forget about negative things for the time being. In a relationship, I’d want us to grow together too rather than one person being the source of the other’s happiness. That can create an imbalance where one partner feels like they have to constantly provide emotional support or the other will fall apart.

On top of that, their personalities complement each other perfectly—something you can especially see in Ayato’s routes, where Yui becomes Ayato 2.0, lol.

Also, since you brought up other characters... Yuma and Kou turned out to be good guys too! Ruki’s more complicated, since sometimes he’s flirty and gentle, but other times he becomes overly strict and secretive, even after MB… But that’s not a problem if you’re into that type of guys.

[galedekarios]

good day! thank you for beautiful visuals and metas of Gale, its great to find fans who care about him so! You got me thinking - for a character so romantic, so delighted to be in love Gale knew little about it with Mystra. He spoke about being her lover like it was a highest honor, losing her favor, being cut off described as fate worse than Netherese Orb itself. Gale agrees to die for her forgiveness no questions asked. All this while he realises deep down even through it was voiced later - he was her plaything, another mortal falling under her spell, no love requited ever could be there, gods don't feel it. It's very sweet and a little heartbreaking, how open and smitten he can be if romanced, how happy he becomes loving and being loved in return.

thank you for your wonderful and very sweet message, anon. 🖤 i really do appreciate it.

yes, that is everything that i find very touching about gale's romancce.

to me, gale is someone who hasn't truly known what love is yet. he has known worship and obedience, wonder and pleasure. i think, considering how young he was when mystra came into his life, it's perhaps no surprise at all that once their relationship changed, he may have thought it was love between them. it was most certainly for him. in fact, i do remember a particular line from early access that always stuck with me and truly showed the imbalance at work here:

Player: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. 

and

Player: Teacher’s pet, was he? Gale: He fancied himself much more than that. He fancied himself favoured above all others. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. Mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘Chosen One’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.

and even now, in the full release version of the game, that sentiment still lingers. he wasn't just her chosen, he was her lover - and we learn throughout the game what love truly entails for gale: heart, mind, body and soul.

Gale: I'm many things to many people, but I'm never a man to throw the l-word around lightly. I said exactly what I meant: I love you. You should never, never doubt that. - Gale: We didn't just make love. We bonded, body and soul. I got lost in you.

with mystra casting him away, he not only lost his power, his status, but also one of his most central relationships with the goddess who was his teacher, mentor and love all at once, all at the same time.

but we also know that he had relationships before mystra and before the protag:

Gale: No, you are not the first. Though you are the first since my relationship with Mystra came to its ignominious end.

i think this quote is just so interesting, especially if you pair it with:

Gale: To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command... None have loved me so purely before.

and:

Player: I love you. But for the man that you are. Not the god you'd pretend to be. Gale: But think what I offer. The vastness of eternity to explore, the Weave at our fingertips... You would really prefer me as I am? Node Context: Genuine, vulnerable - the player just told him they loved him in a way that no one else has

so whatever these relationships before were, it's clear that something was missing from them for gale. something that gale sorely needed.

all of these little puzzle pieces combine to a larger whole of why we find gale as he is when we meet him in the story: someone who very much is struggling to find any worth in the person that he is outside of what he can provide to be useful.

Gale: Let me make myself indispensable. - Gale: I'm indispensable, aren't I? - Gale: My best is yours. - Gale: Please - continue to believe in me. I want to show you the wizard I am capable of being, rather than the poor excuse for a man who's kept you company thus far.

there are so many more of these, following the same vein, even in act iii.

gale is only now learning how to be loved, how to allow himself to be loved, and under that continuous reaffirmation given by the protag, he opens up to it, strains towards it, like a flower to the sun.

Gale: You truly are a soul that steels my own. From all my new-rallied heart I thank you. I stand at a precipice, but if you do not give up hope, neither shall I. I'll fight, I'll resist - as long as I can. - Gale: You give me hope, and I've not had that in some time. - Player: How are you feeling? Gale: Worried, if I'm being honest. I have so much to live for - more than I thought I'd have again, after Mystra. - Gale: It's been so long since I used it. Gale Dekarios cuts a poor figure next to the wizarding prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep'. Player: Gale Dekarios. I think I like him more. Gale: You like so many things about me I'd have sooner discarded... Your generosity is quite wonderful. - Gale: You see me as I am, and do not find me wanting.

he still has a very long way to go, to heal, it's not a process that's completed by the time his quest is completed or the game ends - and depending on your protag, they too have things that still weigh heavy on them as well - but it's a beginning.

[decadentworld]

loved the first fanfic! it was delicious!

so um could i request jonathan byers with dacryphilia, praise, maybe even perverted jonathan?

like it's jonathans first time bottoming and he's kind of scared, but he's fantasized about it for a very long time so he's very eager and obedient.

you don't have to write it, of course! whatever you're comfortable with, dude.

take care!

Hey, anon. I went kind of overboard with the ‘pervert Jonathan’ part, because this boy just screams ‘secret pervert’ to me. I hope it’s alright. This one is a lot more light-hearted and a lot less poetic than Rebirth.

Also. I promised myself that requests wouldn’t be as long as my personal works but. Well. Oops.

Vice.

Jonathan’s first time does not go the way he plans it. In fact, it goes a lot better.

※ Sub Bottom Jonathan/Dom Top Male Reader

※ 12,444 words.

※ Anonymous request.

※ Content & warnings: First time bottoming. Dacryphilia. Size difference/Size queen. D/s dynamics. Praise kink. Authority kink. Pervert Jonathan. Hardcore first time. Overstimulation. Un-beta’d.

※ Both characters are 18 or older.

※ Work available only on Tumblr and under ArchiveOfOurOwn pseud of the same name (DecadentWorld). Do not repost, edit, or redistribute. Do not use for TikTok videos.

Jonathan’s little secret is at all times kept under lock and key. Several locks, actually. And a combination lock with no less than five numbers for good measure.

There’s this box hidden within his closet, see, which is quite sizable, though it is very discreet and easy to hide in the deepest part of his closet, behind his chest of drawers. It’s black; he knows it’s originally intended as a cash safe, or he supposes, since he didn’t actually buy it. He found it. He swears that’s the word that describes it best: ‘found’ it. What could an open cash safe have been doing just lying around in the junkyard otherwise? He did not steal it. It was open, it was empty, it was happenstance that he needed something to store his ever-growing collection of his more personal things and there was an abandoned cash safe in the junkyard. Simple.

Now, what’s inside this box nowadays? Only he knows as of yet. It’s not something he could just be saying outloud. There are already consequences just for people like Jonathan to simply show his true face in Hawkins, but if anyone unsafe found what he keeps in the box? He would be skinned alive. He would be castrated, for sure.

Which is why he always makes absolutely sure to close it, lock it, and hide it away after he finishes making use of the… erm. Objects inside.

He always does. He never forgets.

After withdrawing from one of the most intense, toe-curling make-out sessions with his boyfriend —his boyfriend. It makes him so fucking giggly to think of that word— as he greeted you into his house, a surprise visit from you, he leads you closer to his bed with a shy hand on yours.

“Just get comfortable,” he tells you. “I’m gonna bring in something to eat.”

“Sure, gorgeous.”

The mental haze he gets after the slight praise is probably one of the reasons why he gets sloppy today.

He walks to the kitchen with a spring in his step. He’s home alone for the moment, something so rare it’s a golden opportunity he won’t waste. God. He feels so bubbly when he’s with you. He opens the fridge as he thinks of this. Jonathan’s never felt like this, like he could turn to mush just by being next to you, like he could start giggling at any given moment just because you talk to him with a voice that rumbles throughout his body, like he could swoon when you press your palm against the back of his head, because he feels like you could engulf him wholly. His break-up with Nancy led him to several realizations, one of which —and he’s sorry, Nancy, but it has to be said— is the one where he found he’s a lot more attracted to men than to women. By, like. A lot. Nancy knew about his bisexuality before, but never commented on it. He doesn’t think she did (or didn’t, rather) out of maliciousness, or awkwardness, or anything like that. Jonathan knows there was just no possible situation in which the topic could be talked about casually, so why bother. He’s absolutely not mad or anything like that. Plus, there’s no point in discussing something like that when they were in a relationship; for no reason would he think about other men, or women, while he had a girlfriend. These thoughts lead to other similar ones as he’s getting some snacks ready in small plastic bowls. He feels kind of bad for not being more open with his family. With Will, especially. He knows the euphoria, the feeling of safeness that Will would get if he knew there was an older queer figure in his life. Sure, Will is not out, but it’s sort of an open secret now. But Jonathan is not that brave. He knows his mom has the tiniest suspicion of Jonathan being at least a little bit queer, what with you coming over more often than not. For college assignments, of course. And everything leads back to you. He bites his lip with a smile on his face as he finishes pouring the contents of a packet into one of the little bowls. Everything about you has him crazy. It’s the fact that you tower over him but still hold him in your arms like he’s delicate, fragile. It’s how you still haven’t made any sexual advances towards him, because you know he’s a virgin in that aspect, and because he told you how very nervous the thought made him. But Jonathan knows you sense something more, and how very right you are without realizing it, that he might be sort of terrified, yet it’s the only thing he can think about these days. It’s even more difficult to focus on anything else when he can only think about you taking him in your big hands, making him —everything about him— look small. Can’t help getting hard in unfortunate situations sometimes, can’t choose which fantasy is best: the one where you take your time with him, treating him gently… or the one where you rip his virginity away, so intensely that he’s crying in the end. He has to calm down before he gets hard. Again. Because he’s already taken the edge off, had an orgasm earlier today. Made use of some of the objects in his—

Wait.

WAIT.

He sprints towards his room leaving the bowls abandoned on the kitchen counter. And there you are.

On his bed. Not having moved at all, of course. How could you? His bed is quite comfy.

You’re sitting on his bed. Looking at the open closet some feet from you. With a scandalized, but pleased expression.

Looking at the open safe on the closet floor.

Jonathan throws himself in front of the closet and closes the door with such force it resounds across his bedroom.

“How much did you see?!”

You look at him, amusedly, pleasantly surprised at this new version of Jonathan you’re seeing. “Um… enough?”

Jonathan covers his burning face and groans. It’s a long and muffled noise. “Oh my Goood,” he mumbles behind his hands.

You can’t help but chuckle a little bit. “Babe… why are you so shaken about this?”

“It’s… you weren’t supposed to see.” Jonathan peeks at you from between his fingers. “It’s so fucking embarrassing.”

“Uh…” You understand where he’s coming from, but, honestly, if he thinks this is the end of the world then he’s sorely mistaken. “It’s… not, really. It’s actually kind of… hot.”

Jonathan lowers his hands so quickly he accidentally slaps the closet door behind him. He gapes at you, so mortified he could melt to the floor. “Wh-What— You don’t— You’re not mad?”

Now you’re frowning in confusion. “Why would I be mad?”

“Well… I kind of… told you I’ve never…” You never thought he could get any more red until now. “And I still… have these things…”

You give him a sort of wolfish smile. He knows you’re trouble when you stand up, slowly walk the few steps to him, and suddenly you’re towering over him.

He gulps. He’s so terrified and excited about what you’re going to say, to do.

You lower a hand to the left side of his waist. He jumps a little bit. “It is hot, Jonathan. Now, feel free to push me off if I’m out of line, but I’m suddenly really, really curious to see more of that.”

He makes a small shrill you find adorable. “Uh— you want to s— how— what did you see, exactly?”

“Well, I saw… some nice-looking ropes.” Jonathan grumbles with embarrassment. “Saw something that looks like…” You leave his waist for a second to use both index fingers to draw something in the air that vaguely resembles a spade. He looks like a fish out of water. “I spotted a shape that looks a lot like something I have, too… if you’d be interesting in comparing.” Jonathan is almost hyperventilating at this point. “But, I think the most interesting one… it was barely peeking, but… the corner of something that I know, Jonathan, I know, is a photo?”

He can’t take it. He hides his face in your chest and whines so loudly it can barely be muffled. You cackle. It’s not a mean sound. You just can’t believe how agitated he’s being about something so normal. So you reassure him.

“It’s normal, Jonathan. It just means you have a healthy way of having fun on your own.”

He grumbles some more. He peeks at you from his spot on your chest. “You think?”

“Yep. And I would absolutely not mind knowing more about it. About your… stash.”

That at least pulls a giggle out of him. “You say it like I’m dealing.” He withdraws.

You caress his chin with a smile. “I am. I would pay only the highest price for this very fine selection.”

Jonathan bites his lip, a small smile in his face. You make him feel so safe, no judgement ever bleeding from your words. “You want to see it?”

You nod, almost enthusiastically, and he laughs. You step back some, giving him some space to open the closet door behind him. He does, and crouches down to retrieve it. Before pulling it out completely, he hesitates. “Um…”

“Yeah?”, you encourage him.

“It’s… if that’s all you saw, then… you didn’t even see half of it?” He says the last part more hushed, like he’s so embarrassed of himself he can’t even speak.

“Oh.” And you sound even more excited now. “Well. You’ll just have to show me all of it, right?”

Jonathan bites his lip and giggles nervously. He pulls the black safe out of his closet and onto the floor of his room.

You give him a muffled laugh. He was right. You didn’t even see half of what he’s got. You skim over the contents, before saying: “Wanna bring this up to the bed so I can see it better?”

He nods. With a strong blush on his face, Jonathan lifts the open box and leaves it on his bed.

The moment of truth is here. You both sit on the mattress, the open safe between you two, its contents perfectly visible. Jonathan is sort of hunched over himself with a hand on his mouth, looking so embarrassed you find it endearing.

You feast on all the objects inside the safe. There’s the things you’ve already seen: red ropes, a metal buttplug, a black silicone dildo, and yes, there are pictures too. Pictures of himself with those ropes around him and nothing more, photographs of parts of his body, a lot more artistic than actually sexual in nature. Close-ups of Jonathan’s cum on the wooden floor. But apart from that, there’s also skin mags. Pocket-sized ones. They’re all gay skin mags. There are also a lot more toys and sexual objects: nipple clamps, anal beads, a small bullet-shaped vibrator, a cock ring, a flogger, a chest harness, a collar with a D ring and matching cuffs for the wrists and ankles —you have to catch your breath at that one. An unlabeled cassette. That one picks your interest a lot. You don’t see any fleshlights or VHS’s. Probably didn’t fit in the safe with how much stuff there is already. Lastly, you see two different tubes of lubricant: a neutral one, and a cherry-flavored one; and a handful of packets of condoms.

His collection is impressive. It’s almost like he collects these things, like he treasures them, keeps them stored away safely only for his eyes and body to feast on whenever he has the time. All in all, you get a rush of something that feels like awe, and lust at the same time.

You finally look at him. He is so red behind his hands, and he’s also shaking a little bit, like he’s so nervous to hear what you have to say about all this.

“Oh, babe. Look at me.” Jonathan complies, looking at you from the spaces between his fingers. “This? This is amazing. Like, wow. You have so much stuff.” You give him a little smirk, about to test the waters. “Have you used all of them already?”

At that, Jonathan can only cover his face completely, muffled laughs hysterical from how awkward he feels, and throws himself back on the bed. At least he’s not outright rejecting you.

A little nod catches your attention.

“That’s so hot, baby.” You softly grab around the edges of the safe and turn it around a bit to see better. Jonathan lowers his hands down to his mouth to be able to see you when he feels the jostle on the bed. “Can you tell me what… this one is?” You point at the cassette.

“Oh my God.” Jonathan looks like he’s biting his nails. He decides to sit up instead. He takes the cassette in his trembling hands and holds it up, the side you saw before facing you and the other one facing Jonathan. “Um…”

“If you want, obviously.”

“U-Um…” He giggles nervously a bit more. That’s good. He’s not actually afraid or uncomfortable, just shy. “It’s… like a narration. The narrator says things that are supposed to… make you feel things.”

It’s so vague, since he’s still pretty mortified about showing you all this, but you think you understand. “Okay. Kind of like… hypnosis?”

“Well… yeah, but not really in the traditional sense.” Jonathan fiddles with the cassette. “It’s just relaxing, but also…” His renewed blush tells you everything you need to know.

“That’s so interesting.” You lean over to examine the small rectangle better, and suddenly spot some handwritten text on the back. “Oh. What does it say?”

Jonathan shrieks. He didn’t mean for you to see that. His hand just accidentally moved until the cassette was no longer parallel to you. “Uhhh…” But, he decides to brave through, because this entire situation is doing something to him. “But… but don’t make fun of me. Please.”

“Of course not!”, you’re quick to say. “Why would I?”

Jonathan bites his lower lip. “Well…” He fidgets a bit, then shakily hands you the cassette over.

You give him a reassuring little smile as you accept the tape. You turn it around. And.

Ah.

Jonathan is full of surprises, isn’t he.

Your eyes go hazy with lust as you read the handwritten two words on the white sticker: Good Boy. You understand a bit better now. You can totally picture what it is: the deep masculine voice of a male narrator giving the listener instructions on what to do, how to touch themselves, what a good boy they’re being for obeying. So Jonathan has the biggest praise kink ever. No big deal. Not at all. Except. It’s all you’ll be able to think about for the rest of your life.

You can’t help yourself. Your hand reaches the back of his head and you give your boyfriend a steamy kiss, right over the open safe, feeling him tremble and whine against you. He opens his mouth in time for you to slip your tongue in and start a sensual caress over his own. Jonathan grabs at your clothes in desperation, squirming in his place on the bed like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You withdraw and look at him. Not only is he sporting the most gorgeous blush ever, but there’s a hint of lust there now, too.

“That’s so fucking hot, Jon. You like being a good boy?”

He suddenly moans against your lips. But then seems to sober up and covers his mouth, ashamed.

You take his hand into yours and move it aside with a little bit of resistance. “None of that, sweetness. Let me hear you.”

He does this little whine and instead lifts his other hand over his mouth, not entirely covering it, just appearing to be chewing on his nails. Even then, he’s gives you a small shaky smile as he shakes his head in shy denial.

“No?” You push only enough to give him a thrill, never to spook him. Your hand that was holding his releases him and goes under his chin. Jonathan puts both hands on his lap as he timidly looks up at you. “I hope I’m not overstepping here, but…”

“N-No, no, you’re not.” Jonathan puts his left hand on the one you have under his chin. “I’m just… this is just kinda new to me.”

You grin at him. “Sweetheart.” You lean in to give him a small peck on the lips. Even that seems to leave him breathless. “I was just saying that… it’d be so hot if you told me more about some of these things. Hm? What do you say?”

He releases a heavy breath that borders on being a moan. He bites his lip, but nods in the end. You release his face and he runs two delicate hands across his hair.

Right when he’s about to speak up, there’s a loud thud coming from the front door of the house.

Jonathan yelps and jumps almost a foot in the air. He immediately closes the lid of the safe box. You’re both frozen in place, you waiting to see if any of his relatives are going to walk in through the front door, and he frozen from fear.

A few more seconds pass, and nothing else happens. Jonathan shakily gets up from the bed, slowly walks to his bedroom door and opens it just a bit. His eyes land on the front door.

The tips of something he knows is newspaper peek from under the slit of the door.

He closes his door with a relieved sigh. “Oh my God. It was just the newspaper delivery. I thought it was going to be my mom.” He runs his hands through his hair with a hysterical giggle.

You laugh too. “Damn. Scared the hell out of me.”

“Me too.”

It seems like this cut off the moment you were having. Jonathan stands awkwardly at the door for some seconds. Then decides to go near the bed again, but doesn’t sit down.

“Um… I’m, like, totally spooked out right now.” But he says it like he’s apologetic about it. Like he doesn’t want this to stop.

You get up with an eager grin. He gives you that nervous little smile, looking at you from under his lashes. “I thought of something right now. That is, if you want, of course.” He nods as he keeps listening. “I thought that maybe… you can show me all of this,” and your hand points in the direction of the closed safe on the bed. “…uninterrupted. As much as you want… at mine?”

He makes a small embarrassed grunt. He covers his mouth to muffle a small giggle. “At your house?”, he asks, so demurely you want to eat him up.

“Yeah. If, of course, that’s okay with you.”

Jonathan doesn’t answer you right away, still looking like he’s gonna vibrate out of his skin. He walks the few steps towards the bed, opens the lid of the safe, and takes something small out of it. Slowly. Nervously.

“Ummm…” He shows you what it is. He speaks almost in a whisper. “Are we… going to need one of these?”

A condom.

Your eyes go half-lidded. The idea that he possibly wants to fuck, even though you haven’t gone past heavy kissing, is exhilarating. You have to collect yourself, since you don’t mean to drive home with an erection.

“Jonathan…” You crowd him against the wall next to his bedroom door. He drops the packet with a breathless moan. You kiss him long and heavy, feeling him squirm against you, feeling his rising heat. You withdraw and give him an intense look. “If you want.”

He moans against your neck. He breathes rapidly against it, trying to calm himself down, and then nods against your skin.

You run your fingers through his hair, on the back of his head. Then you softly grip those same locks to lift his head and have him look at you. “Good.”

It’s so close, a hair’s width kind of close to saying ‘good boy’, but you’re going to save that for later. Even now, he melts against your grip at that single word. Now he puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to focus better. “Okay, but, like… can you just… go and I’ll meet you there. In 20, maybe? I’ll have to call mom first and make up an excuse.”

You chuckle. “Sure.”

 

Jonathan comes out of the shower fifteen minutes later. He’s still the only person in the house, feeling sure that it wouldn’t be at least another hour until anyone arrived, but it was still the better idea to go to yours.

As he goes back into his room and retrieves the closed safe —this time having hid it behind his set of drawers where he always leaves it, he’s not making that mistake again— he stops when he has it in his hand. A wicked idea comes into his mind. He blushes as he begins unlocking the box.

 

 

You open your front door at the twenty minute mark, just as Jonathan said. There he is, all nervous smiles and fidgety hands, even though he clearly hopes it’s subtle. He has the safe box clutched in his right hand.

“Hey,” you greet him as you give him way into your home.

“Hi.” Jonathan tucks his chin into his chest. He’s just so cute to you.

As soon as you close the door, he’s onto you. You’re pleasantly surprised when he kisses you first now. You lean back against the door and hold the sides of his head in your hands. These same hands caress his hair. He melts into you within the kiss.

You pull back and point at the safe in his hand with a wolfish smile. “That looks heavy. Let me give you a hand?”

Jonathan does this little sound that tells you he’s embarrassed, but hands you the box over. He’s putting a lot of trust into you by letting you handle the most private part of his life, so you’re not going to disappoint him.

You take his hand with your free one, which makes him look like he’s melting with shyness, even though you have a literal safe full of his sex toys in your other hand, and guide him towards your room.

The moment you open the door, it seems like it dawns on Jonathan that you’re going to do this. His hand starts trembling in your grip.

You lift his hand until it’s under your mouth. You press a soft kiss on his knuckles, and he looks at you with shaky giddiness. “Still want to do this?”

Jonathan all but latches himself onto you, holding onto your side as his answer. He looks at you from under his lashes, almost like he’s fawning at you. So he’s just nervous but still excited. It’s a small relief, and you will do anything to keep him from toeing that fine line into outright distress. You softly grab his chin and press a small kiss on his lips. After, you guide him further into your room with this same grip, something that makes him give you the softest of giggles.

Once you’re in front of the bed, you gesture for him to get comfortable. Jonathan sits on your bed as you deposit the locked safe onto the mattress with the utmost care.

“I have to… unlock it first,” Jonathan says. He bites his lip to stifle a grin, his face already reddening some.

“Of course!” You turn around and make a show of covering your eyes with your hands.

He outright laughs this time. You hear the tinkle of small keys —he probably had them in his pockets, you muse—, some clacking noises that indicate a padlock opening, then two, and then three, and then soft clicking of tiny number dials being turned. Finally, a louder clack. The lid is open.

“Okay, you can turn around, now,” Jonathan says, amusedly.

You do, and a familiar sight of the many toys and objects inside the box greets you. There’s the things you’ve already seen: the dildo, the mags. Everything else.

Except… maybe…?

You have a fleeting, silly thought. You think, and this is so funny: you think there’s, like… something missing?

Hah. As if. You leave this ridiculous thought aside.

“Okay. Okay!” You sit down on your bed, next to the open safe, similar to the way you were some twenty minutes ago in his house.

He briefly covers his mouth with his hands, like he’s muffling a giggle. Hah. He’s so shy about telling you more, that’s for sure. That’s the only reason why he’s so giddy. Of course. “What… What would you like to know?”

You give him a hungry smirk. “Well… just the basics. You know? Like, what’s your favorite one, or, what’s the one you use the most?”

Jonathan covers his face with his hands for a short time. He looks like he’s biting his nails with one hand when he uses the other one to point at the bullet vibrator. “I… I use this one the most.” And then his hand hovers over the black silicone dildo. “But… I like this one the most.”

You lick your lips. Some conclusions are being drawn with what he’s saying. He likes the vibration, the movement the vibrator causes, because it’s the closest he might have to an unassisted penetration, perhaps? And he loves using the dildo, but doesn’t use it as much, because…?

“Oh. And, if you like this one the most,” you start, while you point at the dildo. “…why don’t you use it as much?”

His lips do a funny thing, like he’s barely containing a hysterical laugh. He exhales, and it comes out like a whine. “Um…” Jonathan runs his hands through his hair, so nervous to say it outloud. “Because… I don’t always have time to prepare enough for it.”

Hm… “Prepare, as in…?”

“Well.” He does start giggling at this point, clapping his hands once like he can’t believe he’s about to say this. You chuckle in sympathy, even though you don’t fully understand. “It’s just… so big.”

Whoa.

What.

“It’s… I need a lot of time… and prep…” He muffles his giggles behind his hands. “‘Cause, otherwise, it just won’t… fit.”

You think your mouth is open, but you can’t know for sure. First of all, you are already feeling a bit hot under the collar. Just Jonathan telling you this has to count as foreplay. Second of all…

The dildo is… well. You estimate it might be five inches at max, four and a half in length if you’re being more realistic. One and a half inches in diameter.

It’s just… it’s so cute that he thinks…

“Wh… What?”, Jonathan says, a bit shaky. “What is… cute?”

Oh, shit. You said that last part outloud, didn’t you. You lean over and peck him on the lips. “Nothing, baby. Nevermind.”

He does a little humming noise, like he’s parsing your implications, but seems to drop it. He goes back to watching over the objects. He bites the tip of his index finger when your hand hovers over the stack of loose photographs. They’re not simple polaroids or anything like that: they’re professional, artistic, developed photographs. You think Jonathan is so brave because of that. The thought that he’d be careful enough to stay in the darkroom for as long as the photos needed to be developed, not letting anyone else in and catch him in the act, is simply so endearing.

“Don’t think I’ve said it before, but these are amazing.” Your fingers hover over the top picture, the most visible one: the one where he’s tied up with the red rope. His arms are free to be able to hold the camera in front of the mirror; his legs are tied up around the thigh and ankle, so that he wouldn’t have been able to stand up. His bare cock is semi-hard in front in the picture. You wonder if he had touched himself beforehand, or if the simple act of being tied-up turns him on. “So hot.”

Jonathan puts a lock of his hair behind his ear. “You can… hold them, if you want. To see them.”

“Yeah?” You do just that. You grab the one you’ve seen before, the one where there’s just a cum splatter on wooden floor. “Bet you had a lot of fun with this one, didn’t you?”

Jonathan just covers his mouth with his hands. He’s so abashed, but he trusts you so much, trusts you enough to show this part of him. “Y-Yeah.”

“Hm. Wait. Is this blood?” You point at the picture in your hand, where there are thick red splatters next to the white ones.

“Oh, no. Not at all. It’s candle wax.”

“Ooh. Candles?”

He nods, shyly. “I ran out of candles, but my subject in this series was to show how suggestible a person might be to some images in terms of eroticism. Like, you just thought this was blood, but it’s actually wax. And you obviously knew this is… well…” He gets giggly for a second because he’s pointing to the white splatters and you know he’s going to say ‘cum’. “…and you were right, but another person might just think both of them are melted candle wax in different colors.”

He’s such a genius.

“And also these ones,” Jonathan continues, pulling out the photographs you’ve seen before, of close-ups of his bare body where only vague shapes could be distinguished. “…these are from the same series.”

“This is… your arm?”, you guess.

He bites his lip and nods. “Yeah. It’s supposed to be vague enough for people to not fully understand what they’re looking at, first. They might just think it’s abstract photography, or maybe just a texture.”

You hum. “These are very good, Jon. You’re a prodigy.”

Your praise has its intended effect. He laughs, abashed, trying to cover his face but always coming back to you. “Thank you,” is his whispered gratitude.

You notice he’s subtly trying to cross his legs on the bed. Hm…

“You know,” you start, nonchalantly, as your hand hover above the cassette, something that has him almost on the edge of his seat. “…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this one.”

God. The look on his face. Jonathan is so red he’s almost suffocating. Just you mentioning the tape leads him to shift on the bed, like he’s getting horny from the sole idea of you listening to it. “Y-Yeah?” It’s a muffled question; his hands are against his mouth.

“Yep,” you answer, so casually, like, yeah, of course I can’t stop thinking about you getting off to a man telling you how good you are. No big deal. “And, to be honest, it gave me quite a few ideas.”

Jonathan lowers his hands to his lap and fidgets with the rim of his sweater. His lips are pursed, like he wants to smile nervously. “Yeah?” It’s a whisper now.

“Yeah. Makes me think of how desperate you have to be to be someone’s good boy, enough to buy something like this.”

He exhales so loudly, so much so that it sounds like the beginning of a moan. At the same time, that simple fidgeting turns into him actually pulling the rim of his sweater down. To cover the small tenting of his pants.

You give him a heated glare to which he withers in lust. Reaching out, you lay a hand under his jaw. “Makes me think you wouldn’t need it anymore. Since you’ll have me here to tell you all those things.”

Jonathan looks wrecked. He closes his eyes, rubs his face against your hand, uses both of his to grab your wrist.

“What do you say?”, you ask, because you need verbal confirmation, even though he’s doing the equivalent of throwing himself at your feet by now.

He nods, so enthusiastically it pulls a chuckle out of you.

“Words, baby.”

He moans out loud. “Yes, Sir.”

He’s your ruin. You can’t do anything other than growl and bring him to your lips with a strong grip on his nape. He’s now moaning into the kiss, so filthily that you can feel it in your bones. You kiss him languidly, but it’s steamy; you all but force his jaw to open with your thumb on his chin and press your tongue into his mouth. The effect is immediate. He invites you in, gives you nervous caresses of his tongue that are wholly eclipsed by the dominion yours has on his. Throughout this time he’s never stopped shifting in his place, close to vibrating out of his skin, if it weren’t for your strong grip on his nape, keeping him in place. Keeping him behaved.

You pull out and he takes a deep breath at once.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Jonathan,” you grunt against his lips. “…but I get the impression that you’ve been wanting this for a long, very long time, if all of this stuff is any indication.” You gesture towards the open safe between you, below you.

He nods quickly in your grip. “Yes! Yes, I can’t— can’t stop thinking about it. About…” He seems to get abashed. “I wouldn’t— mind if—”

“If…?” You give his lower lip a small bite.

Jonathan gasps before resuming. “Like— I know i-it’s my first time in— you know— but, l-like…” He breathes quickly when you kiss the corner of his lips, his cheek, his temple. “…like… I’ve always… had this…”

His red-faced silence urges you to give him encouragement. “This… ‘fantasy’?”

“Oh my God,” and he starts laughing nervously, because you’re right, because you’re so attuned to him he can’t believe it. “Y-Yeah. Well— It’s— Um… Where it— wouldn’t be…”

You hum in interrogation.

“Oh my God are you gonna make me say it.” You chuckle at this rushed mumble of his, and he answers in kind. “Um… I’m trying to say th-that… I wouldn’t mind if— if you weren’t… gentle.”

This is Hell. This is Hell and Heaven in the same place. Does Jonathan have any idea of what he’s unleashed? He’s just basically revealed that he wants you to be rough with him on his first time bottoming. And, for the love of God, isn’t that a vision. This shy, inexperienced —at least in this aspect— boy wants you to have your way with him, like the secret little pervert you’ve found he is, thanks to the safe full of literal sex toys right under you both. This fantasy of his is just so in tune to yours that you want nothing more than to fulfill it.

But.

There’s a problem. A little problem with this.

You kiss him shortly, and walk around the safe until you’re kneeling in front of him, between his legs on the bed. He has to look up from under his lashes. You caress his neck with both hands and he seems to melt against you.

“Babe. You have no idea how much I want that.” Jonathan trembles in your hands. “But… we’re gonna need a lot of lube and prep.”

“Sure, yeah. Of course. I know.” But does he know? You think he’s not exactly aware of how much you’re implying with this, but before you can open your mouth, he beats you to it. “I just— need to grab. It. The lube.” He reaches to the side and grabs one of the two tubes of lubricant in his safe. The neutral one. “And… well… Just… get prepared.” He starts giggling like he just said something extremely funny, and you can’t help but join in. “But… I need to see what I’m working with, first, i-if you know what I mean.” Jonathan puts as much enticement in his voice and face as he can, even as he stutters his way through it.

This is the part you were worried about. You just don’t know how he’s going to react when he sees it. Even then, you start undoing your pants, slowly, his giddiness beating his nervousness now. “Okay, sweetheart. But maybe you should let me ease you into it—”

“Don’t worry about that,” he rushes to say, putting his own hands on yours, helping you undo the button and flyer with shaking hands. “Sorry I’m so eager. I just… can’t stop thinking about it.” He hooks the fingers of both hands under your underwear and starts pulling down as he keeps rambling. “Like, I’m… sort of dying for it? And you know it since you can see all the things I have here, and I’m always kind of ready, and— w-well, um…”

His voice dies down as your cock is revealed. Here’s the point where he’s completely silent, just staring at it, mouth open as if in wonder. Or maybe horror.

Because the thing about this particular fantasy of his, of wanting to have his virginity just ripped out of him, can’t be entirely possible without a good amount of pain now that he knows how big you are.

“Ah…?” Jonathan stares at it with a terrified smile. Then looks up at you. Gestures at your member with a loose finger, looks at it again. “H-How… Is it r-real?”

You give him a sympathetic half-smile, half-grimace. “It’s— Yeah. It’s very real. Unfortunately.”

Is it bad news that he doesn’t have a giddy comeback for that? Just silence?

“Look, Jon, we don’t have to do this anymore. We can just… I don’t know. Play a bit, if you want. Not do anything at all—”

“No, no, no, no. None of that. I just…” He seems to compose himself a little bit. Exhales a small laugh. “I needed… a second, back there. Sorry for— that. I still— you know. Maybe you’re right.” Jonathan’s hands nervously reach the sides of your cock, not laying on it yet. “We need. A lot of prep.”

You notice his eagerness and take his hands in yours, guiding them until they’re wrapped around your cock.

He exhales so shakily. He can’t even fully close his fingers around your member.

“You sure you want to?”, you have to ask, because he’s just so small compared to you. You’re so afraid of hurting him —in a bad way. In a way he doesn’t want.

He bites his lip as he nods. Then, as his face turns a darker shade of pink, he starts getting the most sly look on his face. You narrow your eyes playfully, attempting to understand what he’s trying to convey. His small hands on your cock rub up and down, slowly, the strokes a bit dry without lube but a nice feel nonetheless.

“Okay,” you say. “Gonna need a lot of lube for this, yeah?”

He nods again. Doesn’t speak, even though he looks like he wants to say something, but keeps it down.

You hum, and narrow your eyes again. “Okay?” You start leaning forwards, almost forcing him to start leaning back until he’s lying on the bed, his hands leaving your cock to aid himself.

He nods once more, this time frantically. He makes a small squeak when he feels the hot imprint of your big cock on his clothed thigh.

“Then…” You kiss him deliberately. His hands grab your shoulders. You withdraw after some few seconds. After you quickly take off his sweater and shirt at the same time, you’re back to lying on top of him fully. “I’m gonna need to see what I’m working with, first, don’t you think?”, you mumble against his lips, echoing what he said first.

Here’s when he starts shifting more in place. He appears to be eager, but holding back for something. Jonathan’s expression is one of heavy anticipation. His breathing is deep, ready for you. Even so, he nods one last time.

You kneel back up and start undoing his pants. Jonathan lies back on his arms, his legs slightly shifting in place. You give him a sly look that pins him in place, makes him so hot under the collar, and begin lowering his boxers just until his cock starts to show. He giggles, nervously, airily, and you can’t help but join in.

He whines in between his soft laughter. “Don’t laugh, okay? I know it’s small.”

He’s so pouty about this that you can’t help but lean forward and steal a short kiss from him. “Now, why would I laugh about that? Like it wouldn’t be one of the hottest things from you.” Your hands finally uncover his hard cock while he’s sputtering at what you’ve just said.

And it is hot. It is hot to you that Jonathan is simply so small compared to you, in every aspect. His cock is just perfect, would fit like a dream in your big hand. So you try just that.

Jonathan flails in the bed when he feels your fist enclosing around his member. He can’t help but thrust up into it repeatedly, all the while crying out at how good it feels.

But you’re mean to him. You use your other hand to hold his hips down, and your strength is too great for him to handle. He realizes he’s fully immobilized when he tries to push his hips up and can’t move even an inch. This sole fact makes him swoon, turns him into mush on your mattress, and he stops trying. Lets you be the one to lead the —slow, agonic— pace of your hand on his cock. It’s a thing of beauty: your hand is big enough to completely envelop his cock. The visual is so powerful that you feel your own throbbing hotly.

“Good boy.”

He moans so desperately this time, because it’s what he’s been dying for all along. It’s the first time you call him that.

“Yeah? You like being a good boy and staying still for me?”

He nods so quickly his hair shifts in place. “Yes. Yes, Sir.” Jonathan seems to realize that he just said this, and covers his mouth with both hands. He looks so abashed.

So you encourage him. “Such a good boy for me, calling me ‘Sir’. Don’t be ashamed now, gorgeous. You did it once already.”

Jonathan seems even more agitated by this. “I did?!”

He’s adorable. You hum in response. “Yes. So don’t get shy on me. Be nice and I’ll give you everything you need.”

His face does something so obscene now. His eyes cross and he lies down completely, moaning like he’s already coming, except he’s not. You’re afraid he might be too close, so you slowly pull your closed fist off him. His moan breaks in the middle of it, and you moan in response, almost mocking him as it ends in a small chuckle.

“Come on. I still need to see what I’ll be working with, yeah?”

It’s like the moment is slightly broken as soon as you say this. He nods, but is quiet now.

You lie on top of him, covering his body with yours, and it seems like he finds the height difference so utterly hot that he can’t help but release a little titter. You smile at him fondly. Now his arms encircle your shoulders, and you meet his lips in the middle, so slowly and softly that he turns into mush. While your left arm goes around his neck, both to hold him and to keep yourself up, your right hand starts the descent down his bare back, teasingly, loving every minuscule writhing it feels as it goes. Calloused fingertips caress his spine, the dimples on his lower back, then go right under his underwear beneath his pants. Jonathan whines as your big hand takes hold of his left cheek, fondling it almost roughly, and the thought is simply too much for him. He pulls off the kiss and hides his face in the crook of your neck, almost sobbing with how much he’s feeling.

Your fingers approach the place you’ve been looking for all this time. Except…

You feel something hard. Something flat and wide where his entrance should be, and you immediately know what it is.

“Jonathan.”

He pulls off your neck just the tiniest bit, only to look at you with a mortified look, as you said it so strongly, almost like you were reprimanding him.

But he’s turning you feral, so you grab his hips to quickly turn him around and have him face down while he yelps. You hold his hips up as he’s too dumbfounded to react yet and pull down his pants and underwear, only down to his thighs and he can do no more than cover his face with his hands.

There’s the metal buttplug in all its glory.

“I knew it! I knew there was something missing in the box!” The visual is so stunning. To know that he’s been wearing this all this time…

Jonathan whines like a kicked puppy. “I-Is it too much? I’m sorry, I thought you would like—”

“Oh, no, no, baby. This is just perfect. Feel.” You lay your hard, throbbing cock on his right asscheek and he makes a sound like he’s drowning. “Can you feel how hard you made me? You’re such a good boy, Jon. Got ready for me without me having to tell you.”

Jonathan moans almost like he’s yelling, then presses his face against the bed.

You lie on top of his back, your chest molding over it. “It means it won’t take too long to fit my cock in you,” you all but growl next to his ear, and he sobs. Your right hand grabs the base of the plug, and even that little thing has him wailing. “You know, I gotta ‘fess up. Some minutes ago I was about to say ‘It’s cute that you think this is big’.”

“Oh my God!”

“Yeah! I was just as shocked,” you say conversationally as you twist the plug in him, his feet kicking up and down the bed. “I thought, ‘does he really think this is big? Oh boy, what’s he gonna say when he sees my cock?’”

Jonathan’s response is a warbled, unintelligible noise.

“Let me see just how ready you are.” Your fingers start pulling the buttplug out, and he’s wailing and thrashing on the bed as you do. You’re probably the first person to anally stimulate him, and you know just how sensitive the first time can be. “Now, be a good boy and stop moving, yeah?”

His movements halt to a stop, though he’s clearly shaking, like it’s a huge effort for him.

“That’s a good boy. So good, Jonathan. So obedient.”

Jonathan’s response is a wet, “Thank you, Sir.”

“So polite, too. Let me see.” You pull the buttplug out until the widest part is stretching his entrance, something that makes him whimper and have to try even harder to not move. “Hm. This is a good size. Perfect to stretch you just wide enough for your favorite dildo, isn’t it? Tell me.”

The boy under you takes deep, whining breaths, trying to calm himself down, before understanding he’s been given an order. “Y-Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy.” You pull the plug out even more, but push it in back, slowly, then back and forward again, creating a short rhythm that has Jonathan scrambling for a grip on the bed. “Let’s see how open you are.”

“Fuck!” Your words have him cursing out in ecstasy, but he then quickly recants. “I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Oh, Jonny. No need to apologize for that. So fucking hot when you curse.” You take the plug out as he whines, and leave it to the side. He’s stretched open, enough that you think you could fit the dildo, or two, maybe three of your fingers.

Still. Not open enough for you.

Your thumbs open his hole, making him clench around nothing. “You’re a good boy, baby. You did so much already. Can you stay good for me and let me stretch you more?”

“More?!”

You cackle. “Yes, sweetness. This is obviously not enough for my cock. I might hurt you if I fucked you as you are right now.” It seems like either your words alone or the situation in general make his legs stop working. He starts slipping down, almost collapsing on the bed, before you hold him up with your right arm. “Oh, what’s wrong, baby? Too much?”

“N-No— No, sorry, Sir. I’ll be g-good. Please stretch m-me more.”

You give him a low chuckle. “You are being good. Let me help you.” You stretch your left arm and grab the pillow in your bed, folding it in half to double its height. It goes under his hips now. “Lie down on it.” Jonathan obeys, but it’s obvious that he’s now incidentally found a place to rut his leaking cock against, because he moans so brokenly, but stills immediately. You decide to ignore this for the moment. “Better?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

You stretch until your face is near Jonathan’s and you give him a chaste kiss on the lips. “Good.”

After this, you kneel up and turn your body around to look through the contents of his safe. Jonathan feels cold without your contact, but stays in his place.

“Will you let me use your favorite one?”, you ask him, pointing at the black dildo in the safe.

He has to turn his head a bit to see you, but bites his lip and nods. It seems like he’s a bit abashed now, because he doesn’t call you ‘Sir’ and rather hides his face in the bed while giggling this time, but this is not a conventional scene, so you don’t tell him off.

You just chuckle in sympathy. “Okay. Do you want me to use your lube?”

He struggles to talk, sounding muffled in the mattress, but then lifts his face up. “Wh-Whatever you find best, Sir.”

“That’s right,” you growl at him, fondling his ass and rubbing at his hole with your thumb. “Leave it to me.”

You take a condom from his safe and leave it to the side, next to the lube that’s already on the bed. Next, you take off your shirt, throw it somewhere around the floor, and start taking off Jonathan’s lower clothes. Once he’s completely bare, you pull off your own remaining ones until you’re both naked.

“Alright. This is what’s gonna happen,” you start, the authority in your voice leaving no place for argument, and Jonathan exhales shakily. “I’m gonna use this dildo in you, just to get you used to the feeling of a real man’s cock.” You rub the tip of the silicone dildo up and down his stretched hole, to which Jonathan whines. “Then, I’m gonna start adding fingers next to the dildo, so I can get you nice and open enough for my cock.” Your free hand fondles his right asscheek. “Then I’m gonna finger you a bit more, just because I feel like it. And then I’m going to fuck you.” Jonathan can’t hold back and moans as he tries to get more of your hand. “Sound good?”

“Yes, Sir. Yes, yes, please, fuck me.”

You chuckle. “Eager.” You hold the dildo up. “You want me to use a condom on this?”

“Yes, please.”

Your face lowers to his ass and you leave a wet kiss on the cheek you were just fondling. “Good boy.” You reach out to grab another spare condom from the safe. You open it and lower it down the dildo. Then, you find the lube and spread it liberally on the sheathed toy. The tip of the tube goes on his ass, and you press on the tube to let some lube out. He flinches from the feel of it, and you chuckle. “Cold?” Jonathan nods, meekly. You close the lube, and leave it to the side for now.

Now, you hold the lubed dildo against his entrance, rubbing it around and softly pressing down to spread the lube.

“Ready?”

Jonathan nods and hides his face in the bed. He grabs the sheets for good measure.

The tip of the dildo goes in without much trouble, since he’s already stretched a good amount, but the way he clenches down repeatedly and moans is just so sinful.

“Oh, God. Sir.”

“Feels good?”

He nods quickly. “C-Can you put more in, please?”

Now you stretch over him and bite his nape. “Of course.” You push the rest of the dildo in him, slowly, but you think you could have done it all at once, since he takes it so nicely. The base of the dildo is flat and wide, easy to maneuver and push fully against his ass. “‘This a suction cup?”

“A-Ah… y-yes, Sir. Somet-times I like r-riding it.”

“That’s so fucking hot, Jonny. Maybe I’ll have you ride me sometime. How’s that sound?” You start pulling the dildo back, and then quickly push it in him.

He moans. “Y-Yes— Sounds s-so good, S-Sir.”

You lick a stripe up his spine to his nape, enjoying the unintelligible blubber he makes and the shiver of his body. “Good.”

You can only thrust in a few couple of times, receiving steamy moans from your boy every time, until he says: “Please! Stretch me m-more, Sir.”

“You want it now? But I was so entertained with this—”

“Please please please please Sir I need it.” His hips push the tiniest bit towards your hand.

“Oh, you got it so bad. Well. I guess I could,” you answer, like it’s a huge effort for you to give him this. Your right hand grabs the lube, opens it, and you expertly pour some on the same fingers that are holding the tube. Then you close it and leave it to the side. You rub your fingers together to spread the liquid better. Your left hand pulls the dildo out just a frame, enough for your right index finger to be able to press on his stretched rim, right under the dildo. “Just relax for me, baby.”

You let him take a deep breath before you start pressing down with force. Your fingertip starts opening his ass more, until it’s down to the first knuckle, then the second, and as Jonathan starts wailing and his feet moving frantically, you manage to fit the entirety of your index finger.

“Take a deep breath. That’s it. Just like that.” You soothe him and he complies. “You’re being so good for me. How does this feel? Hurts?”

“N-No, Sir. Just… different. Good.”

“Yeah, I bet it does. I’m gonna stretch you open so much, gonna make you feel so good on my cock.” He moans so loudly at that. “Only pleasure for you, sweetness. No pain.” You start moving both the dildo and your finger in and almost completely out of him in tandem.

“I— ahhh— I don’t m-mind a bit of—”

“Oh, yeah? You like a little pain? That mean I can fit another finger right now?” Your middle finger teases his rim, and his legs shake.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

So you begin pushing in the second finger, knowing it has to, at the very least, sting a bit, not having let him get used to the first finger yet. This time, it’s a tighter fit. The trembling in his body is almost frenetic at this point. He doesn’t know whether he wants you to keep going or stop, but you don’t give him a moment of respite until your second finger is all the way in.

He breathes in like he was just about to drown.

“Still good?”

This time, he takes a bit longer to answer. Some seconds pass until he nods, though it’s a more hesitant gesture now. The thumb of your right hand soothes the skin around his rim. Jonathan deserves a reward for being so good, so your thumb presses down against his perineum.

He screams.

“‘You ever done that? Play with your prostate from the outside?”

Jonathan moans like he’s crying and shakes his head.

You give him a small external massage on that place while you start a rhythm with both hands, in and out of him. Not much time passes until he no longer feels strung out, moaning freely and relaxing against the bed. Even now, as hard as he is and as much as you know he wants stimulation on his leaking cock, he hasn’t pressed himself against the pillow even once. He’s so obedient. You have no idea how you got so lucky.

You give him more of this, until he starts pushing back at you, just a minimum fraction. “C-Can you put another, Sir?”

“Of course, baby.” The ring finger is going to be the last one, you think. He’ll be sufficiently stretched after it, only enough to fit your cock but not too much. That way, he’ll truly feel the stretch, which is what you know he wants. So you start entering your last finger next to the ones already in, and this time, it’s a true challenge. There’s almost no more room. Not even the fingertip can be let in. “I’m gonna need you to relax more, sweetness. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good boy for me again?”

He’s breathing so noisily. He takes some seconds to try that before nodding. You press forward again, though not much changes.

“Try to push out a bit, yeah?”

“‘Push out’?!” He’s so scandalized at that that he laughs nervously, but still does as he’s told.

You’re now able to enter him better. The slide is difficult, made only a tad easier by the lube, and you manage to fit your finger bit by painstaking bit, until you have three fingers in him alongside the dildo.

Jonathan starts sobbing.

“Oh, Jon. Hurts too much?”

He can’t even answer. He’s so overwhelmed that he has to press his face against the bed to compose himself. “N-No,” is his hoarse answer. “I l-love it. I just… feel so full.”

“Yeah? You sure?” Your thumb gives him some stimulation. “Should I keep going?”

“Y-Yes, please. Sir. Yes, Sir.”

“That’s my boy.” You start a slow pace, still letting him get used to this. Jonathan’s hands grip the bedsheets on the sides of his head. His legs fold and shake, like he can’t control them. “You’re an angel. So obedient.”

He keens at the praise.

“So pretty when you cry, too. You’d make the best picture right now.”

“Oh my God.”

“Don’t you think? I imagine you could bring the camera next time and you could take pictures of yourself, crying as I’m fucking you.” You chuckle. “I mean, if you’re coherent enough.”

He does the most pornographic sound now, like he’s an animal in heat. “Fuck me. Fuck me, Sir. Please.”

The state he’s in is simply too good for the eyes. You grunt as you rub your untouched cock against his thigh, leaving a trail of precum on it. He makes a little trill when he feels it. “You sure you’re ready?”

“Yes, Sir. N-Need your cock. Need you t-to fuck me hard.”

You try to calm down and appear nonchalant. “Hmm…” You start pulling out the dildo and your fingers at the same time. He yelps, sounding almost pained when he’s empty. “I thought I was calling the shots here. I remember saying I would play a bit more after this.” With that, you press four fingers in him, an easy slide now that he’s so stretched, and start a ruthless pace in and out of him.

He screams so loudly, so high-pitched, that you’re almost afraid he’ll be hoarse by the end of this. “N-Noooo— please— Sir, I n-need—!”

You lay your left hand on his left cheek, not hard enough to slap, but hard enough for it to count as a tap, and he gasps. “I’ll give you what you need, boy. Now stay still.”

“Y-Yes— sorry, S-Sir. Th-Thank you, Sir.” Jonathan stills as much as he can, still loudly crying. The tears that roll down his cheeks make him look so debauched.

“My good boy.” Your fingertips press harshly against that bundle of nerves, and this has him thrashing for a second until your other hand gropes him hard, and he keeps still once more, but it’s a huge effort now. It’s a fast pace against his prostate now. You intend to have him beg for your cock even more before you cave in, but until then, you’re going to have your fun. You push out and pull in, fast and hard enough for his body to jiggle and for your fingers to tap his prostate hard.

He cries so much, whines like he’s being denied something. “Ah— Sir, I-I’m gonna come t-too soon— if y-you— keep—”

“Yeah? Ever come just from this? From playing with your prostate?”

He shakes his head, making small pleas here and there.

“Fucking hot. I bet I could make you cum on my cock alone.” Jonathan yells when he hears that.

You quickly pull your fingers out before he can start clenching repeatedly. He makes a shrill noise.

Your hands spread him. “Look at how wet and open you are for me. Did such a good job letting me in.”

And he cries so hard now. “Please!”

“It’s okay, baby. You did so good. You deserve a reward.” You wipe your wet hand on the sheets and grab the remaining condom. After tearing it open as quickly as you can and rolling it on your hard cock, you pour some of the lube. Then, you lay the length of your sheathed cock in-between his cheeks. “Feel how different this is. Very warm, right? Unlike your little dildo here. And so big, too.”

Jonathan moans so desperately, his words —if they can be considered that— unintelligible.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. Gonna ruin you for all these toys of yours.”

“Oh my G— oh my God.”

You press the tip of your cock against his stretched entrance. Immediately, his hands reach back, looking for yours. You take his hands and stroke them. “Nervous?”

He takes deep breaths before answering. “Y-Yes.”

“I’m gonna start very slow, so don’t worry.”

“I-It’s— it’s not that. It’s— okay— you can g-go f—”

“You want me to go fast?” One of your hands, your right one, gives his own one last caress and you then grab your member. “Let’s just start slowly, yeah? Then we’ll see.”

Jonathan has nothing to say to that, because in the next moment, you start pushing in, easily, up to a certain point. He starts breathing in and out frenetically, almost to the point of hyperventilation, when the last of your head struggles to push in. He wails, he sobs, his legs kick against the bed, and he holds onto your left hand like it’s his lifeline. “Hurts.”

“Yeah? Should we stop?” Your right hand strokes along his back, trying to soothe him.

“N-No, I l-like it. More. Please.”

You chuckle. “Who knew you were such a size queen, Jon?” You don’t give him time to get used, then. Pushing forward more and more, you find he tries to push out at the same time, just like you’ve told him little time ago. Even that seems to only help him minimally. He grunts at the effort of fitting such a big cock in him. “Almost there, sweetheart.” You start giving him short thrusts, in and out, trying to get him acclimated.

“S-So full. So full, Sir.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Your short thrusts go further each time, until there’s only a very short space until you bottom out.

Jonathan’s left hand grabs onto yours strongly, but he’s pushing you to him now.

“Oh, you want all of it?”

With one forceful thrust, you bury yourself in him entirely.

Jonathan’s sound is undescribable. He sounds like he’s crying, babbling something, and choking at the same time. His body seems to lose all its strength, because he all but collapses on the bed in his position; the only reason why he’s still up is because of the pillow under him and your left hand grabbing his.

You’re afraid he might have passed out.

“Jon?” You shake his shoulder with your right hand.

He makes the most fantastic noise in response. It’s something so vulgar, so raspy, and it almost sounds like he’s gone stupid with pleasure.

You can’t help but chuckle. “Feel good? Doesn’t hurt?”

Jonathan doesn’t answer verbally at first. He makes sounds as if he were drawing in as much breath as he can, and then answers: “Uh-huh.”

“Gonna need words, sweetness. What does that mean?” You’re so amused at him, and at the same time think he’s the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

His left hand, which has sort of gone slack on yours, moves to let you know he’s not completely out of it. “It’s. G-Good. Hurts s-so good.” Before you can answer, he continues. “W-Want you to fuck m-me fast. Please.”

“Fuck, baby. You sure you can take it?”

“Y-Yes— I like n-not taking… not taking time when I…”

“Oh, I get it now.” Immediately, you pull back, and push in forcefully, making him scream. You start a fast pace right away as he thrashes as much as he can. “What a little pervert you are, Jon. You like pain,” a strong thrust, “…you like it big,” another even stronger one, “…and you’re so greedy you can’t even wait for it.” The force of your thrusts create loud slapping noises against his ass, only rivalled by his screams. “It’s like I got the fucking lottery, here.”

The fact that Jonathan didn’t want to get used to the size of your cock makes the beginning part of this so much more exerting. It feels like his nerve endings are on fire, and everything feels so much, overwhelming. He’s crying so loud it’s almost worrying, but he loves every second of this. Loves having to work to fit such a big member in him, have it fuck him so deeply, unlike any of his toys ever could. The searing heat of your cock has tears falling down his face. And the friction is undescribable. It almost feels like he’s not prepared enough, not lubed enough, but he is. He’s just too small in comparison to you, not made to fit something so big in him. But his hard work is paying off, because his insides keep stretching more and more with every thrust given into him, opening him so much that he feels as if you were carving your place into him.

“So fucking pretty when you cry, too.”

Jonathan moans desperately when he hears your praise. He’s so sensitive to it, even the smallest nice words can have him leaking more onto the pillow.

And then, in one of those thrusts, your cock presses down against his prostate.

“Sir!” He shouts it so loudly. “Again again please again.”

“That place feel good?” You don’t give him what he wants in its entirety. You start fucking against his prostate in random intervals, only enough to keep him on his toes, but not enough to overwhelm him. “Damn, Jonathan. I’m so deep in you, stretching you so much, I can feel it. You’re gonna be gaping so bad after this.”

For some reason, that’s his breaking point. He shocks himself with the way he’s suddenly cumming so hard against the pillow, untouched, while you struggle to keep fucking him through his clenching.

“Already? That’s so fucking hot, Jon,” you grunt as you start slowing your thrusts, but he shocks you with what he says.

“D-Don’t stop— please— don’t st-stop.”

You chuckle. “Y’sure? It’ll take a bit more for me, baby.” You continue your hard thrusts, not slowing down even a minimum fraction while he’s still in the last throes of his orgasm.

You know he’s done cumming when his moans start turning into desperate yells. When every single second of friction has him thrashing and screaming against you, you decide to test the waters. You lie fully on top of him, covering his chest with your back, opting to give him short, quick thrusts that dig deep into him.

“Come on. You wanted this, didn’t you?” Your cock inadvertently presses against his prostate without you meaning to, and his crying gets louder and more desperate. “Didn’t you?”, you have to repeat, just in case he’s about to regret it.

“Ah—! Y-Yes, Sir. I l-love it.”

“Yeah? You like when I use you?”

At that, Jonathan can do no more than wail and have his body try to curl in itself, unable to take the overwhelming sensations. “Yes! Please, u-use me, S-Sir. I’m y— I’m your t-toy!”

He’s going to be your ruin. Quickly, you encircle his torso with your arms and lift him so that he’s sitting up with you. “Hold onto my neck.” He’s so out of it that he doesn’t understand the order until you’re gathering his legs with your arms, hooking them on the juncture of your elbows, and then standing up, lifting him and dropping him on your cock while he scrambles for purchase on your neck.

“Oh my God.”

Your arms, still holding his legs, slide up his body until your hands manage to hook against his nape, and he’s now in such a vulgar position it could very well appear in the raunchiest of skin mags. Once he understands that he’s about to be fucked like this, in such a helpless position, he sobs even harder.

“Sir.”

[IMAGE - WARNING: 18+]

You fuck up into him harshly, keeping him in place with your strong grip, though the jostling of your thrusts moves him up a slight fraction. Jonathan’s hands scramble for a grip on your arms this time, feeling how deep this position allows you to reach. His eyes roll back with every strong push, feeling how it pushes against the deepest part of him, a pressure so intense it’s almost painful against the end of his walls. He feels almost as if you were thrusting right into his stomach with how big you are. And he wails when most of your thrusts push against his prostate. The frequency with which you’re stimulating it is too much for him, pushes him closer and closer to delirium the more time that passes.

You don’t talk now, too engrossed in witnessing Jonathan losing his sanity, even if you can’t see his face. It’s so hot to see how he doesn’t sob that much anymore, rather starts moaning, fully accustomed to your cock now. You hold him tighter against you and give him a short, quicker pistoning of your cock, and the gradual change is almost unbearable: his moans turn into high-pitched whines, then into simple gasps, and then.

And then he starts making noises that sound as if he were giggling. Laughing even.

“Oh, my boy,” you grunt near his ear, because you’re getting close, and then chuckle. “You’re losing it.”

The euphoria in Jonathan’s face will be unforgettable for sure. He’s simply so debauched, eyes rolling back and almost drooling from the overwhelming feelings. His hands barely holding onto your arms, since his strength is weaning. But he’s coherent enough to rasp out: “In me. C-Come in— me, S-Sir. W-Want you to c-cum inside. Want t-to cum with you.”

His words have you fucking him so roughly now that his previous loud moaning resumes. You’re almost there. “Yeah? You want me to fill you up even more?” It’s all useless talk since you have a condom on, but the visual is so stunning you can’t help but add fuel to the fire.

Jonathan can’t even speak from how stimulated he is, but he doesn’t need to. The crazed laugh he releases at your words is more than enough answer.

“Yeah, you do.” Your thrusts turn erratic. You growl at his ear. “Now, be a good boy and come.”

Almost as if on command, Jonathan’s body seizes, and something truly spectacular happens. He comes, he comes so hard that his mouth is open on a silent scream, and he comes so hard that he starts— convulsing in your grip, thrown into a full-body orgasm that almost pushes him off you.

His repetitive clenching is enough to push you to the edge. You fill the condom inside him as your thrusts halt in small bursts, all while grunting right into his ear.

His erratic movements are so prolonged, so intense that you’re worried about him, so you sit on the edge of the bed, then lie down, taking him with you as you do and lower his legs as softly as you can. Then, he stops.

His body goes fully lax against you just as the last of your orgasm ends.

“Jon?” You take his face in your right hand, unable to see him in this angle. You pull out of him with him still on top of you, and he doesn’t even make a noise, doesn’t move a single muscle. You lay him on the bed next to you and crawl until you’re face to face with him.

Right in that moment, he regains consciousness, coming to with a high-pitched gasp. He looks disoriented for a second.

“Damn, you worried me for a second, Jonny.”

He’d make the prettiest picture just like this. Debauched, clearly just fucked, hair messed up, tear trails down his cheeks. “H-How long—”

“Just a second, sweetheart.”

Jonathan relaxes against the bed, breathing deeply, until he regains his footing. Then, he smiles at you. “Thank you, Sir.”

You chuckle at him, and lie next to him, holding him close to you. “Why are you thanking me?”

It seems like he regains some of his bearings, because he gets shy again, and presses his face against your chest. “I dunno,” he mumbles against your skin.

He’s so precious. Only he could get this abashed right after the most obscene sex ever had.

“You were right. You ruined me for anything else. How am I supposed to use these now?” He vaguely gestures at the open safe you had totally forgotten was still on the bed.

You laugh out loud. “Well. It’s a good thing you’re not gonna need them anymore. Not when you have me.”

The cassette is ASMR, but I didn’t want to use that acronym specifically because I read that ASMR was invented around 2010.

And yes I put Jonathan in a full nelson in the end.

[spitdrunken]

Not often embarrasseda bout posting something anymore BUT ITS HAPPENING TODAY! So. Maxime le Mal. Please read the notes because this is weird in a very specific way.

Notes: maxime being a Villain, obsessive behaviour, mind control, insect mentions (cockroaches specifically), body horror (!!!!!), forced bodily transformations (into a cockroach.)

I keep thinking about Maxime transforming you partly into a cockroach, purely because of the effects it has on the mind.

For one reason or another, as it had started as an unintended side-effect of his insectification machines, the ones he has turned are obedient to him more than anything else! It’s funny, really, that the people transformed entirely into insects are more coherent, and adore him in a more overt way, huh? His working theory is that during a partial transformation, people are perhaps still struggling against it mentally. In one form or another. It’s difficult to check, really, since they can’t exactly tell him! They’re all twitchy, hardly capable of functioning, except to follow his commands.

For you, he tries to find a sweet spot in between the two. When something or, in this case, someone, catches Maxime’s eye, he has a tendency to throw himself into it head-first. Never doing anything less than perfect, never accepting less than defeat. So, when you deny his romantic advances so directly… Not only does it leave a dent in his pride, it leaves him with a bit of a grudge, as well. If there anything he doesn’t handle well, it’s grudges. Now that he’s got a handheld-sized way of turning anyone into insects, it’d be silly of him not to use it!

(And if you are hoping for Valentina to interfere, you are fresh out of luck. The both of them have come to an agreement long ago that interests in other people are fine, as long as they are discussed. To add to that, it’d be hard for her to be a ‘femme fatale’ if she couldn’t seduce anyone, right? They’ve been together long enough to know that they will always return to each other’s side. So, no, Valentina will not get jealous and try to interfere in… Whatever her boyfriend has going on with you. She’d be more likely to watch, egging him on in amusement and turning away once she’s lost interest.)

“It’s just a pair of antennae sprouting from your head! That’s not so bad, is it, huh? Look at you! They look so cute on you! Little things.” Maxime tells you, patting your head, tone and expression both dripping with condescension. Whereas a minute ago you would have ran for the hills at this, your mind has become sluggish and, without even fully realising what he’s saying, you find yourself nodding along to his words. He smells good, familiar. You would be able to pick him out of a crowd with ease. Unbeknownst to you, your pupils are blown wide now, too. Anyone who say them would think you were high out of your mind. You shudder as he pinches and rubs one of your newly-sprouted appendages in between fingers. The antennae are incredibly sensitive. The sensation can only be compared to someone running their hands up over the bare skin of your sides, and you tense up, eyelids fluttering. It doesn’t exactly feel good, but it doesn’t feel… Bad, either. A noise leaves your throat, one you can only describe as a chirp, and weren’t capable of making before. All of a sudden, revulsion hits you like a tidal wave. It must show on your face, because Maxime squeezes down, and it hurts. “Non, non! None of that! Just look at me. Or do you want to grow another pair of arms also? …No, I didn’t think so.”

When you’re not actively fighting it, it’s so easy to slip into your new base instincts, which consist of the primary mission of obeying Maxime le Mal. He’s so nice to you, too! As long as you listen, that is!

[y-rhywbeth2]

Some (in-game) people are going to be very disappointed in the Chosen of Bhaal ending:

Lord Enver Gortash: "Together we rule Faerûn as kings. No, more than kings - gods. We rule as the Absolute."

Nightwarden Minthara: "We believed we were all victims of the cult of the Absolute, but now we learn that one of us was an architect of this grand religious hoax. You helped to create this conspiracy. That means you may be the best person to help us control it, and the key to our victory."

Astarion: "You're going to sit nicely in my lap - perhaps naked - as I give orders to our nocturnal horde from my palace throne. Bhaal's army will be an unsurpassable dowry. I cannot wait for you to claim it."

Extra special shout out to Minthara, who wants a divorce if you reject Bhaal and the power he's offering. She's so fucking deluded, I love her.

Hang on guys, let me ask Daddy Dearest what he thinks about us (that is to say, me and him) sharing power with you. Considering that I just surrendered all say about the course of my life, and defiance will result in him immediately stripping me of all free will and reducing me to a feral wreck, so it's entirely up to him:

*When you level the world over, that dead world must be yours alone.*

Sceleritas Fel: "Of course [you can keep your lover], Master! We will always need to sire more Bhaalspawn! Although if they are not up to the task we may need to find you a breeding-mate. Or ten. Hopefully the near-slaughter of your partner taught them the wisdom of obeying your every command."

And interesting that Astarion talks about a dowry considering that the dialogue files describe the union of Bhaal and Durge as the "BloodWedding", and also your love interest is a "false bride".

Sceleritas Fel: "You and the Urge are wedded, now. One body, one mind."

Narrator: *Your darling would never agree to breed a spawn with you... The defiance begets death.*

Plus the stuff from BG2 where you should abandon all your companions and embrace Bhaal, and none of your mortal life matters...

Sorry guys, Dad says that I'm only to be committed to him as his self-insert and possibly worse, and that if you don't want to die then you have to be our obedient slaves and the surrogates for our murder children (alternatively referred to as "your" and "his" offspring in the narration). You have tadpoles in your brain, and we can seize control of them at any time: you have no say in this.

This is not going to end well for any of the overly ambitious villains involved in the alliance... Especially the ones who think they're the dominant half of this deal.

(I do love the horror of a good trainwreck narrative.)

I also find it fascinating that on some levels, the Chosen and Feral endings are much the same.

Durge: "My Urges are gone from me, as is any trace of Bhaal." Lord Enver Gortash: "I'm surprised Bhaal allowed you to slip away from his grasp. But this changes nothing. With me, you will have power greater than Bhaal could have given you, and you will bow to no master."

I like to think this translates to: "OH THANK FUCK."

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | six

🐴Chapter summary: The wild horses are captivating creatures. You and Yoongi work together on gentling some of the wild horses, but when Jimin sees something that is truly harmless, but takes it the wrong way… well everything goes to shit.  🐴Chapter title: Wild Horses 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: hahahah, I’m sorry but we’re now approaching angst territory 🥲 This chapter is a lot about Yoongi, because he’s very important (as is almost every character in the story lol, but you’ll understand why later). And something happens that you’re probably gonna hate me for lol. I’m sorry in advance, but stuff has to happen this way for the good stuff to carry weight later (please trust the process!) ✨ 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 11k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Wild Horses” by Natasha Bedingfield. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: this chapter was tough for me to write, mostly because of the angst. I’m not that good with that, but I’m really trying to do better with angst. Something happens in this chapter that I think you won’t like, but please remember that Jimin and reader are the main pairing and I have promised a happy ending, okay? There’s just gonna be some angst along the way lol, I’m preparing you now, so buckle up! I really hope you still like it! 💜 

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

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“Wild horses I want to be like you Throwing caution to the wind, I’ll run free too Wish I could recklessly love like I’m longing to I want to run with the wild horses Run with the wild horses” - ’Wild Horses’ by Natasha Bedingfield

As you race across the expansive field, the towering mountains providing a breathtaking backdrop, the thrill of galloping with the wind in your hair never fails to captivate you. En route to the Bell Ranch to speak with Yoongi, you grant Marshmallow the freedom to sprint at full gallop, hooves digging into the earth, creating a dust storm that billows in your wake.

Marshmallow’s powerful gallop sets the rhythm for your heart, the exhilaration of freedom courses through your veins. The wind becomes a playful dance partner, tousling your hair and causing it to cascade behind you, yet obediently secured under the brim of your trusty cowboy hat. 

The expanse between the Bora Ranch and the guys’ territory proves surprisingly brief as always, and the vibrant landscape of their ranch unfolds before you. 

Urging Marshmallow into a spirited gallop, you cover the ground swiftly, drawing nearer to the bustling yard. The rhythmic gallop propels you towards the lively scene in the yard, where Yoongi is engrossed in his work with a horse in a pen. As Marshmallow intuitively senses the approaching enclosure, his pace decelerates, and a soft whinny escapes him, signaling a seamless transition from a spirited gallop to a gentle, deliberate walk.

Bringing Marshmallow to a halt, you gracefully swing your leg over his back and plant your feet firmly on the ground. With practiced ease, you secure the reins, fastening them securely to the fence surrounding the pen where Yoongi is deeply engrossed in his work.

“Hey, Yoongi!” you call out with a bright smile, waving enthusiastically as you drape yourself over the fence, captivated by the sight of him completely absorbed and engrossed in his work.

He acknowledges you with a subtle nod, a gentle smile playing on his lips as a majestic brown horse gracefully circles him, moving with a natural grace, all without a halter to guide its steps.

You linger there, a silent observer to his craft. The rhythmic dance between Yoongi and the horse unfolds before you—the majestic creature, occasionally curious, edges closer to him, a testament to the unspoken bond between man and horse.

In a mesmerizing dance of trust and connection, the horse inches ever closer to Yoongi, a silent understanding weaving between them. The minutes pass, and you find yourself breathless as the magnificent creature, once wary, now stands still before him, its head bowed low in quiet reverence. The profound bond between man and horse unfolds before your eyes, leaving you spellbound by the unspoken language they share.

In a breathtaking display of trust, the horse tenderly presses its head against Yoongi’s chest, a profound connection resonating in the air. A deep exhale escapes the majestic creature, harmonizing with the gentle strokes of Yoongi’s hand as he caresses its forehead, forging a silent pact of understanding and companionship.

Mesmerized by the enchanting dance between Yoongi and the horse, you can’t help but release a soft “Wow.” 

His ability to forge a profound connection with the majestic creature leaves you in awe, a silent yearning echoing within you, wishing you possessed such profound skills.

His eyes twinkle with a warm smile, a shared moment of understanding passing between you two. A gentle chuckle escapes his lips as he leads the horse effortlessly towards the gate, the majestic creature following his every step willingly, a testament to the remarkable bond they share. The word incredible echoes in your mind, witnessing Yoongi’s innate connection with these magnificent animals.

Breaking the serene atmosphere, he finally speaks when he reaches you, his voice carrying a subtle warmth, “Hi.” 

With practiced ease, he opens the gate, guiding the horse out as if orchestrating a dance between man and horse.

As he strides past you, effortlessly guiding the brown horse toward the barn without a tether, he casually mentions, “I’ll be back in a moment.” Acknowledging him with a nod, you divert your attention to Marshmallow, tenderly patting his neck while observing Yoongi’s innate connection with the majestic creature.

With the horse comfortably settled in its stall, Yoongi strides back towards you, donning his cowboy hat and sturdy boots, a subtle swagger in his step that mirrors the newfound confidence you’ve gained since acquiring your own pair of boots.

Yoongi leans casually against the fence, his gaze meeting yours as he asks, “What’s up?”

Your eyes widen with fascination as you inquire, “Was that a wild horse?” Your curiosity about his intriguing line of work reflects in both your voice and expression.

His eyes light up with pride as he responds, “Yeah, I’ve been working on her for some time; she’s almost ready to become a stock horse.” 

You join him in turning around, casting your eyes over the paddocks where the cattle graze, sharing in the satisfaction of a job well done.

“Why do you catch wild horses? I’ve been curious about that ever since Jimin mentioned it,” you ask, your words tumbling out a bit hastily. A touch of nerves lingers, although you can’t quite fathom why. After all, it’s just Yoongi.

He offers a slight smile. “They’re a menace,” he shrugs nonchalantly, and you shoot him a quizzical look. How can he label those magnificent creatures as anything other than beautiful?

He chuckles at your slightly frantic state. “For one, they have a knack for wreaking havoc on the property, and two, the stallions occasionally swoop in, daringly stealing our mares.”

You give him a nod, feigning understanding of the issue, yet deep down, you’re puzzled. Your sister has never shared this concern before. Could this be the reason they don’t let the wild horses roam freely?

“So we catch some of them and gentle them into reliable working horses,” he explains with an enigmatic gleam in his eyes, as if his gaze conceals something profound, yet elusive, leaving you intrigued but uncertain about the hidden depths.

“That’s fascinating. Do Jimin or Jungkook ever lend a hand with your wild horse endeavors?” you inquire, a lively grin accompanying your question as you pivot to affectionately pat Marshmallow once more.

“Ah, they’re usually tied up with their own stuff. Although, Hoseok does jump in from time to time,” he replies with a grin, and there’s a subtle flicker in his eyes when he mentions Hoseok.

“Too bad they’re busy, but I’ve been thinking, maybe I could lend a hand. It looks like a fascinating and enjoyable experience,” you offer with an eager smile, despite your lack of knowledge about wild horses and the process of taming them.

“You’re welcome to help me. We can even go for a ride right now and see if we can find the herd, just to look at them. No catching today,” he says, chuckling. As his warm brown eyes twinkle with an indescribable gleam, you feel a magnetic pull toward the upcoming adventure.

“Absolutely!” you exclaim with excitement, swiftly unfastening Marshmallow’s reins from the fence. You join Yoongi, walking in tandem towards the barn where he prepares a horse for the upcoming adventure. The air is charged with anticipation, and the rhythmic sounds of hooves echo the promise of a thrilling ride.

You stride into the barn with Marshmallow, the atmosphere filled with the earthy scent of hay and the distant sounds of horses. Observing Yoongi, you note his skilled selection of a brown horse adorned with a sleek black mane and tail. With fluid precision, he secures a saddle and bridle, effortlessly mounting the horse. His actions exude a quiet confidence, leaving you eager to embark on this equine adventure with him.

“Let’s go then,” he muses, a twinkle of anticipation in his eyes. You smoothly mount Marshmallow, ready to join him in a rhythmic trot around the expansive North paddock of the Bell Ranch. 

The air carries the promise of adventure, and the rhythmic hoofbeats echo a harmonious melody, creating an atmosphere filled with the thrill of the unknown.

Atop the hill, you unleash your horses into a spirited gallop, immersing yourself in the breathtaking beauty of the land. The lush green grass stretches beneath you, while majestic hills and distant mountains paint a picturesque panorama. The rhythmic beat of hoofs kissing the grass orchestrates a symphony that resonates in your ears, and your heart dances with exhilaration, each thud echoing the thrill of the moment.

Allowing Yoongi to take the lead, you entrust him with setting the pace, confident in his knowledge of where the elusive herd of wild horses is likely to roam.

“This way. This is where I spotted them last,” he deftly guides his horse to the right, and you follow suit in a slow, measured gallop, the anticipation building with each stride.

After a bit more riding, you reach a clearing through some bushes, and there, before you, the herd of wild horses comes into view. They look absolutely magnificent and exude a magical aura that captures your breath.

They graze casually, and both you and Yoongi have brought your horses to a slow walk, now standing still, fully immersed in the captivating sight of the wild horses before you.

“They’re so beautiful,” you murmur in a hushed tone, captivated by the scene unfolding before you. Yoongi, sharing in the enchantment, nods silently with a smile gracing his lips.

Then, amidst the grazing herd, you catch sight of it—a pitch-black horse, its coat glistening like obsidian in the sunlight. Its eyes, as dark as the night, reflect an ethereal beauty. The sun’s rays play upon its sleek coat, turning it into a cosmic spectacle that leaves you in awe. 

Wow, it’s beautiful.

An inexplicable yearning stirs within you, drawn to that singular horse. Amidst the entire herd, none captivates your attention like the majestic black horse. 

“The black horse is absolutely stunning,” you murmur in a breathless voice, utterly mesmerized by its beauty.

“It is a stunning mare indeed,” he smiles and adds, “maybe we can catch it next time.”

You return his smile, uncertainty lingering within you. The notion of capturing such a majestic creature tugs at your conscience – after all, aren’t wild horses destined to roam the vast expanse of freedom?

As the sun sets on another day, you find yourself back at the Bell Ranch, ready to lend a hand to Yoongi’s tireless efforts in transforming wild spirits into reliable working companions.

It’s enthralling to observe his technique; he operates in silence, an oasis of calm, patiently anticipating the horse’s subtle cues, waiting for that moment when it chooses to connect with him willingly, without coercion.

“Do you want to come and try?” His unexpected question catches you off guard, but a nod of agreement escapes your lips. You gracefully climb over the fence into the pen where he’s immersed in his work, ready to try your hand at the artistry of connecting with these untamed creatures.

Your voice carries a hint of nervous excitement as you inquire, “What should I do?” 

The untamed beauty of a wild horse gracefully circles the outer ring of the pen, seemingly oblivious to your presence, and you can’t help but feel a surge of anticipation for the challenge ahead.

As Yoongi imparts his wisdom, he stresses, “The key is earning the horse’s trust. You have to show it that you’re trustworthy.” Absorbing his words, you nod in agreement, ready to embark on the journey of building a connection with the wild creature before you.

“How?” you question, a spark of wonder in your eyes, acknowledging the challenge that lies within the seemingly simple yet profound advice.

“You just have to be consistent in your actions. Don’t let nerves or fear cloud your presence. Be calm, attentive, and just exist in the moment,” he imparts, a casual shrug underscoring the simplicity of his advice, though the weight of its truth lingers in the air.

You observe the horse gracefully navigating the pen, its pace gradually easing into a leisurely stroll.

“I believe in patience and presence. I dedicate substantial time to be with the horse, letting it get to know me, building trust,” he remarks, his gaze fixed on the horse. “There’s a considerable investment in time before I even think about introducing a saddle to the equation.”

Nodding in agreement, you consciously steady your heartbeat. His advice echoes in your mind, urging you to shed the lingering nervousness, and you make a conscious effort to dismiss the slight unease settling within.

As he imparts his wisdom, Yoongi gestures toward the chestnut horse leisurely strolling within the pen, a familiar presence from his earlier endeavors. “I prefer letting the horse choose to come to me, to form that crucial connection. Once it ’joins up,’ a silent understanding unfolds, a testament to the trust we’ve built. Only then do I progress to more intricate training,” he reveals, his eyes focused on the equine companion he’s guided through this intricate dance before.

“I’ve devoted considerable time to this mare,” Yoongi shares, casting a fond gaze at the equine companion that has shared in the nuances of their bond. “Even though she has joined up with me multiple times, I find solace in revisiting the fundamentals.” He gestures toward the mare, a living canvas of equine tranquility. 

As you observe, the horse moves with an easy grace, its body language a symphony of relaxation and curiosity. At times, it directs a glance in your direction, an unspoken invitation to engage, before returning to a rhythmic exploration along the fence line. 

The overall demeanor is one of serene calm, a testament to the enduring connection fostered through patient dedication.

Your eyes gleam with newfound understanding, a smile playing on your lips as you seek clarification. “So the secret is to patiently wait for the horse to come to you?”

He chuckles, his laughter carrying the warmth of shared wisdom. “Not much of a secret, but it all boils down to patience, trust, and a bit of loyalty,” he confesses.

You flash a smile his way. “So, how long does it typically take for you to work your magic and gentle a horse?”

He lifts his hat, running a hand through his silver hair before settling it back in place. “Each horse is a unique case, so I don’t measure success by the clock. Some might quickly ’join up’ with me, while others are more complex. Horses, like humans, have their distinct personalities.”

You nod in agreement, recognizing the intricate nature of horses, almost as complex as humans. A soft chuckle escapes you, appreciating the way Yoongi speaks of the wild horses, as if they’re cherished friends in his world.

Your gaze shifts to the brown mare, curiosity lighting up your eyes. “Since you’ve already ’joined up’ with this one, what’s the next step in her training?” you inquire, eager to delve deeper into the fascinating world of horse gentling.

His eyes gleam with anticipation as he outlines the next steps in the horse’s training journey. “After establishing trust, I’ll gradually introduce her to the ranch environment—ropes, familiar noises, and gear on her back through gentle massages,” he explains, his voice tinged with hope. “Once she’s comfortable, I’ll proceed to the saddle and bridle, paving the way for the ultimate test—riding. But only when I’m certain she’s fully prepared.”

As you observe the mare approaching, curiosity twinkling in her eyes, you can’t help but smile. “It sounds like quite a journey, but I sense it’s a rewarding one,” you remark, your voice filled with genuine curiosity and anticipation, mirroring the mare’s gradual approach.

His words resonate with a warmth that matches his infectious smile. “You gain a friend for life,” he shares, his gummy grin embodying the depth of connection forged through this intricate process.

As the mare inches closer, a magnetic connection pulls you both into a silent communion. You turn your head slightly toward Yoongi, watching in awe as the graceful creature approaches him, gently resting its head against his back. 

A deep sigh escapes the mare, and with a deliberate nudge, it pushes Yoongi forward, creating an unspoken bond that transcends the boundaries between man and horse.

Chuckling softly, he remarks, “She’s feeling a bit playful,” and turns around to tenderly caress the brown mare’s forehead.

As laughter escapes you, you marvel at the scene unfolding before you— the horse nuzzling deeper into Yoongi’s embrace. The profound trust and loyalty displayed in that simple gesture brings a radiant smile to your face.

As the distant sound of hoofbeats serenades your ears, your attention subtly shifts towards the source. A thrilling anticipation grips you, and even before your eyes meet the approaching spectacle, an instinctive certainty tells you—the wild horses are drawing near.

In their untamed grace, those wild horses emerge on the horizon, a breathtaking tapestry of freedom. Their beauty, an untethered symphony, etches itself into your soul. Despite Yoongi’s pragmatic warnings of their wild nature, your heart steadfastly champions their unrestrained beauty and the allure of their untamed spirit.

As the majestic herd gallops across the distant hill, your eyes are drawn to the obsidian grace of the black mare. Strange flutters of anticipation dance within your stomach, and Yoongi catches your gaze, sensing the magnetic pull that the mysterious creature exerts on your senses.

With a glint of curiosity in his eyes, Yoongi continues to tenderly pat the brown mare, and he turns to you with a question that sparks excitement, “Do you want to try and catch the black mare?”

Your gaze locks onto Yoongi, eyes widening with unbridled enthusiasm. Is it even a question?

The desire to capture that elusive black mare courses through your veins, even as a part of you acknowledges its wild spirit. There’s an inexplicable connection, a yearning in your heart for a creature that defies easy description. 

It beckons to you, and you’re eager to answer its untamed call.

“We can certainly try,” you declare in a breathy voice, uncertainty mingling with excitement. The prospect of capturing that magnificent black mare hangs in the air, and though doubts linger, the anticipation of a thrilling ride fuels your determination.

With practiced finesse, Yoongi guides the brown mare out of the pen, seamlessly maneuvering it into its stall within the barn. Meanwhile, he deftly prepares his own horse, his movements deliberate and skilled, as you eagerly saddle up on Marshmallow, ready for the adventure.

Side by side, you and Yoongi charge towards the spot where the wild horses disappeared, the thundering hooves creating a symphony of freedom. The wind playfully teases your hair beneath your hat, adding a touch of exhilaration to the chase. Each gallop echoes with the rhythm of nostalgia, transporting you back to carefree days of childhood joy, and you wholeheartedly embrace the familiar melody of hoofbeats resonating through the hills.

Swiftly closing the distance, you and Yoongi seamlessly join the graceful dance of the wild horses, riding in tandem as if becoming one with the spirited herd.

“We’ll try and separate the black mare from the rest, okay?” Weaving through the thundering hooves, Yoongi’s voice pierces the rhythmic beat of galloping, a plan forming between you as you both flank the herd, aiming to isolate the enigmatic black mare from the wild symphony surrounding her.

Navigating the thundering hooves, your focus sharpens on the elusive black mare, a dance of determination and wild grace. As the herd courses through the terrain, a corridor of trees emerges, and with a masterful maneuver, Yoongi surges ahead, skillfully severing the ebony beauty from the chaotic canvas of the herd.

Now, in the quiet aftermath of the thundering herd, the black mare stands solitary between you and Yoongi, a majestic silhouette against the fading echoes of the retreating wild horses. The air is charged with a sense of captured freedom, and you can feel the pulse of anticipation building between you and the untamed beauty before you.

Amidst the stillness, Yoongi’s voice cuts through like a soothing melody, “Steady.” 

His hands move with practiced precision, gliding down to the rope coiled at his saddle. In a fluid motion, he unfastens it, the rope dancing gracefully in the air above the ebony beauty standing before you.

In a surprising dance of trust, the mare offers only mild resistance as the rope gracefully settles into a loose circle around its neck. With a calm assurance, Yoongi guides his horse to a halt and approaches the black mare from horseback, step by deliberate step.

His soothing words weave through the air as Yoongi approaches the black mare, a promise of care and understanding. “It’s alright,” he assures, the resonance of his voice echoing a commitment to nurture and protect the newfound connection with the wild beauty before him.

Spellbound by Yoongi’s expertise, you marvel at the seemingly effortless capture of the black mare, a moment etched with both surprise and admiration for his skill in bridging the gap between untamed freedom and the prospect of gentle companionship.

Grinning with a mix of disbelief and triumph, you exclaim, “Well, that felt surprisingly easy,” relishing the moment where the reality of capturing the wild black mare settles in, leaving you in awe of your own accomplishment.

Guiding his horse into a slow trot, Yoongi glances at you and adds, “It isn’t always this smooth,” as he skillfully leads the black mare by the rope, a testament to the unpredictable nature of working with wild horses.

As you ride back to the Bell Ranch at a leisurely pace, the black mare in tow, anticipation courses through you. The prospect of working with the wild beauty, attempting to forge a connection as Yoongi does, fills you with eagerness and a hopeful determination. The challenge ahead, mingled with the thrill of the unknown, propels you forward.

As the ranch unfolds before you, Yoongi guides you to a spacious paddock. “We’ll release her here, let her experience a taste of freedom within these boundaries,” he explains. 

“We can commence our efforts to connect with her tomorrow or the day after. Allowing her this time will help her acclimate.” 

The thoughtful approach to the black mare’s transition into her new surroundings speaks volumes about the patience and care that defines Yoongi’s approach to his work with these wild spirits.

As Yoongi opens the gate to the paddock, you nod in understanding. Approaching the black mare, he expertly removes the rope from its neck with a gentleness that seems to convey a silent understanding. The mare remains serene throughout the entire process, a testament to the trust beginning to bloom between human and horse, captivating you with its silent beauty.

“Go on,” encouragingly, Yoongi gestures to the horse, and with a sudden burst of energy, the black mare leaps into a swift gallop. It bucks playfully, its powerful strides carrying it effortlessly towards the awaiting company of horses within the enclosure, a breathtaking display of freedom and untamed spirit.

Gratitude fills your voice as you express, “Thank you for capturing it.” You turn toward Yoongi, a warm smile of satisfaction lighting up your face. The joy of successfully corralling the black mare radiates from you, making the moment even more meaningful.

“No problem,” his response carries a friendly assurance, accompanied by a smile that lingers in the air. Together, you pivot, ensuring the gate clicks shut behind you, sealing in the triumphant atmosphere of your joint accomplishment.

As you savor the refreshing embrace of ice-cold water on the terrace, your sister joins you, gracefully claiming the adjacent chair.

You meet her gaze, an unspoken tension lingers in the air, and you instinctively adjust your posture in the chair, sitting taller, ready to listen to the words she’s about to share.

Her fingers thread through the tousled strands of her hair, a subtle sign of unease that sends a ripple of tension through the air. A thoughtful expression crosses her face as she breaks the silence, delving into the delicate topic. “I’ve been thinking about the inheritance,” she begins, and the gravity of her words hangs in the air. “You considered selling it for financial reasons, right?”

Her unexpected revival of the topic catches you off guard, and your eyes widen imperceptibly. “You’re right,” you admit, a touch of vulnerability in your voice. “Financial strain was indeed a factor in considering the sale.”

Her inquiry is direct, and you can sense the underlying concern in her eyes. “So, what’s the situation now? Do you still find yourself in need of money?” she leans in, her expression tinged with a hint of discomfort, acknowledging the sensitivity of the topic.

“No, I actually don’t,” no longer tethered by financial constraints, you respond with a reassuring smile, gently tracing the rim of your chilled cup. The unrelenting heat persists, making the solace of ice-cold refreshments all the more enjoyable.

Her expression morphs into one of confusion, a visible question mark etched on her face, signaling her inability to grasp the underlying meaning of your words.

Chuckles escape you as you take a refreshing sip of water, then leaning in across the table, your eyes alight with excitement. “I’ve been selling my paintings,” you reveal, the joy evident in your voice. “Capturing the essence of the ranch and the breathtaking nature around it has sparked a high demand. Surprisingly, I’ve raked in a considerable sum even before returning to the ranch.”

Jessi’s jaw drops momentarily, but soon her features transform into a mix of astonishment and pride. “Wow, I’m genuinely proud of you!”

Gratitude fills your smile as you respond, “Thank you,” basking in the warmth of her compliment.

A shadow of concern lingers in her eyes as she confesses, “I was getting worried you might still sell your share due to money problems…” Her gaze briefly drops to the ground before lifting, locking onto yours. “But I’m relieved that isn’t the case.”

You shake your head, a determined smile playing on your lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll never sell it. We agreed to do this together, right? Sisters running the ranch and all. Our legacy, our story.”

Her face lights up, a radiant smile stretching across her features as she emphatically nods in agreement, a silent understanding passing between you.

In the realm of childhood dreams, this reality surpasses every fleeting vision. Rediscovering the bond with your sister, the slow unraveling of shared memories, has proven to be an unexpectedly enchanting journey, far beyond the scope of your youthful imagination.

“Ease into the moment, let the rhythm of patience guide you,” Yoongi murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips. As the ebony mare gracefully weaves circles around you in the pen, he offers sagely advice, “Today may not be the day of readiness, but that’s part of the journey. Stand your ground, let her spirit unfurl, and witness the magic unfold,” he continues, standing by your side in silent camaraderie.

Implementing Yoongi’s wisdom proves to be a formidable challenge; impatience pulses through your veins as you yearn for an instantaneous connection with the mare. Despite the echoing reminder that patience is the key, a fervent desire to befriend her lingers within you, creating a delicate dance between restraint and eagerness.

As the mare gracefully trots around, a surge of connection prompts you to share, “I’ve given her a name.”

His chuckle resonates beside you as he inquires, “You’ve already given her a name?”

With unwavering certainty, you announce, “Yeah. I’m calling her Mikrokosmos,” your voice carrying a trace of affection for the newfound companion.

Curiosity lighting up his eyes, he inquires, “That’s a cool name, what made you think of that?”

“I just thought she looked like the deep black night sky and space, as if she’s her own universe,” you muse, a small laugh dancing in your voice.

He smiles warmly and chuckles, “Well, it’s cute.”

You chuckle, feeling the impatience gradually dissipate, your shoulders easing into a more relaxed state. Mikrokosmos continues her lively dance, her nose flaring as she snorts audibly, thoroughly examining the fence and her surroundings with a mix of curiosity and untamed energy.

Yoongi pivots to meet your gaze, his expression a curious blend of emotions—is it pain or something else? Without a clear answer, he leans in, encroaching upon your personal space. Surprisingly, you don’t mind; after all, you’re friends. 

Your attention shifts beyond him, catching sight of Jimin strolling from the ranch. A smile graces his lips as he approaches, and you reciprocate with a soft smile, a sense of giddiness washing over you at the prospect of reconnecting with him after a few days of silence.

Your assumption that Yoongi is leaning in for a friendly hug causes you to gradually envelop him in your arms. Unexpectedly, his face inches closer to yours—not in the platonic manner of a hug. 

Suddenly, his lips meet yours, jolting you into a state of bewilderment, shock, and momentary paralysis.

Shock floods your widened eyes, and Jimin’s gaze mirrors the distaste and anger you feel. Hurt emanates from his eyes, causing your heart to plummet. The ground beneath seems to liquefy, dragging you into a pool of dismay. Yoongi’s unexpected kiss is not welcomed, not when you don’t harbor romantic feelings for him. Reacting swiftly, you push him away, your own eyes revealing a mix of hurt and anger. But as you prepare to address the situation, you catch Jimin turning away, retreating towards the ranch.

Fuck.

Jimin’s displeasure is palpable, a mirrored reflection of your own sentiments. Desperate to convey that the unexpected kiss held no significance, that it wasn’t your intention, your legs propel you toward the fence. Scaling it with urgency, you leave Yoongi and Mikrokosmos to their own devices, racing after Jimin. The wind whistles in your ears, and your heart pounds, driven by the fervent need to bridge the gap between you and Jimin, to unravel the misunderstanding that threatens to shatter the fragile threads of whatever you had going between you.

“Jimin!” Your plea slices through the air, racing to catch up with him. The yard looms ahead, but he remains elusive, navigating the space on his limping leg. Each step feels like a chasm widening between you, a silent testament to the unintended chaos wrought by an unwelcome kiss. 

Breathless, you catch up with him, seizing his strong arm and urgently turning him toward you. “Jimin, it’s not what it seems—I need to explain!” The words tumble out, a cascade of sincerity, as you strive to convey the complexity of the moment, hoping to bridge the gap that has abruptly widened between you.

He halts abruptly, an aura of seething anger radiating from him like palpable waves of heat. His voice drips with venom as he accuses, “You kissed Yoongi.”

Your desperate explanation spills forth, the words rushing out like a cascade of untamed emotions. “No, I didn’t! He kissed me, and I didn’t want that. It meant nothing, okay?” Your heart pounds fiercely, echoing the thunderous hooves of a thousand wild horses. It’s suffocating; each breath feels like a struggle. 

You yearn for Jimin to grasp the misunderstanding, to understand that you’re as bewildered as he is. The haunting question lingers in your mind: Why the fuck did Yoongi kiss you?

He’s a stark contrast to his usual self; anger consumes him, his breaths quick and labored, and every muscle in his body appears ready to burst with tension.

In those silent moments, he stands like a formidable statue, his thoughts shrouded in mystery. The air around him crackles with anger and disappointment, emotions that hang heavily between you, palpable yet elusive.

Exhaling a deep and frustrated sigh, he visibly attempts to ease the tension in his body, his words carrying an air of indifference, “I don’t care.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief; this wasn’t the reaction you anticipated. While understanding his anger, you had hoped for a chance to discuss it. His face reflects a mix of pain and fury, prompting you to reach out for his arm again. However, the moment your fingers make contact, he flinches, taking a step back as if your touch stings.

It feels as though your touch seared him, igniting a reaction that sends a pang of guilt through you. Desperate to convey that it meant nothing, you yearn to reassure him, yet his unwillingness to listen leaves you grappling with the weight of unspoken words.

His words cut through the air, laden with a hurt that goes beyond the surface. “You’re always into everybody else. It’s never me. I’m never the one,” he utters, his voice heavy with a profound ache. Each word feels like an anchor, dragging you into a sea of emotional turmoil, where you’re left drowning in the depths of his unspoken pain.

The ache lingers, his words a sharp sting that resonates through your being. In that poignant moment, you find yourself paralyzed, the words you long to express caught in the web of your emotions. You yearn to convey that he is the one, the orchestrator of the symphony that makes your heart resonate with love and purpose. Yet, the words remain elusive, trapped within the confines of your unspoken sentiments. 

Why won’t they surface when you need them the most?

A torrent of tears threatens to spill from your eyes, and an overwhelming urge to scream builds within you as you witness him walking away, heading towards his house. Yet, your legs betray you, frozen in place as if your feet have fused with the very ground beneath you, rendering you immobile in the wake of your tumultuous emotions.

In a desperate attempt to bridge the widening gap between you, your hand stretches out, aching to grasp onto him. Your voice, a strangled plea, escapes your lips, echoing through the thin air, while tears carve rivers down the contours of your cheeks.

As he reaches for the doorknob, a profound moment unfolds. His gaze, once filled with a lively spark, now appears vacant. His complexion pales, a deep frown etches his features, and the hurt in his eyes sends unsettling tremors through your stomach, as if threatening to unleash a wave of nausea.

The door slams shut, echoing a resounding finality that leaves you hollow. 

Your heart constricts, a blend of hurt and sadness flooding through you. Each breath feels slightly labored as you gather the strength to decide whether to confront Jimin once more or turn to Yoongi, demanding an explanation for what the fuck that kiss was about.

You comprehend Jimin’s anger and hurt, yet it was merely a kiss, and you’ve conveyed this to him. Why won’t he lend an ear to your explanation? It’s just a damn kiss. Why does this particular incident shatter him, especially when he’s aware of your past involvement with his brother?

Sensing Jimin’s reluctance to engage in conversation, you let out a sigh, realizing it might be wiser to allow him some time to cool off before attempting to discuss the matter further. Despite having emphasized to him that the kiss was not intentional and stemmed from a misunderstanding, you can’t help but wonder if he truly absorbed your words.

As you release another heavy sigh, the weight on your shoulders seems to lift slightly, and you turn your body toward Yoongi. In this moment of emotional turbulence, with your world feeling like it’s flipped upside down, you resolve to address the issue with Jimin later, once he’s had time to cool off. There’s a determination in your heart to explain, to make him understand that he is undeniably the one who holds a special place in your heart.

Returning to the pen with Mikrokosmos and approaching Yoongi, there’s a palpable tension in the air, both within you and emanating from him. As you ascend the fence, gracefully landing on the sandy ground of the pen, Mikrokosmos continues her playful trot around. You decide to let her roam freely for the moment, turning your attention to the visibly apprehensive Yoongi.

Your hand shoots up, accusatory finger pointed directly at Yoongi. “What on earth was that, Yoongi?” The words carry a mix of frustration and confusion, your voice demanding an explanation for the unexpected kiss that has left you reeling.

Fury courses through you as you confront him, your eyes ablaze with anger. “I can’t believe you did that, Yoongi. What were you thinking?” His pained expression hints at something deeper, and a momentary wave of confusion washes over your anger.

“I’m so sorry, I–,” he stammers, his shoulders slumped, an apologetic look in his eyes that matches the turmoil you feel inside. His deflated demeanor echoes your own, both marred by the chaos of emotions.

You brace yourself, waiting for his words, and he releases a heavy sigh. “Fuck. I’m so sorry,” he admits, absentmindedly kicking up the sand beneath his restless feet.

“I...I…” he stammers, and frustration builds within you as the seconds tick away, leaving you increasingly agitated by his apparent reluctance to offer an explanation for why he unexpectedly kissed you.

“I think I’m gay,” he suddenly blurts out, and you’re taken aback. Confusion clouds your expression as you blink, trying to reconcile this revelation with the unexpected kiss, leaving you grappling with a puzzle that refuses to neatly fit together.

He gazes at you, and it’s as if he can decipher the thoughts racing through your mind. Despite the lingering pain etched on his face, a genuine sorrow and deflation accompany his words, “I kissed you because I needed to know if there was a spark between us, as a man and a woman.”

You nod in a semblance of comprehension, though his reasoning feels like a puzzle missing a crucial piece, leaving you with an unresolved sense of confusion.

“For a while now, I’ve found myself drawn to men, but it feels... weird, you know? I thought, perhaps, your sweetness and kindness could kindle a spark of interest in women for me, but it’s all so confusing.” He casts his gaze downward, releasing a sigh of frustration, and you meet his troubled eyes with a profound sense of empathy.

“Oh, Yoongi. Why didn’t you tell me?” you sigh, reaching for his arm and offering a reassuring stroke.

“It wasn’t cool of you to kiss me,” you begin in a soft voice, searching for his gaze, your eyes filled with a mix of confusion and understanding.

“There wasn’t even a spark,” he confesses, his voice hiccuping, tears streaming down his face, a raw vulnerability in his eyes that leaves you both exposed and connected in that fragile moment.

You envelop him in a comforting embrace, his tears dampening your shoulder. Despite the lingering frustration over his impulsive kiss, you can’t help but feel a surge of empathy. He’s navigating uncharted emotional waters, and you sense the vulnerability in his tears, making you momentarily set aside your own turmoil.

“I’m sorry. It’s just... I don’t know what came over me. I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers into the fabric of your shoulder, each word carrying the weight of regret, his tears leaving a palpable mark on your shirt.

“Yoongi, it’s okay,” you comfort him with a reassuring pat on his back. Mikrokosmos stands still opposite you both, a silent observer in the emotionally charged moment.

“Listen, you shouldn’t have kissed me. What you’re going through, you should’ve talked to me about it. And, please, there’s nothing wrong with liking men, okay? You can like whoever you want,” you assert, taking a step back to meet his eyes. “It’s going to be okay.”

Even through his tears and sobs, he looks at you with a puzzled expression. “Even with Jimin?”

Honestly, you don’t have all the answers, but you cling to hope. With a reassuring nod, you assert, “Jimin will come around.”

Days have passed, and the rift between you and Jimin remains unhealed. Every attempt to bridge the gap with words has been met with his silent retreat, leaving your pleas hanging in the air, unanswered.

Every passing day, the weight on your heart intensifies as Jimin continues to evade you. Returning to the ranch, the familiar routine with Yoongi feels strange, not because of any discord between you and him – you’ve reassured each other that everything is fine – but the unspoken tension with Jimin casts a shadow over the otherwise familiar landscape.

Diving into the world of wild horses with Yoongi acts as a soothing balm for your restless thoughts though, granting a momentary reprieve from the constant echoes of Jimin in your mind.

Today unfolds with a familiar dance between you and Mikrokosmos, each step a delicate negotiation of trust. Yoongi’s words echo in your mind, a reminder that forging a connection with her is a patient journey, a symphony of moments yet to be composed.

As Mikrokosmos gracefully weaves through the pen, Yoongi perches atop the fence, his keen eyes tracing the intricate dance between you and the wild mare, a silent maestro orchestrating a ballet of trust and understanding.

“Feel the rhythm of the moment, ease into it, and keep that calm composure,” he encourages, affirming your efforts with a reassuring nod.

“How have you been since last time?” you inquire, alluding to that unexpected moment when everything seemed to pivot with that unexpected kiss.

He wears a deflated expression, exhaling a sigh, “I’m still sorry for kissing you.”

“It’s fine. But I’m here for you. It seems like you could use somebody to talk to, don’t you think?” you inquire, wearing a soft smile.

He manages a small smile, though it’s faint. “Yeah, I haven’t really talked to anybody about it. It’s embarrassing,” he admits, his eyes reflecting a mix of vulnerability and relief.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. There’s nothing wrong with liking men, women, transgender persons, non-binary persons, or none at all,” you reassure him with a warm smile, your attention divided between the conversation and the subtle progress with Mikrokosmos inching closer to you.

“A gay cowboy, that ain’t gonna be an easy trail to ride,” he sighs deeply, a sense of deflation settling over him once more.

“I understand, but I believe you’re being too hard on yourself,” you say with a gentle voice, aiming to provide reassurance.

“Is there anyone catching your eye?” you inquire, a note of hope in your voice, as you witness his eyes light up with a sudden sparkle, gradually breaking into a warm smile.

“There is, but I don’t think he reciprocates,” he confesses, a sense of deflation in his tone contrasting with the bright shimmer in his eyes.

“Have you asked him, or shared your feelings with him?” you inquire, turning your gaze toward Mikrokosmos. She ambles around, occasionally snorting at the soft sand.

“No! I’m too afraid to tell him. I don’t want things to change between us because of my feelings,” he confesses, the words tumbling out in an almost frantic shout, briefly startling Mikrokosmos.

You give him a sheepish smile; you truly understand his hesitation. It’s hard putting your heart and feelings on a platter. You don’t know if the other person feels the same or if your heart is going to get scattered. But, deep down, you believe it’s worth putting your heart out there. 

Sometimes, the risk is what makes the reward extraordinary.

“When you’re ready, I believe you should tell him,” you say, infusing your words with the hope that resides within you, a hope that everything will unfold into something beautiful.

You sense an additional presence behind you, and as you turn around, you catch Yoongi fixedly gazing at something—or someone—over your shoulder. Intrigued, you pivot to find Jimin leaning against the fence, his gaze locked onto Yoongi.

Jimin’s voice slices through the air, a sharp edge to his tone that matches the intensity etched on his face. “I need you to drive into town and buy some new feed for the horses,” he instructs, the anger palpable in his words and expression.

“Sure boss,” Yoongi responds with a crisp nod, his acknowledgment carrying an undercurrent of tension, an unspoken acknowledgment of the brewing storm between you and Jimin.

Yearning for a chance to talk, you tentatively approach Jimin, hope lacing your voice as you softly inquire, “Hey, Jimin, can I talk to you?” 

Your attempt at a warm smile hangs in the air, but he remains distant, his gaze piercing through you as if you’re invisible. Silence greets your plea, his lack of response a profound dismissal as he pivots away, retreating to whatever occupied his attention before.

Stunned and disheartened, you linger in disbelief, the weight of Jimin’s blatant disregard settling heavily on your shoulders. An unsettling sensation creeps in, the palpable silence amplifying the sinking feeling in your chest. Kicking at the sand with your boots, a surge of deflation courses through you, leaving you stranded in a sea of unanswered questions and unspoken tensions.

A somber expression clouds Yoongi’s face as he inquires, “He still hasn’t talked to you?” 

Your head shakes in response. 

The mystery of Jimin’s continued silence baffles you, each attempt to bridge the gap met with indifference. Despite your persistent efforts, he remains resolute in his avoidance, a clear indication of his desire to keep his distance.

You release a heavy exhale, frustration etching into your words. “It’s as if he’s deliberately ignoring and avoiding me.”

“Do you want me to talk to him? Clarify that the kiss meant nothing, and apologize for my mistake?” Yoongi offers, his willingness to step in as a friend evident. However, you hesitate, not wanting him to fight your battles. You’re convinced that Jimin simply needs more time to come around, right?

“No. I doubt it would make a difference anyway. I’ve already assured him that it was meaningless, so I don’t understand why he’s still so angry…” Your words trail off, spoken in a hushed tone, carrying the weight of your frustration and confusion.

Yearning for a breakthrough, you contemplate slipping into the dress Jimin gifted you back in the city. Maybe, just maybe, it will catch his eye and pave the way for the conversation you so desperately crave. 

The unanswered questions weigh on you, leaving you bewildered as to why he won’t grant you a chance to clarify things.

Draped in the dress Jimin gave you, you delicately apply a touch of makeup, accentuating your features according to your own personal style. The anticipation lingers in the air, a silent plea for this subtle effort to break through the walls Jimin has erected.

As you finish preparing, you join the other girls outside the yard. Their outfits exude comfort and beauty, each reflecting their unique styles. Ara’s curly hair complements a simple shirt and knee-length skirt, paired with low heels. Ha-rin gracefully dons a sleek, figure-hugging dress. Your sister embraces a casual vibe with a shirt and jeans, a choice you appreciate. Meanwhile, Soo-ah stands out in a vibrant blue dress, accentuating her blonde hair. It’s just a casual outing to the bar, but the simplicity carries an understated elegance among the group.

Jessi confidently takes the wheel, her hands gripping it with purpose as you all pile into the car. With a decisive turn of the key, the engine roars to life, and she skillfully guides the vehicle down the dusty road, steering towards town. 

As the car glides through the landscape, your gaze fixates on the passing scenery outside the window. The lively chatter of the other girls becomes a distant murmur as your thoughts wander into the realm of introspection. The vibrant colors of the world blur into a kaleidoscope, your mind lost in contemplation, oblivious to the conversations swirling around you.

Suddenly, a gentle poke interrupts your introspection, and you pivot to find Soo-ah’s cerulean gaze locked onto yours. Her concern echoes in the soft curve of her brows as she delicately inquires, “What’s troubling you?”

As you release a heavy sigh, frustration coursing through you like an electric current, you run your fingers through your hair. The tangled web of untold secrets and unspoken emotions weighs on your shoulders. The girls remain oblivious to the unspoken turmoil – the unexpected kiss from Yoongi, the revelation of his sexuality, Jimin’s furious reaction, and the ensuing silence that has settled between you and him like an unbreachable chasm.

“Jimin is mad at me,” as the words escape your lips, a heavy admission lingering in the air, you allow your body to slump against the car seat, a profound sense of deflation settling over you. This situation with Jimin is a bitter pill, a taste of discontent that lingers on your tongue.

This sucks.

Soo-ah’s gaze, a curious blend of concern and confusion, locks onto you as she poses the question, “Why is he mad at you? I thought everything was well since their party.” 

“He saw Yoongi kiss me,” you sigh, the weight of frustration evident in the sound. A collective hush descends upon the car as the gravity of your revelation captures the attention of the rest of the girls.

“Wait, you kissed Yoongi?” Ha-rin’s eyes widen in surprise, her tone revealing a mixture of shock and curiosity.

“No, I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me. There’s a big difference!” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest with a frustrated huff.

Ara’s voice comes from the front passenger seat, cutting through the tension, “Oh. Do you like Yoongi now, then?”

“No! I still like Jimin. But he doesn’t want to talk to me since he saw that kiss. I tried to explain to him that it meant nothing, but he didn’t want to listen and slammed the door in my face…” you lament, the frustration evident in your voice.

“So he knows it didn’t mean anything?” Soo-ah inquires, her eyes probing for the truth.

“Yeah. I told him,” you respond with a nonchalant shrug, a mix of frustration and resignation lingering in your voice.

Your sister’s soft voice breaks the tension, drawing your attention. “Jimin is a very sensitive guy, you know?” she remarks, her words carrying a touch of understanding for both you and Jimin.

“I’m beginning to understand that, yeah…” you mutter, releasing another heavy sigh that echoes the weight of the situation.

“He’s quick to feel jealousy, especially when it involves his brother,” Jessi chimes in, her gaze fixed on the winding road ahead.

“But it was Yoongi, not Jungkook. I can’t wrap my head around why he’s upset about this but not when I slept with Jungkook,” you express, genuine confusion evident in your words.

“I believe he took time grappling with the fact that you were involved with Jungkook. It hurt him deeply. They have a competitive relationship, and if he can overcome that, it shows he truly cares for you,” your sister suggests, her voice carrying a hopeful tone.

“But why won’t he talk to me then?” Frustration seeps into your voice. All you yearn for is a conversation with Jimin, to express that you desire him, that you need him in your life.

“Did he say anything else?” Soo-ah inquires, her mind working to find a solution that might aid you.

Your mind races, and then it clicks— he did say something! “He did say: ‘You’re always into everybody else. It’s never me. I’m never the one’,” you share, the weight of those words lingering in the air.

A shared understanding seems to envelop everyone else, leaving you on the outskirts as they exchange knowing glances with one another.

“What is it?” you inquire, eager to unravel the undisclosed facets of Jimin’s life that have eluded you.

“I think he’s hurt,” Ara shares, causing you to roll your eyes. The frustration mounts as the question still persists: Why won’t he talk to you?

“Every time Jimin’s been in a relationship, they’ve always left him, whether for his brother or someone else. He’s never the one they pick,” Jessi shares, her voice tinged with sadness. She looks at you through the rearview mirror, her eyes holding a depth of understanding. “I think he’s hurt too, by always being picked last.”

Your heart plummets. 

He did express that he’s ’never the one’, but in your heart, he’s ‘the one’ for you. 

The realization hits you hard; you didn’t assure him of this crucial truth when he needed to hear it the most. If only you had voiced those feelings, perhaps you wouldn’t be grappling with this gut-wrenching sensation in your stomach.

“But he is the one for me,” you murmur in a hushed and almost imperceptible tone, yet the gravity of your words resonates clearly with the girls.

“Then tell him that,” Soo-ah urges, her hand offering a supportive squeeze on your arm.

You nod, grateful for the girls’ advice and your sister’s insights into Jimin’s past relationships. Determination courses through your veins as you clench your hands. Tonight, you’ve decided, you will talk to Jimin and bare your feelings to him.

How he’s the one who has held a special place in your heart since childhood, a crush that has only deepened with time. You yearn to confess that he’s the one you desire, envisioning a dance of closeness, where his arms envelop you, and your embrace reciprocates the warmth you’ve always craved.

You can do it. Tonight is the night.

As Jessi skillfully parks the car next to Jimin’s unmistakable blue truck, your heart quickens its rhythm. The sight of his vehicle acts as a silent cue, summoning the courage that has been building within you. Tonight, in the embrace of the bar’s glow, you are determined to release the words that have lingered in the depths of your heart, ready to unfold your emotions to Jimin.

Upon entering the bar, the lively scene unfolds before you: Jungkook and Yoongi engage in a fierce game of pool, drawing a crowd that includes Hoseok, Namjoon, and the mysterious guy from the party.

Meanwhile, at the bar, your eyes lock onto Jimin, seated intimately with a woman. Her laughter dances in the air as she leans into his touch, playfully twirling a strand of hair around her finger, while her hands find their way to his biceps, giving a teasing squeeze. 

A vice tightens around your heart, squeezing it within the confines of your chest. It plummets, dragging you into an emotional abyss. The sensation is akin to a dizzying free fall, the room spinning uncontrollably before your eyes.

The girls sense your frozen reaction and swiftly grab your arm, forcibly steering you away from the heart-wrenching scene. Your body feels immobilized, as if they need to physically drag you away from the emotional vortex that threatens to consume you.

They usher you towards the pool table, where the mysterious guy introduces himself as Seokjin. As you make eye contact with Yoongi, his expression reflects both concern and sadness. The other guys share similar sentiments, but it’s Jungkook who breaks the silence, his voice heavy with regret, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he would bring a date…”

You feign a smile, attempting to conceal your true emotions behind a façade of forced cheerfulness, though you suspect everyone can easily discern the charade. Yet, you couldn’t care less about that.

Hoseok wraps you in a comforting embrace, whispering reassurances, “It’s gonna be okay.”

However, the words fall on deaf ears as a storm of emotions brews within. Far from feeling okay, you sense a hollowness. The night intended for expressing your feelings to Jimin has taken an unexpected turn, leaving you questioning if he’s truly moved on.

Your voice barely above a whisper, you cautiously inquire, “Is he dating her?” 

The vulnerability in your tone reflects the internal struggle, torn between the desire for truth and the fear that it might shatter the fragile pieces of your heart. Despite the apprehension, you steel yourself for the reality you might have to face.

A heavy sigh escapes Jungkook’s lips as he confirms, “He is. It happened only a few days ago.” His words carry the weight of empathy, and his eyes convey a shared sorrow, understanding the depth of the wound that’s just been exposed.

“It’s Deiji, his old physiotherapist.” Jungkook adds with a heavy voice as he lets Yoongi have a turn at the pool table. His eyes reflect a genuine sadness, as does the whole group.

Your heart plummets into an abyss of confusion and hurt. Instead of choosing to communicate with you, he sought solace in someone else’s company. The ache in your chest deepens as you grapple with the unfathomable question of why he couldn’t have just spoken to you, choosing connection over the cold distance that now separates you both.

Your heart clenches, threatening to suffocate you with an overwhelming surge of nausea. 

The sight of Jimin and his newfound companion engrossed in tender exchanges and affectionate gestures feels like a relentless assault on your senses. The lovey-dovey expressions, the sweet whispers shared in each other’s ears, and their gentle caresses become an unbearable spectacle, driving you to the edge of discomfort. 

Ugh, you can’t take it.

Yoongi steps closer, intertwining his fingers with yours, prompting you to release Hoseok. His words carry a glimmer of hope, “Perhaps he just needs a bit more time to come around?”

Doubt seeps into your thoughts like a bitter poison. His swift transition to move on, without allowing you to explain or talk leaves you with a void, a concoction of sadness and a smoldering ember of anger burning within.

“I don’t think so,” a heavy sigh escapes your lips as you divert your gaze from the sight of Jimin and his new companion at the bar. Nausea knots your stomach, a visceral reaction to the realization that being in this room, in Jimin’s presence, is now a painful experience. The intention to confess your feelings replaced by the stark truth that his heart has found a different destination.

As the guys attempt to lift your spirits with a game of pool and some beers, the once familiar taste of the brew now carries a strange bitterness, unlike its usual comforting flavor. Your focus wavers, and it feels as though you’re observing the scene through distorted glasses, the world around you losing its usual vibrancy.

You believed that you and Jimin shared something unique—sure, you weren’t officially an item, but you were inching your way there, weren’t you?

Once more, you find yourself submerged in the vast ocean of your own emotions. If only you had proclaimed to Jimin that he was the one for you. If only you hadn’t frozen on that fateful day! 

’What ifs’ echo loudly in the chambers of your heart.

Your fists tighten involuntarily, the bitter taste in your mouth mirroring the ache within. The past is immutable; all you can do is forge ahead. If Jimin has chosen to let his feelings for you fade, perhaps it’s time to release your own grip and move forward. 

Easier said than done, as you find yourself hesitant to relinquish the tether to your emotions, unwilling to surrender to the prospect of letting go.

Throughout the remainder of the night, the guys make a genuine effort to lift your spirits. The once familiar taste of beer now repulses you so much, rendering you the designated driver. As a result, the girls indulge in even more libations, their laughter and banter echoing against the backdrop of your own subdued thoughts.

Amidst the melancholy, you find solace in witnessing their joy, and a genuine laugh escapes you when Yoongi triumphs over Jungkook at the pool table.

Despite the fragility of your heart, you can’t help but steal glances toward Jimin, engrossed in his conversation with this Deiji girl. A conflicted part of you contemplates confessing your feelings, but the shattered remnants of your confidence hold you back. After a week of deliberate avoidance, you doubt he would even spare you a glance.

As Jimin engages in conversation, the subtle traces of irritation etched on his face catch your notice, leaving you with a sinking realization that you might be the source of his vexation.

As you chauffeur the girls home that night, their laughter resonates within the car, yet your heart doesn’t resonate with the joy. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, your fingers mirror the clenching ache in your heart, and the darkness of the night reflects the shadows looming over the what-could-have-been with Jimin.

Engaging in work becomes your refuge, a distraction from the constant reverie of Jimin that clouds your thoughts. Despite your concerted effort, escaping his presence proves challenging, especially on his sprawling property. His distinctive soft locks and infectious laughter ripple through the yard, infiltrating the serene atmosphere where you and Yoongi diligently toil with the wild horses.

The sight of Jimin reveling in happiness with someone else ignites a bitter flame within you, a bitter concoction of disappointment and self-blame. As the waves of resentment crash against your emotional shore, you grapple with the realization that, perhaps, Jimin’s inability to engage in a mature conversation has tarnished the pedestal on which you once held him.

You and Yoongi dedicate your efforts to the brown mare, a patient companion in need of trust. Observing Yoongi’s skilled hands, you witness the delicate dance between man and horse unfold. His fingers caress the mare’s neck, traverse its sturdy body, and gracefully navigate down its legs, weaving a tale of connection and understanding through the language of touch.

With a practiced finesse, he shifts his hands back to the mare’s back, deftly applying his body weight as though securing an invisible saddle. The mare, a silent witness to this equine ballet, stands unperturbed, a testament to the trust forged between horse and human through the gentle language of handling.

“Calling it a day with this one,” he declares, a self-assured grin lighting up his face, even as the horse affectionately nudges his shoulder, sealing the unspoken bond formed in the tranquil dance of understanding.

Turning his attention towards you, he leads the brown mare away into the nearby paddock, asking, “Do you want to work on Mikrokosmos?”

Grateful for the distraction, you nod and reply, “Yes, that would be nice.” 

Together, you walk back to the stables, anticipation building as you prepare to face the untamed spirit of Mikrokosmos.

With a sense of accomplishment, he entrusts you with the task. 

Gently, you open her stall, and to your delight, Mikrokosmos willingly follows your lead. Lately, her trust in you has grown, allowing you to guide her without the need for a halter or a lead rope. Together, you stroll down to the pen, opening the fence and stepping inside, a testament to the bond you’ve formed.

Yoongi secures the gate behind you, swiftly leaping up to perch on the fence, his eyes keenly fixed on your every move as you begin your task.

As Mikrokosmos ambles around you in a deliberate circle, the rhythmic sound of her snorts fills the air, her curiosity piqued by the familiar scent of the weathered fence.

As Mikrokosmos gradually inches closer, a palpable sense of anticipation builds within you. Your desire for her to ‘join up’ intensifies, a connection you’ve been yearning for, still elusive in her hesitant movements.

Yet, in an unexpected shift, she retreats, leaving you with a subtle sense of deflation. The proximity you felt, a fleeting promise, slips away, and a tinge of disappointment lingers in the air.

From his perch atop the fence, Yoongi’s voice floats down, breaking the quiet, “Relax. Are you stressed or nervous?”

As the realization dawns, a mix of stress, irritation, and sadness swirl within you. A tumultuous cascade of emotions that might not be the best companions when seeking a horse’s trust.

Your head bobs in agreement. “I think I need to clear my head,” you admit, the weight of unspoken turmoil palpable in the air.

Understanding seems to pass silently between you and Yoongi. He gracefully hops down from the fence, offering a reassuring nod and a faint smile as you trudge back to the gate, unlocking it with a heavy heart.

You stride purposefully to where Marshmallow is tethered. Swiftly unfastening him, you deftly place your foot in the stirrup and swing your leg over the saddle. With a gentle kick to his sides, you urge him into a spirited gallop, the wind whipping through your hair as you both charge forward.

Without a word to Yoongi, you let Marshmallow take charge, giving him free rein to gallop ahead, the rhythmic beat of hooves on the earth harmonizing with the rush of wind in your ears. 

As the wind weaves through your hair, the rhythmic gallop of Marshmallow beneath you becomes a soothing cadence, drowning out the tumultuous thoughts of what could have been with Jimin. Instead, you choose the liberating path of a blank canvas, letting your mind mirror the pristine slate before the stroke of a paintbrush. The open expanse before you becomes a metaphorical canvas for new possibilities, each hoofbeat a brushstroke on the masterpiece of your own journey.

Underneath Marshmallow’s rhythmic hooves, you traverse hilltops, wind through enchanting forests, and traverse expansive open lands. The beauty around you serves as a healing balm for your heart. 

In the distance, a wild herd of horses captures your attention, prompting you to guide Marshmallow into a steady walk. In silent reverence, you approach, not wanting to disrupt the natural dance of the herd, but to observe them silently.

Before you, the wild horses grace the landscape with their untamed beauty, a sight that never fails to captivate. Gazing upon them, an unspoken yearning echoes within you — a desire to emulate their unbridled freedom, devoid of obligations, untouched by pain, liberated from the weight that burdens your gut.

Your hand gently strokes Marshmallow’s neck, a tender connection in the midst of your emotions. Tears trace silent paths down your face, and the horse, ever understanding, carries you through the ebb and flow of your heartache.

Oh, the weight of regret settles on your heart as you yearn for the courage to have confessed your feelings to Jimin on that fateful day when Yoongi kissed you. 

If only the hands of time could rewind, granting you a chance to rewrite the narrative of your heart.

The pang of regret lingers, a bitter aftertaste staining your every thought.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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[kaeyx]

corrupting pm dazai

when he was in the pm he was already pretty fucked up, but he was way more vulnerable and i love the idea of taking advantage of that

you liked the idea of pegging him, but he definitely wasn’t. but in the end, if you wanted him to do something, he didn’t really have a say in it. he would complain with teary eyes about how it hurts, and it’s too much for him, but you’re dead set on making him cum this way. dazai sobbed the entire time, but ended up cumming pretty quickly. after he came, he looked up at you while you were pulling out and asked for another.

Okay so I got a little carried away uhh

Warnings: Reader is gn, mentioned as having a penis but it could be a strap, "cock" is always strap inclusive on this blog. Manipulation on reader's part, it's assumed that all parties are of age and this is strictly fantasy.

Yessss he's so fucked up but also so lonely. He had Chuuya, he had Oda and Ango, but who else? We know Chuuya had other friends, but Dazai is the demon prodigy, the youngest executive, one half of double black. If you read the light novels he's always described as a demon, a strategist, someone smart, cold, calculating. And then you look at him and he's... 16, 17, 18. That's a child. At his age I was skipping classes and crushing on Sans Undertale, and he's out there living on his own in a dump and killing people. He can't help but latch onto anyone who'll treat him normally. He wants to be a dumb teen, he wants to try new things, he wants to explore the world, and his body too. And if you're there, treating him decently, laughing with him and fussing over his injuries, he's already eating out of the palm of your head. I'm not sure about experience since he's had to have tried to kiss Chuuya at some point. Maybe they got smashed and had sex that one time, but I digress. He doesn't really know what he's doing. He knows he gets off to some weird, fucked up shit but he doesn't know anything about boundaries or safewording or the traffic light system or anything.

Logistics and morals aside this means you can pretty much convince him to do whatever you want. Treat him well, or just decently, kiss him and pet his hair, call him your good boy while you make him cum for the third time and he's crying into your chest, he'll love it. Whatever things he's nervous about trying you can just gently coax him into. He doesn't like to be naked? Okay, just take the coat off then. Just pop a few buttons open, lose the tie. With enough time he'd be scrambling to rip all his clothes off, eager to feel your hands all over his bare skin. Nervous about you sucking him off? Guide his hands to the back of your hair, kissing his hips and thighs and edging him a few times until he's pulling at your hair and rutting mindlessly into your mouth. It's just so cute to watch his hesitation turn to eagerness, all those soft limits becoming turn ons.

Dazai would be so nervous about pegging, poor baby. It's dirty, he's never had anything inside him, he doesn't think it would feel good, he doesn't want to. But you sigh and shush him, promising you know best and you'll make sure he feels really good. Working him up first until he's desperate, clinging to you and pouting, cock slapping against his tummy and leaking, painfully hard. You'd use just one finger first, being nice and letting him cum, praising him for doing so good, behaving so well, taking all your finger up to the knuckle. The next day it's two, and you spread him open a little while you edge him, kissing his chest and cheek. By the third day he's not protesting at all, lying back and obediently spreading his legs so you can work him open. He squirms as you press the blunt head against his entrance but you remind him that it'll feel good, that there's nothing to worry about and he wants to make you happy, doesn't he? Dazai pouts a little but nods, relaxing and letting you in.

You take it very slowly of course, since your cock is far larger than your fingers. Rocking slowly back and forth, sinking in more each time until your hips are flush with his ass and he's trembling, clenching around you. You lean over and kiss him, brushing the hair out of his eye, reassuring him that it's okay, he's doing so well, taking all of you so perfectly. Waiting for him to decide when you can start moving, sliding slowly along his walls until you find that one spot that makes him gasp.

You hadn't gone for his prostate before, just focusing on getting him used to something inside him before moving onto pleasure. Dazai cries out in surprise every time you move, his legs trembling, eyes rolling back, unused to the feeling. You decide to be nice to him and touch his poor cock, jerking him off in time with your thrusts until he's grabbing onto your shoulders and clenching around you desperately, spilling over himself. Once he catches his breath he looks up at you, face still flushed, and finally agrees: you really do know better.

Next time the goal is to not touch him at all, make him cum just from the fucking.

[nilsavatar]

DAY 8 - VOYEURISM

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI +18, no use of Y/N, SMUT in the end, voyeurism, mimicked intercourse (Neteyam and reader copy everything Jake and Neytiri do), blowjob, face fucking, rough, dirty talk, degradation, breeding kink, commitment relationship, dom-Jake, sub-Neteyam who turns in a dom-Neteyam later on, slight mention of claustrophobia, mention of KirixSpider. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: Jake and Neytiri are out for their periodic date night. Neteyam is supposed to look after Tuk, but Aywanin (reader), thanks to Kiri's involvement, manages to convince him to sneak away to have their own personal date night. One rule: no ikran. To avoid detection, they travel a secret passage in the rock tunnels of High Camp that would have taken them out of Mons Veritatis, but something bars their way. Or rather, somebody.

Word Count: 4k

Masterlist - Request a fic

“Oh, come on!” “Aywa,” his tone was one of warning, but a pleased note ruined the intent not to make her press further with her risky request. “I promise you won't regret it.” She looked up at him through long black lashes, her face tilted to one side, her lips parted in an unmistakable, allusive smirk. Neteyam shook his head in amusement, no longer able to restrain himself from smiling back and meeting her gaze with equal expectation. He drew her into an embrace. Their arms circled each other's waists and the tips of their noses rubbed together. He inhaled the sweetness of the balm she used to wash herself. It enveloped her, exuding a luscious aroma reminiscent of nectar, with hints of amber that accentuated the natural fragrance of her skin, leaving him at a loss for words to describe it; it was simply her. He would have been able to recognize her scent among a thousand. Even if he lost his sight, hearing, or memory, he was sure it would bring him back to her.

The two looked at each other in complicity, their foreheads leaning against each other. "How do we deal with Tuk?" he asked, unable to let go of his diligence altogether. The obedient good-boy. A side of him that could greatly irritate her, but concurrently, it contained goodness, protectiveness, and a sense of duty that was the key to her love for him. How could she not love a man like that, after all? Someone who would make her feel guarded and respected? Always attentive and understanding, he was like a gentle guide, ready to coddle her but also willing to steer her in the right direction if needed. As should have been the case tonight, yet the inclination to give her everything she wanted prevailed, to give in under those pleading but cunning eyes. His greatest weakness — and undoubtedly the prospect of a spicy night was playing its part.

Neteyam was still a man. Perfect, but just a man.

“I’ve already talked to Kiri. She’ll take care of her.” “You talked to Kiri?” he stared at her in amazement, stepping back a little, but not enough so that he no longer felt the warmth of her body. His large hands anchored on her arms, unable to resist sinking his fingers into her flesh, from tasting the smooth skin. Aywanin bit her lower lip with a mock guilty air. She blinked a few times before running her fingers over his pecs, then his abs, and finally entwined again behind his back. Clinging to him until she felt the beginning of a bulge press against her abdomen. The skin flushed where the nails lightly scratched their path. “I knew you'd back off otherwise. I had to pre-empt.”

“Smart move.” “I learned from the best," she teased.” “It's pretty odd that she actually said yes to babysitting Tuk. You know how she is.” “Let’s say we struck a deal.” The wry grin that crippled her mouth sent a shiver down his spine. Shivers of pleasure, because it drove him crazy when she brought out her nasty side. “Is this related to Spider?” “Uh-huh, no way. My lips are sealed. Girls’ secret.”  “It's like you answered me, you know?” “If you make assumptions I don’t confirm, that’s all that’s left...” she rose on her tiptoes to reach his mouth, on which she blew into it, “... assumptions.” “You have a knack for making things go your way.” He asserted, not missing the opportunity to gather both buttocks in his broad palms playfully and blow her a flying kiss. “No ikran, got it?” “It’s not like I wanna get us caught, silly,” she giggled, satisfied with her own success.

Who would have guessed that even his parents would not venture out into the night sky for a flight?

Sneaking out of the village was easier said than done, especially after the return of the RDA and chiefly when you were close to the olo’eyktan family. Security had increased significantly since the clan had moved to the Hallelujah Mountains, with a patrol always stationed at each entrance. However, within the labyrinthine caves, a secret dwelled - a concealed passageway known only to them.

Lo'ak used it as a means of evading their parents and exploring the forest.

“This way,” Neteyam whispered to keep his voice from booming and offered his hand. For the first time that evening, he read hesitation on the girl’s face, normally unfamiliar with apprehension.  “It gets a little tight up ahead, but we'll pass through in a single line. And then, the passage leads to a secret chamber that connects to another hallway, and we'll finally be outside.” He threw her an encouraging smile, “You trust me?” She smiled back, “Yes.” Stealthily and guided by luminescent larvae that colored the massive limestone walls a pale blue, directing them through the otherwise dark and asphyxiating corridor, the two made their way watching out for stalactites and stalagmites that threatened to trip them up or, worse, leave their heads in them. Walking under that semblance of a starry sky was a captivating experience, truly breathtaking. Aywanin wished to stay there longer, but each additional minute meant sacrificing their personal delight.

They noticed a light up ahead that grew stronger with each step, filling the air with a loving glow and beckoning them closer. Moonlight filtered through the mouth of the cave. The path out led to sturdy roots, which they would climb to reach a lush glade growing atop the giant boulder that now served as home to the Omatikaya. A place of rare beauty, especially during the enchantment of the night. The girl felt a warm sensation spread through her as her lips curved into a smile. They were finally out; the chances of being caught red-handed were minimized. Regaining the playful spirit that had driven them there, she pulled Neteyam by the arm to encircle his neck with hers and glued her mouth on his in a messy kiss. It caught him by surprise enough to make him stumble over his steps and slam his back against the jagged wall. A sigh swallowed his moan of pain when Aywanin ran her tongue past his tooth line.

Neteyam, driven by her resourcefulness, leaned down and wedged his forearms behind her knees, anchoring her securely to his waist, when she gave herself the momentum to pounce on him. Her heels crossed behind his hips, positioned in the small but obvious, symmetrical, lateral depressions in his lower torso that seemed to be designed specifically for that. Earthlings called them ‘dimples of Venus,’ taking their cue from the goddess of Physical Glee and Love of an ancient cult in their world. It was a name Aywanin liked; an apt association. As faithful as she was to the Great Mother, she had to admit the sensuality of that particular spot on their bodies could only be a detail born from the mind of a deity devoted to love, desire, and passion.

The young warrior gave himself the push to break away from the rough, sharp surface, rotated on himself, and slammed her against it. Pleasantly painful, the impact forced her to break their effusion with a hiss. His gaze carried a hint of disapproval, softened by the familiar gleam in his eyes that deepened the color of his iris. His eyes, usually a piercing cold yellow, with just the right hint of vibrant green akin to a lime peel, morphed into a mesmerizing shade of honey gold.

“We’re almost there,” he exhaled, his warm breath gently brushing against her face. “I'm loving it here. Isn't this place so … suggestive?” “Too risky. We'd be totally busted if someone showed up.” There was nowhere to hide. “You said this is a secret passageway known only to you and Lo’ak.” “Yeah, but —.” Aywanin hushed him by laying her index finger to seal his lips. “No one's gonna drop by. It's the middle of the night. C'mon, take a look. It's so pretty here.” It looked like a Martian landscape: rocky, inhospitable, and rugged, with a magnificent sky to witness their love. Although their stars were the glowworms with which they faced Unitarol. "Why not switch things up and try something different?” she asked, winkingly. Again, that expression that sometimes he wanted to tear away, but most of the same made his knees go soft, and his saliva thicken into a rump. “You will be my downfall,” he accused with a smile. “I am your downfall.”

Holding her tightly, Neteyam followed the veins that marked the rock where rainwater seepage led to a depression in the innermost part of the underground chamber. A place secluded enough for no one to surprise them, and of ideal acoustics to hear her chant his name over and over again like a prayer.  Aywanin knew how to put a strain on his balance as he walked, being careful where he put his feet. Her kisses and bites were distracting because of the tremors they caused throughout his body. But Neteyam was a man of iron will; he would not give in to the temptation to take her there, in a chalky rock corridor. No, he would lay her down on the nice moss that covered the moisture-laden stone pavement, at the spot where the luminescent larvae had the most prolific colony. So many trails and shimmering dots on par with constellations in the celestial vault.

Perhaps if they had not been so immersed in their frolicking. In the hard kisses that wanted to suck the air out of each other’s lungs, in the scratches along his back, in the marks between her neck and shoulder. Perhaps they would have noticed sooner the low moans that echoed from the depths of the cave. More and more frequent and high-pitched, until one of them culminated in a louder shriek.

“Ma’Jake!”

The tips of Neteyam’s ears clicked like toy soldiers, and he urgently crouched down behind the largest boulder he could find, with still Aywanin clinging to him, shielding her. “Teyam?” she asked in a daze, but he quickly signaled for her to stay quiet by raising his index finger. “What is it? What’s going on?” she whispered then. Without a word, he lifted himself up just enough on his ankles to peer over the edge of the rock.

The clan only had one Jake, and only one person could appeal to him in such an intimate manner.

Neteyam stifled an expletive, shrugging her off to slide seated against the wall, where he slammed the back of his head. “My parents are here.” “Your parents?! You said this passage—.” “Guess it's not as secret as we thought.” “Why are they even here?” He cast her a look that was both eloquent and pleading. Don't make me say it out loud, please. “Date night.” He simply stated, and the girl's eyes squinted wildly. She was shivering with cold sweat. By now it was too late; they could no longer escape without them noticing. All they could do was wait for them to... finish.

Jake had nailed her to the wall in a voracious kiss as he trudged to unfasten the flight leggings that veiled her legs. His fingers slid over the perforated details of the leather fabric and up her calf, then over the knee that grazed his pelvis. What was left of their clothes soon scattered on the floor. Sucking the breath from her lungs, his wet kisses lingered on her lips, letting the desire to be taken dig into her skin and creep ever stronger. He lifted her off the ground, lacing her ankles behind his back and sliding to his right. She was unbalanced for a second for lack of support, but Jake was ready for that eventuality as well.  “No way I’m going to drop you,” he whispered laughingly, continuing to a deliberately bumped obstacle. He set her down on a hard surface and the woman brought her hands behind her, bracing herself on what must have been a deformation of the rock face. Before she could speak, her mate bit the back of her shoulder. A wave of strong ardor washed over her flesh, and she could not help but rub herself against him, moaning Jake’s name. His bites were wild and fervent and made her legs soft.

A strange heat spread through Aywanin as she stared at the scene in astonishment, unable to look away. It was bewitching. Every flap of skin flushed, every nerve ending awakened. The senses heightened; especially the touch that grew impatient and the sense of smell yearning to register any detail of the pheromones that characterized them. So unique, so theirs.

“Why didn’t we start like this right away?” The olo’eyktan whispered between kisses. “Someone here didn’t even want to go out tonight. He was tired,” Neytiri reciprocated with all the passion she possessed. “What a bad person.” “Horrible.” “This horrible guy gonna bang you so well that you will forget even your name.” He swallowed her tongue again, his arms wrapped possessively around her. 

The kiss lasted an eternity.

It was strange to see Neytiri so vulnerable. The image of the woman in her head was very clear: proud, beautiful, and imperturbable. But in her husband’s hands, she shattered and became malleable like soft clay. It was as if she lost what she was in that state. Warrior, mother, tsakarem. Only the woman remained, and so did Jake. For the first time, the girl’s eyes rested on their figures without seeing what they represented, and this triggered something in her. As if the two lovers had pressed a button inside her, lit a fire that burned away everything else. Without looking away for an instant, she reached for Neteyam’s loincloth and unfastened it. Despite the soft thud it made, the sound of his parents' cries overpowered any potential echo.

The boy was about to ask her what the fuck was going on in her mind, but the grip on his throbbing member cut off his breath. “No. No, Aywa, stop!” he yelled in a murmur, but she took to pump him undaunted. Up and down along the shaft, preening the base more and more, and teasing his slit at the tip as she knew he liked it. “We can’t leave without them noticing us. We might as well make the most of this experience and get a free lesson in a fortunate marriage.”

Marriage. It was a recurring theme lately. Or rather, it was a topic Neteyam often brought up, ready to culminate in their long courtship, their dream of love. Yet Aywanin had never been too open about it, leaving the question undetermined, although the answer would have been simple. They just had to set a date. This was the last of the situations in which he would have predicted her to open the subject of her own accord.

Were they indeed going to discuss it now? With his parents’ moans in his ear, their bodies entwined in his peripheral vision, and his fiancée's hand jerking him off to top it all off?

“I want to learn whatever it takes to make you happy.” “You already make me happy.” “I want you to be happy forever. That you choose me all your life like your father chooses your mother every day.” “I wish the same.” “Then let’s make the most of it. There is no better example than them,” she smiled like a fox.

They mimicked as far as possible everything they saw their unsuspecting mentors doing.

“Open.” heard Jake say, out of breath. “W-what?” “Your legs,” his voice was an octave lower, “Show me what you’re hiding.”

Aywanin swallowed hard as Neteyam positioned himself between her own legs. She didn't think the young man would get involved in such a perversion. Normally, he was the sweetest man in the world in bed. He cuddled her by whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Their bodies swayed together as they listened to the ticking of the bedposts and the rustle of the wind beating against the roof of the hut. But he could also be imperious and rough, aware of how much she liked a little force between waves of bliss. And that was just a taste of what he planned to do within minutes as he listened to his father’s words as if they were direct orders.  The perfect little soldier.

Watching him participate in the game was an ecstatic experience that words cannot capture. The satisfaction that inflamed her insides was so enveloping that it stunned her, leaving her with a single, powerful conviction, a blaze of lucidity impossible to extinguish except with the roar of orgasm.

She was responsible for his transformation. She uncovered his true essence.

And what could pass for dominance was, in reality, nothing more than submission to the drives that he was so distressed to drown; but when he was with her, they resurfaced and obscured reason, erasing the hardness of his nature. The only thing that mental state allowed to keep hard was the long, heavy cock that now contracted against his belly.

She shuddered under his gaze, the coils in her stomach tensing. He knew she didn’t want it to be gentle, not after coming all that way at that time of night. She didn’t want him to be respectful, right now, with this amount of desire burning inside her. If this was a way to please her, even if it was out of his character, he would do anything to fulfill her dirtiest dream. 

They turned to look at the other couple. The mischief in Jake’s eyes was quickly replaced by impatience when Neytiri didn’t indulge him. “I said, open,” she lifted her chin, feeling weak under the superiority of his gaze. “Are you pretending to be shy?” he spat. Nonchalantly, she opened her legs, allowing a glimpse of her folds, wet and glistening. “You can do better than that. Spread.” He ordered as he reached out a hand, tightening his fingers around her ankle, and yanked her forward until she slid off the boulder. She gasped in surprise, her shins dangling over the edge as he cupped her mouth with one palm and pinned her thigh with the other. His grip was never too strong to leave a mark. He loved her too much to hurt her.

He forced her to extend them as far apart as possible, exposing her squirming hole to hungry eyes.  “Look at you,” he said, as he traced the folds with his fingertips. “You’re soaked.” He slipped two digits into his mouth, smeared them with saliva, and brought them back down to slide over her clit. Without warning, he pushed them in, spinning them upwards and she gasped. He removed his fingers, only to put them back in his mouth and taste her on his tongue. He kept his eyes on her as he emitted a little mumbling around his phalanges. His smile was salacious.

Asserting that Neytiri enjoyed being taken in that indelicate way because she loved suffering itself was inaccurate. On the contrary, she knew how to turn out to be extremely proactive. Sometimes a spark would inflame within her, propelling her to seize control with a calculated and ruthless determination, detached from her usual self, solely driven to instill despair in him. But most of the time, she loved the feeling of being able to melt into his powerful arms. The realization that he knew exactly whatever weakness she had and turned it to his advantage sent her into raptures.

Aywanin was on the verge of saying his name when he tightened his grip around her throat and groaned into her lips as he burned her with a peck. His tongue slipped between her teeth, moving in a mad dance against her writhing one. The clamp around her neck was tight, his hand and his kiss choking her simultaneously.  When he let go, Neteyam’s face hovered over hers, letting her savor the fresh scent of his breath. “Consider yourself lucky that I love you so damn much to give you what you want,” he remarked as he plunged his digits in. A shudder ran through her like a shot of adrenaline that melted her in his grasp, her lips parted in a choked sob. 

The other man kissed his woman once, softly, languidly, but when he dragged his lips to her ear, his voice was dangerously arousing, “Do you want me to fuck you here and now?” “Y-yes,” she pleaded at his mercy. He purred, a small smirk pressed against the skin under her earlobe, pleased by such abandonment. Removing his hand from her larynx, he cupped her jaw until her lips puckered. He was only a breath away when he hissed, “First things first, you'll have to do a little something for me.” He stood up before her, staring at her through impossibly black lashes. She yearned so much for him to touch her, but even without speaking, Jake could already tell. 

“On your knees,” he commanded, but she was too overwrought to obey immediately. He laid her on the ground, wonderfully aligned with his pelvis, “Do you want me to do it or do you think you can give pleasure to your husband?” he taunted her, poking her right in the self-esteem: a challenge. A proud grin colored his face as she settled better on her knees, a glint of ardent stinginess crossed her golden eyes. His thumb tucked into her mouth and rubbed his tongue, his fingertip pressed against her taste buds. Jake’s gaze lit with lust as her lips sealed around his finger, mimicking what she would do next. Withdrawing his hand, he returned to caress her chin, raised to look him straight in the eye. Those sharp, criminal eyes, and he rearranged her hair haphazardly so that it would not be in the way. 

She, though a little trembling, kissed him on the tip, letting him know the softness of her lips before her tongue came into play.  “Look how docile you are, just a little bitch.” The girl squinted. Neteyam was different. Rougher. The sweetness and romance that characterized the affection of his actions had vanished; he was doing the opposite of what he usually did. She had never yet seen this side of him. His mouth's inclination towards dirty talk didn't shock her, but he never insulted her. She was intoxicated by the electrifying novelty, as if under the influence of a powerful drug. The blood rushed all southward as she looked at him surreptitiously, so yielding prostrate at his feet, kneeling like a worshipper before her god. “Use that long tongue of yours.” She obeyed, giving him little laps on his crevice as she pumped him with one fist. He snorted, immensely pleased at her meekness. This wasn’t Neteyam. It appeared a demon had pilfered Neteyam's face and put it on.

Aywanin dragged her lips to one side, tracing the raised veins with her tongue. “Good. Now open.” Her mouth parted in a gasp and he slammed his shaft against her full lips, pulling back her arranged tail when she did not move in the desired rhythm. Her muscles adjusted to the intrusion and Neteyam wasted no time, in one attempt he thrust fully into her cavity, reaching up to strike the back of her throat. Her eyelids closed, soft whimpers muffled on her epidermis. Her glittering reddened eyes barred as she struggled to breathe, and struggled to hold up his hard irises, but the disparaging smile that made him look like a reprobate got the better of her; it was so tyrannical it was almost frightening.

Seeing how her features altered as she savored his length, how her eyelashes became tear-drenched and a vivid erubescence colored her cheeks, was the most heavenly sinful sight he could imagine. The way she sustained his piercing glance, the way she repressed the instinct to puke when the tip struck the base of her larynx, past the uvula. He nullified the remaining space, pressing her nose against his pelvis and blocking her airway for a few seconds before releasing her. She coughed for air, choking on her own saliva.

Jake lowered himself down to his spouse's level, wiping away the salty trails that joined her eyes to her open mouth. His thumbs caressed her flushed cheekbones, forcing her to meet his gaze as he set her back on her feet, turned her around, and leaned her against the rock.  “You won’t have any peace. I won’t slow down until I have stuffed you. I’ll give you yet another of my kids.” The gentle touch he shook her hair with broke the tension for a moment. That genuine concern in his voice and in his eyes. “Just take me and shut up,” Neytiri playfully rolled her eyes, and he returned it. Four children were more than enough.

No one would engage in further conversation; instead, they would delve into each other’s boundaries within the cave, with no chance of retreat. The dragon had been awakened.

“Your parents are funking hot.” “Do. Not. Say. It. Ever. Again.”

Aww poor boy, he’s traumatized now.

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

[ironheartwriter]

The Trade-Off

After adopting Lizzie the Australian Shepherd, turning their family of three into a family of four, TK and Carlos work out an agreement that Lizzie will go with TK to the firehouse during the day, and when TK has his twenty-fours, Carlos will pick her up to spend the night at home. But the trade off between them isn't always so quick.

Hi, hello, yes. This falls somewhere in the universe that me and @emsprovisions have apparently created post-canon, in which TK and Carlos have adopted an adorable Australian Shepherd named Lizzie. You can also find her here in an earlier drabble that Emily wrote.

Rating: T (mild touchy husband shenanigans, but nothing too explicit). Enjoy!

TK hovers somewhere between falling asleep and staying awake, his eyes closed, but completely aware of the sounds around him, not that there are many sounds to focus on at that point of the night. The 126 Crew, currently working a 24, had called it a night an hour or so earlier, and the room was full of the sounds of the others sleeping; Judd’s chainsaw-like snores, Mateo’s soft mumbles in his sleep, the slow, even breathing of Nancy directly to his left. He knew all of these sounds well, after so many years with his crew.

He was just starting to tip a little further to the side of sleep, when his bed suddenly started shaking, a soft jingling sound coming from the foot of his bed. One eye opens just a slit to see Lizzie the Australian Shepherd scratching at her ear. TK watches her for a moment before patting the bed beside his head, quietly motioning for her to come to him. Without hesitation, Lizzie moves from the foot of the bed, sniffs his face for a moment, before licking him, her tail thumping against his stomach.

“Down, Lizzie,” TK breathes, barely able to stop himself from laughing as the dog continues her attack on his face, knowing that the dog will hear him, but hopefully nobody else in the room will. After a moment, Lizzie obeys, curling up against his stomach with a sigh, as though she too were exhausted from having a very long day, “Good girl.”

Once she settles, TK relaxes again, his fingers brushing over her long, soft fur as his eyes close again. The weight of her pressing up against him was comforting in a way that TK couldn’t actually describe. He’s in a bunk room full of people, but nothing is as comforting as the presence of his dog, the steady sound of her breathing inches from his ears. It feels like only moments later that something by his head starts to vibrate once, twice, thrice….

With a low grunt, TK forces his eyes open once again to see My Soulmate lit up against a background picture of him and Carlos at their wedding. The time at the top of his phone reads just after midnight. Rather than answer the call, TK silences it, Lizzie looking at him in an almost expectant way, before he leans over and presses a kiss to the top of her soft, furry head, and starts to get up.

He swings his legs over the side of his bed, grabbing the hoodie at the foot of his bed that Lizzie had been sleeping on earlier. He pulls it on, leaving the hood up, before clicking his tongue at the dog to get her to follow him, grabbing her leash from the nightstand as they go. Lizzie follows obediently, regardless, having been doing well with her off-leash training the few weeks prior.

Once out of the bunk room, his phone starts buzzing again, and this time TK answers it without even glancing at the screen, “I’m coming, baby,” He says, failing to stifle a yawn as he heads for the stairs down to the main level. “We’ll be there in a sec.”

“No problem,” Carlos responds, sounding much more awake than TK felt in those moments. The sound of Carlos’s voice eases something deep within TK’s core, and has him breathing a little easier as he pads barefoot across the concrete floors, between the fire trucks and ambulance.

A blast of cool air hits TK hard in the face as he opens the side entrance to the firehouse, a low hiss escaping his lips a moment before they’re claimed by a set of warm, soft lips, strong hands winding around his back and pulling him close by the front of his hoodie. For a moment, TK forgets everything; his name, where he is, what day it is, allowing himself to get lost in the feel of the solid body now pressed against his own, his fingers tangling in damp, familiar curls as the scent of his husband fills his lungs. He goes boneless, his knees damn near buckling, as he’s carefully walked back into the firehouse, the door, and the cool air, being firmly shut behind Carlos.

He's damn thankful that the rest of the firehouse is asleep as Lizzie’s tail suddenly thumps hard against his leg, the dog starting to pant excitedly as she too becomes aware of Carlos’s presence in the firehouse, standing up against Carlos’s leg. Too soon for TK’s liking, Carlos pulls back just enough so their foreheads can rest against one another’s for a moment.

“Hey,” TK breathes, his momentarily disconnected mind starting to remember how to function once again, though his fingers remain tangled in Carlos’s hair. He would happily stay lost in this moment with Carlos forever. Who cared that he was technically on the clock? The tones weren’t going off, and with any luck, they wouldn’t for a while.

“Hi,” Carlos’s answering smile has TK’s heart stuttering all over again, a moment before Carlos leans down to greet Lizzie as well, leaving TK alone on his unstable legs, “And hello to you too, sweet girl,” He all but coos to Lizzie as he ruffles her fur. “Have you been taking care of your dad today?”

Lizzie answers with a soft woof, as though she too understood that it was not time to be loud, no matter how rapidly she was shaking her tail, along with the rest of her body. TK feels his heart swell as he watches the two interact. The first few weeks TK had found himself wondering if Carlos would manage to bond with Lizzie as well, and he couldn’t be more overjoyed at the fact that they had. He knew Carlos had claimed that his intention was to get TK a dog, but in TK’s mind, his intention had been to get them a dog. By some miracle, his plan had worked.

Lizzie might spend the days at the firehouse with him, but when they got home, she very much split her time with both of them. And on nights like tonight, when TK was on his twenty-four, and Carlos got off late, Carlos always came by to get her so she could spend the night at home with him. It worked out for both of them, really; TK got to see Carlos, and Carlos got to see him and bring Lizzie home for a few hours.

“She’s been great,” TK nods, drawing Carlos’s attention back to him. Carlos smiles as he stands again, his gaze soft as he looks TK up and down, his gaze lingering for a moment on his bare feet, TK already knowing what Carlos would say as soon as he could, “I’m not sleeping with socks on, babe. Don’t start with me.”

“Last I checked, you were awake,” Carlos quirks a brow at TK, the corners of his lips twitching as he fails to stop himself from smiling. “You were very,” He takes a step towards TK, and TK reflexively takes a step back, TK well aware of the fact that Carlos is now openly smirking at him, the asshole, “Very,” Another step forward, another step back, a low grunt escaping TK as his back comes in contact with the side of the 126 ambulance, “Awake.”

That’s all the warning TK gets before Carlos claims his lips again, licking into his mouth without any further hesitation, a hand against the ambulance on either side of TK, caging him in. TK’s mind snaps off once again in an instant as the taste of his husband dances across his tongue, Carlos’s hands pushing the hood of his sweatshirt down as his hands rest on either of his cheeks. His heart races, the leash dropping out of his hands with a clank as his fingers claw at Carlos’s back, wrenching up the back of his shirt so his fingers could slide against the smooth, burning plains of his husband’s back—

It's Carlos’s turn to hiss, his body shifting beneath the touch as though trying to escape it, but not actually wanting to put distance between the two of them, “And you’re going to tell me that you aren’t cold?” He murmurs against TK’s lips. “Your hands are freezing. I swear, TK, do you want to get sick or something?”

“And you’re warm,” TK points out, taking Carlos’s lower lip between his teeth before resting his fingers flat against Carlos’s back, causing his husband to shift closer to him, pressing him against the ambulance, as TK hoped he would, “More than warm enough to keep me warm too. But also, you know I’m on the clock and that tone can go off any second, right?”

“Oh please,” Carlos shakes his head before he tilts TK’s head to the side, pulls at his hood, and kisses TK’s neck, the paramedic shuddering as he feels Carlos’s teeth graze the sensitive column of his throat. “Like you wouldn’t drag me off to some dark corner or supply closet if I told you I was up for it. And you know I’m never going to apologize for taking a few minutes to remind my husband how much I miss him while I pick up our dog for the night.”

A low whine from Lizzie catches both of their attentions, Carlos lifting his head and TK’s eyes opening once again. Lizzie sits beside them, her tail sweeping across the concrete floor, the leash now in her mouth. A low chuckle escapes Carlos as he turns his attention back to TK, “I think our girl is ready to head home. And you really should try to go get some sleep too.”

“You expect me to go to sleep after you come in here sticking your tongue down my throat like that?” TK breathes, his eyes rolling so hard that they might get stuck at the audacity of Carlos in those moments. “God, you’re evil.”

“You love it,” Carlos winks at TK, giving him one final kiss to the forehead before pulling back. TK couldn’t argue that point with his husband even if he wanted to. He did love when Carlos left him breathless and weak in the knees, even if he didn’t finish the job. TK knows all too well that Carlos will make it up to him once they’re both home. He forces more air into his lungs as he watches Carlos bend for a moment to click Lizzie’s leash onto her collar, “Say good night to your dad, sweet girl. And remind him that he should put some socks on or something”

Lizzie half walks, half runs over to TK, who instantly kneels down and ruffles her fur before kissing the top of her head, “Be good for your other dad, Lizzie. Make sure he gets some sleep.”

Lizzie woofs softly once again in response, as though she understands her task, before she trots back over to Carlos’s side and he takes her leash, winding it around his hand. Carlos is back in his space a moment later for one final kiss, TK’s hands resting lightly on either side of him, “Go,” TK pushes Carlos half-heartedly before either of them can get the idea to move this make out session elsewhere that might lead them to trouble. “Go home, eat something, and go to sleep. Maybe even try to sleep in tomorrow.”

“What’s the fun in sleeping in on my own?” Carlos asks, quirking a brow at the absurdity of it. “And since when do you give me orders?”

“Because,” TK hits Carlos with a smirk of his own, “I fully expect you to finish what you started once I’m off the clock, and you’re gonna need some of your stamina back for that.”

TK swears his heart swells further at the answering laugh from Carlos as he leans against the ambulance, watching the love of his life head home with the dog that brought them both so much joy that they hadn’t realized they needed.