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vapekingg · 4 months ago

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toxic - billy hargrove x fem!reader content warnings: light sadism, trauma bonding, painful sex, emotional hurt/comfort, angst

Your flight had arrived late the night before at the tiny landing strip in a town you hardly recognized the name of.

On the drive to your temporary home in that far too familiar Camaro, sleep was disrupted by the smell of cow shit blowing in through the windows. Billy refused to drive with them up; not when he was four beers deep with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Besides, he wanted you awake and ready for the moment he threw that car into park in front of his house.

You were awake now though. Hardly, but awake nonetheless. After a night of long awaited rough housing, your entire body hurt. The air circulating by way of the ceiling fan made you hyper aware of every bite mark left on your skin. You could feel every finger and handprint like a fresh tattoo. A permanent reminder.

But Billy’s love bites weren’t actually permanent. They’d fade and disappear shortly after you went back to California, just like they always did. This was the way things had gone since the two of you were forced apart three years ago. You’d visit him in the fall and winter and he’d come to you in the spring and summer. It was the only respite offered from the other torturous, lonely weeks in the year.

He cracked his eyes at the same time as you. Such pretty, deep blue eyes. The hair above his lip had grown thicker since your initial separation, but you thought maybe you preferred him like this.

Perhaps you just preferred him, though.

“Sore?” he asked, that smooth voice a little gravely this early in the morning.

And you smiled, “Unbelievably.”

In an instant, his soft hands were snaking around your waist yet again. He slid down on the mattress, down enough to dip his head forward and place his insatiable lips against the curve of your throat. Right where your neck met your shoulder. Right where he knew you liked it best.

“ Ah —” you hissed, immediately placing your palm against his chest to deter him. “I can’t, Billy… I don’t think I can take any more right now.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can, angel.” His hand slipped further down. Over the swell of your ass and to the meat of your thigh where he pulled your leg over his hip. “You always say that, and you always take it so fuckin’ good. Better than anyone I’ve found in this shit hole.” His fingers brushed between your legs.

When you winced again, his ministrations stopped. His teeth scraped only barely against your carotid artery. Billy very well may have been too rough with you most of the time, but he knew your limits. He knew when you truly couldn’t take the brutality of his fucked up, rage filled life, and the two of you had options in place for those situations.

“What if I let you be on top, hm? How’s that sound?”

A smile curled up on your face, and perhaps he could feel it in the atmosphere. Billy grabbed you by the hips and rolled onto his back, hoisting your abused body on top of his in the process but prompting a fit of giggles to spill from your frayed lungs. He was already hard, he always was when he woke up, but you would need some preparation — so you sat up against his lap with your hands on his chest, the old blanket that he’d had since the two of you were in middle school falling away from your naked bodies, and steadied yourself against him.

“What do you need, baby? Anything. Fuckin’ anything , I just wanna feel you around me.” He said, eyes scanning over every inch of your form, searching for any hint of change.

That change was there. Every time the two of you got together again, there was some sort of change; a new scar or freckle, your hips more pronounced or breasts a little bit bigger. Whatever it was, he didn’t realize he’d been craving it until he saw it on you.

You reached forward and brushed his stubbled jaw with your fingers. He’d have to shave before going down on you again, but for now, you just wanted his attention.

“Tell me how good I am.” You said in that voice so saccharine Billy almost swore his heart couldn’t be completely rotten.

“You’re so good, Y/N. Such a good fucking girl.” He praised, and your soul sang a lovesick melody in response.

“Hm..” You hummed while moving one of his hands from your hip toward the space between your thighs. “I’m gonna need you to be more descriptive, pretty boy. How good?”

Uncharacteristically, Billy moved slowly. His fingers danced along the space where your hip met your heat. Stroking you gently — lovingly, almost.

“The best I’ve ever had. You know no one compares to you. Sex aside… no one comes close to comparing to you.”

He saw the change in your demeanor. The way your eyes glazed over with pure want and hips shifted into his touch. Making love to you was a language he’d created single-handedly. Everyone else… Well, you just had to deal with secondhand translations that didn’t quite make sense.

Billy’s fingers dipped slightly into your core, just enough to feel that he was making progress. He drew your arousal up to your clit and moved in tiny, wonton circles.

“No one?” You replied through a shivering breath, “You haven’t found a single chick here to get you off like I do?”

Before he could respond, you saw the answer on his face. Brief, unveiled sadness. Your relationship with Billy was toxic as all get out. It was unhealthy for the both of you to rely on each other so fucking heavily for emotional, mental, and sexual release — but it was all either of you had ever known. Shitty homes breed shitty offspring, and the two of you were bottom of the barrel filth. Ruined from the inside out. But all that rot and decay was at least a little contained if you took it out on each other.

“They’re just holes, Y/N.” He said, and when you were too distracted by the thick eyelashes that nearly made you jealous , two fingers plunged inside of you. “Just fucking holes for me to get off in. I don’t take my time with them like this…”

He pressed forward, scissoring his fingers against your sensitive walls and working to massage you open. Already, your hands felt weak against his chest. Every time the jut of his knuckle brushed past your opening, a soft, high pitched whining slipped out of your throat, and Billy seemed to love it.

“That didn’t take long, did it?” He smirked and then pulled his fingers out of you, holding them up in the early morning light that sifted through his blinds. It was almost embarrassing how much arousal clung to his skin. “Looks like you want my cock just as much as it wants you, yeah?” In an instant, his brow dropped. That sweet, caring, paternal voice you’d always craved lowered in octave and mood. “Up. Now .”

His knees crooked up behind your back, feet flat on the bed so you could lean back against his thighs. With one of his hands on your hip, you lifted yourself off of his lap — just enough for him to reach between your legs and grab his cock.

“Steady? You got it?” He asked.

To your surprise, when you nodded he let go of your hip and reached for the bottle of lube on his nightstand, working the gel down his length until it was sleek enough to not rip you open again . Billy held his cock by the base and lined the tip up with your weeping hole.

“Take your time, baby. All the time you need.” He said while moving his hands up again to your hips.

Despite his words of encouragement, Billy put slight pressure on your waist, drawing you down his length by a few inches on his own accord. And the more of him that slipped inside of you, less worry and trauma sat on his face. Replaced by that airy, light expression that only existed when the only thing that mattered to him was you .

“Fuck!” You hissed, the swell of his cock growing the further you plunged. Thighs already shivering slightly from the residual pain.

But Billy looked up at you, and good fucking god was he handsome. That open mouthed, canine bearing smile just as heartbreaking as the day you’d met on a beach you still flocked to. Oceanic eyes finding something cathartic in the pain he inflicted on you.

“You’re almost there, babydoll. Just a few more inches, you got it.” He praised, half lidded gaze stationed on the little space that existed between his lap and yours.

And you hated him a little bit. Looking down at him like that, completely relaxed at your own expense, you hated how attractive you found him. Hated that he’d shown you his insecurities and that you’d done the same in return. Hated the chokehold he had on your emotional stability and sexual gratification.

“I need—” You choked out, hands folding over his, pushing them down to the fat of your thighs. “— help . Fuckin’ help me, Hargrove! It’s too much…”

“Oh, well aren’t you a sweet thing.” He keened, that cocky side smirk sending you over the fucking moon. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you might be flirting with me, Y/N.”

The moment your mouth opened to say something smart in return, Billy dug his fingers into your flesh, hips snapping up between your thighs and burying himself to the absolute hilt. Your mouth fell open, but no words followed as brief pain was quickly replaced by the pleasure he never failed to deliver.

“That’s it, baby, right fucking there!” He seethed through gritted teeth, and oh, how you would’ve killed to feel your skin breaking between them. That pain he insisted on bestowing having become an addiction. An illness of the most deranged form. Billy forcefully dragged your hips back and forth, grinding you against him as he watched your eyes well up with tears. “Feel me inside you? All the way in your fucking guts?”

Finally, an absolutely guttural , disgusting sound rolled out of your throat, head lulling back on your shoulders as you dug your nails into his chest — and Billy fucking loved it . Loved being hurt by you just as much as he loved hurting you. He grabbed for your hands, pulling them above his head until your chest was flush against his, breasts pressed into his sticky skin, face to fucking face so that he could see every change in emotion that washed over your eyes.

With that, he let you take the lead. Just like he’d promised. You wrapped your hands around his wrists, keeping them stationary near the headboard while you sucked in a deep breath.

“Ready?” He asked, as if you were just about to jump off of a ten story building with nothing to save your life but his heartstrings wrapped around your ankles.

You rolled your hips back and felt the drag of his cock against your inner walls. Those thick veins, the jut of his head filling you out perfectly. Like you were fucking made for him — because you were . Perfectly crafted by years of experimentation. You’d molded one another into exactly what the other needed.

“ Goddamn it,” Billy cursed, and his dark, thick lashes fluttered while watching you take what you needed from him. “You’re fuckin’ good at this, aren’t you? Been practicing without me?”

Oh, did jealousy flare up in those baby blues. You saw it in the way he cocked his eyebrow, patiently waiting for a response. Jaw clenched and face wet with hope. Billy knew the answer already, but it was always fun to rile him up a little.

“Tons.” You answered, tightening your hands around his wrists just in case he decided to snap back, forcing your hips all the way down and biting back the moan that was dying to follow. “With Ricky and Matthew. Can’t expect me to suffer while you’re here having all the fun.”

“I swear to fucking god, Y/N, if you let Ricky stick his dick in—”

That hollow threat was laid to rest when you lifted your hips, pulling him out and fucking him back into you quickly.

“You’ll what , babe? Stop dragging me out here twice a year?” Your lips ghosted over his jaw, his eyes following you until your face disappeared into the crook of his neck — which was fine by him, as he had the perfect view of your pretty, handprint stained ass moving up and down. A front row seat to depravity.

Billy tilted his chin up, allowing you to scrape your teeth against his throat.

“You think I won’t?” He asked.

And his heart ached when you laughed, airy exhale fogging over his carotid artery.

“I know you won’t,” you answered. “ ‘Cause you’re a sick fuck.”

Before he could call you a disgusting whore in return, you squeezed your walls around him. Massaging his length and grinning when he was finally at a loss for words. Good god, his moans were sweeter than that of any of your other lovers used to fill his place.

You released his wrists, pushing yourself up to sit straight, putting yourself on display for him like you knew he loved. He’d been right earlier — you could feel him in your fucking guts. Deep in your stomach, ruining you for everyone else. His tip brushing against that spot that made you go cockdumb every single goddamn time your thighs brought you up and then back down.

“Jesus fucking Christ, as if they could even compare…” You drawled, words almost slurred as you used him to make yourself fucking feel something for once.

But that finish was just out of reach. You looked down, admiring yourself in such a scandalous state; hips rutting immorally against his lap, sweat shimmering against your skin through a veil of hazy morning light, bruises branding your arms and hips — and it disgusted you that you loved yourself most like this.

“Let me cum inside you, angel.” Billy said, ripping you out of your own narcissistic daydream. You glanced up just in time to see the pink of his tongue darting out of his mouth, coating his thumb with spit before he brought it between your legs, hair sticking to his temples and forehead.

He drew his thumb in soft, tight motions against your sensitive clit. Barely existent. Feathering over your bundle of nerves just enough to drag you toward that ethereal state that was a constantly attainable goal in your emotionally neglected mind.

“ Billy —” you sighed, more as a plea for him to be the responsible one than a warning that you were cresting that hill.

“Don’t you wanna get filled up? Fuck ,” he asked, breaths growing choppy as he ran his touch along your frame; setting fire to your silhouette. “Dripping out of your sweet little pussy all fuckin’ day.”

His hips snapped up in time with your downward thrusts, matching your movements in rhythm and intensity until you were hanging onto your composure by a goddamn thread.

And when you looked down at him, well that sealed your fate. His slack jaw and half lidded stare did you in, shoving you onto a set of railroad tracks just before running you over twice for good measure. He looked at you like he fucking loved you, and the fact that you knew he didn’t hurt just as bad as his stretch felt good.

“There you go, sweet girl. Fuckin’ drenching me, aren’t you?” He choked, pride swimming in his eyes as his upward strokes became sloppier. His hips snapping against your thighs wildly, that sound overshadowing your shaky breaths ten fold.

You felt the throb of his release. Regret and irresponsibility gushing inside of you. A problem to be sorted out later, but so fucking fulfilling for the time being. Billy reached up and grabbed you by the back of the neck, pulling you down to rest your forehead against his so you could watch him owning you as that post-orgasm, pink cloud sensation swallowed up your existence.

“God fucking damnit , so tight—“ He growled, giving you one more deep, probing thrust just to finish himself off.

When he was finally done using you, you rolled your head to the side, nestling your cheek in the hair on his chest.

“All right, I have to ask—“ Billy started, but you didn’t want to hear him speak for as long as you could avoid the conversation.

“Shut up, Billy. Please.”

“No, you know I have to know, babe.” He continued, arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders as if you had anywhere else to go in this little rinky-dink town. “Who’s better? Me or Ricky?”

You felt his nose press into the top of your head, lips planting long kisses against your scalp. Of course Billy was better, but he wasn’t sustainable. None of this was. And maybe he was secretly hoping that the two of you would make some progress this time. A little bit of headway to the healing that both of you needed but would rather just avoid all together.

“I let Ricky kiss me on the mouth.” You admitted.

And with your ear just above his heart, you heard him break a little bit more. Another piece of him falling away.

“You think we’ll ever cut this shit out?” He asked while slowly drawing the comforter back over your naked bodies. “Finally tell each other to fuck off so we can move on to other people?”

A loaded question. Cutting ties with Billy meant getting better, and getting better meant finally wading through all of the shit and dirt and grime that he’d helped you bury in a shallow grave.

“Maybe.” You answered quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to his sternum and then looking up at his far too handsome face. “Not today though.”

He smiled down at you and repeated, “Not today.”

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove smut #stranger things smut #my writing #hurt/comfort #angst #stranger things fic

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year ago

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@angstflayer-council 24 hour writing challenge!

prompt: forest | word count: 1,233 | rated: G

The town of Hawkins is laid out weird.

The richest neighborhoods built with maybe a couple hundred yards of forest between them and the Forest Hills trailer park.

“I don’t want to see that rubbish out my window.” Steve’s mother would say as she closed all the blinds at the back of the house come winter. Something beyond the bare trees that Steve could never see, and she didn't want to.

“You be careful in those woods now, Eddie. Don’t wanna see ya gettin’ hurt.” Wayne would warn. Never telling him to stay out, just a “Be careful.” since he knew Eddie would go no matter what.

That couple hundred yards of forest was Steve’s favorite place to go; it was Eddie’s favorite place to go.

At the halfway point between their homes, they made a place all their own. The place they met.

Whenever Steve felt alone, he would go to their spot.

Whenever Eddie felt like a burden, he would go to their spot.

Steve wouldn’t be alone, and Eddie could never be a burden to his friend.

They would play there together in the spring when Eddie would visit for Easter, all summer long when Steve was on break from school (Eddie too, visiting his Uncle for the season). During the short extra hours of Thanksgiving before they would have to go back for dinner. Every bright, freezing day of winter break.

Every day was some sort of adventure, either one that Eddie’s uncle had read to him about from those Ring Lord books he loved, or an adventure all his own! Eddie was always telling some sort of story.

The short hills and valleys became foxholes, sticks and branches were swords and bows, giant spoons to stir a potion of mud and bugs, the walls of a fort just for them.

“Hear ye, Hear ye! Beloved denizens of Harringson county, Fort Steddie is now complete!” Eddie declared loudly, putting the last leafy branch onto the lopsided roof. It was the summer after Eddie officially moved to Hawkins. They were 11.

“Steddie?”

Eddie jumps down from the tree he’d latched onto to get up to the roof and pushes the short curls he’s managed to grow back since last year off his forehead. “Yeah, like Steve and Eddie mushed together. Duh.”

“Not..Eddeve? Why not just call it Fort Harringson?”

“All options were considered, Stevie,” Eddie assures, holding one palm up, his other hand resting behind him on his lower back. “Steddie had a better ring to it.”

“You have a better ring to it.” Steve teases, running off immediately, Eddie not far behind with his favorite branch-turned-sword.

A scant two years later, Steve and Eddie share their first kiss under the roof of Fort Steddie, in the heart of Harringson County.

Two more finds them nearly coming to blows.

Eddie embarrassed Steve. On the very first day of High School. Steve doesn’t even fucking remember what it was that Eddie did now, the actual offence lost to time.

The last time he and Eddie were together in those woods?…Wasn’t.

“It’s high school Eddie, I wanted to–to be cool!”

“Well, I think you’re cool. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Eddie’s hair is longer now, it curls under his ears and Steve still remembers how it had felt between his fingers.

“No! ‘Cause you’re not cool! You’re a nerd!” Steve remembers he regretted those words immediately after they left his mouth. No. He regretted them as they were coming out.

Eddie’s jaw had clenched.

“Eddie–”

He turned on his heel and marched back towards his trailer.

“Fine! Walk away! Just like everyone else in my life!” What was he talking about? His parents weren’t around enough to walk away.

Eddie doesn’t look back. He only pauses to grab his backpack where he’d dropped it against a tree.

After that day, Steve feels alone whenever he enters the woods behind his house.

Every day since then, he’s wanted so badly to tear apart that lopsided little fort in the middle of the forest.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t bear to tear down the only place he’d ever had where he didn’t feel alone.

He couldn’t bear to tear down the place of his first kiss with the man he still loves.

For years, Fort Steddie sits empty.

Steve and Eddie will both deny ever going back, but of course they had. Always missing each other, in heart and in reality.

It was the first place Steve thought of when Dustin barreled into Family Video looking for Eddie in March of ‘86, but he couldn’t get the words out. His mouth denying his brain’s demands to tell them about their spot in the forest.

So he kept quiet, letting the others figure out where else Eddie might be, promising to check there himself as soon as he had a chance.

Luckily though, they had found Eddie. In Reefer Rick’s boathouse of all places. Steve’s first thought when getting threatened with a broken bottle to the throat (after “Oh thank fuck you’re safe.”) was that it was good Eddie hadn’t hidden at their fort, it was too obvious of a spot.

Much later, while walking through the freezing cold upside-down Hawkins, Robin questions the little shelter they come across when almost to Eddie’s trailer.

“Is this Castle Byers?” She asks, sticking her head into the little door.

“No,” Steve and Eddie say at once.

Robin and Nancy both give them a weird look, but Eddie barrels forward, “We shouldn’t be that far now; I built this in the woods outside my trailer when I first moved in with Wayne.”

Eddie jogs forward to reach them, he and Nancy heading up the group now, Robin trailing behind.

Steve gives the fort a wistful look as he passes, then jogs forward as well, further into the fray.

They push on; they plan, they build weapons, Eddie builds a shield. Dustin copies him.

When Steve, Robin, and Nancy head back towards those same woods, the forest’s sure safety replaced in his gut by pure dread, Eddie stops Steve with an unsure “Hey Steve? Make him pay.”.

Steve loses it.

He stomps back the three steps he’d taken, grabs Eddie by the open flaps of his jacket and vest, and kisses him.

It only takes half a second for Eddie to kiss him back; their lips falling into rhythm as if no time had passed at all.

“What did I just tell you, Eddie?” Steve questions the dumbfounded metalhead under his hands, ignoring Robin and Dustin’s wolf-whistles while zipping up the protective layers his dumb of ass, beloved Eddie was about to leave open to the unforgiving world around him.

He can see how red Eddie’s face is, even in this dark hellscape. “What’d yo– You sa–”

“I said.” Steve emphasizes, pulling up the thick plastic zipper of Eddie’s new vest. “Don’t try to be cute, don’t be heroes.” he hooks his fingers into the armholes of the armored clothing, holding Eddie close. “You can’t help the ‘cute’ part, but you can help the second part.”

Eddie continues to stare at him, dumbfounded.

“Keep him safe, Eddie. Keep yourself safe too.” He looks him over once again. “I’ve been alone in those woods for too damn long. I’d like to keep you around once this is over.” he whispers, smirking at the other man.

"I-I will.."

Steve steps back, walking backward toward the woods, toward the Creel house, “It’s not quite Fort Steddie without the ‘Eddie’, you know.” Eddie’s own smirk climbs onto his face despite his attempts to frown it away.

Steve finally turns, walking away with Robin hanging off his side, no doubt berating him about the…all of that that just happened.

Speaking of: “Holy shit Eddie, what the fuck was all that??”

“Language, Henderson.”

i originally posted this as the shorter angsty-er version but i liked the rest of what i wrote too much not to post the whole thing 😅 so if you saw the first version, i hope you like the additions lmao

#FORT STEDDIE!!!#angstflayer24hourchallenge #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #drabble #st #st drabble #st ficlet #stranger things #noelle writes

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dancingtotuyo · 1 year ago

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Ivy (Joel Miller X Reader One shot)

Preface: @morning-star-joy made this mood board for me (on main) from a fun pintrest game and I just had to write something (Not sure I got the Cowboy- August & Getaway Car theme or not lol). I wrote this very quickly, not proofread lol.

Summary: Joel helps you escape

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Illusions to abuse (physical & sexual) & grooming, over all references to trauma and cannon typical violence & themes.

words: 1558

Author Master List

Songs I listened to while writing

The first time Joel Miller comes across your farm, he has to talk your husband out of shooting him on sight. You know about the Jackson settlement about 10 miles south of you. You’ve begged him to move you there within the safe confines of the towering walls. You’ve seen the lights on one of the more extended hunting expeditions. Elliot refuses to leave you at the cabin alone for more than a couple of hours. You’ve tried to run before. You weren’t able to move for days after he caught you. He’d been on horseback, catching you quickly.

Joel trades his rifle and ammo for his life, eyes never leaving yours. Can he read the sadness in them? The horrors this world has inflicted on you over and over?

You wear a dress. It’s tattered around the hem. Not something very practical. You look more like a captive than a wife. Joel thinks you must be in your late 40’s, but you’re actually 39. Elliot looks to be about 20 years your senior. Joel tells himself he’ll get you out because it’s the right thing to do. He ignores the tug of desire he feels when he looks into your eyes.

He invites the two of you to Jackson.

Elliot refuses. He doesn’t trust the Jackson settlement.

Joel warns of a colony of infected trickling in. He watches the fear flash in your eyes, survival instincts kicking in as you look at your husband.

Elliot says he can handle them.

Joel speaks of electricity, heat in the winter, fans in the summer, and running water. A hot shower sounds delicious. You were 19 when the world ended. You can’t remember the last time you felt the hot water trail down your back.

Only after Elliot chases Joel off does he realize you never uttered a word.

The second time Joel comes bearing fresh vegetables and more ammo. Your mouth waters at the sight of red tomatoes. He ignores Elliot’s threats and hands the produce straight to you with a glowing smile.

You thank him. You take a bite from one of the tomatoes like it’s an apple. It’s warm in your mouth. The acidic tang is like a summer’s night on your taste buds. The insides dribble down your chin, making you laugh.

It takes Joel’s breath away. There’s a childlike joy to it, a spring bubbling up from the depths of the mountain in the springtime. He catches a flash of life return to your eyes if only for a moment. He knows it’s been a long time since any semblance of happiness graced your features.

Joel fights the urge to wipe the juice from your chin.

“You’ll stay for dinner.” It’s an order, not a request, and the first words he’s heard you utter.

Elliot protests, but you cut him off. “He’s staying for dinner.”

You know you’ll probably pay for it later, but you don’t care. You haven’t seen another face in years. It’ll be worth the conversation at the very least.

Elliot is out hunting a week later. You’re hanging the laundry on the line when Joel emerges from the woods. He’s on foot this time, different from his previous visits on horseback. It must’ve taken him hours to get here on foot.

“Howdy,” He smiles.

You raise an eyebrow. “My husband isn’t here.”

“Didn’t come to see him.”

You stop. He rests a hand on his hip looking across the small clearing that houses the barn and small farmhouse. “You’re too exposed out here.”

“Joel-.”

“I like the way you say my name.”

Your heart stops. Your palms sweat. You’re not blind. You’ve seen the way he looks at you, smiles at you. You remember the soft brush of his hand on your back in the kitchen during his last visit. You remember it too often for a single moment in time with a man you hardly know.

You square your shoulders. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you.”

He cups your cheek. You flinch away out of habit. Anger flares in his eyes. You’re used to seeing it in Elliots, but somehow you know that for once, it’s not directed at you.

Somehow you know what he’s going to say before he says it. “I’m going to kill him.”

“You can’t.” The words leave your mouth before he’s finished.

He looks surprised. “He hurts you. Tell me I’m wrong.”

You can’t. You both know that, but how do you explain to Joel that he can’t kill your abuser- your captor- your one last connection to life before Cordyceps?

“You’re not wrong.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. “But you can’t kill him.”

Joel knows better than to ask, but if he did, you would tell him. You would tell him that Elliot had been around your entire life. He’s your father’s best friend from college. He saved you on outbreak night. He wasn’t always like this. You loved him once, or at least you thought you did. You wonder how much of it was manipulation now. He was nice and kind in the beginning. He didn’t touch you until well after your 22nd birthday. The two of you settled on this farm years ago with a horse, a few cows, and a couple of chickens. Elliot loved the seclusion. He wanted a family. The longer you went without one, the meaner he got, but you think regardless, he’d have turned into the person he is now. You could see the signs in hindsight.

One day, you would tell Joel about it all, but not today.

“I’m taking you to Jackson. This place isn’t safe. He isn’t safe.”

You want to go. You wanted to go long before his demand. “Not on foot. He’ll catch up. He’s got the horse.”

When Joel grabs your hand, you hold onto it tighter. He pulls you down the soft slope of the hill to the old barn. His hand is rough and calloused, but you can’t help but feel like it’s the softest thing you’ve ever felt. The breeze plays in your long hair. Joel’s free hand glides along the warped barn until he finds a deep notch.

“Check here every night after dark. I’ll leave a note for you when I come for you with directions on where to meet me.”

He cups both of your cheeks. “Every night, you understand?”

You nod.

For a minute you think he might kiss you. You’ve thought about that too as you lay in bed awake and listless for hours on end.

He drops his hands. “Show me where.”

You quickly find the notch. It’s deeper than you thought. Your fingers brush up against a piece of paper. You furrow your brow looking up at Joel as you fish it out between two fingers.

“Good girl.” He smiles.

It’s only four words, but it’s all you need. Every night. I promise.

“I promise.” He repeats to you. You don’t doubt him for a minute.

You wish you could let him kill Elliot. It would make things easier. You could go with him now and not worry about anything else. Would he kiss you now? Or wait until you’re safely within the confines of the Jackson walls.

“Every night.” You tell him.

He kisses your forehead before he leaves. It gets you through the next two weeks.

You make sure Elliot is asleep just as you have every night since Joel’s last visit, but something feels different tonight. You can feel it in your bones. You take a small bag with you, lantern lighting your way to the back of the barn. An owl hoots in the woods, and the crickets sing with the dying heat of summer. The nip of autumn is already in the air.

You ease your hand into the notch. You panic when you don’t feel the note immediately. You got it wrong. You’ll have to live through this another night- and then you feel it. Your heart leaps. You can hardly comprehend the note. It takes you three times through before you finally do. You know exactly where he is.

You abandon all caution and run for it. You can be there in under 10 minutes. Your hair flies behind you. The underbrush of the woods crunches under your boots. You catch your dress on a couple of brambles, one scratches your cheek, but you don’t feel it. You don’t feel anything but freedom surging through you.

You catch sight of Joel in the small clearing. The full moon illuminates his figure. You recognize it, already committing to your memory. Joel spins around, rifle ready until realizes it’s you running toward him. He barely sets it down before you’re in his arms.

You’re strong around you. They feel like safety and promise. He chuckles. “Glad you made it, Sweetheart.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. It’s not funny, and you should be more cautious, but you simply do not care. You’re free. You’re so close to a hot shower and fresh tomatoes and you’re in Joel Miller’s strong arms.

Before he can say anything more, you press your lips to his. They’re warm, slightly chapped, and eager against yours. You never want to stop, but Joel eventually pulls back, panting. He tucks your hair behind your ear.

“Let’s go home, Sweetheart.”

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #Ivy (Joel’s Version)

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wroteclassicaly · 5 months ago

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Insecurities get the best of you, but your partners are there to help.

You watch as they marvel over her - every angle, each inch. From her head to her toes, Nancy Wheeler is beautiful. And clad in pale pink lace panties with a matching bra and white garters - she’s looks plucked straight from some ethereal garden. You cling to your own baby blue set, palms sweaty, lower lip trembling. It’s not that you envy your girlfriend, no.

But you don’t look like her and it’s never been more obvious than now, standing in Steve Harrington’s hallway, watching through the gap in his bedroom door as they trace her skin with timid, fragile fingertip grazes. They both fought over her years ago, loved her through what you’ve all went through. No one ever fought over you, probably wouldn’t even care for you if you didn’t experience things together. Are you just personality? Formally, completely off their radars?

It’s not fair that you aren’t communicating this, and having these thoughts only makes you feel more isolated, guilty. You swallow the burning lump inside your jugular and force yourself to step away, immediately working back on your clothing in the bathroom and shoving your lingerie into your bag. You’ve got a plan already. They deserve to have the time and not let it be ruined by your baggage, or by having to reassure your insecurities. Once you reach his doorway, toes sunk into the soft carpet, you gently rasp your knuckles, before feeling as if you’re intruding by opening the door.

They’re completely engrossed in her, and you’d hoped they wouldn’t notice, but what you can’t grasp is that they were also waiting for you, baited breaths and excited heart rates. When you step into the room fully clothed and all eyes find yours, they frown, faces falling. Steve is the first to speak.

“I thought Nance said you two went shopping together? Where’s yours?”

You’ve thought this stuff before, especially once the intimacy started, but it’s staring you in the face more than ever before, and you aren’t sure if you can handle the way you’re trembling, throat quaking, bile rising, making you want to throw up. You’re in love with them, you are well aware. You shake your head, tossing on a smile that is genuine for the guys, for her. Because you’d love nothing more than to let it be about her tonight, but it wasn’t the agreed upon plan when you and Nancy visited the Indianapolis mall, and they’ll figure out something is wrong if you outright refuse. You motion to your shoulder bag, tongue burning with your lie.

“I actually forget my outfit at my house. Remember when went there to take our bags, baby?” You smile and Nancy looks confused, but nods at that fact.

Her maroon painted lips part. “But I thought you put yours in your bag? Are you sure?”

You follow through with your lie. “I am. That’s what took me forever, I did my makeup and stuff, then I had to dig through my bag, but I couldn’t find it. I’ll run home though, okay?”

It’s an automatic response from your three partners standing before you. “We will all go.”

“I’ll drive, too,” Steve says.

You shake your head. “I can drive home and get it, I don’t want anyone to have to pause because of me. Just twenty minutes tops, yeah?” Instead of waiting for an answer, you back out and close the door, springing down the hall and staircase.

Your lungs greedily suck in the cool evening breeze as you close the Harrington’s double front door behind you, feet slapping on the pavement to help you reach your car. Jonathan Byers is hot on your tail, hand splaying out above yours before you can open your driver’s door. “Hey —“

You swing your bag into his torso without thinking, heart beat dropping into your ass and slapping into your throat, adrenaline surfacing, fueled by past trauma with the things that went bump in the dark. He catches it with ease after your second swing, gripping your shoulder. Once you realize you’re safe, it molds into you hitting him by accident, and combines with your current mood. The tears find themselves flowing freely, unable to be hidden.

He’s intuitive, having figured you out the second you stepped into the room and lied to them. You were his best-friend before even started dating Nancy. And then you fell in love with Steve Harrington when he got with her, only to end up in love with Jonathan and Nancy when they began dating. It was a messy thing. Everyone finding feelings at various times.

It did not diminish anything, however.

He cups your neck’s nape and brings you into his chest as you apologize. There’s not a point in lying anymore. His voice is deep as he says it, that soft way that reminds you of a warm fire, a cold, fizzy drink that makes you dizzy, and even the ice cubes that he’d pinched between his teeth to trace your body with at Steve’s Fourth of July barbecue. He helps you by cupping your cheeks and bringing you into his sights, thumb wiping away your tears.

“You think you can’t be honest about stuff like that with us?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the mood or make Nancy feel like I’m just being a bitch —“

“Well, she doesn’t think that, but she is worried about you.” A strong but soft voice cuts you off. Nancy is clad in Steve’s robe, making her way towards you with him.

Jonathan rubs his palms up and down your shoulders, everyone now huddled together. Steve settles behind you, Nancy at your side, fingers pinching your chin. “Look at me. Right now.” You want to cry when you see the tears in her beautiful blue eyes. She’s got your full attention.

The boys share looks over your shoulder.

“I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman than you. The way you make me feel every single day, the first person to truly see me. To see all of us?” She motions to everyone around with a manicured hand.

She finds yours and turns you towards her, holding your grip with strength. “You don’t think we also compare ourselves sometimes? It happens, but it doesn’t mean a damn thing. Not when we know what we have. It’s something that no one can touch, not if we keep it safe.” Her lips purse as she brings your entwined hands to her chest, nostrils flaring.

“I know we’re all weird as hell, but there’s one thing that I’m sure of too,” Steve chimes in. “It’s that without you, our goofy little puzzle wouldn’t be complete.”

You’re still looking at Nancy as he says it, his defined palms lacing with Jonathan’s as they settle on you. She speaks again after a few breaths. “How about we go upstairs to Steve’s room and I’ll help you into your outfit, and we can be our weird little puzzle pieces together?” There’s a beautiful smirk that quirks in the corner of her mouth.

You agree.

~*~

Nancy helps you into your set, lets you balance on her to slide on your garters, and once she gets a good look at you, with you also seeing her up close — there’s a ravaging inferno blazing, boiling behind both your irises, pooling into your pupils. There’s less hesitation as she takes you into the room and both men turn, jaws unhinged. She clings to your hand and you two walk together. Your doubt settles at the wayside, your body joining them onto Steve’s new California king, and nothing matters but your weird little puzzle, finally complete.

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breakerwhiskey · 8 months ago

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179 - ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY NINE

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

What do you mean it’s not him? I was so certain—I mean, of course I knew there was a possibility that it was someone else, just wearing the same cologne, but why would Harry leave, why would the back door be broken? Why would my flight or fight instinct have kicked in so hard the moment I felt his presence in the house?

I guess I’ll—

[click, static]

Well, I guess I shouldn’t say what I’m thinking, what I’m planning on here. I guess I should just do it. Because on the off chance you’re lying to me, I don’t want to give—

[click, static]

Fuck, Harry, where are you?

Please, let me know that you’re okay. Somehow. Send up a flare or go back to the house or—

Actually, don’t do either of those. And I can’t tell you where I am, not on a public channel. I’m not sure you can even hear this. If you do have a radio, maybe you can hear this but not respond, or not broadcast far enough to reach me. I just have to hope that’s the case.

You know that place that we went once in the spring of…’71? ’72? I can’t remember, they all blur together after a certain point. But that day stands out shining gold from all the rest. It was a really good day. The first crop of strawberries had come early, and you made shortcake and you let me drive us all the way to…well, to that town we picked up bottles of champagne in, which I’m not going to say the name of because then we found that place, where we had the picnic. Strawberry shortcake and champagne for lunch…we got a little drunk. Just tipsy really, on the champagne and the perfect sunny day we had, unseasonably warm.

And we didn’t argue for a whole afternoon. Well, that’s not true, we argued about everything, but it was…they were arguments that didn’t matter. You tried to convince me that Rothko is one of the greatest painters of the twentieth century and I told you I just didn’t get it. You got so red in the face—because of the sun, because of the champagne, because of how impassioned you were describing his style to me, explaining what was so revolutionary about it. I tried to poke holes in it all, telling you it was just big blocks of color, that all his stuff looked like someone trying to decide what color to paint their living room and gave up halfway through. (laughs) You hated that. But anytime I said anything particularly offensive to you, you would push on my shoulder with your palm and the more we had to drink, the more you let your hand linger, tracing your fingertips down my bare arm whenever you pulled back.

So I couldn't exactly tell you the truth—that I like Rothko. That I didn’t agree with a word I was saying. That maybe I did, at one point in time, but you’d been telling me about his art for so long that I’d started to see it differently, that I’d gone to an exhibit of his art once without you, just to try and understand what you saw, try and understand you. That I had your voice in my head the whole time, pointing out everything special in the paintings and that that made me love him. That the way you see art, the way you see the world, made me love a lot of things.

If I’d told you that, you would’ve stopped pushing me. So instead I pulled your pigtails like we were kids on the playground. And you pulled right back, teasing me about my music taste, saying you could take the girl out of the country but you couldn’t take the country out of the girl. And I know you’ve never liked that kind of stuff, but you still got me to recite all the lyrics to “I’m so Lonesome I Could Cry” and then you made me sing them, even though you know I’ve got a shit voice and you leaned your head on my shoulder as I sang and I think…I think you liked the song. I think you liked something.

[click, static]

Meet me there. In that place where we had that picnic. In the hour before the sun sets. On Friday. That will hopefully give you enough time to get there from…wherever the hell you are.

Just…come find me.

[click, static]

#breaker whiskey #audio drama #episode #transcript #Spotify

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bella-caecilia · 2 years ago

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#10 for Corbet please:)

After an actual year, I'm finally answering your ask, anon. Thanks for your patience <3 (and to the other Colour symbol prompts sitting in my inbox, I see you. I'm just slow)

#10 - Green – Health, Safety, Harmony

1896

She breathed a sigh of contentment. On the wide bench, they only took up a fraction of the space. Cora had opted to scoot even closer than usual and disregard custom completely. She felt Robert’s warm body pressed to her side and it was the cause for the complete relaxation that enveloped her.

It was late spring and the ideal weather for one of their extended morning walks. Cora was filled with a sense of joviality. After a long while, she finally felt healthy and strong again. The long walk over the greening estate posed no obstacle for her anymore after she had been so constricted and weak for so many months. The pregnancy with Sybil hadn’t been quite so easy on her body as the two before, where her youth had probably helped her compensate for the extreme conditions her body was put through. And then the strugglesome birth followed, and with a healthy bundle of joy in the house that Sybil was, Cora fell into a series of illness-ridden weeks and months. Struggling to find foot again in a world of the living and healthy, Cora was tied to the bed and began fearing that this – being a regular on the doctor’s schedule and never seeing her daughters but for a few minutes when they reverently paid her a visit in her sickroom – would be her future.

Today, this thought seemed to be so far it felt like another lifetime, and still, there wasn’t a day where she didn’t think how different her life could be if she was a little less lucky.

She put her palm on Robert’s elbow joint and took a deep breath. Oh, she was so lucky! She turned her head to the side and took in Robert’s profile. He was a handsome man with his strong jaw, the straight nose, and kind eyes. His dark-green felted hat threw a sharp shadow on his forehead, and Cora strained her eyes to make out his expression.

Robert felt her attention and looked at her, too. He put his warm hand over hers in the crook of his arm and his look was soft.

“It is a nice day,” he stated.

“Yes. Indeed.”

“Do you want to continue our walk?” he asked. “I got lost in my thoughts, I’m afraid. We sat here for a while already.”

“It is absolutely all right. I do not mind the rest.” Cora leaned her head against his shoulder. Only cautiously, for their hats didn’t allow the tight embraces that Cora preferred for moments in private.

Robert kept his straight and strong posture. He took a few seconds before he answered. “It was too much, too straining,” his voice was grave. “I should have known it. You should have said something, Cora.”

“No!” she made clear before she lifted her head again. With wide eyes, she looked at him piercingly. He had to believe her. “It was not too much at all. I am very happy we took the longer route today. I missed it.”

Robert’s look was sceptical still. There was an expression of worry etched across his face. Only a faint smile ran over his face when she said that she had missed it.

“Robert, you have to believe that I am not sick anymore. The doctor told you so, and I tell you, too. I am fine. I am healthy and don’t need to be treated differently or spared anything.” She took his hands. They were so warm and strong. And for the first time in a long, hers were warm too. And maybe strong. She smiled. Squeezing his hands, she added, “Let us be happy. Everything is alright again.”

He returned her smile. Not taking his eyes off her, he rubbed her hands and seemed to enjoy just looking at her so close in front of him. They were happy. Cora could clearly see it in Robert’s eyes. The way he held her hands, Cora felt completely safe after living in unspoken fear – the thought of an uncertain future ever-present – for the last half year. His touch grounded her. It was not primarily that she felt his hand in hers. His touch was not the concerned brush over her perspiring brow anymore; it was not the cautious and so ginger grip around her fingers she could barely lift herself. She felt a confidence in his touch now, a certain trust in her strength. At the same time, it told her, he was there for her and he also acknowledged her sanguine state.

A light breeze brushed around them as one. Sitting so close, the wind didn’t distinguish them as two people. Cora held onto Robert’s hands and looked around them. The plants were in bloom and were all painted in the lushest greens. Spring was her favourite season for a reason. She liked how everything was so fresh in spring and that in spring, it felt like everything was possible. She liked the lavish splendour of English nature. If it was up to her, she wouldn’t let Robert go after their morning walks, especially during these beautiful spring days. She would stay outside in the green with him all day. And if she was at it, she’d also take the girls with her. This thought brought her the greatest joy. One day, she should do it. Though, she always postponed it when she remembered the resistance she would face. Brushing these thoughts away, she took a deep inhale (or as deep as her corsetry allowed) of the nectary air that came from the cherry trees nearby. She only realised she was grinning widely, exposing her teeth, when Robert’s soft voice broke the serene silence.

“Are you enjoying it?”

She nodded. “Yes. I knew why I married an Englishman with a beautiful estate.” A cherry blossom landed on the brim of Robert’s hat. The pale pink on the moss green felt caught Cora’s eye. She extricated one hand from Robert’s grip and reached up to his hat to carefully take the blossom.

“So, it was not the title after all,” Robert said.

Cora tipped her head to the side to give him a look of mock annoyance but all she managed was an adoring glare. Now, they were able to joke about what made their first year so rocky, and that was what made Cora happiest about the short exchange. Their love and harmony were such a matter of course that there was no room for doubt. Not between them. And not for anyone looking upon their marriage. Lord and Lady Downton, Robert and Cora, were an enamoured couple, and everyone knew it.

They could easily joke about their unconventional start. “It was only about the estate,” Cora looked into the blooming trees behind her as she finally tore her eyes from her husband. “I could not have cared less about who Lord Downton was,” she teased. It was far from the truth.

“Oh, really?” His tone held little credulity.

“I didn’t even know whether he was blonde or bald when I agreed to marry him,” Cora continued the non-sensical farce she made up.

“I believe you were in for quite the shock then, when you had to walk down the aisle.” Robert played along. Cora had to hold in a grin as she happily noticed him humouring her. Her eyes were still directed at a faraway point opposite from him. Her hand lay loosely in his palm as she feigned to leisurely muster the rose garden with no interest in her conversation partner.

“Oh, I didn’t expect him to be a dodderer but marrying an old man is all right if he has such nice rose gardens and orchards to offer.”

“Cora, I’m three years older!” He eventually lost his countenance.

She turned to him laughingly. His upset face amused her. Of course, he was no old man at all. He had the appearance of a young boy much more often, in fact.

Just when she was about to put in an appeasing word, she saw Nanny coming down the gravel path behind Robert. Apparently, she was using the nice weather to take Sybil on a walk. The white pushchair attracted all of Cora’s attention, and she forgot everything they were talking about as it rolled toward them. Her little Sybil.

Robert noticed Cora’s attention and look wandering off and turned around to see what was occupying her.

When the nanny was approaching them, she was slowing down a bit and smiled unsurely at her employers. She seemed unsure whether she had to interrupt her walk with the little girl in the pushchair. Cora didn’t leave her wondering long.

“Nanny Evans. How is our little Sybil doing?”

She pulled her hands into her lap and ignored the fact that she was still sitting too close to her husband.

The nanny halted next to the bench and answered dutifully, “She is doing very well, milady. She’s a real sunshine today again. But she always is.”

Cora smiled. She really was. Her little Sybil was such a joy.

“Are we interfering severely with your walk, Nanny?” Cora asked.

“Of course not, milady.”

“I wouldn’t want to disturb your schedule, but I would love to have a little time with her.” Cora craned her neck to glance into the pushchair, without success.

“Very well, my lady,” Nanny said but she didn’t seem to know what to do with Cora’s wish. Eventually, she steered the pushchair onto the lawn and in front of the bench. Then, she awkwardly waited next to the baby for what would happen.

“Could you leave her with us? We would bring her back inside in a few minutes,” Cora clarified.

Nanny Evans bowed her head and retreated to the path. “My lady. My lord.”

As the nanny walked back to the house, Cora stood up and approached the white pushchair. Euphoric joy rushed through her veins. To have her little girl so close and to herself for once. The soft cooing coming from the pushchair put her in even more anticipation and it gave her breasts a light tweak. But she was no wetnurse. She knew it, just her body didn’t.

Once she bent over the sheltered basket, the familiar big blue eyes stared up at her with so much curiosity and serenity. Cora’s face broke into a big smile. Sybil had her little fist in her mouth and didn’t let herself be bothered but continued gnawing at her own hand. Cora remembered that the nanny mentioned yesterday that Sybil might be teething.

“Hello, my little angel. Hm, baby girl? Did Mama nip more ‘Sybil time’?” she cooed at her baby. With big eyes, Sybil looked up at her without blinking, and Cora saw the green treetops reflecting in Sybil’s eyes. “Come here, my dear,” she breathed as she picked her up. She sat back down next to Robert, with Sybil on her lap.

“You are very forward,” he mentioned, referring to the exchange with the nanny.

She ignored him and brushed over Sybil’s dark shock of hair with one hand. The other held the soft baby belly close to her own body.

“Your Papa is also very happy to have you with us now,” she said down to Sybil.

“Yes. I am,” he insisted to make Cora believe him. She looked up and smiled at Robert. Then, she extended her free hand and he took it. “I am,” he repeated in a softer tone and his eyes got lost in Sybil’s curious stare. Cautiously, he put the index finger of his other hand forward and nudged the chubby fist of Sybil that wasn’t buried in her cheek. After a while, the little girl opened her fist and grabbed her father’s finger with determination. Her cooing sounds bubbled past her drool-covered hand and grew into more pointed articulations directed at Robert. She started rocking in Cora’s lap as if she tried to bob closer to Robert.

Robert’s placid expression turned into one of confusion. He looked up at Cora questioningly. “What does she mean? What does she want?”

Cora chuckled. “She is happy to see you.”

Robert didn’t seem to be convinced by her answer. “She could just smile then, couldn’t she?”

“You sound just like your mother or Rosamund,” Cora noticed. “She is happy, Robert. I don’t only smile either when I am happy to see. There is nothing wrong with being expressive.”

Robert looked at Cora as he considered her words. He mustered her face and got a thoughtful expression before Cora saw realisation dawn on his face. He smiled.

“No, there is nothing wrong with it.” He pulled his hand out of her grip and brushed his knuckle over her cheek.

“Now you hold her.”

Her demand seemed to come rather unexpectedly for him. He looked surprised. “Why? You two look quite nice.”

“Come on. You would make her even happier.”

“Maybe I would make you happier,” he remarked.

She only looked at him challengingly and nearly immediately saw him yield.

He seemed a little apprehensive when Cora transferred the baby onto his lap, but he did quite well. After all, it wasn’t the first time he held a baby. Cora realised it wasn’t such a regular occasion either, though.

Robert and Sybil quickly warmed up to the new situation. It turned out to not only be Cora’s fault they were getting back to the house late.

...

if you want to send another prompt, here is the prompt list: Colour symbol prompts

#cobert fanfiction #cobert drabble #young cobert #pre-canon cobert #cobert #cora crawley #robert crawley #baby sybil crawley #downton abbey fanfiction #downton abbey

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mightyaphrodytee · 6 months ago

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MY FIRST VISIT TO FLORIDA, January 1995, Palm Beach

Dad’s funeral, the whirlwind of seeing Rachel and Keelan for the first time in 12 years, absorbing the loss even as I felt no true grief for the man, only grief for a wound that would now never be healed, grief that my daughter lost a POTENTIAL actual grandfather—the last she had, staying in THAT HOUSE/MANSION IN PALM SPRINGS, Boz being shattered, Karina and Dorothy and Walter and their grief, the Ireland of it all being SO HEAVY, how warm and sunny it was even in late January, the High Catholicism funeral in the cathedral complete with incense and me (ME!) being asked to do a READING of some selected…scripture?—must’ve been, I can’t remember because honestly, it was all too much. Two days. Not enough yet too much all at once.

Yes I’m haunted but I’m feeling just fine

FLORIDA!!!

SECOND VISIT TO FLORIDA: April 1997, Orlando

With James, to Disney World and Universal Studios, Clay has a condo for us, surprise! Clay’s already there! I’ll pay for all the admission to everywhere if you just pay for your flight, DEAL!, being dependent on a cane, in constant pain while weight-bearing but my dr had not yet figured out what it was, seeing Rachel again under much better circumstances, light recreational drug use while partying with James and Clay and Rachel on whatever island that was, late at night, everybody drunk, we were drunk, Rachel and Clay hitting it off and dancing with a hundred other people VERY SUGGESTIVELY, and James’s subsequent meltdown over Clay wanting to be somehow sexual with A WOMAN and he’s a whore and on and on and then the next day sober acting like it never happened because nothing whatsoever happened between Rachel and Clay omg, going on all the rides before everybody else, no standing in line, because I was LITERALLY CANE DEPENDENT, the sensory overload, it was all 100% amazing and I was very sad to leave.

This was the first significant amount of time I got to hang with Rachel, and I fell in love. Sisters!

I have some regrets

I’ll bury them in

FLORIDA!!!

THIRD VISIT TO FLORIDA: November 1999, Palm Beach, Rachel’s wedding

Drunk, emotional, fabulous experience that felt like living through a hurricane. Of feelings! The Palm Beach Hotel, the spa at the PGA Gardens, the last day brunch on the beach when it was cloudy and drizzly and windy, the rehearsal dinner at that dope restaurant on Worth Avenue, the party at the Phippsberger’s with Inigo spraying tequila into my open mouth with a spray bottle and drunk driving golf carts around the estate, Boz in a cow suit (!!!), talking to Walter and getting some details about Dad’s childhood, feeling very Irish, very Butler heavy, Marie getting so hammered she fell down on the pavement (which, boy do I retroactively empathize with how bad that must’ve hurt), that chat with Jeannie about Dad omg, Miranda’s blossoming beauty that was definitely attractive to boys, the fun she had being a bridesmaid, her and Blanaid’s instant connection, that awful Patrick, getting high with Keelan at the reception in the tall hedges in front of Dad’s memorial tree, that friend of Dad’s who sat at our table and upon learning who I was, informed me that my father hadn’t been married prior to his marriage to Rachel’s mom, with such audacity and authority, my polite yet forceful recitation of the fact that I was, in fact, Jim’s oldest biological DAUGHTER and oh btw this girl next to me is his ONLY GRANDCHILD SO FAR, and him taking a moment to process, then saying ohhhhh, New York. Yeah, asshole, I thought. NEW YORK. After that he realized who we were, asked about Jay, and kissed our asses for hours. Hilarious. A fever dream. Joy and sorrow and gratitude and love all in one chaotic three-day weekend.

It’s one hell of a drug

FLORIDA!!!

FOURTH VISIT TO FLORIDA: March 2001, Daytona Bike Week

Wild veer between severely traumatic and utterly blissful. Met Lisa <3 Day. Loved her. Fran and Ron ditto. The other Ron, the one who gave us his cat before he retired. Waking and baking (except my husband.) Copious quantities of alcohol. Too much alcohol, as it turned out. The 10 pills, the hate in my heart for my husband, the ambulance, the ER, the coldness he displayed towards me for the rest of the trip despite knowing HE was the reason I kinda wanted to die and which he continued for a few days after we got home, as per usual. Passive-aggressive fuckery. One hell of a drug, charcoal is.

Tell me I’m despicable

Say it’s unforgivable

FLORIDA!!!

FIFTH VISIT TO FLORIDA: the very next month, April 2001

Orlando, West Palm, Palm Beach, Cocoa Beach, Julie and Sharon and Lisa Day (again!), in Cocoa Beach when the weather was so bad the wind was whipping the sand straight into our FACES, rendering sitting on the beach impossible (we joked it was free microdermabrasion to make us feel better that the one day we had all together was under such shitty weather), getting drunk instead and ordering takeout from Denny’s the next morning, hungover as fuck, Rachel and baby Liam, her husband basically ripping me off for $50 by taking my money to go get me weed, never to be heard from again), getting cafe con leches and Cuban sandwiches with Keelan, madness, escapism, all manner of substance abuse (just weed and alcohol, but some of the drinks and liquor store runs produced some increasingly complex cocktails), desperately delaying my return to real life, which was circling the drain back home, the dread was a physical thing I felt every single minute, but thankfully cell phones were limited, we didn’t have any, but still…and yet. Control was exerted and I submitted and went home strictly because I love my daughter.

So you pack your life away

Just to wait out the shitstorm back in Texas

FLORIDA!!!

And I’ve never been back. It all seems like a fever dream of colors and heightened emotions and hotel rooms and mansions and a hurricane with my name and me and my ghosts and laying to rest all the bodies that had been on my body and barricading myself in the bathroom with a bottle of wine, check, check, check.

#florida!!!#talk about resonating with a song #true stories

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gaoau · 1 year ago

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Strike Back

Everyday, Properly warnings — none. word count — 975

prev.

It's their third and last year of high-school, still in the same class and still filling the same roles. The 100 of his class and the average of 90's. He remains turning in his assignments in time, while only last week she handed in a math test blank because she doesn't like drawing graphs.

They decide to share another cup of tea in a breezy afternoon. Where they usually divert their paths, Kita follows her left and to her house. Much like the first time, she forces him to wait at the table as she boils the water and soaks porcelain in flavor.

He had been surprised on his first visit, shortly after the spontaneous offer that leaped off his tongue. [Name] never cared to do anything adequately, taking all credit both when they failed or somehow succeeded. The weight of indifference vanished from her body as she carefully prepared two cups, hands gentle and fingers dancing with softness.

Tea had never tasted so powerful; his tongue could pick apart every single spice mixed in a package.

She settles across from him, white porcelain knocking twice on wood. The inevitable topic of the future pops up before his second sip. "What're yer plans after graduation?" he asks someone that doesn't know what they'll eat for dinner in a few hours.

[Name] sets her cup down. Elbow beside it, cheek in her palm. "Physics," she replies with a shrug—she always shrugs—as if it were a matter of fact. "What 'bout you?"

"I'll take over my family's rice farm."

"Sounds like somethin' Kita Shinsuke can pull off. I know I can't." She puffs her cheeks and blows out air.

"S'all 'bout doin' it properly. Everyday, properly."

"As admirable as that is, there're things I don't care enough 'bout ta do 'em properly."

"Things like what?"

"Geography, makin' friends, payin' attention during economy, bein' alive."

He brings his cup up only for it to freeze before it reaches his lips. His eyes find hers. "You don't care 'bout bein' alive?" He forgets the beverage in his hand.

"I ain't really good at it, so I stopped carin' 'bout doin' it properly. Same with the other things. Hats off to ya for bein' so diligent, though."

"Ya still properly brew tea an' properly ace yer math tests."

"Yeah, I ain't sayin' I don't care 'bout anything. I ain't good at livin', but I don't wanna die. So I play with numbers ta pass the time."

"What's livin' life properly for ya?"

"I dunno." Her shoulders lift longer than usual. "Not wastin' my time and actually doin' all the things I wanna do. Maybe, I dunno."

"I think repetition, perseverance, and diligence just feel good. That's a life properly lived."

"Don't think I could do that. I only see things through if they matter. I agree, diligence's good, but I can't go above seventy percent of myself."

"I'll take it ya'll see yer physics career through, then."

"Long as it matters to me."

"Ya should try puttin' in more than seventy."

"Ya keep doin' you, Kita—"

"You'll survive."

They finish the last bits of their teas. Mentalities unchangeable and thoughts standing on parallel; face to face, endlessly, never overlapping. They don't need to agree, they just have to talk.

Spring carried mist over the mountains, Summer followed close behind. Fall creeped by until Winter seeped in. Repetition just feels good. Spring comes back before anyone can blink to start the cycle again.

It's time to graduate and leave behind years worth of useless knowledge and unnecessary all-nighters. They hold diplomas between fingers that hooked around twin teacups. Words they shared still taste fresh on their tongues, like the first bag full of spice she ever soaked in steaming water.

Mr. No Gaps Kita Shinsuke graduated at the top of his class; Ms. Well Whatever [Surname] [Name] shrugged her way out of high-school. He did things properly and she survived.

The crows cry out their song to the sinking sun, sky a flaming red hue. An unsightly envy simmers in [Name]'s chest as she walks next to Kita for the umpteenth and last time in her life. Wasted high-school years replay in her mind and his words relentless beat down upon her.

He makes her want to live a proper life.

They cross the school gates. She finds his eyes reflecting a bright future. A lazy smile crawls onto her lips.

Orange fades into a palette of cool pastel colors. "S'most likely we won't meet again. I'll probably forget 'bout ya."

"Seems like ya still prefer bein' alone."

"S'always better to be alone than in bad company."

"Ya sayin' I'm bad company?"

"D'ya see me tryna leave this conversation?"

There are carefree notes of laughter mixing with the flapping of feathers into the horizon. There's no space for silence as they stop to face each other.

"I wanna forget my high-school years," [Name] lets her criminal thoughts billow to the Spring clouds. She swings her diploma like a fallen tree branch. "Whatever ya set out to do, do it properly. Though you don't need me to tell ya that."

"I'd say the same to ya. Bye, [Surname]."

She throws a bored wave behind an uninterested shoulder. "Goodbye, Kita." Slipping off her tongue, is a farewell building up over three years.

As the night swallows her in blue, Kita is another friend not properly made, lost to the sunset in the distance. She holds her diploma in one hand and tightens her fingers around Kita's words. Truths too bitter to drink down, but too precious to let go of.

—あごす (agosu) • 2020

#Everyday Properly #Haikyuu #Kita Shinsuke #Kita Shinsuke x Reader #Kita x Reader #Haikyuu x Reader

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anarchistemma · 5 years ago

Text

Tony Curtis....Palm Springs, 1954

Jess Rand Memorabelia, private collection. Jess Rand Photography

#tony curtis #my only non jerry posting. once reblogged i will delete #thinking of you tony fans #reblog now!#i actually just visited his house in palm springs!

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decadentworld · 2 years ago

Note

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.

#stranger things x male reader #jonathan byers x male reader #top male reader #fanfic

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229zmi · 2 years ago

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TRAIN RIDE HOME

PAIRING: Tsukishima Kei/Reader

CONTENT: established relationship, fluff

WORD COUNT: 0.9k

It was easy for Tsukishima to gauge how soon you were going to fall asleep after the two of you sat down on the train, thighs brushing up against each other despite the empty spaces beside you and your arm wrapped loosely around his — a small action, but an affectionate one nonetheless.

(The two of you were, technically, dating now, yes. Yet he found that hardly anything about your relationship had changed since he confessed his feelings to you on a whim last month. You and him still walked home together from school, still met up at his house to study and yours for Friday movie night, and still took a train to visit the Fukui Prefectural Dinosaur Museum together every spring break.

You still rearranged his dinosaur figurines in odd places on his shelf — behind the books, in between the potted plants — before you left his room, still took up all the blankets at every sleepover, and still tried to gaslight him into believing that no, it wasn’t you who moved those dinosaurs, it was obviously his brother who was away for college.

The only difference was that everything seemed to have a romantic connotation now, a date label behind it even if never outrightly spoken. Study date. Movie date. Museum date. It was the little things that counted.)

The notion sprouted in his head after hearing the first yawn and then bloomed when your head suddenly lolled forward. Your body nearly would have made impact with the ground if it wasn’t for his opposite hand that stopped you.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on the train,” he told you as a warning, but the gentleness of his voice, paired with the background noise of the train’s clatter as it made its way back to Miyagi, made it more or less counterproductive. Pure mellifluousness mixed with a metallic-sounding cacophony doesn’t sound too pleasing when written on paper, but it was actually calming in an odd way. Perhaps you were delirious with tiredness. “We’re almost there.”

You lethargically rested your head against the cold window, which had entirely fogged up save for your initial plus Tsukishima’s that you’d drawn in the corner with your finger at some point during the train ride out of boredom, and reached up to rub your eye with the base of your palm. He resisted the urge to scold you and tell you to stop, supposing that this time he could ignore it as he saw how drowsy you were. Nevertheless, his disapproval of your problematic actions remained evident on his face. How many times would he have to tell you about the bad health effects of rubbing your eyes too much before you finally listened?

“I wasn’t going to fall asleep. You’re delusional.” And just like that, boom. He was automatically wrong now that you’d discredited his thesis. Cancelled.

He fixed a blank gaze on you, as typical of him whenever you said something stupid, so you knew some kind of snarky remark was coming your way. Sometimes, you wished he’d just pretend you were funny and fake-laugh instead. “Sure. Then I guess I should’ve just let you fall out of your seat instead. Would you prefer that?”

You glared at him. He poorly concealed a smug smile behind his hand. Scowling even more at his overall unbothered reaction, you retracted your arm, moved as far away from him as possible like he suddenly held some sort of contagious disease, and even went as far as to pinching your nose to pretend he emitted a stench. Immature, he thought. And now people were staring; you couldn’t have been more obvious. But he was used to it nonetheless.

He observed you for another couple of moments: you rested your head against the window again. Yawned. Blinked once, then twice, slowly. Even your expression alone suggested that you were clearly fatigued. He supposed it would be a matter of a few more minutes before you dozed off again.

In the meantime, Tsukishima felt the place on his arm where you touched him burn and then dissipate. Hot to cold in mere seconds, like walking into a grocery store on a scorching summer afternoon. Perhaps you were smarter in your tactics than he thought, now that he was stuck wallowing in the icy air that seeped through the cracks of the window and left goosebumps trailing across the back of his exposed neck.

Finally having had enough of the lack of your presence beside him, he reached out and poked your arm to catch your attention. However, when you turned to look at him, he simply cast you an apathetic look. Your eyebrows furrowed together in clear cut confusion; it wasn’t unusual for him to be this inexpressive, but you don’t understand how he expected you to know what he wanted from just that. You almost wanted to scream at him: WHAT DO YOU WANT?

Before you could turn away, he motioned for you to come closer. “You can sleep on my shoulder,” he whispered in a fairly convincing manner. “Only for ten minutes though, and then I’m waking you up.”

“I’m not tired,” you insisted. Regardless, you moved yourself so that you were sitting right next to him once again but this time with your head on his shoulder. His fingers intertwined with yours, his calloused thumb brushing over your knuckles back and forth, and then he tilted his head.

“Sleep,” he murmured, hot breath fanning against your cheek. He smelled faintly of citrus, you noted with a sigh. And then you went out like a light.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu oneshot #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #229ZMI

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limitlessgojo · 4 years ago

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Going to a Private Onsen with Gojo

NSFW Gojo Satoru x F!Reader, established relationship

Type: One shot. This is around almost 4k words.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW content, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, daddy kink, squirting, overstimulation, praising, dom!Gojo, breeding kink, slightly manipulative/ Yandere Gojo, degradation

Notes: finally got to finish this fic, my motivation just dropped halfway lmao. The inn house has rooms with private hot springs. Not shared like the communal ones in public bath houses. This is half fluff half smut.

The private hot springs per room are separated by bamboo trees and wooden walls. (With holes. So you know what's gonna go down👀💦💦💦)

You and Satoru finally get the chance to have a 2 day 1 night short break from work. He takes you to an inn, checking in a tatami room with a private hot spring (onsen) included. The place smelled fresh, and you could smell the flowers outside.

"We can see the hot springs from here love. What do you think? It's gorgeous isn't it?" Satoru wiggled his eyebrows at you. You both set your luggage down, making yourselves at home. The sun is still high up, it is only 2:00pm and the hot spring is steaming, the sunlight making the water shine and glitter.

"It's not bad at all; the room is quite big as well." You smiled. Despite knowing that you're only stroking his ego, you let it go for once. Just this once because it is a special break after all. He internally pats himself on the back, beaming at you. “Glad you like it. Let’s take a walk around the area and then come back for dinner.”

“Fine with me”. Both of you changed into traditional clothing first. Gojo into a Yukata and you into your kimono. He helped you tie your obi and do your hair up. "Look how pretty my kitten is." He practically purred out as he cinched your waist beneath his large hands. His hands felt like fire on your waist.

You flushed, softly calling out his name. "N-not now." You stared at his profile. All lean and muscular. Knowing his physique hidden under the blue fabric did nothing to help.

"Not now." He agreed. But the glint in his eyes said otherwise. Still he held himself back.

So you both set out, exploring the town. The stalls were bustling with people. You both bought souvenirs for the students as well as omamori (charms) for various purposes.

You visited the temple and just tried to relieve the pent up stress from the last few weeks. “The air is so cool and it smells really nice here.” The flowers were all in bloom, as it was spring as of now. Satoru, however, kept his eyes on you for most of the time instead of the scenery around him.

“Yeah, it’s real pretty isn’t it? Wanna take some photos?”

“Good idea! I need a new lock screen pic of us Toru!” you smiled. Your smile unfortunately dimmed upon noticing other women staring at Satoru and batting their eyelashes at him (ignoring the fact that you were right beside him).

You’ve always known that he was a gorgeous person, just thanking your lucky stars that he actually came around to reciprocate your feelings. “Hey”, Satoru cupped your face and turned it to face him. He was pouting. “Focus on me love. This trip is just for us.”

You gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. AH! I wanna have a picture by that Sakura tree~”. You tried to be more enthusiastic and engaging, blocking out any jealous and negative thoughts.

Seriously, it's not like you didn't trust him. Just that your insecurity gets to you sometimes. You quickly bat the thoughts away. Your thoughts came to a halt when you felt something soft on the corner of your lips.

"Love you." Satoru murmured against your cheek. You turned to see his eyes under his drooping sunglasses just an inch away from yours. You couldn't help but sigh in admiration. Of course he knows how you feel. "I love you more Toruu~ Now let's go." You gave him a genuine and bright smile. Walking over to a shaded area near the lake, surrounded by tall grass.

He leaned down to press his cheek against the top of your head and placed one arm around you. His other hand was holding up his phone for a selfie. After you took some pretty and funny photos, he surprised you by bringing out a polaroid.

"Eh?! Since when did you bring that with you?" You asked him. Satoru gave a sneaky smirk, "Well. Since you talked non stop about loving the vintage aesthetic recently, I thought it would be good to make a small scrapbook or photo album of this trip."

".... who are you and what have you done with my husband..."

"Hey! That's rude. I'm always nice and sweet." He pouted and widened his eyes, using a finger to push down his shades. "I knowww~ Just kidding Toru, I love your ideas. I'll help you with it then."

"Of course you will pumpkin." He squeezed you against his side, not caring about anyone who might be looking at both of you being overly affectionate in public.

He took pictures using the polaroid camera every now and then. Taking your hand and leading you around, Satoru did not give your thoughts a chance to move away from him. He didn't hesitate to tickle you when your guard was down and poked at your cheeks with the most annoying grin.

After that it was just you and him. Enjoying your precious time together, undisturbed by anyone else. By the time the sun was setting, you dragged him over to an Izakaya. "Should we have dinner here?" You asked him.

"Ooooh! Looks like they have good meat and eel. That's fine with me." He replied. You both enjoyed dinner and had a bit of sake. Satoru always looked cute with flushed red cheeks and that big stupid smile of his. "Well you look cuter than me for once Hun." He quipped back.

You smiled as you wiped that teriyaki sauce off the corner of his mouth for him. It was a really peaceful day.

Walking back to the inn, you noticed a shadow moving quickly just by the corner of your eye. This is why you don't think about work during your free time. Feeling chills run up your spine, you turned to see a curse, staring straight back at you. "Ah shit I left my sword back in the inn."

Not even having finished your sentence, you watched as Satoru flicked his wrist and took down the 2nd grade curse in an instant. "I told you not to worry darling. I'm not going to let anything hurt you." He tutted and booped your nose playfully, eyes shining.

"Heehh~" you pretended not to be impressed but by the look on his face, you knew you didn't do a good job of hiding it. He just chuckled and wrapped his arms around you. "Toru I can't walk like this."

It was like trying to lug a 190cm tall clingy infant. "I'll protect you with my infinity from all sides love." He looked really happy, just prancing around with you in his arms as you both made your way back to the inn.

💜💜💜

You both settled back in and got ready to take a bath. It was a really good day and everything went smoother than you thought it would, knowing your chaotic and unorthodox doof of a husband.

"Dinner was so good. This was a great idea Toru, thank you." You smiled up at him. He smiled back, so soft and gentle with you. The way he never is and never will be with anyone else.

"Now then, I'll be taking my payment from you." You looked up at him, confusion evident on your face. Your husband of 5 years still confuses you until this day. "I'm sorry?" you felt affronted as you asked the question. You had no problem paying your share of the bills, heck you earn a lot as a 1st grade Jujutsu sorcerer yourself.

But Satoru spent about over a month pestering you about wanting to treat you to a short staycation with him. "Yes", he replied slowly making his way towards you, towering over your shorter frame. You stood your ground and craned to look up at him.

"Thank you for the meal sweetheart. You will be my dessert." He removed his glasses and threw them aside to showcase his bright blue eyes. You shivered from the intensity, and his lips turned up in a smirk. His words were somewhat funny, but his tone was dead serious.

He wasted no time, leaning down to suck down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, after he pulled one side of your kimono off your shoulder. "Sa-Satoru!!, hah- ", his grip on you was way too tight.

"Baby, I am so sorry I can't wait any longer. Won't you be good for me?" Satoru asked as he took a step back and cupped your cheeks in his hands.

It's true that this man has no self-control, always palming your ass down the hallways at Tokyo Jujutsu High. But you rarely see him as desperate as he is now, that it was actually endearing to you. So you relented, earning a grin from the man.

He helped you out of your kimono, littering small kisses on your forehead and cheeks, before he started biting on one ear.

Unclasping your bra, he reached down to grope your breasts. You stared at him as he suckled on one nipple while toying with the other. His eyes opened to meet yours, and you could feel the growing wetness between your legs.

You also reached up to pull his Yukata off, undoing the tie on his waist. "I love it when you hair is done up darling. I can bite as much of your neck as I want." He growled out against your shoulder, biting and sucking wherever he can.

Your mouth watered upon seeing the outline of his hard-on straining against his boxers. On the other hand, Satoru stared unashamedly as you pulled down your panties, keeping your legs together to keep your slick from dripping down your legs.

Impatiently, you reached up and ran your fingers through his locks. "Satoru~" you whined. He only smirked in response. In one quick movement, he gathered you into his arms and brought you over to the small washing area with the soap and shower-head.

He was still in his boxers however. You just stared at it, drawing closer to press your hand and rub the outline. He let out a long moan, which led to you to quickly look up and snap out a hush. "The neighbours might hear us Toru." You whined.

"Tch, Let them hear. They can't touch or experience us anyways. And I want to show off my lovely little wife." He leered down at you, finally removing his wet boxers and throwing it onto the ground.

His hard cock sprang up and slapped against his abs. As if moving by some force, you immediately dropped to your knees. Rubbing soap onto his waist, thighs, and finally pumping his cock with your soapy hands. You looked up to him as you "cleaned" him off with innocent eyes.

Satoru wasn't impressed. "Don't tease me baby or you'll regret it." He pulled you up and brought you into a deep kiss. You both gathered more soap and started washing each other off.

With his hands moving slowly down the sides, Satoru didn't hold himself back from touching every nook and cranny of your body. From your neck, to your shoulders, down your breasts, going to your thighs and legs. His hands were rubbing at your skin, inching nearer and nearer to your cunt. Until he suddenly pulled away, making you cry out at the loss of contact.

"Be good for me and let me clean you first kitten." He whispered.

No other words were shared as you both rinsed and washed each other off before moving to the onsen.

"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you in a hot spring." Satoru smirked as you both dipped into the water. You sat on his lap and clasped your hands behind his neck, straddling him. His hands gripping either side of you waist tightly.

"No I don't know." You turned away from him as you rested your head against his chest. He hummed. Both of you resting for a bit. You were both in the same state, antsy for action, but trying to enjoy the hot springs at the same time.

For a while you both just stayed soaking in the hot water. Until you started grinding down against him. He just stared down at your figure. Breasts spilling against his chest, the slope of your s line with your ass under the water. But you refused to meet his eyes.

Satoru didn't really like that very much. He pinched your thigh hard. "Ow!,' you yelped. "Toru what was-" you finally turned to look up at him, but faltered and stopped moving. His eyes were bright and his expression dark. "I thought my baby was going to be good for me tonight. You don't wanna beg me later just to come right? Or does daddy have to make you do just that?"

As soon as he said the word daddy you felt your insides clench around nothing, thighs quivering. He looked down towards your body, grinning at your response. He pulled you out of the water, sitting down on the ground beside it.

"Suck me off baby and I'll consider making you cum."

You crawled over on all fours towards him. You kissed him first, then trailed downwards, licking off the water and sweat on Satoru's abs and the outlines of his hard muscles. He groans while staring at you, pupils blown so wide his bright blue eyes actually look dark for once.

You can see the carnal lust raging behind him as you squeeze your breasts together while kneeling and licking his abs. You leave small butterfly kisses as you slowly make your way down to his aching member.

But, he groans as you skip past it and suck love marks into his lower thighs. "Pumpkin, please -UNGH, p-please don't tease so much." Satoru groaned. You smirked up at him, meeting his eyes while sticking your tongue out and licking one of his balls. Sucking it into your mouth and covering it with your spit.

He reached down to lift your chin up, thumbing your lips as he watched the saliva trickle down down side of your mouth to his fingers. The current sight of you is so lewd and dirty that Satoru almost came on the spot right there.

You decide to humor him and move to licking the head of his dick, while grabbing a hold of the base and slowly pumping it up and down. Satoru threw his head back. He looked up, seeing the night sky and the stars twinkling while feeling hot pleasure run through his body. He felt like he was floating.

You tried deepthroating all of him in one go, but he was just too big. "Baby, your mouth is too small for daddy's cock isn't it?". You whimpered in response. Trying to swallow as much of him as you can while using your hand for the remainder of his length.

Quiet mewls escaped the sides of your mouth as you opened your aching jaws wider. Tears started running down your face. You didn't stop as you relaxed your jaw and took more of him, swallowing what you can while pumping. He bucked up without warning, causing your gag reflex to react. Then he pulled you off.

"That's enough for now. I wanna make sure I stuff every bit of cum I have inside of your pussy baby." He pulled you up over him, this time with his back to the floor as he spoke.

"Lemme eat you out, I've been waiting for this all day." He was salivating at the sight of your pussy, positioned in front of his face. You lowered yourself onto him slowly. Impatiently, he tugged you waist down, smashing your lower lips against his mouth. You let out a loud yelp followed by heavy breaths and mewls as he ate you out.

Thrusting his tongue in and out of your walls. He loved the taste of you, always thirsty for more. You tried to grind your pussy against his face. But he held your legs in place with one arm, wrapping around your behind. The other hand was playing with your clit.

In no time at all you were sobbing and cumming all over his face. Satoru didn't spare you one second of rest. He pulled away and lined himself up, pushing into you during your orgasm.

He immediately started fucking into you earnestly, grabbing a hold of your waist and lifting it to pull you on and off his cock. "Toru, it's too much for me, I can't-" You could barely get the words out of your mouth as you slurred them out with your eyes shut.

"Yes you can. I know you can. Because you're made for me and only you can do a good job for me like this love." Satoru grunted as he pumped into you like there was no tomorrow.

He loved it when your walls clenched and squeezed against him tightly. Especially when your whole body shook during an orgasm. Whenever you open your eyes all you can see are the stars blurring due to your movements. You both came like that, with your backs arching. His cock stayed hard, twitching as it spurted and filled you up.

He suddenly felt the sensation of eyes on him. As the user of six eyes, his senses were wide alert at ALL times. He looked to the side of the wooden wall, and saw dark eyes staring back at him.

He didn't stop thrusting. You whined and mewled as you ground your hips against his. "Fuck, such a slut for me. Love it when you cry and make those noises babe. Just look at me. I won't look at any other person, man or woman. I'm yours as long as you're mine." He growled out.

He pulled out to reposition you. Dragging your body on top of his. Your back against his chest. "Daddy, I want you. I want more!" You whined out. You positioned his cock at your entrance.

"Daddy will give his baby what she wants. You've been so good to me after all love." He smirked inwardly pushed back upwards into you, thrusting at a fast pace. (Satoru chose the position because he knew you were both being watched. He loves to make other men so jealous of him having you).

You could only squeal and try to hold yourself up against him, putting your palms against the floor. But it was no use. He grabbed your thighs and kept fucking up harder and harder, making it hard for you to hold onto anything.

"Yes just like that baby. You're so good to me. You don't need to think. I'll make it so that you don't have to do anything else. You only need to feel my cock yeah? My doll is the best when she is crying on my cock." He moaned out.

The man on the other side of the wall was joined by a few other men. Satoru used his ability to see through the wall following the movement of their cursed energy and saw that they were touching themselves to you.

"Daddy, please more. Daddyyy~" you were slipping further into subspace. Soon you couldn't speak clearly anymore. Just babbling nonsense while bouncing on Satoru's lap and staring hazily up at the sky.

"I think we have company." He laughed out. You snapped out of your haze to see peeking eyes behind the bamboo sticks. Satoru just thrusted harder. "Let's give them a show of their lifetime hmm? I spy old men wanting some action. But they won't be able to touch you baby."

He reached up with one hand to grope your breast and the other stayed below to play with your clit. Sex to him was almost like an art form. He knew exactly how to play with your body to bring you to your strongest orgasms.

You tried to cover your body up but he pulled your arms away. "Don't run away baby, daddy's here to protect you. It will be okay."

At the end of the day you trusted him and his six eyes, so you let go. Pussy clenching harder at the thought of being watched by unknown strangers.

"That's it, my angel. So good for me. You're leaking far more than normal slut. You like it when people watch you get fucked?"

He reached up with his cum stained hand to spit into it. Then shoved his fingers in your mouth. You obediently suckled on and cleaned his fingers for him. He continued to grope you as he pounded away.

Satoru wasn't too worried about the spectators next door. He can see them clearly. Several middle aged men (probably sharing a larger room) messily jerking off to both of you. He saw the way their eyes travelled across your breasts and cunt, which was oozing with his cum.

He hit a hard deep spot inside of you which caused you to squirt hard, a large amount of liquid spraying out. Satoru quickly put his hands over your clit and furiously rubbed at it, wanting to prolong your squirting. You were crying out loud at this point. It was just music to his ears.

One man groaned out, causing you to tense and tighten and Satoru to moan out.

"You love putting a show on huh baby? We should do this more often if it gets you tighter and wetter around me." He snarked out while you drooled and asked for more.

He didn't stop thrusting until he came a few more times inside of you, changing positions.

The men watched as you rode him, your breasts bouncing up and down, while you placed your palms flat on Satoru's chest. They stared at the cum flowing out of your pussy, being fucked back into you by Satoru. The way you both groaned as you clamped down tight and milked his cock.

Soon you found yourself laying on your side with one leg up with Satoru spooning you from behind. What was frightening was his stamina and power.

His thrusts never lost strength and soon you just felt like his cock was drilling a space inside of you, just for it. You felt so boneless in his hands when you both finished, laying down on your sides.

"Babe…. You okay? We need to clean up." Satoru whispered against your shoulder.

You could only mumble incoherent noises. Squeezing around his softening length, still plugged inside of you to keep his cum inside.

Satoru gave out a soft sigh. Then gathered you into his arms and took you away from prying eyes. He just turned and smirked at them as he walked away with you, butt naked.

The watchers were disappointed that the show was over. Satoru then cleaned you both with the shower head in the washing area and wiped you down with soft towels.

You stayed silent the whole time. Your head felt like it was in the clouds. Just letting Satoru do his way with you like a doll. "You were really good for me tonight angel. Nobody else can touch you but me." He chuckled darkly.

You just listened to his simple commands such as putting your arms up when he dressed you in your nightgown. 'I always love fucking her dumb.' He smiled to himself as he settled you into his arms in bed.

"Next time I'll be fucking you in the water." He whispered. He brought you closer to him, tucking your head against his neck. Kissing your forehead and patting you to put you to sleep.

🎇🎇🎇

The next morning you were absolutely horrified to see people staring at you, when you both left your room to check out. 'I bet they heard us last night. And who were the ones peaking at us?!?!' you frightfully thought to yourself.

Satoru didn't really care. Smiling brightly at the attendants and thanking them for your amazing stay at the inn.

"Toru I really enjoyed my stay, but it's hard to be happy now knowing that we did it at the expense of our neighbours stay." You whispered, hitting him. "Darling I'm pretty sure they enjoyed the show." He winked at you, shameless as ever.

Suffice to say, you decided not return to said hot springs for a while out of shame.

End notes: 🙈 this fic started because I just thought of Satoru's abs wet with steam and sweat but it evolved during the last edit. Hope you guys enjoyed! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated 💜

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x y/n #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk fic #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

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husbandohunter · 4 years ago

Text

Stardew Impact [Stardew Valley+Genshin Impact x Reader]

Part 2/3 Zhongli, Xiao

Synopsis: “A mysterious phenomenon brought you and your s/o to an unfamiliar world: Pelican Town! Without the power of Visions, the two of you begin to learn the life of what it takes to be...a farmer?”

(DOMESTIC FARM LIFE ROUND TWO)

Genre: Fluff

Others

Diluc and Kaeya

Albedo and Childe

(A/n): This was meant to be part 3 but I couldn't wait to write xiao. Plus Ive been writing Albedo for almost the whole month already Word count_2.6k

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Xiao

• Thrown in an unfamiliar environment puts Xiao on high alert. Instincts kick in and his hand subconciously grabs for his spear. Nothing. Not even his vision activated. Xiao's gaze darts all over before landing on your figure. He sighs in relief, you're safe, that much he can decipher as of now.

• Stripped of his power, left with only claws and teeth (if must) to protect you from any dangers, he was ansty with every little thing.

• The villagers are so nice??? For what reason must they have to act so friendly to strangers (Xiao wonders). The Mayor even granted you two a vast farmland free of charge.

• Shortly he realized he no longer had his karmaic debt. Xiao wasn't sure how to live his life in this state. He dedicated his entire existence to years of slaughter and suffering that it became the only thing he knew. He won't admit it of course, he'll just throw in scoffs and remarks about how mundane activities are a waste of time when in reality, he just has no clue on how to handle them.

• Thats why the first day was difficult as you both try to figure out how to plant parnsips. Deciding it was better to go with an experiment, you split the share of seeds in half and used what basic knowledge you had on farming to finish the job. Xiao on the other hand tried copying what you did….though the outcome wasn't so desirable it was a mess. (His trained hands have taught him to be on the rough side).

• He doesn't bother socializing with the townspeople even though he has no karmaic debt to worry about. Xiao thinks you're more than enough anyways so what's the point?

• Robin is the only person who can tolerate him for obvious reasons (cough Sebastian cough) she knows exactly how to deal with his personality type. His glares don't faze her, she simply thinks its just a teenage phase of some sort.

• Eventually they become mutuals, Xiao thinks Robin is similar to Verr Goldet in a way. Since he's the one who does the heavy labour of chopping down trees and mining stones for building upgrades, he gets a chance to visit her house quite often. He comes back with lots of recipes too.

• You find out that his adepti blood never left him. Xiao doesn't need sleep so you better believe it when he tells you the next morning that he spent the whole night watering all 300 of your crops (watering is the only process he's good at for farming).

• Sometimes you catch him staring out of the window, wondering what he may be thinking. Life was so much more different, almost hard to recognize. Was this real? Is it okay for it to be real, just this once? Ever since he committed his duty to Morax, Xiao didn't dream of a time when everything would be peaceful. Yet here he is, no longer a weapon but on a journey to find out what it's like to live as a normal person.

• Spring: Every morning you find him kneeling behind the cabin with the pet cat (yes, cats seem to suit Xiao very much). He just stares at them, hesitant if he wanted to pet their fur or rub their chin. So he continues to glare intensely, scaring your cat away :(

• Whenever you wanted to attend any of the town's festivities, Xiao wouldn't even hide his distastefulness but goes with you regardless. Why do mortals consider hiding eggs and finding them a fun activity? And what kind of a name is Flower Dance? Can't they just call it a dance?

• Though…he does like the sight of you wearing a flower crown. Xiao likes putting stuff in your hair.

Since setting foot upon this new world, time seemed to have slowed down to the point that almost everything felt like an eternity. And you didn't mind, with him by your side, you wouldn't mind if it did last forever.

The lull of the grass was the only sound Xiao could hear as he closed his eyes and rested his head on your lap. You maneuvered across his scalp in small, subtle motions, surprised with how warm he felt against the heat your palm. He stirs a little and lets out a soft breath before turning his face to lay on the side.

You were slightly intrigued by the yaksha's new demeanor. From far away, Xiao was an intimidating man, even during the first time you laid eyes him, his presence felt similar to a knife pointing at anyone who dares to come too close. But now, the face that usually held his signature annoyance melted into something you never thought you'd see as the sun rays brushed against the surface of his fair skin. You observed the way his dark eyebrows stayed in a relaxed arch. The red crescents lining right above his beautiful long lashes and the sound of soft snores through parted lips. It was hard to believe that this man was the same person who claimed to have ended a thousand lives through thousands of years.

Did he fall asleep already?

Gently moving away the strands away from his cheekbone, hovered your gaze above him and whispered, "I thought adepti don't need rest."

"Hmph," Xiao responds, though there was no harshness in his tone, "Quit trying to be difficult, I didn't tell you to stop."

The smug grin on your face only widens. You lean downward and said to his ear, "And what's the magic word~?"

Xiao sighs at your antics. You were truly pushing your luck today and he simply didn't have the patience to entertain you. Without a warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you down, foreheads pressing until you were but a breath away. The adepti conquers, he does not plead.

• Summer: As expected, your parnsnips weren't able to grow as much. Thus, this season was going to be the one to make up for the lost profit. Xiao is very good at hunting, perhaps the best in the entire town. Though the way he catches fish is rather peculiar, said by the folks. He prefers to carve a spear made of wood and repeatedly stabs the lake until results show. Xiao dislikes the old fashioned way, he says its unproductive and it unecissarily takes too much time.

• But as much as he scared the whole town, they were extremely grateful when he cleaned up the slime issues happening in the mines. You could say that he grew very popular since then and eventually mustered up the courage to greet him a hello whenever he passes by.

• You nudge him to reply back. Xiao usually shoots you a glare but slowly, he learns the courtesy of acknowledging someone's prescence.

• Fall: You woke up to a burnt smell coming from the kitchen. Xiao just thought he would return the favour since you always worked so hard. (He was actually trying to figure out what a 'whisk' was. It was no wonder why there were eggshells in the dish!)

• You realized that Xiao was taking more initation compared to before. At night, when you thought the animals were actively jumping in the barns, the noise was actually from Xiao trying to adjust himself to the ways of tending the field. After learning what TV was, he would always switch to the channel "Livin off the land" to gain some insight. Truly, Xiao was greatful even though he knew he eventually had to return to his duties, he wanted to utilize the current days the best way he could. And what better way was it to just make you happy in return?

• Winter: This was the season to test the accumulation of Xiao's abilities: you caught a cold and he had to manage everything in his own. Xiao scolded you for not wearing enough and being too careless but at the same he considered that you must've been working too hard.

• Goes to Robin for help. She basically became his mom now. Prepares the food and leaves them in the fridge, she teaches Xiao how to use the phone in case he needed any help and also lets him know where all the essentials are.

• Xiao stayed by your side the whole time even though you told him you'd be fine. But he refuses, he may no longer be a gaurdian but he was your gaurdian. That role never changed.

~~x~~

Zhongli

• You wake up on a soft bed with Zhongli sitting at a chair nearby. He hands you a cup of brewed water but you're still blatlantly confused. Seems like everything was taken care of by Zhongli, it ends up with him explaining everything to you.

• The folks instantly assumes you both as a married couple. Who could blame them? He did carry your unconcious body all the way to town while asking for a local doctor. You can bet that the ladies wish they were you at that moment. Zhongli took care of everything, including with the contract with the new farm.

• It didn't take long for you both to adjust to the new lifestyle. Zhongli's accumulated knowledge was enough to last all four seasons. Days past by peacefully as you shared the tasks. He'd place down the stone paths towards the gate and you busied yourself with decorating the house. After that was done, Zhongli would rest upon the rocking chair outside your door (like the grandpa he is) and sometimes you'd join him in one reading session. His voice was soothing, you eventually dipped into a slumber as the evening grew colder. Just like always, your beloved brings his arm to encapsulate you from the wind, brushing his thumb against your skin subconciously while you snore softly into his shoulder.

• In a way, the townsfolk were right. You both do act like a married couple. It's basically domestic life with Zhongli in a nutshell.

• He gets connected with Gunther and lands a role in the Museum. Since he's there so often, Zhongli also manages to be acquainted with Elliot as well. Two men who have a common interest with books while speaking in poetic prose. Their conversation would last for hours to the point Gunther had to kick them out of the library!

• Veeeery good with the children, not in an entertaining way but its just the aura he reeks. Penny usually had trouble dealing with Vincent since he never seems to be able to focus but the minute Zhongli speaks, he's all ears. Not only that he was also very good with the elderly. He even recommended some herbs George could take to soothe his back issues.

• Problem is that he still forgets to bring his wallet and Childe isn't here to save him. So once you stepped foot into the Stardrop Saloon and Gus calls you over, he tells you about the cost he owed to his tab….

• But this tranquil life full of genuinity and deprived of sovereignty, he was overjoyed to be able to spend it with you. Because he knew you were unlike him, that all humans were born with an expiry date. He knew so well that after every new greeting, he would have to face the goodbyes over and over until the world eventually came to an end. He knew you were also going to be part of those many goodbyes while he would still be here.

• But as Zhongli walks amongst the fallen leaves, he remembered the beauty that carries within every new beginning. They brought him to you and he would never hesitate to trade his gnosis for it.

Spring: You shot up your bed when Zhongli blast the TV at full volume. He apologizes, saying that he was simply trying to change the channel. You figured it was best for him to go outside before he somehow glitches the screen until it couldn't repair itself (Robin charges for repairs).

• Every thursday you both go to Pierre's store to complete your grocery shopping. He offers to push the cart as you fill the basket with all the necessities (plus it saves you the trouble of having him tossing whatever he sees without looking at the price tag).

• Every afternoon you order a take out from the Saloon, sharing the meal while sitting at the fountain's edge near the community center. Every evening Zhongli would take you to explore the rest of the vast farmland, discovering places you weren't even aware of. It was no wonder why everyone thought you were a married couple.

• Summer: Since the cabin was too small for a bathroom, you guys would have to travel up the mountains in order to get to the Spa house (cue sweatiness x10).

• The concept of hotsprings was derived from Inazuma so it was no surprise that Liyue eventually took it after him. Zhongli had collected some incense from foraging items over the past few months, he knows whats up. But overall he gives the best bath sessions (hands down) and you were the one who insisted in joining him. He was a gentle and sweet lover, always putting your needs before his. Ancient artifacts and old history books have always been precious to him, he treated you no differently.

The heartbeat of the oceans continues to rock back and forth until they brush up on the sandy shore, washing away the two pairs of footprints left behind by a man and a woman.

Gold against gold, his amber eyes reflected against the scenery. Millions of lights flashed among the sea when the sun began to climb down from the sky, it's rays hugged across the valley like an ethereal glow bestowed by the heavens as summer's wind brought even more warmth than what he had currently felt. You trance ahead of with the same light shaping around your form.

"Oh hey there's another rainbow shell," you waved at him before running off, "I'll be back!"

How is it that you still continue to shine like gold in his memories?

Zhongli suddenly ponders at the chapters laying ahead of him. He spent so many years turning each page without ever reaching a conclusion, forever searching the fabled happy endings written in fairytale books, but he knew his immortality wouldn't grant him that wish.

Thus, the formal archon raised his pen and reweaves his own story. He envisions his future with you by his side, engraving every detail until it was immortalized in his memories.

Perhaps I shouldn't keep her waiting.

With a renewed resolve, Zhongli clutches the gemstone tightly in his palm, he seals the page with the final contract between your future and his.

• Fall: After getting your first house upgrade, it was time for the next event: the ceremony. Yes, Zhongli would only have a wedding if Liyue traditions were involved. Everyone was invited of course, they were quite intrigued with the flashy setup such as lanterns and fireworks (you were a little worried with where he got the budget for such items) and Zhongli even educated Gus about some recipes he can use for the Saloon.

• You found out that Zhongli was saving all his money for this day (it was no wonder that he couldn't pay for his tab!). Old habits die hard, it was a shame that he didn't have his powers to craft the right items, but at least he got to sea you in a traditional eastern dress (it's the part he was looming forward to the most).

• Fall is the best season. One you wouldn't forget.

• Winter: Ah he finally learns how to use technology after three seasons. He only knows two channels from the TV which was 'Livin off the Land' and the weather channel. Zhongli oftens talks to himself as he tries to figure out more mechanics, he seems to be extremely absorbed in the most basic things.

• The miner of the house. But instead of using them to upgrade tools and donating them to the museum, Zhongli likes to keep some of them for collection. You could say your house also had a little museum in the other room.

• Romcom movies and soap operas. You can't change my mind that this is what you both spend your time watching as the snowstorm rages outside.

#genshin impact #stardew valley #genshin impact headcanons #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao headcanons #zhongli #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin impact zhongli #genshin xiao #genshin zhongli #nya-writes

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ackerfics · 3 years ago

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hiii i love tpt and i was just curious if you had any headcannons about mama ackerman and tpt!reader?? i’m so curious to see what their interactions would be like!

hey hey hey love !! thank you for loving tpt <33 that means so much to me owo ooooh, i'm actually so excited to put in kuchel to the epilogue and the bonus chapters so i have a few hcs ft. our queen ^^

kuchel was so ecstatic when levi called home during his senior year in uni, saying that he wanted her to meet someone. this was a first because levi never brought home any of his friends from school (farlan and isabel are exceptions since they grew up together) but when you appeared in her living room beside levi, she's holding back her squeal. you look so goddamn beautiful and i'm so sorry, levi, but she couldn't believe that her son's girlfriend looks this elegant. the entire night was just kuchel talking to you, vividly telling you stories about levi's childhood.

you're actually surprised at kuchel's kindness, not used to this because of your mother's cold personality.

right before you agreed to meet with levi's family, levi assured you that kuchel would adore you. even though he's constantly reminding you that you had nothing to worry about, you're questioning whether his mother acted the same as yours. if so, you'd act like the perfect daughter like when you're around maman. but when a beautiful dark-haired woman greeted you with a huge smile, your worries faded away. levi's hand on your back was still acting as an anchor even though you're starting to loosen your tense posture --- the tight, practised smile on your lips turned genuine.

kuchel is your second mother. (more of a mother than maman but we already treated that as a fact.)

she constantly teased levi by calling you her daughter-in-law, laughing behind her hand when her son threw her a glare.

during the times where you come over to her house, mostly on summers and springs, you help around the kitchen. the two of you would make recipes, sometimes mixing in some british food since you mentioned you missed it. (levi was your taste-tester.) that's how compassionate kuchel is to you, she makes your favourites when you were growing up because she knows how badly you miss it.

she also suggested things while you were designing some clothes and they all worked.

she's your assistant, something she proposed doing for you, and usually acted as your human mannequin.

ofc, we can't forget about kenny since he sometimes visit kuchel. she scolded him for gaping at you the first time he saw you (jaw dropped and eyes wide because he couldn't comprehend how his midget of a nephew bagged a woman like you). levi threatened to punch him if he looked at you like that again.

when the twins were born, she cried. not only because they look so much like levi but because you sounded like you were in pain during your labor. so, as levi followed the nurses to the nursery, she stayed with you, telling you how proud she was for bringing two beautiful stars in this world.

bought every toy she could find for the twins as a way to help you and levi.

kuchel was devastated when you and levi had the divorce.

at first, she couldn't believe that two of the most in-love people she knew had to go separate ways. there's just no way this was happening. since levi didn't have the heart to talk you out of it after blaming himself, kuchel took it upon herself to convince you to think this through. since maman had everything on her palms, you had no choice but to reject kuchel's pleads. it hurt seeing your mother-in-law like that but everything was set, you wouldn't risk having levi's business sinking right when it started. kuchel wanted to know the reason why you wanted to leave but she sensed something was wrong with your answer. "i don't think we can overcome this, mum. it's best if we solved it this way."

no, kuchel never believed that the divorce started with you not meeting eye-to-eye with levi, there's something there. heck, she saw how levi looks at you and how you smile in that carefree manner with him around.

since levi never followed you to the airport, kuchel was the one who saw you off. kenny was with levi, trying to talk some sense into fighting harder for you but to no avail. you hugged the woman you've grown to love as your mother and never saw her again.

she's once again ecstatic when altair randomly called her, the boy relaying how levi finally had the guts to get back with you. this woman was so happy with the news that she screamed in joy.

levi leans on his elbows as he gets up from comfortably lying beside you, letting the covers pool around his hips. he shivers at the chill that brushes on his bare torso before grumbling at his phone. "mom? why are you calling this late at night?"

"oops, i'm sorry! i know you're still in london but how can i not call you, levi? you're getting back together with [name]! i thought i'd never see the day!"

"wait, where did you learn about that?" then, he hears the faint sound of a gaming console in the next room, along with some giggling between two boys. "never mind, i think i know who said it."

kuchel squeals, making levi take away the phone from his ear. the man feels movement beside him. he looks down and finds a sleepy smile on your face while you're staring at him with droopy eyes. "shit, did i wake you, beautiful?"

you laugh, shaking your head while snuggling deeper into your pillows. "no."

"is that [name]?! [name], sweetie, hi! levi, let me talk to her, it's been too long."

levi rolls his eyes. he glances at you before getting in a trance at your blissful smile and gentle expression. he then feels your hand trailing scribbles on his abs, the shiver going through his spine differs from how he shivered from the cold of your room.

"levi, you still there?"

he jolts at his mom's voice. "yeah, yeah. i'm here."

"give the phone to her now, levi."

"is that mum?"

the flutter in levi's chest intensifies upon hearing you call kuchel mum. he can't help but duck down to place lingering kisses on the corner of your lips and the junction connecting your neck and shoulders. he hums in satisfaction, the scent of your bath wash and shampoo surrounding his senses, and feeling the strap of your silk night gown on the side of his face. "yeah."

"can i talk to her, love?"

"sure," he drawls, giving you the phone and slumping over you with his arms wrapping around your torso.

"hey, mum."

"oh, my gosh, hi, sweetie! i miss you so much, how are you doing? are you eating well? is your sleeping schedule working for you? i hope so. i wouldn't want you to turn into levi. have you seen his under-eyes?"

your soft laughs and voice lull him to sleep, the last thing he remembers before successfully sleeping is your fingers weaving through his hair.

#rorytalks #beautiful hoomans ✨✨✨#this gave me butterflies 🦋 ✨🦋✨#levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #snk x reader #levi x fem!reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman fluff #the parent trap au #attack on titan imagines

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You�� song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

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