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decadentworld · 2 years

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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sydmarch · 1 year

Text

The Smallest Date in Martinaise

Pairing: Harry/Garte

WC: 1,927

Summary: Is it a good idea to ask out a man who in all likelihood still hates you at least a little for destroying one of the rooms in his establishment? Probably not, but now that you’ve given him a stuffed grouse, impressed him with your killer karaoke skills, and realized you both have the same taste in music, maybe you DO have a small chance…

i'd originally planned this to be a one shot but since i haven't touched it in several months i figured i'd post what i've got so far as "chapter one" & maybe it would motivate me to continue writing. the idea for this fic was inspired by this iconic tumblr post

full fic below the cut or on ao3

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “Hey,” He nods in greeting. “Was there something you needed?”

1. - “About my bill for tonight…”

2. - “I need a drink. Can you pour me one?”

3. - “Garte, I saw another *thing* at the Whirling…”

4. - [Suggestion: Challenging 12] Ask him out.

5. “Good bye.” [Leave.]

SUGGESTION [Challenging: Success] - You know the two of you share similar taste in music. Start with that, and go from there.

1. - “You like the Etenniers, right?”

2. - I’m not so sure about this…

YOU - “You like the Etenniers, right?”

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “Yes?” The man raises an eyebrow, clearly wondering where you’re going with this.

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Failure] - Where *are* you going with this?

SUGGESTION - You’ve got this. It’s a no brainer! You like the Etenniers, he likes the Etenniers. Ask him to listen to a tape together.

LOGIC [Formidable: Failure] - Yep. I see no issues with this plan.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Trivial: Success] - *Or* you could skip the pleasantries and get straight down to business. A man with lips like that… Ask him what that mouth do.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - Or you could *not* do that. Ask him something normal. Like a *normal* person would.

1. - “I was just thinking since we both like the Etenniers, maybe we could listen to a tape together?”

2. - “Nevermind the Etenniers, what that mouth do?”

3 - “Would you like to go on an extremely normal date with me?”

4 - “Forget it.” [Leave.]

YOU - “I was just thinking since we both like the Etenniers, maybe we could listen to a tape together?”

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - He is smiling, but there’s a clear sarcasm in the expression. “Oh, listen to a tape? And how do you suppose we do that? Using the tape player that you *destroyed* when you *trashed your room*?”

LOGIC - Oops.

1. - “Shit, I’m so sorry. I keep fucking everything up.”

2. - “I paid you back, didn’t I? That tape player was cramping my *style*”

3. - “Who needs that tape player, I’ve got *this* beauty.” [Show him the Harmon Wowshi.]

YOU - “Who needs that tape player, I’ve got *this* beauty.” [Show him the Harmon Wowshi.]

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - While at first he appears taken aback - clearly not expecting you to have a viable alternative, he nods appreciatively after looking over the player. “Alright, fine. I could use a break.” A small smile, genuine this time. “And I *do* really like the Etenniers.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Challenging: Success] - You’re in! Next stop, pound town!

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] - Not so fast, you can still mess this up.

1. - “Cool, it's a date!”

2. - “Let’s get to it then.”

YOU - “Cool, it's a date!”

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “What? I never agreed to - “

COMPOSURE [Trivial: Success] - His face turns bright red. He’s clearly flustered, but not displeased.

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “You know, it’s not worth arguing. Sure. Okay.” He sighs, blush fading back to his usual color. “So where do you suggest we have this. Um. Date?”

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Legendary: Failure] - You know plenty of romantic spots to bring a date… like the Whirling in Rags, for one!

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] - Do *not* suggest the Whirling! The last place a man would want to go on a date is the workplace he had to reluctantly return to.

SUGGESTION [Formidable: Success] - No, the Whirling is the *perfect* place! You’ve seen how beneath the facade of indifference he cares for the place, how he’s the master of his domain. You want to take him somewhere familiar, comfortable. Plus he would be unlikely to leave the place unattended with the Hardies in their booth.

YOU - Wait, which of you is right?

LOGIC [Challenging: Failure] - Your guess is as good as mine.

1. - “Only the best spot in Martainaise will do!” [Gesture to the room around you.]

2. - “Why not right here?”

3. - “On the boardwalk past the fishing village there's a great view across the water. Nevermind that we recently found a corpse there…”

4. - “How about Land’s End? I’ve heard it’s a primo *makeout spot.*” [Wink.]

5. - “Actually, I’m not sure if this was a good idea after all.” [Change your mind.]

YOU - “Why not right here?”

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - He laughs uproariously.

RHETORIC - I told you!

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - After catching his breath, he replies. “Alright, why not? It’s not like I’d want those union boys running amok here without someone around to keep an eye on them, drunk as they are.”

SUGGESTION - And *I* told *you*!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Oh my god, both of you shut up! We’re well on our way to getting *laid*.

KIM KITSURAGI - “Khm.”

COMPOSURE [Easy: Success] - He does an excellent job of hiding it, but you can tell the lieutenant is deeply uncomfortable to still be witnessing this conversation.

KIM KITSURAGI - “Detective, this is getting a bit too personal for my tastes. I will meet you here later to complete our interview with the Hardie Boys. Please, try not to take too long. We *do* still have an unsolved murder on our hands.” He exits the Whirling.

1. - “Awkward…”

2. - “Let’s get the music going!” [Take out the tape player.]

YOU - “Let’s get the music going!”

HARMON WOWSHI - As you place the tape player down on the bar, it dawns on you - you don’t actually have any tapes.

1. - “I’m sorry, I forgot I didn’t have any tapes with me…”

2. - “Oopsie! Looks like I don’t have any tapes.”

3. - “Must have left my tapes in my room, let me go get them” [Lie, then think of a solution on the fly]

YOU - “Oopsie! Looks like I don’t have any tapes.”

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - He sighs, clearly holding himself back from rolling his eyes as well. “You don’t need any tapes *or* the tape player. If we’re staying here, I can just use the Whirling’s sound system.” Blocked by the bar from your field of view, he gets a tape going, and music fills the room.

WHIRLING IN RAGS - You look around the first floor of the hostel cafeteria. Fortunately for you, it’s far from peak hours, and the room is largely empty. The Hardie Boys are in their usual booth, drinking and conversing loudly. A few men sit scattered at tables in the main space. That strange man in the blonde wig and sunglasses and his companion, the horse faced woman, sit near the stairs. The smoker on the balcony leans against a wall, watching everything unfold.

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “Well, let’s get on with it, shall we?” He comes out from behind the bar, clearly making a beeline for one of the more isolated tables.

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - As you two pass by, he shoots up from his seat, face turning red. “I can’t believe this shit! A murder investigation is still ongoing, and you’re out here wasting time wooing the bartender.”

HORSE FACED WOMAN - “Jean, please calm down.” she hisses through clenched teeth. She moves to place a reassuring hand on his arm, but he shakes her off.

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - He looks exasperated. You already know what he’s going to say before he can open his mouth.

1. - [Half light - Legendary 14] Cut him off.

2. - [Say nothing, let him talk.]

HALF LIGHT [Legendary: Success] - Are you going to let this guy intrude on your date like that? SHUT HIM DOWN.

YOU - “He’s *not* a bartender, he’s the *cafeteria manager*!”

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - He looks at you, eyebrows raised.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] - He wasn’t expecting you to come to his defense, but it’s a welcome surprise.

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - “Bartender, cafeteria manager, what’s the *fucking* difference when he’s not the case you’re here to investigate! I’ve had enough of this.” He storms out, the horse faced woman chasing after him.

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “...Thanks.”

COMPOSURE [Easy: Success] - It takes a lot for him to say it.

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - He takes a seat and you join him on the bench. “Sorry to cause any friction between you and your… colleague?”

EMPATHY [Trivial: Success] - He’s just as unsure about the nature of the relationship between the man in the sunglasses and yourself as you are, it would seem.

1. - “He’s some kind of firefighter, or animal control agent, or male nurse… no idea what’s got his panties in such a bunch”

2. - “I’m pretty sure he must be a fellow superstar.”

3. - “I don’t *think* he’s my colleague. But really I’ve got no idea, what with the whole ‘drinking myself into oblivion’ thing, you know?��

YOU - “I don’t *think* he’s my colleague. But really I’ve got no idea, what with the whole ‘drinking myself into oblivion’ thing, you know?”

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - He scoffs. “Believe me, I know, Kind of hard to forget, with all the damage you’ve caused.” The bitterness you’d gotten so accustomed to hearing in his voice is surprisingly absent.

SAVOIR FAIRE [Medium: Failure] - You should say something *cool* right now, really go in for the kill now that he seems to be warming up to you.

VOLITION [Trivial: Success] - No, the whole point of this was to listen to some tapes. Shut up and listen to the tape.

1. - “You know, you should’ve seen me shoot that body down from the tree. *Kablam*! Down in a single shot. [Shoot your finger pistols to demonstrate.] It was pretty disco, if I do say so myself.”

2. - [Say nothing.]

WHIRLING IN RAGS: The two of you sit in comfortable silence, letting the music wash over you. As the minutes pass, you realize that while you remember that you *like* The Etenniers, you don’t actually *remember* any of their songs. With the exception, of course, of The Smallest Church in Saint Saens, which you *totally* rocked on karaoke.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Easy: Success] - Just as this thought crosses your mind, you notice a lyric that strikes you as familiar: “Hail holy queen of the sea, you’re whirling in rags, you’re vast and you’re sad.”

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - This is the song where Garte got the Whirling’s name from!

1. - “Hey, this is Hail Holy Queen, right? The song you named this place after?”

2. - Don’t say anything about it.

YOU - “Hey, this is Hail Holy Queen, right? The song you named this place after?”

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - “Yes.” He sighs almost wistfully, looking around the room. “Feels like that was a lifetime ago.”

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Hearing this song makes him thoughtful, almost nostalgic.

CONCEPTUALIZATION {Trivial: Success] - It’s a trip down memory lane - the kind of journey you’re wholly unfamiliar with, in your current state.

1. - “Sorry, I didn’t mean to potentially bring up any bad memories.”

2. - “Seems like this song really takes you back. I wish I could go back like that, but inside my head it’s all just a void, and the smell of chewing gum…”

3. - “Fourteen years ago, you said before?”

YOU - “Fourteen years ago, you said before?”

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - He looks back at you, appearing surprised that you remembered this detail. “That’s right. I’ve been with the Whirling for nearly half the time I’ve been alive. Of course, we had ample time apart while I was occupied with the many other cafeterias I manage. Still, it’s strange to think about - the responsibility of naming a place like this, at that age.”

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - And the many other responsibilities taken on far too early, he leaves unsaid.

INLAND EMPIRE [Trivial: Success] - The thought makes you wonder - what were *you* doing half a lifetime ago?

1. - Already making preparations for the gloaming, most likely.

2. - The barbell in the Doomed Commercial Area felt so familiar in my hands… I probably *was* a weightlifter.

3. - Partying hard during the disco heyday, baby!

4. - Probably in the early days of establishing myself as a superstar.

INLAND EMPIRE - Probably *not*.

#texticles #disco elysium #de #harry du bois #lawrence garte #garte the cafeteria manager #harrygarte #my writing

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cloveroctobers · 2 years

Note

Oops I almost forgot to request but idm waiting!! could you make an oj haywood x black/fem reader who's a model (and pretty bold lmao) and they meet cus they needed his horses for a photo shoot? idk if that's too specific I don't wanna step on ur toes or anything snfnskfn 😭😭

covergirl | OJ Haywood x black! Reader | October prompts !

A/N: Thank you for your patience! I didn’t forget about this! Now that we’re in my favorite season of the year I decided to add something else to the mix and include this in my October prompts for 2022! It’s a short one but hopefully a good one.

+ Prompt: 6. “Is it just me or did it just get really cold in here?”

┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓ ┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦

attention was never something you turned away from. You loved it. It was always all eyes on you, you know, like Tupac’s fine ass once said. Ask any of your siblings and cousins growing up, you were the main one who oozed star quality. Sorry. So you took that to your advantage, gaining tumblr fame quite quickly in your tumblr teen girl era and that later brought you to high-end modeling.

The only time your photo shoots were early was if you were overseas and it always ended up eventful. You weren’t much of a morning person but you adjusted once you were fully up. Plus you didn’t enjoy wasting anyone’s time; especially your own. Now that you were back in California, your agents knew to only schedule you for early afternoon shoots. Not to mention that you’ve grown to have insomnia once your career began to take off and a hint of sleep apnea when your body allowed you to disconnect for a few hours.

So sure sleep was a huge question mark when it not only came to modeling but you loved having “me time,” when you weren’t out with your friends.

Letting out a small yawn that you covered with a few of your fingertips, you glanced up at the ceiling for a moment longer as the makeup artist patted the setting powder underneath your eyes then gave you your space.

“Here you go!” A voice chirped shortly afterwards, “looks like I’m right on time too.”

Continuing staring upwards as you lounged on a faux fur multi-colored stool, you spotted a curly haired girl in baggy clothing as she held out a iced tan tea to you. “Heard you enjoy that London fog tea shit, it’s giving clay but to each their own I guess!”

Taking it from the familiar face you smiled around the straw before you sipped your beverage, “Emerald Haywood. Thanks for this, I didn’t know you worked behind the scenes?”

“Oh please, with a face like this? And charisma like mine?! You already know I’m in front of the camera just like your pretty self.” The brown skinned girl winked while you smirked.

“My apologies sis, I should have known.” You stretched, putting a arch in your back while Emerald shamelessly checked you out in your outfit, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m wherever the money is. Just ask your cousin,” Em raised one arm in the air, leaning over slightly as her hips rotated before she continued, “OJ and I had to keep the business running when daddy passed. After our asses got fired from a failure of a previous shoot, I did some research and found out somebody else needed horses. And you so happened to be here.”

“Riiight,” you pointed, “and here I was thinking you gained some sense and became obsessed with me instead of messing around with my cousin.”

Em quirked up a brow, “don’t tempt me with a good time…either way I talked to my therapist and we both agreed that it’s time for me to focus on myself.”

You hummed at that, not saying what you thought on it. You knew Em for a couple of months now, ever since your cousin, who happened to work at a strip club, began bringing em around. They were casual in the beginning—it seemed since your cousin had a issue when it came to dating; either the girls or non-binaries she dated got jealous over her profession/no longer felt comfortable with her line of work, turned out abusive, or decided to start sleeping with their therapist right after putting their relationship on a break.

Nonetheless you kept your mouth shut since your cousin said she would figure it out. So you respected it and you actually liked hanging out with Emerald Haywood. Your energies meshed well together and you hung around the same group of people. She was cool in your eyes minus the whole sleeping with your therapist two days after she called it quits with your cousin…but hey it was none of your business.

“Okay everyone, let’s clean up and get the horse in for the final shots of the day! I want to leave and get fucked up like the rest of you!” The photographer announced.

Pushing off the stool, you continued downing your tea as the assistants on the set removed the stool and large potted flowers out of the way. “That’s great, em. I’m sure it’ll all be worth it in the end.”

“You see the vision.” Em snapped her fingers, “I had no doubt you’d get it.”

“Of course,” you shrugged as another assistant came over to you, suddenly picking at your roots gently before placing a metallic cow-girl hat over your head, “self-love is the best love and whoever you decide to share that with and they understand? It’s even better.”

One of the assistants, Stella, you believed her name was, held out her hand to take the leftover drink before you lightly turned to see a dark skinned man catering to a white horse.

“I think I just found that someone.” You whispered, beginning to strut over to the man and your supposed prop for hopefully the next thirty minutes.

Em titled her head to the side in confusion as she watched you make your way over to her brother. It only took her a second to realize what was going on as you gently began stroking ghost’s fur who swayed his tail in response.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” You asked.

OJ peeked up and over from his side next to the horse and moved to stand in front of; to continue caressing it’s nose. He barely glanced at you as he responded, “this is ghost.”

“I’m not talking about the ghost, handsome.” Your voice was as sultry and light as you patted the horse, arm going up to rest along it’s spine comfortably.

OJ blinked, “oh. I’m just the guy with the horses.”

“No. There’s always more than what meets the eye,” you smiled, “I’m Odette and you are?”

“I’m aware,” OJ had his attention back on the white horse continuing to provide comfort, “your manager told us you go by Detty, that you’re gonna be on your Beyoncé shit and gave us a whole run down of what not to do in your presence. Which I understand boundaries…I just want to let you know that these horses—

“Deserve the same amount of respect as any decent human being,” you said, “I get it. I know a thing or two about horses and bulls. It was my grandfather’s thing. Sure he loved his bulls more than horses but trust me, I won’t hurt him. I’m capable of being gentle.”

That’s when OJ looked at you to see you slightly biting on the corner of your lip. He didn’t know much about you coming into this gig but his sister did. All OJ needed to know was the time, to provide reassurance for whichever horse he thought would be best for this, and the price. He wanted to bring lucky but this photoshoot requires a white horse for whatever reason and Ghost could be a bit finicky at anything lately. He was the last one Otis Sr. Was on when he was attacked so OJ knew that Ghost was going through a bit of PTSD at the moment.

“OJ! Get out the way and let the girl do her thang! Ghost also knows what to do!” Em called out to OJ, who cautiously stepped back as the assistants came over with another stool to help you onto ghost.

However OJ still found himself lingering close by while Em chatted away with others on set. OJ watched you as you carried on so elegantly, in your flowy attire as you seemed to be chatting with the horse here and there every time you shifted to a set poses. It did not take the photographer long to get multiple shots and finally the winning one.

“I think we got it!”

Claps started to surround until you asked; now sitting up from ghost, “you think or do you know? I still think outside for this scene would be better.”

“It’s not the look the magazine was looking for babe. We got the floral backdrop and your gorgeous face, that’s all we need.” The photographer answered, “that’s a wrap everybody!”

OJ watched as you rolled your eyes then shrugged. He moved over back to ghost as the stool was placed down again for you. Carefully you climbed down and moved to stand by ghost’s head. You caressed him once more, “thanks for your time, buddy.”

Everyone slowly began to clear out as you flicked your eyes over to OJ who was actually staring at you this time, “and thank you for lending us ghost…OJ, was it?”

“Mhm,” he dipped his head, “you’re welcome.”

Quickly learning that he wasn’t a man of much words you breathed out a small laugh. Normally most guys that couldn’t hold a conversation you lost interest. However there was something about OJ that made you have a little bit of time.

“What’s the O stand for in your name?”

“…Otis.”

“Odette and Otis.” You let it roll off your tongue, “Look at us sounding like somebodies grandparents. Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?”

“Sure.”

“I think we could do something big with that.”

“Yeah? Like be somebodies grandparents?” He snorted, picking up that you were flirting with him.

“That and much more.” Your voice lowered as you held OJ’s stare.

The stare down was broken off once the lights suddenly shut off on you two. It only took seconds for a blur of white to fly by your sight followed with the clunking of Ghost’s hooves.

“Aye! Ghost!” OJ watched as the ghost ran around in circles in distress, the brimmed man trying his best to click his tongue to get the horses’ attention.

A side door suddenly opened, giving Ghost the opportunity to rush through it.

“Whoa! What’s wrong with ‘im?” Em asked, shades lowered as she glanced away from her phone.

OJ huffed as he began jogging over to the door which clicked behind the horse. Sighing you began peeling off the boots, wiggling your feet as you let out a yawn again.

“Did he get your number yet? ‘Cause we need to go and get some real food. What y’all had here ain’t enough to feed a damn fish.” Em muttered to you as you made your way over to her.

Before you could respond you listened to the rattling of the door handle that OJ pressed on.

It didn’t appear to be budging.

“The doors stuck.” OJ bluntly stated.

“You mean to tell me you don’t know how to open doors? You just push it!”

“I’m doin’ that!” OJ yelled back, “i’m guessing this is one of those doors that locks behind you.”

Em grimaced after attempting to get it open herself, “ohhh.”

Carrying the boots in one hand and lightly rubbing on your arms with the other, you began looking around the building. It felt much smaller with the lights out and not as comforting.

“Is it just me or did it just get really cold in here?” You asked, eyes wide as your eyes darted around the room.

Footsteps moved to stand beside you. Em tested your realization blowing into the air and found a puff of cloud went towards the air. It was on the tip of her tongue to just brush it off, assuming that the air temperatures increased when no one was around.

However…something felt like it was.

The three of you were quiet, picking up on the sound of something almost spluttering from above. Instantly you were holding your breath and you weren’t sure why as all three pairs of eyes shot up to the ceiling above their heads.

“What the hell—

“I think we should move. Now.” OJ ordered, not liking how that sounded and given what he previously witnessed with shit falling out of the sky with his own father, he knew this didn’t feel or sound right either.

Briefly he touched your elbow, guiding you and Em away from the center of the room to the bathroom door. All three of you crouched down in the doorway, peering out and wondering what that noise was. It sounded as if something was leaning, almost like a electrical tower about to give way to the ground. Not long after, objects came crashing through the ceiling but the most noticeable one…happened to be a traffic light pole along with a camera attached.

The object appeared to be damp from what you could tell in the dark surrounded by other miscellaneous items. Cautiously the three of you made your way by the fallen item with Em kicking at it and OJ peering up at the newfound hole in the ceiling.

“That’s strange.” You spoke, not knowing what to make of this.

Em nodded, “uh huh! Shit’s just falling out the sky for fun lately? This is honestly giving me the heebie jeebies.”

“Ghost.” OJ muttered, “he had to have known…he wouldn’t of just ran off like that if he hadn’t.”

“OJ…let’s not go there.”

“What?” You asked watching as the two shared words with their eyes, “hey, I’m here too! Whatever you’re thinking you can just say it.”

“…it’s nothing,” OJ decided, his eyes meeting yours. He could tell you didn’t believe that and something inside of him wanted to tell you about his dad but he wasn’t fully sure himself. It was a feeling that told him to get everyone out of dodge, “we should find a way out of here—

That’s when that same jammed door slowly creaked open, automatically making you take a step back, hand latching out to yank OJ back by his shirt.

Em already had her taser out, pulled from her crochet cross-body bag. The three of you waited for someone to peek in at you but after at least a minute, no one did.

“Yeah, I don’t know about y’all. But I’m gettin’ the fuck up outta here before these rich condescending folks think we did this mess so!” em chucked up the deuces before she jogged over to the door, crouching down as she had her taser ready.

Once she disappeared behind the door she yelled out to you two, “we’re good! I’ll be in the car, OJ!”

Puffing out a breath, you quickly let go of OJ’s bunched up shirt and returned your hand back to rub at the goosebumps on your forearm.

“I’ll count this as my weirdest day on set and I’ve had a lot of those.” You commented.

OJ hummed as he slowly turned to face you.

“I think it’s about to get weirder around here.” OJ mumbled glancing at the traffic light that fell through the sky, “no I won’t elaborate but I think we should all be careful.”

“Are you saying we just walked into the twilight zone?” You tried to joke but it also fell flat to you.

“I don’t think that was just some miracle.”

“What—never mind you don’t seem like you want to completely share your thoughts with me right now. Which I guess is fine, maybe it aligns with the whole introverted horse-loving tall dark and handsome thing you got going for yourself.” You ranted, “but this isn’t how I imagined the end of the shoot going either so we should head out. I feel like we’re being watched.”

“Okay, covergirl.” OJ nudged his head towards the door, waiting for you to fall into step beside him.

Both of you cautiously stepped outside to California’s humid air, sunny and as if nothing just occurred. Up ahead you could see Em waiting in the passenger side as you and OJ stood in the parking lot.

“On the bright side…I told you so.”

“Told me what, Odette?”

Keeping your arms folded you smiled, “that we’ll be apart of something much bigger together.”

Spinning you began walking backwards digging into your boot to grab your car keys, “you’re not getting rid of your future wife just yet. You and I both sense that by now don’t we? I’ll see you soon won’t I, Otis?”

OJ wasn’t sure how to answer this as he slowly trailed after you. He just shared a experience that was a bit strange with you and here you were trying to turn this into some possible dating adventure? He didn’t know how to take you so he just tipped the brim of his hat which made you scoff out a laugh, fully turning to your expensive car.

He moved to get into his own truck after he took his eyes off the sway of your hips, beside his sister and started the engine, just as the camera on the fallen traffic light flashed in the dark room.

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Continue along with my anthology fall prompts here

#nope x reader #nope 2022 #nope film #nope jordan peele #oj haywood #oj haywood x black! reader #oj haywood x black! f! reader #oj haywood x oc #daniel kaluuya #emerald haywood #em haywood #october prompts #requested #keke palmer

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