#jonathan x reader

[monster-mash-m]

Random jojo head cannons:

Mdni!

Nsfw and slightly crack fic vibes?

Jonathan: He’s a big big boy, his dick is definitely bigger than your arm. But like- I 100% in dios attempt to ruin his life told him he’s got a small one. Not like he’s seen it but- Jonathan being… Jonathan- he believed it.

So when you’re stretching and struggling to take his fucking behemoth cock. He’s there, whimpering, thinkinh it’s taking so long for you to take it because it’s not satisfying to you. So what does he do to remedy this? Fucks you deeper than you’ve ever felt before. His tip absolutely bullying all the right places. It’s only the gentlemanly thing to do, he needs to know you’re satisfied.

Joseph: Biggest twat in bed. Like if you could turn a brat into a dom, that’s what he’d be- not saying he doesn’t sub. But his default is to just drive you up the wall. So when he’s got you caged under his muscular body, you’re oh so close to release… and then… he pulls his dick out. Oh that evil fuck. Joseph is an edging devil. His cocky smirk makes you want to bite it off. Oh but then he starts up again and you’re just pulled from your thoughts as he builds you up again… it’s always a long night with him. He’s the biggest wind up.

Part 4-6 jotaro: Jotaro isssss a pillow prince. Not necessarily a selfish lover or lazy per se….. he just.. he loves when you ride him. He loves having his hands on your hips as you bounce on him. He gets to see all of you, especially after a long day of fighting a stand user or researching dolphins,.. he needs a break. So when you take him to pound town? Yeah he likes to sit back and take it. Especially when he does the occasional hip thrust just as your hips meet his. Oh the joy in his face when you’re scrunches up at the overwhelming feeling. Delicious.

Jolyne: Jolyne absolutely loves being eaten out. Especially when laid on her back and legs wrapped around your head. Especially if there’s a window at night so she can see the moonlight- but anyways… yeah no absolutely loves it, loves the fingers in your hair, the hands on her thighs, if you make eye contact with her all in the process? Yeah she’s coming undone on the spot.

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I’ve only done the animated jojos since I’m not familiar with the other jojos- and obviously josuke and Giorno are disqualified for obvious reasons.

But I love jojos so much- so excited for SBR- definitely gonna be making more jjba content

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Sleepless Nights

Thomas Shelby x Pregnant Wife Reader

Summary: Thomas cares for his wife.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings:

soft Thomas!, kissing, soft talk, lovely husband things.

Thomas prowls the grand corridors of Arrow House with a mixture of determination and unease. The mansion is a labyrinth of opulence, each corner dripping with the wealth he’s fought tooth and nail to secure. Yet, tonight, none of that matters. His mind is solely focused on one thing—finding his pregnant wife.

The house, with its vast rooms and endless hallways, feels both protective and suffocating. The heavy silence is broken only by the distant ticking of an antique clock, a stark reminder of time slipping away. Thomas’s polished shoes echo on the marble floors as he moves through the dimly lit spaces, his keen eyes scanning every shadow and crevice. The opulent decor, a testament to his success, now seems to mock him with its cold grandeur. He enters the library, where shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books line the walls, their spines gleaming in the faint light. The room smells of old paper and cigarette a sanctuary for his restless mind on many nights. But tonight, it offers no solace. He moves on, his pace quickening, his heartbeat mirroring his urgency.

As he strides through the dining hall, the long table stands like an island in the middle of the room, set for a feast that never seems to be eaten. The chandelier above it sparkles, casting prismatic reflections around the room, but Thomas’s eyes are unseeing. He is a man on a mission, driven by an anxiety he rarely allows himself to feel.

Finally, he reaches the living room, a vast space dominated by an enormous fireplace. The flames within flicker and dance, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. And there she is. His wife, his beacon in the storm of his life, sitting on the couch in an awkward yet somehow comfortable position. The sight of her instantly softens his stern expression, though worry still shadows his features. She’s nestled into the corner of the couch, her swollen belly making her position look ungainly to anyone else, but Thomas knows better. He sees the way her hand rests protectively over her stomach, the way her eyes are half-closed in a state of meditative calm. She’s wearing a loose, flowing nightgown that accentuates her maternal glow, the fabric cascading around her like a gentle waterfall.

“Love,” Thomas says softly, his voice a gravelly whisper that cuts through the silence. “Y’alright there?” His thick Birmingham accent adds a rough edge to the tender words, a contrast that defines him so well.

She looks up, her eyes meeting his with a tired but loving gaze. “Tommy,” she replies, a small smile curving her lips. “Just needed a moment. The baby’s been restless tonight.”

Thomas nods, understanding immediately. He crosses the room in a few strides, his presence a mix of power and protectiveness. He sits beside her, the couch dipping slightly under his weight. Gently, he places a hand over hers, feeling the life within her. It’s a moment of connection, grounding him in a way few things can.

“Been lookin’ for you,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of discomfort. “Worried me, y’know.”

She chuckles softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I’m fine, Tommy. Just... needed to be alone for a bit.”

Thomas’s eyes soften further, the hard lines of his face easing as he takes in her serene expression. “Y’should rest more, love. Don’t want you overexertin’ y’self.” His voice is firm yet gentle, the protective husband surfacing through the tough gangster exterior.

She nods, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes. “I know. It’s just... there’s so much to do. So much to prepare for.”

Thomas sighs, his hand moving to gently caress her cheek. “Leave it to me. I’ll handle everythin’. You just focus on our little one, yeah?”

He could see the strain in her eyes, the toll the pregnancy was taking on her. His heart ached for her, wishing he could take away her discomfort. "I wish I could do more," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

She smiled again, squeezing his hand. "You're here, Tommy. That's enough."

But it wasn't enough for him. He wanted to do more, to alleviate her pain in any way he could. His mind raced, trying to think of something, anything, that might help. Then she spoke again, her voice hesitant.

“Tommy, Ada said if it gets too heavy, you can lift my belly a bit with your hands. It might help.”

Tommy's brow furrowed as he processed her words. It was a simple gesture, yet one that could provide her with some relief. He looked into her eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, and he knew he had to try. "Alright, love," he said, his voice firm with determination. "Let's give it a go."

He moved closer, positioning himself in front of her. His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard work, gently interlaced under her belly. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her dress, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Slowly, he lifted, supporting the weight of their child. She let out a sigh of relief, her body relaxing into his touch.

"Better?" he asked, his voice soft.

She nodded, her eyes closing once more. "So much better. Thank you, Tommy."

He held her there, his strong arms supporting her, providing the comfort she so desperately needed. In that moment, all the worries and burdens of their world faded away, leaving only the two of them. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to simply be present, to cherish the moment.

"You're incredible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Strongest woman I know."

She smiled, a soft blush creeping into her cheeks. "I have to be, married to you."

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah, I suppose you do." His gaze softened as he looked at her, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. "But I wouldn't change a thing. Not a bloody thing."

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable and reassuring. Tommy's thoughts drifted to their future, to the life they were building together. It was a life filled with uncertainty and danger, but it was theirs. And as long as they had each other, he knew they could face anything. Eventually, he shifted, carefully lowering his hands and easing her back into a more comfortable position. He smiles, before cupping her face; his hands calloused from years of work, are surprisingly gentle as they cup her cheeks. He brushes a few stray strands of hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear with a care that belies his hardened exterior. The feel of her skin under his fingertips is a reminder of all that he has fought for, and all that he stands to lose.

“Love,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, thick with his Birmingham accent. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The words are simple, but they carry a weight of sincerity that is unmistakable.

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and fatigue. Pregnancy has been both a blessing and a challenge, but in this moment, with Thomas so close, she feels a sense of peace. He leans in, closing the small distance between them, and presses his lips to hers. The kiss is intense, filled with a passion that speaks volumes of his devotion. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a promise, a silent vow that he will always be there for her.

His hands move from her face to her shoulders, sliding down her arms and resting on her swollen belly. He can feel the life growing inside her, their child, the future of the Shelby legacy. The thought fills him with a fierce protectiveness, a determination to shield them both from the dangers of his world. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“You’ve got to know,” he whispers, his voice husky with emotion, “I’d do anything for you. Anythin’ to keep you safe.” His words are punctuated by the gentle movement of his hands, caressing her belly as if to reassure both her and their child of his unwavering commitment.

Thomas stirred from sleep, his body instantly alert despite the lingering remnants of exhaustion. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes, casting faint, golden lines across the bed where he lay. His hand reached instinctively to the other side, expecting to feel the familiar form of his wife beside him. The cool, empty sheets met his touch instead, sending a wave of unease through him. He sat up abruptly, the fine sheen of cold sweat on his forehead catching the light. He ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face as his sharp blue eyes scanned the room.

The clock on the mantel ticked softly, marking the time as just past nine in the morning. Thomas swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the chill of the wooden floor against his bare feet grounding him. He rose to his full height, stretching out the tension in his muscles. He was dressed only in his boxers, the morning air cool against his skin. The bedroom was silent, save for the sounds that nature produced in the waking hours of the morning.

His mind raced through possibilities as he left the bedroom, each step measured and deliberate. The house was vast, and his wife could be anywhere, but his instinct told him to check the usual places first. The corridor outside their bedroom was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn against the morning light. Thomas moved with purpose, his eyes darting to each doorway as he passed. He checked the nursery, but it was empty save for the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the window. The sitting room was similarly deserted, the furniture untouched and the air still.

Thomas’s worry deepened with each empty room. He descended the grand staircase, his hand trailing along the polished banister. The ground floor was no different – the study, the drawing room, all empty. He paused at the doorway to the dining room, listening intently. The faintest clink of cutlery reached his ears, a sound so subtle it could easily have been missed. Relief washed over him, but he kept his composure as he moved toward the kitchen, the source of the noise.

The kitchen was a contrast to the rest of the house – warm, filled with the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and other culinary delights. The sight that greeted Thomas made him pause in the doorway. His wife was at the counter, her back to him, completely absorbed in her task. She was preparing her favorite pregnancy craving, a look of contentment on her face as she worked. Her hair was loosely tied back, and she had her loose, flowing nightgown, made of soft, breathable fabric, was adorned with delicate lace and ribbon trims. He had it made especially for her.

A soft chuckle escaped Thomas’s lips, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Hungry, eh? For whatever you're eatin' at what... nine in the mornin'..." His voice was low, the thick Birmingham accent adding a familiar roughness to his words.

She turns to him, a small smile playing on her lips. Her eyes are bright, despite the early hour, and there's a certain glow about her that he finds both endearing and reassuring. "Well... I originally woke up because I had to throw up... but then it wore off and I just sat there for a bit before I actually did throw up..." she explains, her voice trailing off as she takes another bite.

He crosses the room to her, his worry giving way to a tender affection. He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle and careful. "You alright now?" he asks, his voice softening. "You and the little one?"

She nods, placing the bowl on the counter. "Yes, we're fine. Just one of those mornings."

Thomas wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He can feel the slight swell of her belly against his skin, a constant reminder of the new life growing inside her. "You should've woken me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She laughs softly, resting her head against his chest. "You need your rest too, Tommy. Besides, it’s nothing I can’t handle."

He holds her for a moment longer, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. The kitchen, with its warm morning light and the comforting presence of his wife, feels like a sanctuary. A stark contrast to the chaos and violence that often defines his life outside these walls. He pulls back slightly, looking down at her with a mixture of love and concern. "If you need anythin', you come get me. Don’t try to be too strong on your own."

She nods, understanding the depth of his worry. "I will, I promise."

They both stood there looking at each other.

"Any plans for today?" he asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

She looks up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I was thinking of organizing the nursery a bit more. And maybe take a walk in the garden if the weather holds."

He nods, appreciating her simple plans. "Sounds good. I’ve got a meeting later, but I’ll be back by lunch. We can go for that walk together."

She smiles, the idea pleasing her. "I’d like that."

Author’s Notes:

Credit for the smol sparkle divider: CafeKitsune

[gingernut1314]

Show Me

Summary: Jonathan comes home early from work and finds you in a way he never would have anticipated.

Content: female reader, JJBA part 1 (no spoilers), married, use of the title husband, reader referred to as Lady Joestar once, use of pet names (my love, my heart, darling, etc.), masturbation, being caught masturbating, fingering, being taught how to finger/touch clit, slight overstim

Word Count: 3K

A/N: So I had this idea the other day and I had to write it cause Jonathan--UGH I love him so like yessss. This is my first time writing for Jonathan so I hope I did him justice! I hope you all enjoy!

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Jonathan was ecstatic when he was able to come home early from work. All he had wanted to do, all he had been able to think about, was being back by your side. Being able to see you smile, hear your laugh, talk with you. 

So when he couldn’t find you in the library where he would typically find you with your latest read, he grew a tad bit antsy. He looked in the dining room, the study, and even asked one of the staff if they had seen where you had gone off to, but you were still nowhere to be found. 

Before he grew too frantic, he decided to check the bedroom. Maybe you had come down with a painful headache that only a good nap could cure.

He wound his way up the stairs, down the hall, and pushed open the door to your shared bed chambers only to be met with a sight he never could have anticipated. 

You lay there on the plush cushions, eyes hooded and fogged, mouth agape, and legs spread to the world as your fingers lay buried within your core, working yourself in a way that filled the room with slick, squelching sounds. 

Jonathan’s mouth fell open at the sight, you gasping sharply in utter surprise at his appearance. 

“You--You are home early.” You rushed out of bed, pulling your robe tightly around your sweat-pebbled skin. 

“I--yes, well I--” He continued to watch you wide-eyed as you fought not to break down from embarrassment. He was quick to shut the door behind him. “W-what were you doing?” 

“Nothing.” You tried brushing off, heading for the dressing screen across the room. You kept your gaze downcast as you made to pass in front of him. “Forgive me for--” Jonathan stopped your travel by grabbing your arm in a delicate grip. A grip so gentle you were always surprised by it, seeing as he was such a hulking man. 

“I--wait a moment. Let us talk.”

“Jonathan…I am ashamed you found me in that way. I do not--”

“Ashamed?” He sounded all too confused as to why you would feel that way. A confusion that finally had you turning your gaze to meet his own. A gaze always so full of understanding and kindness, things you felt you didn’t always deserve. “Darling it is just me. Not only am I your husband, but your friend.” You’re heart fluttered at those words. 

Yes. Yes, Jonathan Joestar was your friend. Your best friend and to hear him continue to confirm that just made you fall in love all over again. 

“I just--I know what you were doing…I will admit I’ve done…similar acts…before our marriage.” He gave a slight wince at his words, a small blush crossing over his cheeks. 

These topics were not something talked about so…openly. Both within respectable society and between you two. 

You were completely stunned that he would wish to talk to you about it, especially seeing as your husband was always quick to grow very timid about the subject.

“But I--I wish to know why. Are you not…satisfied with our…intimacy?” Your heart twisted painfully in your chest at his words. That you would lead him to believe such things. You were quick to raise your left hand to cup his flushed cheek in your palm, to try and ease his worries if only for a moment.

“Do not think for one second longer that I do not love being that close to you.” Jonathan leaned into your touch, his other hand engulfing it to keep your touch close. 

“But?” You turned your gaze downwards again, your heart once more twisting. Your husband said your name softly. “I do not wish for you to go on not feeling as good as I when we are intimate.” He guided your palm downward so he could lay a loving kiss to its heel.

“It’s just…I do feel good but it is like there is an…itch, I suppose, that never quite gets scratched so…I scratch it myself.” You cringed at your own words and at yourself for making him feel bad about something you had been perfectly fine to keep to yourself until now. 

“I see…” Again, you felt like your heart might tear in two. Did he despise you for speaking the truth? Did he wish to spend time apart after witnessing you in such a way? 

“I am sorry, my love. I truly did not want you to see--”

“Show me.” Your mouth fell open at his words.

“W-what?” 

“Show me how I can…scratch the itch for you.” You blinked up at him.

And blinked again. 

And again. 

He was dead serious about this request. A request you could see in his eyes he was not going to back down from until you agreed to show him. 

“Bu--Jonathan, you truly do not need to worry--”

“Yes, I do. I am your husband. It is my job to worry about you and your needs.” His hands moved down your arms to grab hold of your own, giving them both a solid, unwavering squeeze. He leaned down so that he could peer straight into your eyes to show you just how sincere he was. “My heart, show me please.” 

 You watched him for a moment longer. A moment you used to quickly try to clear your spinning mind. To understand that he was actually asking you this. That he was truly willing to learn such a thing for you. 

You loved him. 

Oh dear god above you loved this man more than you knew what to do with. 

You pulled yourself to your tippy toes so that you might place a tender kiss to his full lips. Jonathan was quick to kiss you right back, making your heart beat quicker and quicker in your chest. 

“O-okay.” You breathed as you pulled away. “Would you…would you mind taking your coat off?” Jonathan was quick to nod, pulling his hands from you only to do as you asked. 

“I will do whatever you ask. I am yours to command.” He pulled his black coat off, laying it along the end of the bed. 

Yours to command. 

Oh dear--that shouldn’t have excited you as much as it did. Shouldn’t have reignited that burning pool of need between your legs. 

“Lord Joestar,” You teased, fingers finding their way to the small buttons of his white dress shirt to fiddle with them in your growing anxiousness. “You give me too much power.” Jonathan’s eyes sparkled in amazement as his large hands grabbed your wrists once more. 

“Lord Joestar? Lord?” He leaned down, planting a kiss on each of your cheeks. “That is Jojo to you.” You laughed as he went for round two of cheek kisses. Kisses that made your heart feel so full and warm it nearly had you forgetting all about the nerves that had wormed their way into your veins. “What next, darling?” 

And nearly forgotten nerves came back in full then.

“Shirt off?”

“How is me taking my shirt off going to help me learn how to--” You pushed up onto your toes again to peck his lips, stopping him from speaking any further. 

“Because I wish to feel your skin on mine.” That blush pulled to his skin but he nodded, unbuttoning his shirt without further question. As he did, you untied your robe once more, shrugging it off and letting the silky fabric pool at your feet. 

Jonathan’s fingers fumbled in their unbuttoning at the re-revealing of your body, blue eyes drinking in every last inch. 

“My heart--I never grow tired of your beauty.” He breathed. 

“And I never grow tired of yours.” You just as softly spoke back, fingers finding his to help him with the rest of his buttons. His blush deepened and he once more leaned down, kissing your forehead. 

Once his shirt joined your robe on the floor, you guided him over to the bed where he was quick to take his shoes off and crawl in after you. 

Your hands roamed over the hard muscles of his chest, feeling over the velvety skin that was interrupted once or twice by a scar he received from one of his adventures. 

You had just pressed your chest against his, had just begun to unlatch his belt when Jonathan’s strong arm grabbed hold of you. A small yelp escaped your lips as he moved you around, having no problems doing so and doing so tenderly. Not once had his supernatural strength harmed you in any way, always moving you with the utmost care. 

“Now, Lady Joestar,” Your husband teased as he sat your back against his chest, holding you warmly in his arms. His nose nuzzled against your ear and cheek, sending your skin burning at such affection. “No more frittering and please show me.” His voice dipped low and sweet. A sound that reverberated through your ear and whole body, causing a shiver to course through you. To make your nipples pebble harder.

“Am not.” Jonathan’s fingers dug into your sides, causing a bubbling laugh to spill from your lips. “S-Stop!” Jonathan chuckled in your ear, stopping his tickling.

“I am serious, love. Please.” He begged once more, fingers moving from your sides to trail up your legs, which you had bent together. His thumbs rubbed over your knees in a silent ask to open them. Your heart gave a panicked skip, your fingers balling into his slacks. “It is just me.” He soothed, kissing your cheek again. 

You nodded. 

Then nodded again before slowly spreading your legs for him. He kissed your cheek again in encouragement. 

“Now…” His voice never rose past that of utter comfort. His hands moved over your legs, which trembled in slight nervousness and anticipation, before finding your hands. 

You allowed him to ease one out of its death grip of his pants leg. Allowed him to guide your hand to lay over your pubic mound, your breath shaky on every exhale.

“Show me?” You swallowed past the dryness in your mouth as you forced yourself into action. As you ran your index finger through your fold to get your finger slick before finding your clit, which throbbed up at for having stopped your earlier ministrations. You’re legs twitched as a jolt of pleasure shot through your belly. 

You began to rub your clit in small circles, keeping your pace even and mostly unchanged. The whole time Jonathan held you close, one hand laying flat on your stomach and the other still holding your wrist loosely.

“Is that…a good spot?” Jonathan asked to which you were quick to nod. 

“Mm-hum. Y-Yes.” He nodded, keeping his cheek against the side of your face, watching your every movement closely. So close like he was studying for an exam--or for battle. You couldn’t decide which one--not when steady pleasure coursed through you. Not when your hips begin to flicker in need to move. In need for more. “Do you--hah--do you want to try?” 

“Yes.” He all but panted. No hesitation filled your ears. No second guessing just pure want to do as you asked. 

You nodded, biting your lips as you gave your clit one last pass, trying to savor the buzz thumbing through your veins before removing your hand. You breathed in deeply, breasts heaving up and down as you found and guided Jonathan’s hand downward. 

He slowly ran his finger through your dripping folds just as you had, his touch making you bite your lip harder. And when he ever so slowly dragged his finger back up, passing just over your clit, your mouth flew open on a gasp, hand grabbing his to guide it right where it need to be. 

“There?” He asked, giving it a small, testing tug that made your hips jut against him. 

“Yes, yes. There. Right there.” You whined only for your whine to deepen to a moan as he began to rub your swollen clit in just the same way he watched you do. It was the same in every last way besides the fact it was his finger and that only made your head spin faster. 

“O-oh my--Nnngh--Jojo.” You grasped for his hand resting on your stomach, interlocking your fingers within his. 

“Is that okay?” He breathly asked, never once stopping his ministrations. Never once changing his pace. Everything stayed just the same and it was going to make you cum before you had even begun. 

“Yes…oh yes.” You held onto his hand for dear life while the other all but claws at his wrist. 

You felt it then--felt Jonathan’s cock stir within his pants against your back. Felt it gradually swell and harden and it only made your skin flash hotter. 

“Your fingers were inside when I walked in.” He whispered in your ear, causing yet another shiver to wreck through your body. “Should I do that too?” You moaned his name, letting your head lull back against his shoulder. 

“Y-yes.” 

“Show me?” He asked and still his finger never stopped moving against your clit.

“You--you’ll do--hhah--you’ll do this.” You managed, pulling your hand from his wrist to hold out your index and middle finger, curling them forward to show him how to touch you. “There--there is--nnugh--another g-good spot. Rougher--huhgh--on top.” You had no clue whether Jonathan could make sense of your jumble of words or not, but he nodded against your sweat-slick skin in understanding. 

“Should I do it now?” No sooner had you nodded than Jonathan suddenly stopped his finger’s movement. An utterly whiny, needy sound pulled from your throat faster than you could stop it. It was a sound you had never once produced in your life and one you felt the slightest bit of embarrassment for being unable to control. It had Jonathan’s body tensing behind you. “Did--did I do something wrong?” 

“No--No just--I need you to touch me. It was--felt so good.” You panted, running your hand up the back of his strong neck to mess with his short-cropped, blue-black hair. 

“Oh.” He simply said. You bit near painfully at your bottom lip when he lifted his hand ever further away from your weeping cunt. Lifted it away when all you wanted was it to be all over you. “And you stopped feeling good when I stopped?” You whined again, hips giving the slightest movement to try and find his hand once more.

“Jojo--are you--are you teasing me?” You turned your head up to look into his blue eyes, finding his face beat red and--was that mischief gleaming in his blue eyes. 

It was! The goof was trying to tease you. 

“Jojo!” You whined, tugging lightly at what little bit of hair you could grab hold of. “You’re being mean.” 

“Forgive me.” He murmured against your cheek. “I just--liked that sound you made.” 

He was trying to end you. 

Trying to get you so flustered you couldn’t even think straight. 

“Jo--” Whatever words you had planned on saying flew out the window when he sunk a thick, long finger into your core. 

He felt your gummy walls flutter and clench around him as you welcomed him in. Watched as your brows furrowed and lips part of a shaky inhale of breath, eyes so blown he thought the beautiful color of your iris would get taken over in your pleasure. 

 Jonathan added his second finger as you instructed, watching your legs spread wider to further suck them in. 

The sight of you like this, body exposed fully to him and bared so wide, was so sinful. A sight he had never thought to see had he not chosen to come home early. 

And how thankful he was of his choice. 

He curled his fingers within your convulsing walls, searching for that spot you had vaguely spoken of. A spot he found just an inch within your warmth that wasn’t so rough as it was ridged. 

You gasped, fingers tightening against his scalp and eyes squeezing shut at the touch. 

“There?” You could hardly form words besides a mewled yes. It was a sound that only further made Jonathan’s cock ache near painfully within the confines of his pants. 

He begins to gradually rub his fingertips against that spot, starting out on a slow, still testing pace. One you needed quickened now. 

“F-faster--please.” Jonathan was more than happy to comply, his quickened space filling the air with those same wet, squelching sounds he had walked in on. Sounds that molded and mixed with your moans and pants like a perfect melody. A melody Jonathan wanted to hear more and more of. One he knew he would be daydreaming about while away from you. 

Your pleasure built and built, warmth spreading from your core and down your thighs in telling of your end. 

“Mmm--Jojo--nngh--I’m--keep doing that. Oh please, please, please keep doing that.” Jonathan nodded, kissing at your earlobe. 

“Yes, love. Of course.” He whispered into your ear as he kept his pace nice and even and pressed oh so snuggly up against that wonderful spot. 

White hot euphoria collected deep within your belly. Euphoria that shot through you fast and had your walls tightening around his fingers in rapid succession. You moaned his name a bit too loudly but you could hardly care, not when you were seeing stars fall behind your eyelids. Not when Jonathan keeps his fingers working within you, guiding you through your finish. 

But as that pleasurable warmth began to fade, Jonathan showed no sign of stopping his fingers. Fingers that worked against your tired walls in a way that was too much and made you squirm in his strong grip around you. 

“Ahnhg--Jojo--Jojo you can st-stop.” 

“Oh--sorry.” He breathed, stopping his movement. “Did I…scratch your itch.” He asked while nuzzling his face into your neck. You gave a sigh in your utter satisfaction, running your fingers up and down his neck. 

“Yes. Oh yes. Very much.” You felt him smile into your hot skin before laying a kiss there. “Now,” You started once you’re breath had evened out some. You moved around so you could face your husband and look over his too-handsome face. “How about I scratch that itch of yours? Hum?” Jonathan’s face flushed beat red all over again and you watched him swallow sharply. 

“O-only if you wish, dear.” You all but smirked at him, brushing your hands over his broad chest. Hands you ran lower and lower until you were tugging lightly at his belt loop. 

“I very much wish to, my love.”

[naomijoestar]

⋆.ೃ JJBA SCENARIOS ࿔*:･

Masterlist here <3

genre: comedy, fluff

warnings: none

characters: jonathan, joseph, jotaro, josuke, giorno, jolyne

notes: GN!reader // i tried making this funny and lighthearted, so i hope i succeeded :)

You were infront of your mirror, wearing JoJo’s clothes and posing dramatically, until they walked in on you!

Jonathan Joestar

You’re striking the most elegant pose, Jonathan’s fancy coat draped over your shoulders, trying to look as noble as possible. Jonathan bursts through the door dramatically, as if walking in on a duel. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Good heavens!” he gasps, covering his heart like he’s been hit by an arrow of fashion.

He dramatically kneels down, bowing as if in the presence of royalty.

“You wear my clothes better than I ever could! You are… the true Joestar!”

He’s so sincere that it’s almost ridiculous. You try not to laugh as he swears loyalty to you, as if you’ve just become the Joestar heir.

Joseph Joestar

You’re in Joseph’s hat and scarf, throwing dramatic poses like an action hero in front of the mirror. Joseph slams the door open, doing his classic point.

“OH NO! YOU DIDN’T!”

He rushes over, gasping theatrically.

“You’ve stolen my STYLE!”

He grabs the nearest object (probably something completely random, like a broom), and starts mimicking your poses, going all-in with the ridiculousness.

“We’ll settle this with a pose-off! Loser buys dinner!”

You end up in a goofy battle of increasingly absurd poses, while Joseph cheers like you’re in a fashion show.

Jotaro Kujo

You’re mid-serious JoJo pose in Jotaro’s long coat and hat, looking tough as nails in the mirror. Jotaro silently walks in, spots you in full pose, and just freezes. For a solid five seconds, he says nothing, deadpan expression intact. Then, he lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Yare yare daze…”

But just when you think you’re about to get scolded, he pulls his hat down, hiding his eyes, and starts walking away.

“You’re not pulling it off. Lemme show you how it’s done.”

He comes back, slides in next to you, and strikes a way cooler pose without breaking a sweat. He stares at your reflection for a beat before muttering,

“It’s about attitude.”

It’s so unexpectedly cool you just gape at him, and he leaves like nothing happened.

Josuke Higashikata

You’re posing in Josuke’s iconic pompadour jacket, spinning in front of the mirror like you’re a rock star. Josuke barges in, his eyes immediately zeroing in on his jacket.

“NOOO! What are you doing in my precious jacket?!”

He’s torn between laughing and panicking, hands flailing.

“That’s, like, designer, dude!”

He rushes over, pulling at the jacket gently as if it’s fragile. Then he notices how cool you look mid-pose and suddenly freezes.

“Wait a sec… actually, you kinda look—”

But before he can finish the compliment, his eyes shoot wide open, and he throws a dramatic arm in front of you.

“No way, it’s still MY look! Get your own style, punk!”

You both end up laughing as he mock-fights you for his jacket back.

Giorno Giovanna

You’re dramatically posing in Giorno’s sleek suit, gazing at yourself like you’re the protagonist of a fashion magazine. Giorno walks in with his usual composed demeanor but stops mid-step when he sees you, his hair glowing like a halo.

Without saying a word, he pulls a golden rose from… somewhere (seriously tho where does he get those), and gracefully walks over, placing it in your hand.

“You… are perfection.” he declares with a flourish, like he’s coronating you as the new king of fashion.

Then, as if possessed by the spirit of the most fabulous model ever, Giorno joins you in posing—no words, just intense eye contact and synchronized majestic poses. The two of you end up striking so many fabulous poses together that the room practically sparkles.

“We are unstoppable.”

Jolyne Cujoh

You’re mid-action pose in Jolyne’s signature string-covered tank top, trying to channel all of her badassery. Jolyne kicks open the door like she’s about to fight a Stand, then just stops dead in her tracks when she sees you.

Her face scrunches up, trying to figure out if she should laugh or yell.

“What… the hell are you doing?!” she finally blurts, trying not to crack up.

You sheepishly explain, still frozen mid-pose, and she bursts out laughing, practically falling to the floor.

“You look ridiculous!” she says, wiping a tear from her eye. But then, as if flipping a switch, she goes full dramatic mode.

“Alright, if you’re gonna wear my stuff, you better work it.”

She jumps in front of the mirror next to you, both of you trying out increasingly ridiculous and over-the-top poses like you’re at a photoshoot. You’re both laughing too hard by the end to even finish.

[cokou]

Letters in Return

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞꒰➳precis. Passing out letters for the Jojo's!·˚ ·˚ ͟͟ tw. ehh, fluff!! :3·˚ ·˚ ͟͟ ✉ an. This made me remember my high school shits back when i used to confess using love letters, enjoy! LMAO. Also maybe a bit modern kinda AU?·˚ ༘₊· ·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞꒰ contains. Jonathan, Joseph, Jotaro, Josuke, Giorno, Jolyne·˚ ༘₊·

Jonathan Joestar

All throughout the nice morning weather, Jonathan had already wished he had gone home earlier than he expected to. He's already knocked himself out almost completely in his school's table, earning a loud discipline from the teacher and had gotten himself in trouble for the rest of the day already. It was only 10:42 AM on Monday, not even half way through hell of this week. Not to mention Dio, was getting on his nerves recently and it just stresses him out.

It hadn't been too long since Jonathan had started talking to you against the school's hallways, everyday during lunch time it was packed with students from every corner and he used to resort it out with talking to you almost everyday on his free time. Yet he never failed to notice Dio always trying to pry his way into you two's relationship. Although Jonathan trusts you enough to know that his awful words wouldn't dig deep into your sweet heart, he couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed at the blonde.

What he failed to notice was how much words you lacked during your communication with each other, you already knew deep in your heart that you loved Jonathan in every other way, yet every time you try to make stance of it, it always just fails. Leaving you to resort out in writing your emotions on your journal every passing day. It eventually got so packed that you held an extra journal every time just in case you run out.

It's been 4 days, 4 days since you've started writing letter by letter that you planned on giving Jonathan, you couldn't hold your feelings any longer. You just had to take your emotions out to ease your feelings, even if it meant to get rejected.

You thought love is blind, whatever it meant just for you to really tell how much you love him. But little did you know that Jonathan does love you as well, he just couldn't find a way to fix through his routine and make small little letters and notes for you, especially when he had Dio pry over the smallest things around the house.

Right after you finished your letter, you wasted no time decorating it to the brim with cute little designs that matched Jonathan's personality and his liking.

Right after he received the letter he was in awe, all the emotions you poured into writing just for him dug right into his sweet heart and even started crying tears of joy. He had to be excused out of the classroom to pick himself out together.

He would 10000% keep all the letters you end up giving him and even returns you some of his hand-written letters as well. He has a little box full of your favorite color themes and he has already filled it with thousands of letter from you.

Would definitely send you long written letters that are atleast taller than him or you.

Joseph Joestar

You never knew which of his personality you fell for, but it definitely did NOT disappoint. Joseph was your senior back at school, but it didn't stop you two from getting as close as possible. It was almost impossible to match this MAN'S attitude, I mean have YOU seen how he's so sassy?

But one thing's for sure, he always had your back whenever you needed it. Joseph always figured out what you needed the most when you were even a bit under the weather. Everyday around with Joseph seems to be all fun's and laugh as he has such personality to take care of, he doesn't bother sneaking out from his class if it meant that he could find you and talk to you as your schedule is way different from his.

He'd throw a fit of rage, happiness, and sadness once he had gotten caught in his acts and he makes his way around it just so you wouldn't see him naturally so desperate. He drags his friend, Caesar all along his plans with you, you never seemed to mind but it made giving Joseph hints harder as Caesar always had him, just about a mile away.

Although, sometimes you get some alone times with Joseph, it never seemed enough. You'd get hard mixed feelings from his behavior and attitude that you wouldn't know what he feels about you, on a random sunny day he could be flirting with you all day until you gave in and sometimes he had the most unbearable dry attitude out of nowhere.

You never failed to resort your feelings to writing a bunch of heartfelt letters for him and keeping them sealed inside your little "PROJECT DO NOT TOUCH" box at home. Even if you had absolutely no problems in keeping your feelings all to yourself, sometimes it just reached it's peeked and it was too late to take back when you slid the hand-written letter to Caesar in order to give them out to Joseph.

His attitude would change from being playful to becoming flirty almost everyday ever since he got your letter, sometimes even beckoning Caesar to ask you more about your feeling to him in order to listen and take more of your words deep inside his heart.

He never lets his funny persona falter when with you, but at times, he tries to make everything funny that it gets everyone in the square to look at you two.

He intends to always keep your loving letters inside his closet and putting dates in each one he receives, although he's not the best in keeping items, he sometimes loses it and throws a tantrum until he finds it then. He brags all the recent letters he gets from you to Caesar and sometimes even Caesar would give up having him on hold for you.

Jotaro Kujo

You needed to atleast share a classroom schedule with him or have a stand to understand his stoic behavior. He never lets anyone see through his attitude and it was hard as hell to even get him to look at your direction. Luckily for you, you just had enough to make him look for a second at least. He never showed interest in what you put him up with but he's just always there.

He wouldn't make much communication with you but he was indeed a great listener, you never knew how you fell inlove with such a man but at times, you feel like he's all you need despite his lack of attention to you.

It would be better if you were a stand user so that you could really understand what he's going through completely, either way whenever you appear he shuns you away at times when he doesn't feel like speaking to anyone. (which is almost everyday). It's hard to catch up even a glimpse of his feelings or rather what he feels towards someone. Although you never gave up your feelings for him, you always have your journal to talk to when you feel like Jotaro has shunned you away way too many times.

Instead of having too much of sweet letters inside your little journal, it was filled with his little complaints of you and whatever he spoke to you with. He would never be open with you either way, but speaking to you on a random Tuesday does it, it doesn't matter if he simply tells you off or if he's just asking you to do a favor, either way you never really understood him.

Reaching out on him with your hand-written letters never seems to be the answer but yet you did it.

You wouldn't really catch a glimpse of his appearance throughout the first days you had given him your letter, in fact it felt like he would just shun you away.

Although he showed up next week in the hallway when you suddenly bumped on to him while in a rush, he would stare at you like you did something wrong to him before he told you that you didn't seem half bad for a person of interest and he just walked away.

He wouldn't really keep the letters you gave him, he would lose it right after placing it down somewhere and he doesn't even bother reading all of it. He already knew what was written either way as he experienced it a lot of times.

Completely denies his feelings for you.

Josuke Higashikata

Now, Josuke would most likely be the one to fall in love with you first, he simply just doesn't know about it. Although it is quite obvious that he likes you, you pretend to be blinder every time he drops of hints, just to make sure you never get his behavior blown up.

It's a win-win situation you would have with Josuke, although jealousy within loving him is required. He gets swooned over by girls in the day up to dismissal of school, and it's really frustrating. Even if he shows absolutely no emotions with them, it feels like you're competing with the world.

Frequent talks around the school OR going to school is heavily experienced between you two especially if you both live near each others house. He would drop you of your house door or simply knock on your door to walk with you to school, he hangs out with you in the corridor and even shares textbooks with you if you need it. Although he's the one who always needs to borrow your stuff, you never really cared as long as he returns it to you.

If you were in the same class schedule as him, oh boy, you two would be reported for chaos almost every morning on school grounds. He would end up getting seated at the other side of the classroom from you as you two always snicker around until the professor kicks you both out of the classroom.

Now, he swoons inside your bag like it was his whenever he needed a couple of notes to review for the incoming recitation and he just so happens to stumble upon a 'notebook' full of writing on it. He turns a few pages and ends up reading half way through your journal before you snatch it away from him all nervous, you were lucky enough that you never wrote his name in between the pages.

While it seemed all good to you, Josuke would indeed feel a wave of mixed feelings radiating from you until you clear up some things from him as you never really mentioned a name.

Come on, he would definitely keep everything you give him, notes? kept. Your little love letters? He already pinned it on his dashboard come on.

He tries his best to hand you out letters once in a while so that you could feel what he feels whenever you hand him sweet love letters.

Keeps his letter drafts out of reach from the naked eye as he feels really desperate in his letters whenever he opens up to you.

Giorno Giovanna

There is absolutely no doubt that Giorno would keep all your letters stored in the most important file documents as he wants it to be kept no matter the situation is. He would cherish everything you give him even if it were just small talks along with your laughter. He's always worrying about your whereabouts and your well being as his job could get both you and him in trouble.

Although if you were in an organization as well then he would swear to protect you no matter what happens, your safety is such a precaution towards him and he would do anything to protect you.

With that being said, It didn't take quite long for you to love Giorno, just a couple of weeks did the trick as he's literally so sweet. He already beat you into it as he recognized your feeling not even after a week of it happening, it definitely wasn't the best part but he took notice of how well kept you organized your drawers and always having your journal out during excruciating days, only to rant about your feelings about him.

He never pryed on your privacy and well expected that you would come around and tell him either way, not wanting to ruin your surprise. Always takes notice on your attitude changes whenever he's close, although it was quite obvious, he never gave out a hint that he already knew. It took you a full month to muster up the courage and give him a heartfelt letter when you taught your duties would be over, he already healed you way even before you realized.

I already said that he would 10000% keep your little love letters and would label them with sweet sticky notes ranging from the dates given and little summaries of its containts.

Designs little cupboards dedicated to your likings and keeps them out of reach. He cherishes and reads every single letter you hand him.

He gives you little letters on sticky notes that fits inside a wallet.

Jolyne Cujoh

Handing out letters inside a jail cell is quite tricky, but you have a few tricks up your sleeves. Meeting Jolyne in jail certainly isn't the greatest to ever happen but also the best to ever happen! Jolyne makes everything happen between the cells so that nothing happens to you.

When you acquired a stand, it only became easier to communicate with Jolyne, although it swoons a lot of trouble, it never made you regret anything. Going through bad days against your will with Jolyne really isn't what you're looking for in a relationship but whenever you two are with each other, theres just nothing bad that could ever happen.

Keeping notes and letters away from the guards eyes are always troublesome as it even requires bribing. When you do get a hang of it, it definitely seems way easier than it used to. Jolyne would read your letters when she gets caught up in a stressful activity that got her sent away (again), she admits that it really motivates her to get out and see you again.

Letters with Jolyne always comes in handy, doesn't matter if it's simply for communication or for your love feelings for each other.

She tries her best to keep it but somehow just loses it afterwards when she 'kept' it inside her underwear. (it fell whilst fighting)

You wouldn't really expect your duo with each other inside a jail cell to hold up..

·˚ ͟͟ ✉ an. OKAY I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS, I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I WAS WRITING HALF WAY THROUGH AND I KEPT ON ZONING OUT ON GIORNO'S PART AND I ALWAYS MISPELL HIS NAME AS GIORNA WTF MYGOD.

©Cokou 2025, all works belongs to me.

[azedakude]

Would I be able to request the jojos with a chubby s/o who's severely insecure? Like to where they won't want their partner to touch them and, even when presented with reassurance, they won't believe them as they tell them they look good? I suffer with this a bit, insecurities grow due to family and friends telling me to lose weight and be more active. It always gets to my head yk?

❁ 𐑮𐑮 ¡note 𖥻 autor! ﹆ i totally understand that!, if you need a safe place to blow off steam when you're feeling this way, feel free to message me and we can chat! <3 sorry for the severe delay !! and, i'll do a few headcannons of this, if you don't mind. i hope you like it, you are very strong for coping with this situation on your own! ♡

╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴✦ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴ ╴

ᰍ ★ ៸៸ #꯭# ❨ ♥︎ ❩ JoJo's with a insecure s/o !

꒰ 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 :

✦ He always understood that you feel this way about your body, most of the time he does his best not to bother you with compliments, or physical affection, and everything so that you can be comfortable around him. Instead, Jonathan would speak to you sweetly and very patiently, making you understand that your body is valid, and your feelings and insecurities are too. “Sweetheart, you shouldn't get carried away by bad comments about your body, they don't make sense. Could you tell me the next time someone says those comments to you? I will make them understand that those blasphemies should not be said to my partner. They do not know what magnificent person they are talking about.” little by little, Jonathan will help you manage your insecurities, facing them with you, making you see that you are not alone in this battle, he will always be by your side.

✦ Although Jonathan has rarely admitted it out loud; more than anything to not make you uncomfortable, he is fascinated by your cheeks and love your rolls; since he find it extremely attractive and even adorable. — He has the habit of holding your hand whenever he can; caressing it and also getting lost in your eyes, when caressing your hand; he will always write nice things with his index finger on your palm.

✦ From time to time, every time you fall asleep on Jonathan's chest due to fatigue, he will begin to caress your scalp with his right hand, while with his left hand he will begin to lightly pat your back, enhancing your sleep. At the same time; Jonathan will whisper various compliments and sweet words in your ear, admitting all the admiration he has for you. “I know you don't feel comfortable when I tell you these things when you're awake, but... I really love you for who and how you are, Y/N, no one and nothing can change that. You are perfect in my eyes, and that is the most important thing to me.”

✦ There were very few occasions when you wore a dress; but when that occasion passed where you used them, Jonathan would simply appreciate you from top to bottom, loving you with his eyes and smiling from ear to ear when he saw your beauty. “You are an angel in my eyes... I had never seen such perfection, until I saw you.” Jonathan would be the first to remark how divine you look in such clothes, always asking your permission to place his hands on your waist, and then kiss you gently.

꒰ 𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐇 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 :

✦ Although he is an extremely funny and hilarious guy, when you feel comfortable enough to tell him about your insecurities about your physique; he took action on the matter in a subtle, but at the same time direct way. — Joseph from time to time, if not almost always; he would buy a bouquet of flowers, every day was a different types of flowers to give to you; the flowers would always be accompanied with a poem handwritten by himself (with artistic help from Caesar Zepelli, obviously) “I may not be worthy of your presence, but I am willing to move heaven, sea and earth to show you that my love for you will never die, and will never change, because I have fallen madly in love with you, and no one else; my heart belongs to you, Y/N. — JoJo.”

✦ Every time he has the opportunity, Joseph will place tender and slow kisses all over your body, especially on your shoulders and abdomen, since these two places are his favorite parts of your body. Also, when he feels playful enough, he will tenderly caress your waist, hips, thighs and shoulders. — Every little physical affection that Joseph gives you, he will do it with total love and care, always looking for one of your best reactions, without wanting you to feel uncomfortable, since, for him, you are the most important person in his life.

✦ Joseph loves to carry you bridal style, or carry you in his arms in general; whenever you are in his arms, Joseph will kiss your cheeks and whisper tender compliments in your ear, occasionally hiding his own face against your neck to tickle you to make you laugh. “I love carrying you in my arms, you know? It makes me feel like that blue knight, who comes to rescue you.”

✦ When it comes to someone disrespecting you and insulting you because of your physique; regardless of who it is, Joseph will take it completely personally and take matters into his own hands, literally. — If it is completely necessary, Joseph will not hesitate to fight with the person who has disrespected you.

꒰ 𝐉𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐔𝐉𝐎 :

✦ He would listen to you vent about your insecurities, showing that he would always be there for you through thick and thin, without forgetting that he would gently hug you after each vent; asking you if he can kiss your forehead. “I want to see you well, Y/N, I will never leave your side, I will help you and I will be in your worst moments.” Jotaro will always tell you the same thing and he will always demonstrate it in different ways.

✦ Jotaro didn't care much about how you looked physically, but since you confessed to being insecure about your physique; he began to be much more patient with you regarding your insecurities. From time to time, Jotaro would hug you from behind every chance he got, whispering nice compliments in your ear. “You are very pretty, you know that?”

✦ He would be the type of boyfriend who would listen to you vent about your insecurities at every moment; always paying maximum attention to how you feel, and then knowing how to react and cope with the situation so that you feel better. — In turn, after each vent, Jotaro will ask you if he can hug you and comfort you for a long time, listening to you, pampering you and giving you affection.

✦ Like Joseph, he would act extremely defensive if someone outside disrespected you regarding your insecurities; without hesitating for a second to defend yourself, both verbally and physically. With the difference that, after that, Jotaro would stay by your side, comforting and supporting you.

꒰ 𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐀 :

✦ Josuke would have in mind about your problem with your physique; ttherefore, he would always try to listen to you and support you above all, accompanying you in every relapse and every progress you present, always encouraging you and giving you compliments so that you can see yourself through his own eyes. “I understand that it is difficult for you.. But believe me, my love, you are more than perfect just the way you are. You shouldn't change anything.”

✦ He would always make sure you eat your meals; since he would not want you to begin to neglect yourself in other equally important ways based on your insecurity, since for him, everything about you is important and must be taken care of with the well-deserved care.

✦ Whenever he has the opportunity, Josuke will always ask your permission to hug and caress you, while whispering nice compliments into your hair, protecting you in the middle of the hug, so that you feel safe. “I will protect you from every evil in this world, my love, I promise.”

✦ Apart from caressing your body, he will always ask your permission to give you multiple butterfly kisses on certain parts of your body; to tickle you, while he whispers nice compliments and positive affirmations between kisses.

꒰ 𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐎 𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 :

✦ Giorno would try everything in his power to make you feel better about yourself; whether it be with positive affirmations, caresses, physical affection and more than anything; unconditional attention and listening above all, since, for him, you are the most important person in his universe.

✦ Whenever you feel insecure about your body, Giorno would ask you to do breathing exercises with him; to calm you down and keep you at peace, and then ask your permission so he can hug you and hold you in his arms; while repeating nice phrases to cheer you up.

✦ You would be the perfect muse for Giorno; and he would demonstrate this in his paintings, every time he wanted to paint and portray you on a canvas, he would always ask your permission before doing so, having you as a reference and divine muse. After each painting, he would take the liberty of kissing you, caressing you, pampering and hugging you.

✦ Whenever the two of you go to sleep, Giorno will whisper nice compliments and positive affirmations in your ear with a sweet voice, while he caresses your arms and places tender kisses on your temple. “You are the most divine person I have ever seen in my life.. Did you know that? I will remind you every day, so that you always keep it in mind and do not forget.”

꒰ 𝐉𝐎𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐉𝐎𝐇 :

✦ She would have been clear from minute one that you felt insecure about your physique when you decided to tell her about your insecurities; since then, Jolyne took the time to listen to you, accompany you, support and love you; always making it clear to you that she loves you just the way you are.

✦ Jolyne would get straight to the point every time she gave you a compliment; always leaving you clear and present that for her, you are the most perfect person she has ever seen, while she would always ask your permission before hugging you and comforting you so that you feel better.

✦ Little by little, Jolyne would encourage you to wear dresses; while she would encourage you to see yourself in the mirror, while she highlights each unique, beautiful and divine part of your body, starting from the tip of your head, to your feet, without forgetting to give you a thousand and one compliments, kissing you and hugging you in the process. “I will always say it and I will never get tired of telling you; pretty face, you are beautiful just the way you are, you are like a lotus flower; beautiful and delicate.”

✦ Jolyne would be the type of girlfriend who wouldn't mind in the slightest and would always try to find the perfect opportunity to carry you in her arms in bridal style, always to make you smile and cheer you up emotionally. — While smiling at you, looking into your eyes and repeating positive affirmations in your ear, so that you see yourself as perfect as she sees you in her eyes.

[mrseucliffexxx]

YALL LOOK WHAT I FOUND ON PINTEREST 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

@3niqma DIE LAATSTE FOTO 😳😳😳

[clown420cunt]

Sweet thoughts and melted popsicles - Jonathan x fem!reader

Summery: You ever just admired your friends for who they are?

In which Jonathan, argyle and reader is high out of their minds.

Warnings: drug use! It’s just weed.

Tags: Jonathan x fem!reader, Alt!Reader, stoner!Reader, stoner!Jonathan, stoner!Argyle, Comfort, Friendship, friendly admiration, FLUFF.

Masterlist

Word count: 1K

———————————————————————

It started out as him just staring into space, or that’s what he thought until his mind court up with what he was looking at.

She was just laying there. On the sofa covered in a heap of pillows and a couple of blankets.

Snoozing, With the most blissful expression upon her features.

He didn’t pay attention to the small pile of drool that was collecting on one of the pillows she had placed her head on before succumbing to the tiredness of the blend they were smoking.

Her shirt had started to rise up a bit exposing a stripe of skin where her sweatpants ended, normally you wouldn’t catch her in this type of clothes but being in the comfort of her own space she didn’t much care and it was something he was immensely thankful for.

No makeup, no heavy clothes fit for making a statement anywhere she went.

To show off how much she didn’t wanna be oppressed to wear whatever the magazine told you every poser for miles should wear to fit in.

It was truly her in her most relaxed state of mind and body and she was beautiful.

He didn’t know when he started to look at her in this way. As a comfort, as a place to escape to when school or his own mind became to much to bare.

The Pink Floyd vinyl she put on before falling into this peaceful state of mind came to an end, and for a second he thought he should get up to turn it over again so they could listen to the album one more time, but his body didn’t care to respond as he continued to admire the girl laying opposite him just a coffee table away.

The beanbag he was sitting in grounding him as another 5 minutes passed without him knowing.

The soft carpet on the floor touching his bare feet sending immense bliss through him as it became the only thing he could focus on as he moved them over it.

She moved her head a bit, closing her mouth stopping the puddle on the pillow from becoming bigger.

His focus once again turning to her sleeping form as he continued to stare into space.

Now and again noticing a hair out of place or how deeply she was breathing. No thoughts coming or going in this span of time, just pure clam.

His attention once again shifted but this time it was towards the door of the basement they were in.

Argyle was making his way down the stairs he once, an hour ago, ascended.

Carrying different bags of chips and gummies, as well as the popsicles she requested before clocking out a mere 10 minutes after he left.

Pushing what was on the table to the side, a couple of candy rappers landing on the carpet, he dumbed the armful of snacks on the unstable surface of the table she stole from the sidewalk about a month ago, the wooden top still not secured to the metal form it was laying on.

Walking to the end of the sofa he started to push her feet away form the end of the couch making room for himself to sit but also making her stir and wake-up from the impromptu nap.

Instantly shifting the blissful expression to a much more confuses one.

Looking around trying to figure out what woke her up, she spot Argyle and mumbled something mostly incoherent about how he could have taken the other beanbag, to which he responds with a more understandable sentence of “this spot was closer to the bong and the table, dude”.

As he begins to set up his next bowl, she notice the now snack filled table and sit up further.

Argyle passes her the now half melted popsicles. Staring at the box she looks over the other side of the coffee table and meets the eyes of the male sitting in the beanbag directly across from her.

Seemingly confused as to what she’s holding before looking back at it only to realise that the box is the snack she’s been craving and it needs to put it the freezer if she doesn’t want to drink the so called snack.

Getting up she makes her way over to the fridge/freezer combo she keeps in the corner of the room.

Walking back over to the lounge area she pit stops for a glass of water asking if they wanted one to. Theres a nod from beanbag before his registers what she asked.

Placing three glasses on the now over filled table she pours two glasses of water from the pitcher before handing one to him. She sits back down and shifts her gaze to Argyle as he starts coughing but quickly shifts it back to the other male before a mild laugh escapes her.

What a beautiful sound.

She pours a glass of water before setting it down on front of the long haired man and shifting the bong over to her side of the table, reading it for her own hit.

It goes just as well as her friends hit and she also started coughing but quickly stops herself and tries to take slow deep breaths and sips of water to stop herself from the onslaught of continuous burning in her throat.

Getting back up she speed walks over to get a popsicle to help stop the hurting sensation. That’s why she wanted them in the first place, that and they’re fucking delious.

Returning she sits in the middle of the couch and pat the seat to her left signaling for him to come join them on the sofa.

Staring at the spot for a second or two his body finally responds to his brain and he rises from the beanbag with a wobbly demeanour and makes his way over besides her.

As soon as he’s sat her hand make it’s way to his head and into his hair, circling his scalp sending waves of pleasure over it.

He sinks further into the couch closing his eyes.

He wouldn’t mind staying here in this moment forever. Just having a chill afternoon with his two best friends.

———————————————————————

This has been posted on my AO3 since 2022! I posted it before I made a new account on here, but now that I’m hopefully posting more writing, I thought I should cross post it.

I hope alle my Jonathan lovers enjoyed!

“This is a comfort fic for myself because after the seeing episode 3 season 4 I couldn’t get stoner Jonathan out of my head. I might write more at some later time, who knows.” - Liv 29/5 22.

[panic-at-the-fiction]

Jump, Then Fall

Summary: Having been friends with Jonathan for so long it’s getting harder to deny your growing feelings for each other without the fear of ruining your friendship. Jonathan x best friend reader, Friends to lovers, cute and fluffy

A/N: love the fictional trope but personally in real life I’m against dating your friends or at least your best friend. Like bro that is truly awkward if y’all break up cause you got to find a new best friend. Anyway this is my first Jonathan Byers fic and I’m just trying to get back in the habit of writing over Christmas break so hope y’all enjoy and expect more from me soon.

Panic rushed in as you saw the clock beside your bed, you overslept. Not by much, but enough that you could only pray to get out to the bus in time. You ran around your room getting ready, forgoing breakfast and plenty of other things as you checked the time again. Grabbing your bag, you bolted out into the yard as you could just make out the bus at the bus stop a couple of houses down. You didn’t even make it halfway down your driveway as you watched it pull away, leaving you in the dust.

That was it, you were fucked. There was one last viable option, but you would have to catch him first. You grabbed your old rusted up bike and took off down the road to the Byers residence.

It wasn’t but a 10-minute bike ride, a ride you were quite familiar with. You spent half your time over at their house, ever since you were young, your parents could find you there on any given afternoon.

You felt so thankful to see your best friend's car still parked in his driveway, and you ditched your bike on the lawn. You knocked on the door winded from your bike ride and were happy to be greeted by Mrs. Byers.

“(Y/n), sweetie, what are you doing here?” She said, ushering you into the house.

“I missed the bus again, and I was hoping to catch Jonathan and get a ride to school.”

“He’s brushing his teeth. Here come in the kitchen, have you eaten yet?”

“No, I skipped breakfast in hope of saving time.” You sighed as the panic you felt since that morning began to disappear.

“Well, you got time now, so eat.” She commanded as she set you down at the table that still had eggs toast and bacon set out. Will was also sitting at the table eating his breakfast.

“Hey Will.”

“Hey (y/n), late again?”

“Yep,” you sighed as you fixed yourself a plate. “Whatcha working on?”

“It’s a scene from our latest campaign. We came across a salamander creature that almost got us, but luckily, I had a spell that saved us at the last minute.”

“Sounds like quite the quest,” you smiled, continuing to eat and listen as he filled you in on his latest campaign.

“Alright kid, you can finish your story later. You have to go brush your teeth.” Joyce said as she took Will's plate away, shooing him off down the hall.

Jonathan finally emerged into the kitchen ready for school. His hair was still a bit damp, and you tried not to notice. He wasn’t even shocked by your presence in his house. “Overslept?”

“Yep.” You nodded, taking note of how his voice was a bit deeper this early in the morning.

“What about that alarm clock I got you for Christmas?”

“Still slept through it, just by ten minutes, though.”

“I told you I can just give you a ride every day. You don’t have to ride the bus.”

“My parents are too proud to let me accept that offer and too stubborn to get me a car of my own.”

“How did you get here?”

“I rode my bike.”

“The old rusty one that can’t even stand up right?”

“The very same.”

He laughed, just a small little laugh. The same old usual small laugh you got from him, but it still hit you all the same.

“Will, hurry, we gotta go.” Jonathan called down the hall. You snapped yourself back to reality and stood up, thanking Mrs. Byers for the breakfast.

Jonathan dropped Will off at the middle school, and you couldn’t help, but admire how sweet he was with his brother.

He was telling you something now, speaking to you, telling you a story or something, but you were lost. Just staring at him, you do that a lot these days. You two have been friends for years, but you’ve always wanted more, always liked Jonathan. As you’ve gotten older, it's harder to deny how much you wanted to be with him. Even now, as he talked to you, all your brain could hear was “we should be together.”

“So you want a ride home in the afternoon or are you taking the bus back? I mean, I can give you a ride, and you just come back to the house for dinner tonight.”

How he hadn’t noticed yet how dazed you were around him, you had no idea. “Yeah, totally, sounds fun.”

The afternoon passed, and soon you found yourself laying on Jonathan's bed, ignoring your homework and choosing to instead stare at the ceiling.

“Have you figured out problem number 4?” Jonathan asked from where he sat on the floor beside the bed.

“No,” you laughed.

“Are you even trying?”

“Nope, I gave up when we started.”

He sighed, laughing as he tossed the books aside and plopped down on the mattress with you. “This math class is going to kill me. Who needs math anyway?”

“We do, apparently.”

You smiled, turning on your side to face him. He was smiling at you just the same, with his hair lightly falling into his face. You could feel your heart speed up as you reached out and brushed his hair out of his eyes. You loved moments like this, just you and him together where you’ve always been.

Things have been different for a while now. You both could feel it. The little brushes of hands had become a bit more frequent, comfortable silence in the extra bits of closeness like this. This couldn’t be one-sided, you thought.

Oh what a dumb thought because it was the last straw to push you forward as you lightly kissed Jonathan before you could change your mind.

You pulled away in shock, both of you staring at each with identical expressions. Both of you set up and slightly away from each other as you process.

“Did I just?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“And we just?”

“Mmmhm.”

“I have been thinking about that all day.” You sighed, almost relieved.

“Really?” He seemed surprised.

“I mean, yeah.” You sat for a moment before you got the courage to look over at him. “Well say something.”

“I don’t know what to say. I… I mean, you’re my best friend (y/n).” Jonathan stood up and started pacing. “I mean, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about you that way, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I mean, you’re my best friend!”

“Well, maybe I want to be more than just your best friend. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have just kissed you randomly, but I think you want more too.” He didn’t respond and continued to pace.

You stood up and grabbed his hands. “Jonathan, will you just look at me.” You could see the worry in his eyes, you’d known him long enough to know he feared what this might mean. “Don’t forget, I can read your thoughts.” You joked. “Better you just say them out loud and save us both some time.”

“You know I like you too, but I would rather not ruin our friendship. Other than my mom and will you’re all I got. I mean, we’ve been best friends since we were kids, since as early as I can remember.”

“So? I have loved you since as early as I can remember. I would rather not mess this up either, but no one’s ever been there for me like you have. You mean a lot to me and I need you in my life, so I’m not going to let this get ruined. No one has ever cared for me the way you do.” You still held his hands in yours, tracing circles as you smiled reassuringly.

“And I liked to think I’ve been there for you, too. So I know it’s a bit risky, but I’m asking you to take a leap of faith with me. Jump, then fall into me.” Doing your best to smile, but a small bit of doubt creeped in. What if this was all in your head, and you pushed him too far this time and this wasn’t what he wanted.

Before those thoughts could carry you away in a downhill spiral, you felt his hands cup your face as he pulled you in for another kiss. Not a light brush like before, but a real deep kiss.

He pulled you in close, your hands resting on his chest as he kissed you. Only pulling away just enough to get air as you both rested your foreheads together.

“Just jump, then fall.” He repeated quietly. “Means you’ll catch me right.” He laughed, that same laugh that had you dazed just this morning. “Because if you're just going to drop me, I should just go.” He said, smiling as he attempted to pull away.

“Oh no you don’t” you laughed as you tugged him back into another kiss.

[monster-mash-m]

Imagine convincing Jonathan Joestar to let him let you suck him off. He wasn’t much of a receiver because he thinks a gentleman would only give in the bedroom.

So when you start deepthroating that behemoth of a man, he starts squirming in your hands. Immediately melting and moaning like a whore. He doesn’t know how to handle being the receiver.

Just wanna make him crumble in my hands.

Idk something about domming a person bigger than me does something, it lets my inner beast out.

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Behind Closed Doors

Cillian Murphy x F! Make-up Artist Reader

Summary: Cillian uses you.

Wordcount: 8.3k

Warnings: THIS IS RAPE

Smut with a plot! but the plot sucks?, unsafe sex, switch! Cillian, extremely perverted! Cillian, virgin! reader, cherry-popping, peer pressure, threatening, gaslighting, manipulating, whimpering, whining, begging, crying sort of, m! oral receiving, f! overstimulating, fingering, semi-cockwarming, forced swallowing, forced kissing, face-fucking, spitting, breeding, choking, degrading, belittling, slapping, and no aftercare!

Cillian sat in his trailer on the bustling movie set, the faint hum of activity outside seeping through the walls. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, a habit he often indulged in when lost in thought. Today's scenes were relatively straightforward, nothing too demanding, but he knew the importance of being fully prepared. The makeup artist would be arriving soon, and he wanted to tidy up his space before she arrived.

The trailer was a small, cozy haven amidst the chaos of the film set. It was sparsely decorated, with a few personal touches here and there—a framed photograph of his family, a well-worn book on the table, and the faint scent of his favorite cologne lingering in the air. Cillian moved about the space with a quiet efficiency, straightening up the few items that were out of place. As he worked, he hummed a tune under his breath, a habit that helped him relax and focus his mind. The melody was soft and soothing, a stark contrast to the bustling energy outside. He glanced at the clock, noting that he had a bit of time before the makeup artist was due to arrive.

As he sat there, lost in thought, memories of his early days as an actor flooded his mind. The struggles, the rejections, the moments of doubt—they had all shaped him into the actor he was today. He had fought hard for his place in the industry, and he was grateful for every role, every opportunity that had come his way.

Cillian patiently sits in the make-up chair waiting, twiddling his thumbs, and kicking his feet which are just a bit off the ground. His presence in the room commands attention, his posture relaxed yet poised, exuding an air of quiet confidence. The soft glow of the vanity lights highlights his chiseled features, casting subtle shadows that accentuate his sharp cheekbones and intense blue eyes. As the door opens, Cillian's smile widens, a genuine warmth lighting up his face as he sees her enter the room. He stands up slowly, a graceful movement that speaks of both strength and elegance, and walks over to her. Setting aside her belongings, he opens his arms wide, inviting her into a warm embrace. His embrace is comforting, his body language conveying a sense of familiarity and affection.

Their hug is long and meaningful, a silent exchange of emotions that transcends words. Cillian holds her close, his arms wrapped around her in a protective embrace. He can feel the tension melt away from her body, replaced by a sense of peace and comfort in his presence. As they finally pull apart, Cillian looks into her eyes, his gaze intense yet gentle.

His gaze lands on her, and he can't help but look her up and down, his eyes lingering on her figure clad in a provocative outfit that leaves little to the imagination. She stands before him, unaware of his scrutiny, adjusting her attire with a casual nonchalance that belies the effect she has on him. She exudes confidence, a sense of knowing that draws him in despite his best efforts to resist. Cillian's thoughts drift, his mind replaying their interactions, each moment etched vividly in his memory. He knows he shouldn't be looking at her like this, shouldn't be feeling this pull towards her, but he can't help himself. She's a temptation he can't resist, a forbidden fruit that beckons to him with every glance, every smile.

Cillian settled back into his makeup chair, the cushion sighing softly beneath his weight. He ran his fingers through his hair, the strands slipping effortlessly through his long, dexterous fingers. The action was habitual, a subconscious attempt to smooth out the day’s dishevelment. His hair, a striking shade of dark brown, shone under the soft, warm lights of the vanity mirror. He glanced at his reflection, his piercing blue eyes momentarily locking onto the mirror’s surface, analyzing the man looking back at him. His trailer was a sanctuary of sorts, now becoming where the magic of transformation happened daily. The air was tinged with the scent of various cosmetics, an olfactory mix of powders, creams, and the faint hint of hairspray, she always smelled like that but he never cared about it. The lighting, strategically placed around the mirror, cast a soft, flattering glow on his features, emphasizing the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the chiseled contours of his jaw. It was a far cry from the harsh, unyielding lighting on set, which often required these moments of touch-up and refinement.

The makeup artist, a petite woman with a keen eye for detail and a steady hand, stood behind him. Her presence was a familiar comfort, a silent partner in the daily ritual of transformation. She was unlocking her makeup case, the metallic clicks punctuating the quiet hum of the room. She paused, glancing at him through the mirror with a soft, inquisitive expression.

"So how did you sleep?" she asked, her voice gentle yet curious.

Cillian chuckled lightly, the sound rich and warm, echoing softly in the intimate space. He flashed a soft smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and brought a touch of warmth to his otherwise cool demeanor. "Oh, I slept pretty well," he replied, his Irish accent infusing his words with a melodic cadence. His voice was calm, reassuring, a testament to the restful night he had enjoyed. As she began her work, her hands moving with practiced precision, Cillian closed his eyes momentarily, savoring the sensation. The soft brush of the makeup sponge against his skin was almost therapeutic, a soothing counterpoint to the often chaotic world of film production. He could feel the gentle pressure as she applied the foundation, blending it seamlessly to create the flawless canvas that the camera demanded.

His mind drifted, thoughts meandering through the events of the previous day. It had been a long shoot, the kind that left him both physically and mentally drained. Yet, the exhaustion was tempered by the satisfaction of a job well done. He thought about the scenes they had captured, the nuances of his performance, the subtle shifts in emotion that he had strived to convey. Acting, for him, was a dance of precision and passion, a delicate balance of technical skill and raw, unfiltered emotion. The makeup artist’s touch brought him back to the present. She was meticulously blending the makeup around his eyes, her fingers feather-light yet purposeful. He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze in the mirror. There was a silent communication between them, a mutual understanding forged through countless hours spent together in this very chair.

"Any dreams?" she asked, her tone light and conversational. It was a question she often posed, a way to fill the silence and perhaps, glean a bit more insight into the enigmatic man before her.

Cillian tilted his head slightly, considering her question. "Nothing too memorable," he said after a moment, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Just the usual mix of nonsense and fleeting moments." He rarely remembered his dreams, and when he did, they were often abstract and fragmented, a tapestry of images and emotions that made little sense in the waking world.

She nodded, her focus shifting back to her work. The next phase involved the subtle enhancement of his natural features, a process that required both skill and artistry. She applied a touch of concealer here, a dab of highlighter there, each stroke designed to enhance his already striking visage. Cillian watched her work, admiring her dedication and expertise. His thoughts wandered once more, this time to his family. The demands of his career often kept him away from home for extended periods, a sacrifice that was both necessary and bittersweet. He cherished the moments he could spend with his wife and children, the rare pockets of normalcy amidst the whirlwind of his professional life. They were his anchor, the steadying force that kept him grounded even as he navigated the turbulent waters of fame and success.

The makeup artist moved on to his hair, her fingers deftly arranging the strands into the desired style. Cillian felt the gentle tug and pull as she worked, her touch both firm and gentle. His hair had always been a defining feature, a canvas for transformation that allowed him to slip seamlessly into his various roles. Today, it was being styled for his latest character, a man as complex and layered as the roles he often gravitated towards.

"Looking good," she said softly, stepping back to admire her handiwork. There was a note of pride in her voice, a reflection of the care and attention she put into her craft.

Cillian opened his eyes fully, taking in the final result. His reflection was a blend of the familiar and the transformed, a testament to the collaborative effort that brought his characters to life. He smiled appreciatively, meeting her gaze through the mirror. "Thank you, my darlin'" he said simply, his voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. She nodded, her own smile warm and satisfied. "Ready to go?" she asked, knowing full well that the transformation was only part of the journey. The real work, the true magic, happened in front of the camera, where Cillian would once again bring his character to life with a depth and authenticity that was uniquely his own. He nodded, rising from the chair with a fluid grace. "Let’s do it," he said, his tone imbued with quiet determination. The day ahead was sure to be demanding, but he was ready. He always was.

After a slow day on set, Cillian felt the fatigue of the day seeping into his bones as he made his way back to his trailer. The air was thick with the remnants of the scenes they had shot, the weight of his character's emotions still lingering. He shrugged off his jacket, feeling the fabric slide from his shoulders and crumple into a heap on the small couch by the door. The quiet of the trailer enveloped him, a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the set. Cillian took a moment to stand still, absorbing the silence. His eyes flitted around the small space, eventually landing on the book he'd borrowed from his co-star. It was an old, worn copy of J.P. Donleavy's 'The Ginger Man' and he had found himself lost in its pages during the few breaks they'd had. He picked it up from the bed, flipping to the page where he'd left off. The words flowed easily, and for a while, he was no longer himself but a mere observer in J.P. Donleavy's.

He found a stopping point, a natural pause in the narrative, and sighed as he set the book down on the bedside table. He pulled himself off the bed, stretching out the stiffness that had settled in his muscles. Moving to the makeshift kitchen, he leaned against the countertop, feeling the cool surface press into his palms. He reached for the knob of the small cabinet above, opening it to reveal a solitary whiskey glass. Cillian didn't usually drink after working on set. The lines between his roles and reality blurred enough without the haze of alcohol, but tonight felt different. He'd had a couple of tough days, the weight of his character's struggles bleeding into his own thoughts. He set the glass on the countertop with a soft clink, bending down to open the bottom cabinet. The familiar shape of the semi-filled Irish whiskey bottle greeted him, and he pulled it out, setting it beside the glass.

As he poured the amber liquid, he let his thoughts drift. The day had been long, the scenes emotionally taxing. He turned around, leaning his back against the edge of the countertop, the glass cradled in his hand. He took a slow sip, savoring the warmth as it spread through him, mulling over the complexities of his character and the nuances he tried to bring to life. His free hand ran through his hair, a habitual gesture of frustration and contemplation. The weariness was etched into his features, the fine lines of exhaustion around his eyes more pronounced under the harsh lighting of the trailer. Pushing himself off the counter, he made his way back to the bed, placing the whiskey glass on the small bedside table next to a framed family photo. His fingertip traced the edges of the frame, a brief touchstone to the world outside the roles he inhabited.

Just as he was beginning to relax, a sudden knock at the trailer door pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced at the alarm clock; it read 11:42. Rolling his eyes, he muttered to himself, 'Who needs me at basically twelve o'clock at night?' With a resigned sigh, he picked up his whiskey glass and made his way to the door. When he opened it, he was met with the sight of the makeup artist, her expression a mix of nervousness and determination. She smiled tentatively, "Hey, Cill... Sorry to bother you, but I think I forgot one of my brushes at your vanity. Can I take a look around?"

Cillian offered a tired smile in return, stepping aside to let her in. As she passed by, he couldn't help but notice the subtle grace in her movements, the way she carried herself with an air of quiet confidence. He shut the door behind her, the click of the latch echoing in the small space. She moved with purpose, her footsteps light but determined. Her voice was soft, almost apologetic, "I've gone to everyone else and they don't have it, so you're the only one that might have it..." Cillian watched her as she spoke, noting the slight flush in her cheeks, the way her eyes darted around the trailer, searching. "Sure, take a look. I know how important those brushes are to you lot," he said, his Irish accent softening the edges of his words. He took another sip of his whiskey, the warmth a comforting presence as he leaned against the edge of the kitchenette.

His eyes never left her as she moved around the room, searching for her brush. The late hour brought a stillness to the room, broken only by the occasional clink of glass and the soft rustle of her movements. He admired her dedication, the way she methodically lifted items, peering beneath them, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her body moved with a fluid grace, every motion purposeful and precise. She was barefoot, her toes curling slightly against the hardwood floor as she knelt, her dress riding up just enough to tease him with a glimpse of smooth skin. She was completely absorbed in her task, unaware—or perhaps all too aware—of the effect she was having on him. He took another sip of his whiskey, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat, a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through his chest at the sight of her.

The silence between them was a comfortable one, the kind that spoke of familiarity and a deep, unspoken understanding. He appreciated these moments, the rare times when words were unnecessary and their presence alone was enough. But tonight, there was an undercurrent of tension, a barely-there edge to his thoughts as he watched her. She was teasing him, he was sure of it, the way she moved, the way she lingered just a little too long on the floor, presenting herself to him in a manner that was both innocent and provocative. He could feel the stirrings of desire, a slow burn that started in his gut and spread outward, his gaze darkening as he watched her. She had to be doing this on purpose. He downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, the sharp taste a jarring counterpoint to the softness of her presence. Setting the glass down on the vanity counter with a decisive clink, he huffed slightly, the sound low and rough in the quiet trailer. His fingers moved almost unconsciously to his wedding ring, the metal cool against his skin. He slipped it off and let it drop into the whiskey glass with a muted clink, a symbolic gesture that seemed to echo in the silence.

His eyes never left her as he moved towards her, his footsteps soft but deliberate on the floor. There was something predatory in his movements, a barely restrained intensity that spoke of his desire. She was still on her knees, her back to him, her hands busy with her search. He stood behind her for a moment, taking in the sight of her, the curve of her spine, the way her hair fell around her face in a messy halo.

Slowly, he knelt down behind her, his breath warm against the back of her neck as he leaned in close. "You have no idea what yeh doin' to me do yeh'?" His voice was a low murmur, his Irish accent curling around the words in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. She paused in her search, her body going still as she registered his presence. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against her back, fingers trailing down her spine. She turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at him over her shoulder. "Cillian.." She said softly, her voice almost a whisper in the quiet room. There was a flicker of something in her eyes, a mix of defiance and anticipation that sent a thrill through him. His hand moved to her waist, fingers curling around the fabric of her of her skin tight sleep shorts. "Yeah, say my name just like that.." he asked, his voice a low rumble. There was a challenge in his tone, a dark edge that hinted at the depths of his desire. She didn't answer, her eyes meeting his in a silent battle of wills.

The floorboards of the trailer cool against his knees, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between them. His breath came in shallow, measured puffs, mingling with the faint scent of her perfume—something floral and intoxicating that made his head swim. His hands, those deft, talented hands known for their meticulous craft on set, now played a different role. They rested on her waist, fingers tracing the waistband of her skin-tight shorts, feeling the soft material stretch over her curves. His touch was light, almost teasing, as if testing the boundaries of how much he could push her before she reacted. The proximity of their bodies was electrifying. He could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric, and each subtle shift she made sent a jolt of arousal through him. His crotch, already straining against the confines of his jeans, brushed against her ass, and he couldn't suppress a low, throaty groan. The friction was exquisite, a tantalizing preview of what he craved.

"I know yeh want me," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper tinged with his Irish lilt. The words were laced with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, yet there was an undeniable truth in them. He had seen the way she looked at him, the hunger in her eyes that mirrored his own. "I see it in your eyes..."

As he spoke, his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her shorts, his touch deliberate and exploratory. The pads of his fingers brushed against the hem of her panties, the silky material a stark contrast to the roughness of his skin. He took his time, savoring the moment, feeling the tension coil tighter between them. The whiskey coursing through his veins only amplified his desire, blurring the edges of his self-control. His eyes, usually so clear and piercing, now glinted with a dark, simmering lust. He could feel the alcohol's warmth spreading through his body, making his movements bolder, more assertive. He was a man driven by instinct, his usual restraint slipping away with each passing second.

"Did you really lose a brush?" he teased, his voice dripping with mock disbelief. There was a playful edge to his tone, but underneath it lay a challenge. He pulled at the hem of her panties, the elastic stretching under his grip, and he could feel her body tense in response. "I bet you really didn't."

Her silence spoke volumes, a tacit admission of her game. He smirked, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he continued to toy with the fabric, enjoying the way it clung to her skin. His fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns along the edge, each touch a calculated move to draw out her anticipation. With a swift, practiced motion, he tugged the shorts down just enough to expose the curve of her ass. The sight was mesmerizing, and he couldn't resist the urge to run his hands over the smooth expanse of skin, feeling the way her muscles tightened beneath his touch. His thumbs hooked under the waistband of her panties, pulling them taut before letting them snap back into place, the sound a sharp punctuation in the quiet room. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You're a tease, yeh know that?" His voice was a low, rumbling growl, filled with a mix of admiration and frustration. "But two can play that game."

As his crotch pressed against her ass, the hard outline of his erection unmistakable through the thin material of his trousers. It throbbed with a palpable urgency, each pulse matching the erratic beat of her heart. The heat of his body seeped through the layers of clothing, a suffocating reminder of how close he was, how trapped she was. She was rigid, every muscle tense as if bracing for impact, her mind racing to make sense of the situation.

"I've got kids and a wife at home," Cillian's voice was low, almost a growl, filled with a rough edge that made her stomach twist. His Irish accent gave his words a lilt that contrasted sharply with their crude content, making the vulgarity of his statement even more jarring. "But it's so hard to fuckin' keep my hands to myself if yeh look like this~"

His breath was hot against the back of her neck, sending a fresh wave of chills down her spine. She could feel the weight of his desire, an oppressive force that seemed to seep into her skin and paralyze her. His hands moved from her panties back to her waist, sliding up her sides, the touch both possessive and exploratory. The tips of his fingers dug into her flesh, not hard enough to bruise but firm enough to convey his dominance. Her thoughts spun in chaotic circles, trying to pinpoint the moment when everything had gone wrong. She had come here for something as innocuous as finding her brush, a simple task that now seemed laughably distant. What had she done to give him the impression that she wanted this? That she wanted him? The internal questioning was a desperate attempt to find some semblance of control, but it felt like grasping at straws.

Cillian's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, snapping her back to the grim reality she was in. "Yeh just want an older man to fuck yeh nice and good, eh?" His words were a taunt, laced with a dark amusement that made her skin crawl. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear, his breath warm and invasive. "Is that it, love? Yeh lookin' for a man who knows how to take care of yeh?" She could feel his cock twitch against her, the pressure intensifying as he shifted his weight. His hands roamed lower, slipping under the waistband of her shorts again, his fingers tracing the line of her panties. The intimate touch made her flinch, a reflexive jerk that only seemed to amuse him further. He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against her back. Cillian's piercing blue eyes glinted with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. His breath was hot against her neck, mingling with the faint scent of cologne that clung to his skin. Every inch of his body radiated a primal need, a hunger that was both terrifying and compelling.

"Cillian, please—sir, don't do this..." Her voice trembled, each word a desperate plea. The reality of her situation crashed over her, a suffocating wave of helplessness. She had seen him on the screen, admired his talent from a distance, worked with him personally but this man before her was a stranger, a predator cloaked in charm and sophistication. She couldn't understand how things had escalated to this point, how she had become ensnared in his twisted desires.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against her earlobe as he spoke. "Yeah, but the fing is all'yeh bitchin'....isn't goin' help yeh, is it?" His voice was a silky whisper, each syllable dripping with dark amusement. "I love when yeh call me sir, luv." The words were like a physical caress, sending a shiver down her spine. His accent, rich and lilting, wrapped around her like a vice, making her feel even more trapped. Her heart pounded in her chest as he continued to explore her body, his touch both possessive and tender. She hated the way her body responded to him, the way her skin tingled where his fingers roamed. It was a betrayal, a sickening reminder of the power he held over her. She could feel the heat of his arousal pressing against her, a silent promise of what was to come.

Cillian's lips trailed down her neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His teeth grazed her collarbone, eliciting a gasp from her lips. He chuckled softly, the sound filled with satisfaction. "Such a pretty little thing," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Don't fight it, luv. You'll only make it harder for yerself." His words were both a threat and a promise, the dark undertones sending a thrill of fear through her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sensations, the reality of what was happening. But he was relentless, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of her, breaking down her defenses one by one. She could feel his breath against her skin, his lips pressing kisses that were both tender and demanding. It was a dizzying contradiction, the way he could be both gentle and forceful, making her body betray her mind.

"Open yer eyes, luv," he commanded, his voice soft but firm. She obeyed, her eyes meeting his piercing blue gaze. There was a darkness there, a hunger that frightened her.

His breath was warm and whiskey-scented against her skin, the closeness of his body both a comfort and a torment. “Yeh’ve got no idea what yeh do to me,” he murmured, his Irish accent wrapping around the words like a caress. His lips brushed against her ear, sending another shiver down her spine. His hands moved lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her panties. His touch was firm and confident, his fingers gliding over her skin with a surety that made her breathe catch in her throat. Her body betrayed her, hips arching slightly to meet his touch, a soft moan escaping despite her best efforts to hold it back. Cillian’s grin widened, a predatory gleam in his blue eyes as he watched her reaction. “That’s it, lass,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “Don’t fight it. Let me see how much yeh can take.”

His fingers found the slick heat of her arousal, and he groaned softly, the sound vibrating through her body. His thumb brushed against her throbbing clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her veins. She bit her lip to stifle another moan, hating how easily he could unravel her with just a touch. But there was no denying the effect he had on her, the way her body responded to him even as her mind screamed for her to resist. Cillian’s movements were slow and deliberate, each touch calculated to drive her wild. He slid a finger into her dripping cunt, feeling it grip him tightly, the sensation drawing a guttural groan from his throat. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “Just imagine my cock inside yeh…”

She whimpered at his words, the vivid image making her pulse quicken; she didn't want that to happen. His breath was hot against the back of her neck, the scent of whiskey haunting her senses. “Fuck,” he groaned again, his voice thick with conflicted emotion. “I love my wife, but… yer makin’ it so hard…” His confession was a knife to her heart, but his touch was even worse, the pleasure he gave her a cruel contradiction to the pain of his words. He grinned heavily, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “Yeh like that, don’t yeh? The thought of me, wantin’ yeh like this…”

She was denying it, but her body’s response betraying her even as her mind screamed for her to pull away. His fingers moved inside her, curling and stroking in a way that made her toes curl inside her shoes. Her nails digging into the trailer floorboards as she fought to keep herself grounded, the sensations overwhelming her. His fingers were slick with her juices, moving with a calculated rhythm that drove her to the brink of madness. Each thrust, each curl of his digits inside her sloppy cunt, elicited a desperate whimper from her parted lips. He could feel her inner muscles tightening around his fingers, a clear sign that she was teetering on the edge of ecstasy. His other hand, strong and commanding, encircled her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp for air, her pulse fluttering wildly beneath his grip. The power he held over her in this moment was exhilarating, a heady mix of dominance and desire that sent a shiver down his spine.

“Look at yeh,” he murmured, his accent thickening with the whiskey-fueled haze. His voice was a low, seductive growl, dripping with lust and control. “So fuckin’ wet for me… Yeh want this, don’t yeh? Want me inside yeh, fillin’ yeh up…” His words were a taunting promise, each syllable rolling off his tongue with a tantalizing slowness that made her body tremble with anticipation.

His thumb found her clit again, rubbing it with precise, circular motions that had her arching her back, pushing her hips towards him in a silent plea for more, why was her body doing this to her?! He added another finger, plunging deeper into her cunt, the slick sounds of his fingers moving inside her mixing with her breathy moans. Her walls contracted around him, a testament to her impending climax, and he relished the control he had over her pleasure. Her hands clutched at his arms, nails digging into his skin as she tried to find something to anchor herself to in the storm of a horrible sensation he was creating. Cillian’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes never leaving her face as he watched the myriad of expressions play across it—pleasure and desperation; Cillian wrapped his hand around her pretty throat.

“Fuck, yeh look so beautiful like this,” he breathed, his voice rough with desire. His fingers continued their relentless assault, his thumb working her clit with a practiced ease that spoke of experience and an intimate knowledge. “Beg for it,” he demanded, his grip on her throat tightening just enough to make her gasp. “Beg for me to let yeh come.” He wanted her to bed like the dog she was to him.

Her voice was nowhere to be heard, being choked by the hand around her throat and the overwhelming yet disgusting pleasure coursing through her. He chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Fuckin' whore..but don't worry I'll fix that mouth of yers’,” he purred, his fingers moving faster, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. He smiled darkly when he felt her walls squeeze his fingers tighter. “Good girl… come for me. Come all over my fingers.” Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her entire body convulsing as she screamed his name, her cunt clenching tightly around his fingers. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, riding out her orgasm with a relentless pace that left her gasping for breath, her body trembling from the intensity of it all.

As she came down from the high, her body still trembling with aftershocks, he finally withdrew his fingers, his touch gentle and reverent. He brought his hand up to his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers as he licked her arousal from his fingers, a look of pure sick and twisted satisfaction on his face. “Yeh taste even better than I imagined,” he said, his voice a low purr. He pulled the back of her hair roughly, making her look at him; leaving no room for argument, before capturing her lips in a rough-searing kiss, the taste of whiskey and her own fluids mingling on his and her tongue. She was forced to kiss him back, her hands pushing and clawing at his upper chest.

He broke the kiss and pushed off of he and quickly stood up, ee looked down at her, his eyes a mixture of lust and fury, clouded by the alcohol coursing through his veins. The flickering light bulb above cast eerie shadows on his face, accentuating his chiseled features and the intensity in his icy blue eyes. He pushed off her body, his breath ragged, and quickly stood up, his hands shaking as they fumbled with the buckle of his belt. His movements were frantic, driven by a primal need that bordered on the edge of violence. His belt clattered to the floor, followed swiftly by his pants, pooling around his ankles. He stood there for a moment, towering over her, his chest heaving with each breath. She lay on the trailer floor, the cold seeping into her bones, her body trembling not just from the chill but from the fear that had taken root deep within her. She could barely see through the blur of tears, her sobs muffled as she tried to stifle them, afraid of provoking him further.

"Get on yer knees for me..." His voice was low and guttural, carrying a hint of his Irish lilt, the words slurring together slightly from the whiskey. When she didn't move, he let out a frustrated huff, his patience wearing thin. Bending down, he grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her up with a roughness that made her gasp. The sudden pain was sharp, cutting through the fog of her fear and disorientation.

He dragged her to her knees, his grip on her hair unrelenting. His other hand moved to his boxers, pulling them down to reveal his throbbing erection, the tip glistening with pre-cum. His need was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to fill the cramped space of the trailer. He looked down at her, a twisted grin spreading across his face as he took in her disheveled appearance.

"Suck...my fuckin' cock..." The command was harsh, almost a growl, but she didn't respond, her lips pressed tightly together in a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of control. His grin widened, a cruel glint in his eyes as he moved his hand from her hair to her nose, pinching it shut. She tried to pull back, to escape his grasp, but he was too strong, his grip like iron.

As her air supply dwindled, panic set in, and she was forced to open her mouth to breathe. In that moment of vulnerability, he seized the opportunity, thrusting his cock deep into her mouth, the sudden invasion causing her to choke violently. Her gag reflex kicked in, her throat constricting around him, but he didn't relent, his hips driving forward with brutal force. Cillian's breath hitched, a guttural sound escaping his throat as he felt her struggle around him. He relished the power he held over her, the way she was utterly at his mercy. He tightened his grip on her hair, forcing her to look up at him, his eyes locking onto hers. The sight of her tear-streaked face, mascara running in dark rivulets down her cheeks, only seemed to fuel his desire.

"Look at yeh," he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain and lust. "Yer such a fuckin' mess... but yeh look so fuckin' pretty like this, don' yeh?" His words were punctuated by the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, each one causing her to gag and sputter, her tears falling more freely now. Her body shook with each brutal invasion, her hands instinctively coming up to push against his thighs, trying to create some space, some relief from the suffocating pressure. But he was immovable, his strength amplified by the alcohol and the dark urges driving him. He felt her nails dig into his skin, but it only spurred him on, the pain a twisted complement to the pleasure he was taking.

"Yeh, you fuckin' want it, don' yeh? Yeh fuckin' need it; don' yeh? Eh...?" His voice was a mocking whisper, each word laced with cruelty. He could feel himself getting closer, the pressure building as his grip on her hair tightened even further. She was trying to pull away, her body convulsing with the effort, but he held her firmly in place, his hips moving faster, more erratically. The sound of her choking filled the trailer, mingling with his ragged breathing and the wet, obscene noises of his cock driving into her throat. Her eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of pain and desperation, snot running down her nose and mixing with her tears. It was a sight that seemed to intoxicate him even more, his pace quickening as he neared his climax. "Yeh fuckin' like that, don' yeh? Yeh love it when I use yeh like this," he panted, his words barely coherent through the haze of alcohol and arousal. He could feel the edge approaching, the tension coiling in his abdomen, ready to snap. He didn't let up, his hips slamming forward with a brutal finality, holding her head in place as he spilled himself into her mouth.

She gagged violently, her body writhing as she tried to breathe around the thick, bitter fluid filling her throat. He kept her there, forcing her to take every drop, his fingers tangled in her hair, pulling it painfully tight. When he finally released her, she fell back, gasping and coughing, her chest heaving as she struggled to draw in air. She looked like. a fucking fish out of water. Cillian looked down at her, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He reached down, his fingers brushing against her tear-streaked cheek, smearing the makeup further. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice softening slightly, though the underlying menace remained. "Yeh did good..." She lay there, her body trembling, the cold of the trailer floor a stark contrast to the heat of his touch. Her mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions, the violation she had just endured clashing with the strange, unwanted sense of relief that it was over. But she knew, deep down, that it wasn't truly over, that this was just a momentary reprieve in a night that was far from finished.

His smirk was cold, a predator toying with its prey. "Yeh think I'm done with yeh… yer fuckin' wrong if yeh think that," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. He advanced towards her, the sound of his boots echoing ominously against the hardwood floor. She was cornered, her back pressed against the wall, eyes wide with fear. Tears streamed down her face like a waterfall, her cheeks glistening in the faint light. "Cill, plea-please… Don't… no, no, no… don't… I'm begging you don't…" Her voice was a broken symphony of desperation and fear. Cillian's response was immediate and brutal. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back and forcing her to meet his icy gaze. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. "Keep whining, keeps my cock hard… slut," he hissed, his words laced with venom. He released her hair, his hands moving with lightning speed to pin her wrists above her head.

With one hand holding her wrists in a vise-like grip, his other hand snaked its way down to her shorts. He practically ripped them off, pulling them down with such force that the seams tore. Her panties followed, yanked down to her ankles, exposing her vulnerability. The sight of her wetness made him smirk, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. "Yer fuckin' soaked… didn't think yeh'd be this ready for me," he mocked, his voice a low growl. She sobbed, her pleas becoming more frantic. "Please, Cill… stop… don't do this… I'm begging you…" Her voice was shrill, filled with terror. Suddenly, his hand struck her across the face, the sound of the impact echoing in the room. She cried out in pain, her cheek stinging from the blow. He pointed a finger in her face, his eyes blazing with anger. "Yer making me go soft… either yeh shut up or beg like yeh did before," he snapped.

His hand found its way down to her dripping cunt, his fingers barely grazing her wet folds. Her body trembled, and her cries grew louder. "Please… don't… I'm a virgin…" she pleaded, her voice breaking. Cillian froze for a moment, processing her words. "Fuck… luv… looks like I'll be poppin' yer cherry," he said, a cruel smile spreading across his face. Without warning, he removed his hand and positioned himself. In one swift motion, he shoved his cock into her cunt, bottoming out completely. She let out a loud, pained cry, her body convulsing with the force of his intrusion. Tears streamed down her face, her expression one of agony. Cillian grunted, the tightness of her virgin cunt taking him by surprise. He paused, adjusting to her snug fit, the scent of iron filling the air. He looked down to see blood dripping from her cunt. "Looks like I popped it, real good," he muttered, almost to himself.

He began to thrust, deep and hard, his movements rough and unrelenting. Her cries of pain spurred him on, each thrust more forceful than the last. He watched her face contort with each plunge, her tears falling in a steady stream. His hand moved to grab her thigh, pulling her leg up to allow him to fill her even deeper. Her body jerked with each thrust, the pain evident in her every movement. "Fuckin' tight… yer squeezin' me so good," he groaned, his voice husky with arousal. He could feel her walls clenching around him, her cries music to his ears. She whimpered, her voice barely audible. "Please… Cill… stop…" But he was beyond reason, his desire consuming him. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "Shut up, slut… this is what yeh deserve," he whispered harshly.

Each thrust was a brutal reminder of his dominance, his control over her. Her sobs grew louder, her pleas more desperate, but he paid them no mind. He was lost in the sensation, the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure. "Yer mine… yeh understand? Mine to fuck, mine to use," he growled, his voice a possessive snarl. He gripped her thigh tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh. Her leg trembled, her body barely able to withstand his relentless assault. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, her cries mingling with his grunts of pleasure. "Look at yeh… such a pretty little whore," he taunted, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. She tried to turn her head away, but he grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Don't look away… I want yeh to see what I'm doin' to yeh," he demanded, his voice cold and commanding.

Her eyes were wide with fear, her body trembling under his touch. "Please… Cill… it hurts…" she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper. He chuckled darkly, his grip tightening. "Good… I want it to hurt," he said, his tone devoid of any compassion. He thrust harder, his pace increasing, each movement more brutal than the last. Her body jerked violently with each thrust, her cries of pain echoing in the room. "Fuck… yer so tight… so fuckin' tight," he groaned, his voice a mix of pleasure and frustration. He could feel himself getting closer, the tightness of her cunt driving him wild.

The pain she was in seemed to only fuel his dark desire, his need to dominate and break her completely. He leaned over her, his breath hot and reeking of alcohol against her tear-streaked face. His fingers dug into her wrists, holding her in place as he thrust into her with brutal force. "Shut up… yeh can take it… yeh will take it," he snarled, his voice a guttural growl that echoed in the small space. His accent was thicker than usual, slurred slightly by the whiskey, giving his words an even more menacing edge.

Her pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears. Each thrust was more desperate, more erratic, as he chased his own release. He watched her through hooded eyes, her pain and fear a twisted aphrodisiac that spurred him on. He felt the tight grip of her body around him, the way she clenched and shuddered with each violent movement, and it drove him wild. The edge of release was so close, a tantalizing promise just within reach. Finally, with a guttural moan, he bottomed out one last time, his hips slamming into hers as he found his release. His hot, sticky cum pumped into her, filling her completely. His eyes locked onto hers, a dark, predatory gleam in his gaze as he leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear. "Probably goin' get yeh pregnant...but yeh deserve it...because yer just a cocksleeve for me to use.." His voice was a low, dangerous whisper, each word dripping with venom.

He stayed inside her, his cock still twitching as he emptied every last drop into her womb. He reveled in the feeling, the way her body seemed to milk him dry, her tightness squeezing every bit of his release from him. Only when he was sure he had given her everything did he finally pull out, a satisfied smirk on his face. He let go of her wrists, and she fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, her body too weak to support her any longer. Cillian stood over her, watching as she lay there, broken and defeated. The sight brought a twisted sense of satisfaction, a dark pleasure that seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach. He took a moment to collect himself, to let the last waves of pleasure ebb away, before straightening up and pulling up his boxers and pants. His eyes never left her, a silent command in their depths.

"Clean yerself up...and go," he said, his voice cold and detached. He watched as she struggled to move, her body trembling with the effort. There was no sympathy in his gaze, no hint of remorse for what he had done. To him, she was nothing more than a means to an end, a vessel for his darkest desires. As she finally managed to stand, her legs wobbling beneath her, Cillian took a step back, giving her space to gather herself. His eyes followed her every movement, a predator watching its prey. The room was silent except for her labored breathing and the occasional hiccup of a sob. He felt a twisted sense of power, knowing he had broken her, had pushed her to her limits and beyond.

She stumbled towards the door, her movements slow and unsteady. Her clothes were in disarray, her body marked with the evidence of his brutality. She paused at the door, casting one last, broken look over her shoulder. Cillian met her gaze, his expression unyielding. There was no comfort to be found there, no hint of the man he could have been. Only the cold, ruthless persona he had become. She turned away quickly, her hand fumbling with the doorknob as she hurried to escape. The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving Cillian alone in the silence. He stood there for a moment, letting the reality of what had just happened sink in. The adrenaline was still coursing through him, a heady mix of power and satisfaction. He could still feel the ghost of her touch, the way her body had responded to him, had yielded to his every command. It was a high like no other, a dark thrill that he craved more than anything.

Cillian walked over to the vanity and picked up the whiskey glass; picking his wedding ring out of the empty glass and putting it back on. He moved quickly so he could pour himself another glass of whiskey. He downed it in one gulp, the burn a welcome distraction from the chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind. He knew he should feel something—guilt, shame, regret—but all he felt was a hollow emptiness, a void that seemed to grow with each passing moment. He poured himself another drink, the amber liquid swirling in the glass as he lifted it to his lips. His hands were steady, his movements precise, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside him. He took a slow sip, savoring the taste, the way it burned down his throat and settled in his stomach. It was a familiar comfort, a numbing balm to his fractured soul.

Author's Notes:

Wow, this was very hard to write, not only because I'm afraid of the way you will react to it but also because I really suck at writing him in a dom light unless it's in this setup. It's really hard to write things like this because I always have to take breaks because it's such a dark topic.

[yhwhsdaughter]

MADK

Datenshou: (I)

Fjord

Kieran: (I)

Makoto

Jonathan

[aemehhh]

Hi yall, can anyone recommend me some long, completed x readers? Preferably the main Jojos from the anime (currently still reading SBR), but I'll read anything that is long and well written! Thanks in advance :3

[darklcy]

𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡

━━━━━━━━━━

‣ a late night outing with jonathan

‣ jonathan byers x reader | stranger things mastelist | 446 words | short drabble, lots of rotten fluff

‣ brought to you by flash - cigarettes after sex

The ray of the street lamp bounced off the top of his ford and onto the tops of your shoes, your cheeks, your tousled hair that’d just been torn away from pillowcases. It was a bit embarrassing to be greeting him in an oversized abba t-shirt and leggings, shoelaces untied due to the rush the adrenaline of sneaking out enveloped you with.

His grin was cheeky and eager, excited to be encouraging you to commit such a sinful act that was escaping your bedroom to meet him in the early hours of the morning. You yanked open the passenger door and slid into the seat, returning his smile with a bashful one of your own. 

"Hi." “Hi.”

His hand squeezes the top of your seat as he takes in your appearance.

“You look pretty.”

You swatted his arm. “You’re being nice.”

“Just being honest.”

Jonathan was as sweet as fruit. It warmed the skin on your face and suffocated your pulse underneath your rib cage. The rhythm of your heartbeat lost its balance when you were around him. You hoped he didn’t notice.

His hand returned back to the wheel as he switched from park to drive, swerving away from your house and into the empty, lonely streets of Hawkins, lowly lit from spread apart street lamps and covered in trees. It was times like this, when the moon watched over the world from her highest peak, where it felt like it was just you and him. You and Jonathan. 

No one else could enter this world of yours. The Hawkins outside couldn’t compare to the Hawkins you experienced with him.

His stereo hummed a low tune of a song from the Clash, and somehow you didn’t feel the need to talk. It was fine being quiet with him, sharing this space was more than enough. His right palm found your hand this time, his thumb rubbing the tops of your knuckles ever so gently.

Shuffling closer to him, your cheek met his shoulder, keeping aware of the gear shift to not interfere with the car’s operation. 

“Don’t fall asleep now, we’re not there yet.”

His voice was breathy and soft, careful to not break the tender atmosphere of your world. You hummed as you fought to keep your eyelids open.

“Mm. How much longer?”

“Just a few more minutes.”

You hummed again. His grip on your hand tightened.

"Ok fine, you can sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Where are we even going?"

You feel him shrug underneath your cheek.

"Not sure yet."

He plants a kiss to the top of your head, his smile embedding itself into your skin. 

"We'll find out when we get there."

You never want the journey to end.

[annaberunoyume]

Jonathan is beholding your spirals, entranced, lying against your chest. But then, he sneezes, looking awake and surprised. You giggle.

[chocopbwafer]

from a handkerchief. (PT.1 Of Blood That Binds)

Pairing : [Jonathan Joestar x F!Reader]

TW? : None.

Word Amount : 1,131

Originally Posted On : AO3 (To view you have to login since my AO3 account Is privated to prevent bots.)

Jonathan stared down at the soft, now bloodied cloth In hand. He nibbled at his bottom lip, a new habit that he had developed when his father had the grand Idea of bringing whom was known as Dio Brando to the Joestar Manor.

  When his father had alerted him of his arrival you could almost say that he was waiting In anticipation, granted, he had been around his fair share of kids around his age, but rarely did he ever feel these friends he had were, well, genuine.

  Unfortunately for him, his wish of meeting someone genuine, someone he could get along with, someone whom he could treat like a sibling was quickly crushed the moment the carriage rode up, revealing a boy of such arrogance and rudeness Jonathan truly wasn't sure what to make of It.

  That dream of having an actual friend was swept away the moment Danny received the rough greeting of having a knee against his jaw, or how his father's gaze that once looked at him with pride now filled with disappointment with the constant questioning of 'why can't you be more like your brother?', or the pitying glances the servants would bid him, but they wouldn't dare say a word, or whenever he had tried to approach Erina she wouldn't even look at him before darting In the opposite direction.

  It was only a few months that had passed, with Dio growing a bit bolder to shove him around whenever he pleased and throw along a few snarky remarks, the servants would Ignore It blatantly, and his father- Well, he wouldn't believe him even If he told him such.

  It seemed like everything and everyone had left his side, and everyday was the same, Dio this, Dio that- He was tired of constantly hearing about the boy and seeing him switch from a charming exterior In front of others but the moment nobody's present he reverts back to pushing him around, or taunting him, for just the mere fun of It.

  He was beginning to wish that the boy hadn't even came, but If he dared to even say such a thing to his father he'd probably earn himself a slap to his face.

    Jonathan didn't know the details about her, what she looked like, what prompted the random letter to come, or where she even came from.

  He would've been excited If not for the anxiety that was tearing at his nerves, he was more worried about how she'd act, he wasn't sure If he'd be facing another that had the same qualities and traits matching of Dio Brando.

  And when she did arrive, two of her servants at her side, Jonathan still wasn't sure what to make of her, the clothes she wore were ruffled and dark In color, not like the extravagant skirts he'd seen other girls around her age wear, In fact, he hadn't even seen her wear jewelry.

  Whenever she came outside she had a bonnet atop her head that came fitted with a veil In the front, and a parasol In hand.

  Danny had Instantly taken a liking to her since her arrival, Immediately running up to her with joyous barks as If he were meeting an old friend, and Jonathan felt his anxiety slip away when she knelt down, rubbing a hand along his ears as she greeted the Great Dane with a soft smile.

  Other than that though, she'd hardly speak to him, and she wouldn't even spare a glance to Dio, but perhaps that was for the better considering the blonde always had a narrow look In his amber eyes when observing her.

      Her hand raising up to leave a stinging impact upon Dio's cheek certainly wasn't what Jonathan was expecting after he had knocked him down while he was walking up the stairs.

  He was certain that she'd walk away like everyone else had, but the red imprint she had left on the blonde's face proved opposite of that as she left him wordless, and Instead walked up to Jonathan, digging through her skirt pocket as she pulled out a white cloth, her name embroidered at the side In Initials as she handed It to him. 

  "Keep It, that looks like a pretty bad bruise."

  And she had walked off without a single glance back.

      He had managed to enlist the help of one of the maids to give the cloth a good cleaning, now the same clean, soft cloth she had handed him that day, she had Insisted that he keep It, but It left him with a feeling that edged on to a certain unpleasantness, surely he could give her some form of gratitude though, and If she didn't want the handkerchief, that's fine.

  He could just give her a different one.

      It had been two long nights for Jonathan, an enduring of one of his father's more gentle scoldings for not focusing on his studies, and Dio who had, by Jonathan's surprise, left him alone for the most part, other than feeling his glare piercing his skull, the last few days felt rather peaceful for him.

  And so he had taken up a hobby, one that made the rest of the staff look at him curiously at the new past-time he had taken up.

  Embroidery.

      He'd find her rested against one of the trees, not so far from the manor, a book held tight within her hand, and her posture as usual, stiff. Though It did catch him by surprise when he hadn't even walked towards her yet, she hadn't even turned her head, yet she called his name, flipping another page In the book. "I know you're there."

  He came out of his hiding spot behind the tree, and she didn't look up until she felt something press against her cheek, she'd glance, and he handed her a small, flat, ribboned box.

  "Here." He gave a hum, settling beside her once she had taken It, opening the lid of the box as she took out the soft fabric that was within looking over It, and what served for good appearance, a black rose embroidered In the center of It, though hardly neatly done, she could tell some string from yarn was out of place.

  She let out a soft hum, "You made this?" Softly, she questioned.

  Jonathan gave a nod, though his gaze averted from the light darker dusting of tanned cheeks.

  "I know you didn't want the other one back but I wanted to make It for you."

  She gave another hum, running her fingers over the soft material.

  "...You don't like It, do you?"

  Though his fear was clearly wrong as she looked up at him and gave him a soft smile.

  "No, It's pretty JoJo, thank you."

  fin.