#On the Edge
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Cillian Murphy | On The Edge 2001 | John Carney
#on the edge#filmgifs#cillian murphy#cmurphyedit#userreh#userquel#userzo#userklaudia#userrobin#tuserdana#userdiana#tuserpolly#underbetelgeuse#userbrittany#userhayf#userstream#chewieblog#usergal#my gifs
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I fully forgot I had this .. so hereâs a little something for yâall lol
prompt: Jonathan calls you up after having a few drinks
WARNINGS: SMUT (18+ MDNI), mentions of alcohol/intoxication, brief mentions of suicide, subby-ish Jonathan, phone sex, come eating
*not proofread & old as hell*
youâre abruptly awoken by the phone ringing. through squinted eyes, you peak at the clock sitting on top of your nightstand.
1:03 am flashes at you. whoâs calling at this hour? you drag your body out of bed and trudge your way over to the living room where your home phone resides. once there, you drop to the couch and grab the phone, putting it up to your ear.
âhello?â you groan, you hear a small snicker on the other end.
âhiii babyyy!â they respond, clearly a little tipsy, you immediately recognize the voice.
itâs jonathan, your close friend, who had recently got placed into a psyche ward after attempting to kill himself. you hadnât heard from him since he had told you the news. now here he is, ringing your phone at 1 am, while simultaneously dropping a âbabyâ bomb on you.
âjonathan?â you blurted, feeling yourself become a bit more awake, âwhat are you doing? why are you up? how do you even have access to a phone right now?â
he sighs into the phone, âme and toby sn- tobyâs mâpal .. by the way .. we snuck out ân had a few drinks ..â his mumbles, ânow âm allllll alone ..â he whines, dragging out the all to emphasize his loneliness, âoh ân about the phone .. since iâve been so good they gave me a landline, cordless too, i mean they couldnât give me a cord âcause i might wrap it around my neck, but itâs nifty!â
you roll your eyes. of course heâd do some shit like this. if it was any other friend, you wouldâve told them bluntly that youâre not in the mood to talk, but jonathan was an exception right now. he was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, and his comment about wrapping the cord around his neck grounded you back into reality. you decided to chat with him for a while.
âis that so?â you reply, âhowâd the night go?â
âfun!â he bubbled, âoh mâgod .. me and toby .. my friend .. we saw this piss drunk guy fall in the street!â he giggles while recounting the incident. you giggle with him, not so much at the story, but at the fact that he felt the need to reiterate that he has a friend named toby.
âthat sound very funny, jon, but shouldnât you be getting some sleep?â
he whines, ââm not tired! plus iâve been thinking about you .. thatâs why i called .. wanted to hear your voice ..â
oh?
âwhyâd you wanna hear my voice? you miss me that much?â you joke, relaxing more into the couch. he hums, âjusâ like how it sounds ..â
âwell. you woke me up, and i donât think iâll be able to go back to sleep, so youâre welcome to listen to my voice for a while.â you chuckle softly, not thinking too heavily about his intentions. heâs drunk, after all.
âhmm ..â he mumbles in approval, âcan you jusâ talk? tell me about your day, love ..â
your brows furrow a bit at the request, but you oblige.
âi didnât do too much .. just showered .. picked up a bit .. it was nice though.â
he groans quietly at you mentioning showering.
âmmh .. wards got no nice soaps .. i like how your soaps smell. always smellinâ so good ..â he murmurs, through the phone you can hear some minor rustling, but you assume itâs just jonathan drunkenly tossing and turning.
you laugh at his odd compliment, âyou think i smell nice?â
âoh, i think a lot of you sânice, darling.â he assures, his breathing becoming heavier
âwhat else about me is nice, jonathan?â you ask, thinking heâll say something corny like your humour or your personality.
âthat face fâyours .. gorgeous ..â he giggles and huffs, âân that body .. maybe itâs âcause âm all alone .. ân a bit tipsy .. but i canât stop thinkinâ about touchinâ you ..â
oh.
youâre not too sure what to say. youâve been friends with jonathan for years, you would have never assumed that he wanted you that way. jonathan was very attractive, and youâd be lying if you said youâd never thought about him in a sexual way before.
âjonathan ..â you reply calmly, âi think youâre just drunk and confused, how about we talk more tomorrow? you can call me when-â
he whines, âno, baby, âm sorry .. iâve just wanted you .. for so long ..â he hums as his breathing becomes louder, âân now .. just your voice got me sâhard ..â
you pause, listening to jonathan, you still hear the shuffling and his breathing. occasionally he whines a few times, is he touching himself?
âjon, are you .. getting off right now?â
he chuckles, âsâhard .. mmh .. thought i might faint.â
you hate to admit it, but hearing jonathanâs neediness got you a little worked up. knowing he was hard just from your voice ignited some interesting feelings from within you.
as your mind is racing, jonathan speaks, âif i wâs there .. would yâtouch me?â
your heart begins to pound, his words have become more direct. heâs not just rambling about how he feels, he wants to know how you feel. you slip one of your hands into your panties, feeling how slick youâve become from jonathanâs words. you might as well get yourself off as well.
instead of answering, you flip the question. âiâm wondering what youâd do if i was there.â you laugh breathily as you gently rub your clit. jonathan whines into the phone, âgod, baby, sâfilthy. yâdonât even wanna know ..â
âtell me. i want to hear it.â you pry as you become more aroused, hearing jonathan moan weakly at his own thoughts.
âmmh .. wanna eat your cunt .. make yâcome at least once on mâface ..â he groans, âwanna fuck you. raw. make yâshake ân cry from my cock. wanna make that cunt feel so so good.â
jesus. really didnât take much convincing for him to spill his thoughts. you bite your lip at his words, hearing his fantasies made you blush embarrassingly hard.
âhm .. yeah?â you moan into the phone, rubbing your clit at a quicker pace
âân i wanna eat you again after my cocks been ânside you .. lick up our come ..â jonathan gasps, through the phone you can hear him fisting his now slick cock. âthen i wanna kiss you when mâdone ..â he adds, chuckling a bit.
âgod ..â you sigh, âyou are filthy.â
youâre finding it difficult to hold back your moans, you almost want jonathan to hear them at this point.
âyou .. you got me all wet, jon ..â you admit a bit awkwardly, youâve never had phone sex before, but you donât think jonathan will notice.
he whimpers âare yâtouching yourself, baby?â
âyeah .. yeah i am ..â you purr, sliding a finger inside yourself and moaning softly as you plunge it in and out.
âjesus, fuck ..â he huffs, âyou rubbinâ your clit? or fingering yourself?â
âiâm doing both .. switchinâ every now and then ..â you coo, adding a second finger inside. you hiss slightly at the change, but your cunt quickly adapts and accepts the second finger.
âmmh!â jonathan moans, âsâhot, knowing youâve got yâfingers all over that pussy .. you sensitive, baby?â
heâs really into calling you baby. although it feels foreign, youâre not opposed to it at all.
âyeah .. a bit ..â you chuckle breathlessly as you remove your slick fingers out and bring them back to your clit.
âoh, fuck ..â he whimpers loudly, âbaby, baby, âm not gonna last- mâsorry ..â
you could tell from jonathanâs tone and desperate little whimpers that he was close, he didnât need to tell you, but itâs kind of nice that he at least let you know.
âthatâs okay, come jon. show me how good it feels.â you purr. he canât physically show you, but he can verbalize it, and he does.
âmmf- fuck, baby, âm cominâ-â he moans loudly, youâre worried other people in the ward might hear him.
âthatâs it, come on yourself jon, good boy.â you encourage, youâre almost surprised that you called him a good boy, you never expected that to slip out.
his moans dwindle into small little whimpers as he rides out the orgasm, huffing quietly once heâs come down.
ââm all messy, baby ..â he giggles,
âpoor thing, you gonna clean yourself up?â you hum to tease.
âmhm .. nice ân clean ..â he mumbles as you hear him making small sucking and licking noises,
âjon, are you licking up your come?â you nearly chuckle at him,
âwell no oneâs âere to do it for me ..â he whines, continuing to lick away his come.
âjesus. dirty, dirty boy.â you scold playfully, toying with your clit again.
ââm a dirty boy ..â he repeats while yawning, âdirty boy.â
âyou tired?â you ask softly,
âmmh, yeah, little bit ..â he mumbles,
âhow about you get some sleep and we talk more tomorrow, all right?â
âmmh.. but i wanna talk ..â he groans,
you laugh weakly at his determination, âiâll be here tomorrow. trust me. get some sleep. we can talk when youâre more awake and sober.â
âfine .. gânight baby. sweet dreams.â he gives in, yawning again
âsleep well, jonathan.â you close before hanging up. as you place the phone down, youâre left with silence and your thoughts. you decide you might as well get yourself off, and you do, you come in your pants to the thought of jonathanâs whimpers and moans. then, you clean yourself off before heading back to bed.
â
Not to jinx myself ⌠but I am currently writing. Send me good energy yall please
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader#cillian x fem!reader#jonathan breech x reader#jonathan breech#on the edge#hope yâall like this#:)
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SMILE FOR THE CAMERA BABY
A KINKTOBER SPECIAL - SEX TAPE WITH JONATHAN BREECH
Pairing.| Jonathan Breech x fem!reader
Summary.| You lose a bet with Jonathan. He has to record the experience to ensure itâll happen again.
Warnings.| Dubcon, fingering, p in v, unknown recording, blackmail.
Word Count.| 1.4k
Notes.| Never edited this one hahahah so maybe iâll do it down the track lol
Jonathan Breech had a non-wipeable smirk on his lips as he rode his bike down your street on this gloomy day. Typically, he wore that stupid gray trapper hat of his as he booted down the kickstand outside your front porch. He skipped up the porch stairs and dramatically knocked on your front door. After you made him wait, the door flung open revealing your fluffy robe as you looked him up and down with dissatisfaction. As you carelessly invited him into your home, Jonathan nodded his head in approval, his hands fisted into his pockets as he waltzed around the empty living room.
âNice placeâ he commented quietly, earning a soft scoff from you.
âDonât act like you careâ you snorted, crossing your arms across your chest.
âHey! You want to do this as much as I doâ Jonathan chuckled.
Quickly, you stomped towards him, standing mere inches away from him as he smirked at your restricted rage.
âI donât want this at allâ you growled, jabbing your fingers onto his right pec.
âOh, stop playing hard to getâ Jonathan teased, his hands snaking to your waist.
âYou cheatedâŚâ you mumbled, your tone softening as your eyes lowered. You watched his squeeze the robe over your hips.
âDonât be a sore loser now⌠I want us both to enjoy thisâ he murmured, his hands pulled you closer to him, his lips teasing yours by just brushing them against one another.
It was hard not to give into your desires and kiss him completely. But your amour propre was still too high, especially for your provoking classmate whoâs ego was taller than his height.
Jonathan had been trying to woo you for months. However, you were like the roadrunner, you could never stop dashing away from him. Until he made a bet that you couldnât refuse. For your final test in your mathematics class together, the highest mark would win. Heâd be forced to never speak a word to you again. If he won? Your body. Jonathan was borderline failing so it seemed too good to be true. He proved you wrong when your teacher distributed your results. A two percent difference, to Jonathanâs benefit.
Itâs not that you found him unattractive or anything, you just didnât like his attitude at times. Not to mention the boost you got at him almost groveling below you. It was nice to be wanted, even though it was just downright sexual desire.
âHow do I know you wonât just tell everyone as soon as youâre done with me?â you mumbled out.
Jonathan chuckled lightly before kissing you softly. âIâm a man of my wordâ he whispered before kissing you far more passionately.
Gradually, your arms snaked around him and you squeezed his body. The stress of if anyone found out about this disappeared from your mind, your focus completely on the goosebumps he gave you. As your hands ran up and felt the fabric of his stupid hat, you yanked it off and threw it across the room.
âBedroomâ he stated with a huff as your lips started for a split second.
If you didnât lead him to your bedroom fast enough, he was ready to fuck you in the hallway. As you tumbled into your bedroom like horny animals, Jonathan smiled at the state of your room. Rockstar posters still on the wall, desk in the corner and plant pots all around your room, your childhood teddy bear on your bed. The floor was free of any dirty clothes or rubbish and a honey scented candle was lit.
Jonathan slipped off his jacket and pushed you both onto the bed. After he planted sloppy kisses all over your face, he untied your robe and groaned at your matching baby pink lingerie set.
âWas this to make me feel special?â Jonathan chuckled.
âShut upâ you huffed, subconsciously you covered your arms over your bare body.
Jonathan tutted and moved your arms to your side before he pressed his body on top of yours. As he humped his erection against your hips, he moaned into your mouth. You eagerly pulled his shirt over his head.
âStrip nakedâ he ordered firmly.
Huffing out in protest, you gave in and stripped completely naked before him. His hungry eyes took in every inch of your glory.
âFace down, ass upâ he continued on.
You obliged and pressed the side of your face against the mattress, you ass poking out to him. Jonathan approached you and rubbed his fingers over your dripping cunt.
âOh fuck Johnnyâ you moaned as he slipped his finger inside of you.
âI said face downâ he huffed as he watched your head begin to turn back.
You clenched around him at his demand. Submitting to him was more pleasing than you had anticipated. Jonathan slipped his fingers out and quickly undressed. However, silently he retrieved the camcorder from his jacket pocket and turned it on without a sound. A relieved exhale left your lips as you heard him rip open the wrapper and snap on his rubber.
The tip of his cock is pressed against your entrance and you murmur out. Slowly, he pushed his thick member inside of your squeezing walls.
âYou like that baby?â Jonathan cocked an eyebrow as he slowly buried his cock completely inside of you.
âYeah Johnny, so goodâŚâ you lightly moaned, your eyes fluttered back as you adjusted to his size.
âFuck baby, should have let me fuck you soonerâ Jonathan chuckled as he slowly began to pump his size in and out of you, his fingertips rubbed near your clit.
You hummed out in response, hips rocking back as you quickly matched his rhythm. He held the camera right above you as he rocked his hips back and forward. Occasionally he would direct the device to the back of your head as you moaned out in pleasure. He made sure to give you plenty of compliments to keep you satisfied.
âLike my cock?â Jonathan grumbled
âYeah Jon, I like it a lotâ you admitted carelessly.
âShould we do this more often?â Jonathan chuckled darkly.
âYeahâ you gasped as he hit your g-spot.
Repetitively, his head brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, your walls clenched heavily around him.
âOh Jonathan!â You cried out, hands gripped like iron onto the bed sheets as he pounded into you.
Without even anticipating it, your high crashed over you. You screamed out in ecstasy, your hips rocking impulsively back onto his twitching cock. By how tightly his cock squeezed around you, he quickly came hard, his heavy load of cum swiftly begun to drip out of his condom.
âFuck baby! So good, so fucking goodâ Jonathan praised as he slipped his length out of your soaking entrance.
He was the first guy to ever get you to finish. But you werenât going to give him the glory by telling him that. You panted heavily, gasping for air, eyes closed shut.
âSmile for the camera babyâ Jonathan grinned widely.
Your head shot back and you shrieked as you flipped yourself around and covered your body.
âJon-Jonathan! What the fuck!â you yelped.
âWhat!â He mocked your tone and pitch.
âWhat the fuck is wrong with you! Turn it off!â You demanded, a mixture of panic and fury in your voice.
âNo, no⌠Need to be sure weâll be doing this againâ Jonathan laughed heavily, a stern tone in his gleeful voice.
âJonathan please!â You begged, your body trembled and eyes swelled.
Jonathan sighed and switched the camera shut. He pouted at you as he reached for his boxers and slipped them on without breaking eye contact with you. Gradually, he crawled onto the bed, the camcorder now placed on the floor.
âCome on, we were having so much fun, werenât we?â Jonathan whispered, taking your body in his arms. He planted his lips onto your neck.
âYeahâŚâ you sniffled. Jonathan moaned in agreement, your eyes remained fixed on the camcorder as he worshiped your body.
âItâs not like I want to show anyone anywaysâŚâ He reassured, his hands trailing over your curves. âI don't want other guys ogling youâ he continued, the possessiveness and jealousy dripping out of his words. After a short moment of silence, Jonathan looked into your eyes. âSo, same time tomorrow?â He smirked at you.
âFuck offâ you muttered and shoved his hands off you.
Jonathan laughed lightly and slid off the bed. Quickly, he slid on his clothes, making sure to wave the camcorder at you before he slid it into his pocket. âSee you then, in the meantime Iâll be watching our filmâ he smirked before picking up your robe and throwing it in your direction.
There was no farewell from you, he quickly left, not forgetting his hat before taking off on his bike.
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#smut#dark smut#jonathan breech x reader#jonathan breech#on the edge#cillian murphy kinktober#kinktober 2024#kinktober
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A Safe Way Out
Jonathan Breech x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only)
Summary: You're a very shy patient at the psychiatric hospital and the newest inpatient part of the therapy group has to be the cutest man you've ever seen, and he takes an interest in you, but he's not quite as innocent as he looks.
Word Count: ~3,384
Warnings: Smut (unprotected sex), loss of virginity/innocent reader, cum squirting, oral (fem receiving), mental illness, past trauma, talk of depression and suicide, some angst, language
Disclaimer: This just fantasy/fiction, I do not own anything from the 2001 Irish film On the Edge starring Cillian Murphy.
Breech, Jonathan.
He was surely the prettiest person you'd ever witnessed admitted to this institution that he could make both men and even women jealous, even though his pajamas were ill-fittingly too short and he had a cocky attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the staff and other patients, but he wasn't a total asshole... at least you hoped.
At the couple of group therapy sessions he attended he was rebellious, giving the always tired (but very patient) Dr. Figure grief through ample sarcasm that made you stifle smirks, but as usual you never spoke much, being selectively mute unless you were forced to answer a question from Dr. Figure. They didn't give any drugs to dope up; the doctor didn't think you nor the small group you were part of needed them, but sometimes you wished they would so you didn't have to participate in these stupid sessions that went in half-spun circles and could just conk out in your room or outside.
You had been submitted here by your estranged parents after a series of concerning events that you had tried to mentally block out, including attempting to take your own life because of bullying and abuse; you were not able to ever acclimate fully to society because of it, which led you to being stuck in this place, mentally spinning wheels while growing more and more wary of the outside world everyday. Jonathan was the opposite; he had a spark of defiance and a fire you didn't have enough oxygen for to nourish for yourself. He clearly didn't think he really belonged here and in a way, you sort of admired him even if he was a bit strange and potentially dangerous... He was certainly an exciting refresher in such a dull, day-to-day drudgery.
One day after walking out of yet another mildly frustrating therapy session, he stepped in front of you in the hall as you were making your way back to your room alone, a curious light in his stunningly blue excuses for eyeballs.
"Hey, you mind if I join ya in your room?" he asked suddenly and you froze, uncertain of how to react. You only ever minimally interacted one-on-one with people you trusted... Fellow patient Nick kept saying Jonathan wasn't to be trusted, but Nick was also kind of a paranoid weirdo that always was listening to his headphones, so what did he know?
Jonathan seemed to sense your hesitation and he grinned, trying to put you at ease or maybe he was just messing with you. Either way, you had to hide your intrigue in case he was pulling your leg.
"Don't look spooked out, I'm just so fucking bored at this place and you're pretty cute, but you never really talk... I just wanna get to know ya better," he explained sincerely, but you still felt wary.
"Can I see your room at least?" he asked innocently and you finally gave him a shy nod, causing him to smile in broad relief that reminded you of the last rays of sunlight splashing upon the cliffs.
He walked along beside you, swinging his arms back and forth a bit as if he was winding himself up, all the way to your room and past an orderly who gave him a suspicious glance, but you gave the man a thumbs up to let him know it was fine. Security here was surprisingly not as strict as one would imagine for a psychiatric hospital and the younger patients tended to sneak out once a week to the city with minimal repercussions. They always came back anyway.
You reached your designated room and opened the door slowly, and Jonathan strolled in after you, sighing loudly.
"Oh, would'ja look at that - they gave you the fanciest room they've got," he commented sarcastically as you sat down on the small bed, tucking your knees up to your chest and he stood, surveying you and scene for a second and then joining to sit, copying your posture. He fiddled with his slippers for a minute and then turned to you curiously.
"So lemme get this right: You only talk when or if you have ta?"
"Yeah," you mumbled and he nodded sagely.
"That's an interesting way to deal with people. Don't blame ya, lot of wanks out there not worth being spoken to. What's your name - I mean, I know it from the meeting, but can you say it?" he asked, however unlike any doctor, it wasn't clinical or judgmental. He truly seemed interested and so you whispered your first name aloud to the floor.
"It's a nice name. How old are you?" You could hear the smile in his deep voice.
"T-Twenty two," you responded with a slight stutter, too fluttery to be able to meet his gaze.
"Fuck, that's older than me... I'm nineteen, but you know already know that. You ever been anywhere outside of Dublin?"
You looked away, not answering. If you ever had, you'd been too small to remember.
"How long you've been here?" he asked curiously and you splayed your hand, palm up towards him.
"Five weeks or five years?"
"Years," you whispered and he was silent for a few minutes, picking at the hem of his baby blue pajama pants.
"So much for the road to recovery, eh?" he scoffed and you just shrugged.
He put his legs down, feet flat on the floor and crossing his arms tight to his chest, wearing that oversized silly orange patterned sweater of his. He sniffed and bit his lip, glancing up at the bare ceiling as if he would find the answers to existence there.
"Something happened to you, I know. Shit, something happened to us all here. It's okay if you don't wanna or can't talk 'bout it. But I can't figure out if you have the same thoughts me and the others have? You know, what the doc locks us up for... suicidal? Like there's no fucking point to this blip of existence? And they think we're nuts, but we just seein' the truth."
You slowly pulled up your sleeve, exposing the faint scars etched into your left wrist, remnants of cutting attempts to escape life before you had been dumped off in this place indefinitely. You had never tried it since and were now an adult and could seek the means to leave if you truly wanted to, but there was nothing out there in the world for you.
"See this pinky finger?" Jonathan asked suddenly, poking up his baby finger and you nodded, interested.
"I was just trying to get rid of what was left of me old Da and the damn car didn't do the job right. Could've broken neck but all I broke was me baby finger. Least you've got the scars there to prove survivin'." He sighed heavily, almost disappointed, and you spoke the first sentence you had in days, your voice hushed from disuse.
"Why do ya wanna die?"
He blinked, giving you a meaningful glance and his full lips stretched into a tight ironic smile.
"I don't want to die; I don't want to be alive. I'm just a fucking living ghost, we all are... Doesn't that realization scare the wits outta ya?"
He looked away at the wall, blinking as the drippy tears escaped and his mouth quivered in quiet anguish, his dewy face scrunching up. You reached over and touched his cheek, catching a tear rolling down his smooth pallid skin and wiping it off tenderly. He sniffled, embarrassed, and gently took your wrist and whispered emphatically.
"I like you, Y/N. You don't freak out or talk down to me or bitch about your own problems. You're unique, but I'm thinking ya too cute to be truly crazy."
"Cute?" you repeated and he grinned at hearing your high breathy voice.
"Don't be so afraid to talk, you got a pretty voice. Bet nobody be calling ya cute in a long time, right?"
You shrugged sheepishly and he tilted your chin up with his fingers, tracing the outline of your face fondly and you blushed, not used to being touched by anyone like that. It was... comforting, a feeling you had been very numb to for some time. His pinkish lips parted and he tilted his head slightly, mouth gaping in anticipation for a kiss but you froze, unsure and not wanting to take the lead.
"I want a kiss," he murmured and the way he said it made you draw closer, trusting the process. He closed his eyes and blindly groped your lips, sucking, and then his tongue dove in with a surprising force, swirling around your mouth and he gripped the sides of your head in a vice, cutting off any resistance... Not that you were repulsed in any way once the initial shock wore off.
He broke away after several seconds, gasping and licking his lips hungrily.
"Mm, didja like that?"
Your cheeks became pink and he glanced over your head at the windowpanes being pattered with a steady rain and it was growing dimmer outside, evening approaching with a cloaking storm, and it reflected in the dull colors of the room that was becoming muted of natural light.
"Can I show you something?" he asked huskily, shifting on the bed restlessly.
You ducked your chin in affirmative, heart fluttering in uncertainty as he reached to yank his sweater and pajama shirt over his head, leaving him with a bare chest. You stared, fascinated in his anatomy; it had been so long since you'd seen anyone without some clothing on. He grinned, pointing awkwardly to your own chest.
"So, uh, now this... this'll be the part where you remove your garment," he instructed and cautiously, you unbuttoned your pj's and you never wore a bra, so soon he was facing your naked breasts with your nipples hardening from the airy exposure.
"Really cute," he breathed, gently putting a finger to your right nipple and pressing lightly, stroking around the center and then drawing a line to the other breast, doing the same to that one and you shivered, feeling a strange pull in your stomach that was borderline butterflies. He leaned back, bouncing up slightly on the bed and kicking his slippers off to the floor.
"But hold on, there's more to see," he said with a verging mischievous excitement. You'd never seen him look so genuinely joyful and as he tugged down his pj bottoms, you blinked, faced with a protruding bugle in his white underwear.
After a beat, he removed his boxers, springing forth a stiff appendage that you'd never in the flesh on a man, well, in its erect state at least.
"Want to touch it? It doesn't bite," Jonathan joked with a lazy grin and you cautiously extended a hand and put your fingers on the glistening tip. It was definitely moist and firmly solid, and he shuddered through a breath of arousal.
"Wet," you observed and he laughed, scooting closer so his penis was resting in your hands.
"I like it when you touch me there, don't stop," he begged and you felt him up, amused at his reaction.
He twitched in your palms as you ran careful fingers up his fleshy length and to his balls, lightly petting the coarse dark hair nesting around them, and he shivered pleasurably, resisting the urge to already ejaculate.
"Feelin' good?" you asked fondly, seeing his mouth agape and eyes nearly rolling back.
"Too fuckin' good, need to stop before I cum too quick. Wanna enjoy this... Lemme have at that pussy of yours now instead of using me dick, m'kay?"
You could tell it wasn't a question, but you weren't sure what he meant entirely. You eased off his genitalia, cock dripping slightly, and sat back, waiting for him to elaborate.
"Here," Jonathan murmured and his hands went to your waist, teasing down the waistband of your pj's and pushing the pants down your legs, letting you wiggle out and kick them to the floor, along with your slippers. He stared for a full ten seconds at your womanhood, biting his lip and swirling his tongue around his mouth, before he bent down and spread your legs apart. You tried to ask him what was going to happen, but he dove in already, tongue flicking at your delicate folds with attempted precision. You gasped audibly at the new sensation and he clamped hands down on your thighs, clinging on as he maneuvered his thick tongue faster and you grabbed at a fistful of his hair, shaking from the unfamiliarity and equal anticipation as your body seemed to take control of natural instincts and budding arousal grew stronger.
He just wanted to warm you up though, and he withdrew his tongue soon, lips glistening with a tiny smear of discharge. Your bare chest rose and fell in rhythm as he surveyed the fresh terrain, just aching for more. You very well might be a complete virgin and that prospect tantalized him yet also privately frightened him of messing up. Of course he'd been with girls before, but they weren't this sheltered and sweet. He may corrupt you and alter the course of this extremely new friendship, which in his mind was always meant to become more of a relationship; the moment he saw you he knew he needed to get in your pants.
"Eh, give it a go," Jonathan told himself forcibly and his finger jerked onto your entrance, worming in needily and making you squeak in surprise. He shushed you, zipping his lips with his free hand, giving you a clear message that it wasn't wise to make unusual noises. Even though it wasn't like there was cameras in the rooms, one couldn't be too careful. If Dr. Figure found out his newest unstable patient, the same one that pledged not to kill himself before New Year's Eve, was somewhat taking advantage of a virgin he just met in her own room, the doc would be most displeased.
Nevertheless, whimpers escaped from your throat as he pressed further to your clit and moved another finger to join the first, uncomfortably stretching into your walls. Despite the stinging pain, you felt an decent amount of wetness pooling from your vagina, almost like peeing, and clenched reflexively, hitting his knuckles.
"Oh, I'm thinking it's ready," he whispered impatiently, wriggling his digits away with a squelch and wiping your light drizzle of cum on his cock.
Before you could react, he adjusted position and slid on top of you, pressing his body down onto your bare one and rubbing his full cock in-between your thighs.
You gasped when he began to shove in rather roughly, squirming into your tight unbroken hole and you looked up at his face, watching his hair askew slightly and you noticed a scar above his eyebrow you hadn't noticed before. You wrapped your arms around his neck, afraid to get pinned underneath him, and tried to buck and roll with the motion, but it was getting painful.
"Hurts," you whimpered into his ear as he thrusted further.
"Not gonna hurt in a minute, baby," he whispered, too in heat to stop and consider much else and he clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle any more alarming noises.
"C-Can't go-go all the way in," he panted, his skin slapping yours and rocking the whole small bed.
Sure enough, the pain became more bearable though the more he worked you and pleasure eventually overturned it altogether, the bursting bloom of an orgasm that was very likely the best feeling that had ever happened to you. You sank your mouth on his shoulder to stifle a cry, careful to not bite too deeply, and then mewled into his neck, panting heavily along with him and digging your fingers into his brown scrubby sideburns and floppy hair.
"Mm, fuc-fucking good, ya likin' it, eh?" Jonathan choked out in a whisper and you couldn't respond, too taken by this incredible euphoria and the way his cock flexed inside close at your cervix. You weren't sure how long he could stay in without it becoming too uncomfortable, but he lifted up slightly, grunting softly at his own arousal and effort.
He pulled out just in time, finishing outside by squirting hot ropes of milky cum all over your vagina, stomach, and legs. The bedsheets took a few splatters as well and he heaved in relief as you laid there, utterly stunned at his sexual performance. You had squirted a little bit too and it had intermixed with his juices that you couldn't tell which was from whom. It was so intimate and gross and a big part of you absolutely loved it, having never been in such a situation before... It was exciting and playful.
He swiped two fingers through the fluids and spread it on your thighs further, encouraging you to feel it as well and you giggled at him taking your own fingers and guiding them up to his face, dotting his chin with cum.
Jonathan then sat back on his haunches and admired you, catching his breath and listening to the steady patter of rain. You rolled over onto your side and your eyes widened at a couple spots of blood on the sheets and he looked down in causal observance.
"Ah, that'd be normal, don't worry," he assured with a chuckle.
"Though, uh, maybe we'd better try to hide it case they come collect the sheets tomorrow," he realized on second thought.
"I say I been bleeding, on my cycle," you offered as an explanation.
"Yeah, that'd be good cover," he agreed and climbed off, picking up his clothing and shimmying back into the pajamas and sweater.
"Look, I'll get us some towels or somethin' from the bathroom," he said, walking quietly to the door and opening it with a peering glance out, but the coast was clear. Most patients should be in their rooms by now anyhow.
You relaxed in a post-orgasmic trance while he was gone, listening to the dripping weather outside and wondering how you'd be able to be normal around him tomorrow.
The door squeaked open softly a couple minutes later and Jonathan came back inside with a bundle of torn sheets of toilet paper clutched in his hand.
"Couldn't get towels, so I took some shit paper that'll have ta do instead," he announced with dry amusement and he used it to wipe you clean of the wet mess and you thanked him quietly, grateful to be dry again for it had become rather cold and tingly on your skin. You automatically flinched a fraction when he wiped at your folds, as you were raw and sore, but he was fairly gentle. When he finished, Jonathan moved in very close as if for a kiss, but only whispered near to your ear, tickling your earlobe with his warm breath.
"Don't tell anyone about what we did... just a little secret, m'kay? Though I guess you wouldn't be blabbin' to anyone else anyway," he chuckled darkly, but it wasn't mean.
"Maybe we can see each other again?" he proposed as he balled up the soiled toilet paper and retreated back towards the door.
"Okay, Jonathan," you whispered in reply and he flushed at the sound of his name on your lips.
"I think you'll be my new therapy, better than anything that wanker of a Freud psychiatrist can offer." He paused, shuffling his feet and then glanced up daringly, determination in his blue orbs.
"We'll find a way out soon, a safe way out, me and you and Rachel and Toby... and I'll show you how to have a good time at the pub, eh? Like the sound of that?"
You only smiled as he turned to exit, but then abruptly paused and bit his lip as he looked back at you with a yearning, like what the two of you had just done still wasn't enough.
"Abair do phaidreacha agus codhladh sĂĄmh," he spoke in Gaelic and you translated back softly with a meaningful smile.
"Say your prayers and sleep well."
With a dip of his head and smug, yet almost childlike smile, Jonathan ducked out the door and was gone for the night.
#jonathan breech#on the edge#on the edge 2001#jonathan breech x reader#cillian murphy#jonathan breech smut#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy fanfiction#cillian murphy x reader#cillian x fem!reader#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy x fem!reader#young cillian murphy#cillian murphy fanfic#on the edge movie#irish film#fictional psychiatric hospital#don't like don't read#my writing#winnie's writing
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ITâS YOU, HAPPY ALL THE TIME âââ jonathan breech â§âžđŚš
ŕłâ⡠âI ask Jessica what drowning feels like and she says not everything feels like something else." â âJessica gives me a chill pillâ, Angie Sijun Lou.
pairing. jonathan breech x reader
summary. youâve bared your heart to your bestfriend, jonathan, more times than you can count, whilst knowing practically nothing at all about him. what is friendship if it is not equal⌠what is love if it is not returned? can your relationship survive such one-sidedness?
warnings. swearing, TW mention & description of suicide/attempts & depression, very introspective/kind of a character study???, alcohol & drug use, pining, ANGST!!!!, crying, fluff, smut with feelings, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f), SMUT UNDER THE CUT!Â
word count. 10k (WTF??!?!!??)
a/n. the title is from âshe wonât go awayâ by faye webster:) btw this is⌠rly angsty (and SO long omg im still in shock) so beware𫡠ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IN WHILE!! SCHOOL IS KICKING MY BUTT & THIS FIC WAS AN ABSOLUTE MONSTER TO WRITE LMAO
i.Â
There are very few words in your vocabulary you can use to accurately describe Jonathan Breech.Â
The boy is an enigma, a matryoshka doll that never ends: he is witty and lighthearted and sarcastic, but youâll always catch that edge, the air of malaise he carries around himself, the unspoken elephant in the room that screams WHO ARE YOU REALLY?
He had always been more of a figure, a landscape; something to witness, observe-- experience without letting it do the same to you. You donât know if thatâs something you want, either: thereâs an imbalance in his hilarity, and he always takes things a step too far. Jonathan lights matches and lets them burn all the way down to his fingertips; he shaves and lets the blade leave stinging little nicks, rivulets of blood running down his neck; he chainsmokes cigarettes in his room and only opens the window when he feels his heart hammering in his chest, desperate for air.Â
You meet him â or, first experience him in a similar fashion: he had been in the university library, standing on top of a creaky, old bookshelf, shouting something you couldnât understand over the music blasting through your headphones. You could certainly see him though, gesturing animatedly, dressed eccentrically in his signature winter trapper hat and a velvet blazer. That thin, effeminate figure of his was making winding, marionette-ish steps along the wood, an action that had everyone readying themselves to catch his inevitable fall.Â
Then, seemingly out of nowhere and catching you completely off guard, you caught his eye. He began stepping from one shaky shelf to the next, a complete miracle none of them toppled over, before stopping on one close enough for you to read his lips.Â
âHi,â he mouthed, shifting uneasily on his left foot before regaining a steady balance, âyouâre in my class, right?â
You nodded, hesitantlyâ yes, truthfully, youâd seen him in your Introduction to Literary Studies course a couple of weeks ago, sporting the same outfit as he did now, but you thought nothing of him. Heâd been generally well-behaved then, asking slightly odd but in-tune questions that more or less answered all your inquiries, so you didnât think the guy would have a penchant for, well⌠book-shelf hopping.Â
He grinned, about to say something else, before something â or someone, made him flinch. A professor, probably, considering the unintelligibly muffled, booming voice behind you. However, Jonathan made quick work of the situation, sneakily climbing down and escaping out the door.Â
The next time you see him, heâs sidled up beside you in your shared class. âMind if I sit here?â a familiar voice had asked, to which you murmured a non-committal knock yâself out, before realizing with wide eyes. His presence had caught you off-guard, as he so often did, and you sensed a pattern blooming.Â
Jonathan certainly made for an odd desk-partner; his personality warped the environment around you, and it was suddenly so much easier to tear your eyes away from the lecture and land on Jonathanâs own. Itâs something you never thought youâd ever do, because you adore the material being taught.Â
At the end of class, he asks you out for a drink: heâs just found the best Irish stout in the entire city, and what better way to make it known than to take anyone and everyone he knows there?
Rejection is written on your face clear as dayâ you have class tomorrow, an essay that needs to be finished, and honestly, pubs just arenât really your scene.Â
But in the end⌠you still bite. You canât help it: heâs disarming and warm and looks like he should smell like a bonfire. Somehow, that just does it for your brain; itâs here you learn of the charm that is Jonathan Breech.Â
That night goes everything and nothing like you expected: you expected not to be able to predict his actions, and thatâs exactly what happens. When you meet Jonathan at the aforementioned pub, itâs not actually the one heâs meaning to take you toâ itâs just the closest public place to the on-campus dorm, which is where he says heâs rooming.Â
ââve got a neighbor mâpretty sure is trying to sleep with me,â he says absently, ushering you onto the back of his bike, which had been leaning against a NO PARKING sign. âHeâs always togetâer witâ our dorm advisor, so I should l reject him before I get kicked out, if yâget what I mean.â
Now, you honestly shouldâve expected this from a guy who jumped from six-foot book shelves, but Jonathanâs biking is all swift turns and jilted stops, mere milliseconds from repeatedly running red lights. You want to ask if he just learned how to ride the thing yesterday, but canât, not with how utterly reckless and shameless he is about it, his terrible steering making you instinctively wrap your arms around his chest.Â
You clutch him tightly, making him hum in approval, and you feel your ears burn flusteredly. You wouldâve pulled away, but then he cut from the right lane to the left in one swift move, barely missing several cars, and you practically shrieked instead. âOh my god!â
âSorry,â he apologizes quickly. You canât see his face, having shut your eyes in fear, but after hearing the blatant cheekiness in his tone, you can imagine clear as day how gleefully it contorts. You want to slap him somewhere, anywhere, but thatâd defeat the point of being mad at his recklessness, so you squeeze him tighter instead, and he chokes on his breath. âJesus-- mâsorry, really!â
When the two of you make it to the pub â alive and uninjured! â annoyingly all the way across town, your first few steps off his bike are stuttered, dizzy: âWe are-- not going by bike next time,â you gasp, leaning against a random brick wall.Â
âNext time, eh?â He grins, and this time you really do slap himâ just on the arm, bless your self-control and niceties not to beat this oddly comfortable-to-be-around near-stranger to death.Â
The pub, with its forgettable name and dingy stools, has a minimal, lackluster crowd. A kitschy neon sign flickers and dies as you walk in, making you raise a brow, but Jonathan merely drags you by the arm to a cozy corner table, then disappearing deeper within the venue before returning moments later with two pints of black beer in tow.
âGo on, then,â he gestures, setting the tall glass on the table, sitting down in the chair in front of you and taking a hearty sip of his own drink.
You let out a little hesitant sigh at his words, before relenting and taking in a long gulp of the liquid. ââŚHuh,â you remark, impressed. Jonathan smiled knowingly behind his glass, letting out a smug little ah, you see?Â
âWorth the long ride?â he inquired innocently, as if that was the only thing wrong with the night.
âWorth the ride, but not worth almost dying for,â you rolled your eyes goodheartedly, knocking back the rest of the bitter drink and making him whistle.Â
The rest of the night goes like this: Jonathan orders two more rounds of the quality Irish stout before the twoâve you are stumbling out of the pub, exploring all the nightlife there is to offer, like the crowd surrounding an out-door live comedy group performing down the street that has you and Jonathan giggling for hours after, or the underground speakeasy you accidentally find yourselves shoved into, a nasally guitarist singing on a smoky stage, several more drinks finding themselves in your system despite how nauseous you already feel.
âYou-- dâyou fancy him?â Jonathan slurs behind you, steadying himself by pressing his hands to your waist.
âF-fancy who?â you blink blearily, leaning into his warm touch.
âWho else mâI talkinâ about, girl? The singer!â
You shake your head no numbly, practically collapsing into his arms now, your head lulling on his chest. Youâre so close you can smell the distinct scent of his skin, that unique musk everyone has, and itâs strangely familiar, like those smells that evoke old, nostalgic memories. Itâs like how sunscreen summons the smell of the sun after a childhood beach day, or how vanilla extract takes you back to the smell of your motherâs baked goods on a specific winter evening.
âReckoned you wouldnât,â he assumes, hands coming away from your waist to wrap his arms around your shoulders, swaying to the music slightly in the crowded club, âlooks like a -- right bleedinâ dope⌠witâ that mop of hair.â
You giggle, alcohol riddled beyond belief, unable to formulate a response with the conflicting blurry thoughts in your head: itâs telling you Jonathan Breech isnât the crowd you want, that you need to go home and work, that you let loose too easilyâ but it also tells you that you can see yourself becoming friends with him very, very quickly.Â
Itâs there, in that club, Jonathan Breech moves into your life and fills a gaping hole you didnât know existed, like a hole in your stockings you only notice when you get home. You have friends, certainly, more than you can count on both hands, but they never get as close as Jonathan does. After that night, an unknown force pulls the two of you together, making you run into him everywhere, and a tight friendship blooms like a lilypad in a raging storm; beauty within the chaos. In the multitude of close friendships youâve harbored, he is the first to see so many sides of you. The last thing that did was your mother; it had only ever been your mother.Â
He is an endearing, amazing friend, both the intent listener and the charismatic speaker all at once; he knows his friends like the back of his hand, can recount their life like he can count the number of moles on his face-- but you, and everyone else, know absolutely nothing about him.Â
At least, close to nothing-- you know he likes ice cream and hanging out and going to the pub; you know he likes biking and doing drugs and women; you know he hates the sea and his brother and his father, but you donât know him. All youâve ever seen him do is smile or laugh or shout in mock anger; there is a carefully glued mask on his face he takes meticulous caution in preserving-- he is terrified to let go, despite the blasĂŠ persona he lets on.
Or maybe the mysterious matter of your bestfriend is tripping you up for no reason; maybe youâre psychoanalyzing something that doesnât need to be psychoanalyzed, reading between lines that donât exist. But if you were asked to answer honestly, thereâs just something about Jonathan you donât get. There is a split seam in the tapestry of his life, missing pieces in the story he pretends to tell with utmost accuracy. There are things that he never talks about, that he recoils when asked like youâve poked a tender wound.Â
âSo, what were you doing before⌠all this?â You ask him once, laying on his messy bed in his dorm-room and scanning the water-damage constellations dotted along his popcorn ceiling. By all this you mean going to university, being the resident party boy, aimlessly pursuing a degree youâre 99% sure he picked blindfolded (culinary science) and standing here, with you, snorting a line of something on his creaky wooden desk.Â
Jonathan freezes, still hunched over. âWhat dâyou-- what dâyou mean?â he says, tone breezy but, uncharacteristically tense⌠jilted and preoccupied. You couldâve brushed it off as him being seriously focussed on his drugs, but the way he shifts, how his shoulders curl in like he wants to disappear, tells you otherwise.Â
âI mean, before going to school here⌠yâknow, what were you like as a dumb teenager?â
You twoâre twenty, barely not-teenagers, but it still makes a world of a difference: youâre living away from home, doing what you want, experiencing (a juvenile, naive version of) freedom and adulthood.
âI dunno⌠kind of a tool, that's fâsure,â he chuckled, rubbing his nose roughly. Heâs being funny on purpose, a jesterâs distraction: he doesnât want you to realize his answersâ not really one at all.Â
You shifted on his bed, now leaning against his headboard. His answer strikes you as odd and uncharacteristic despite his attempts to evade suspicion: usually, Jonathan pounces at the chance to yap on and on. âWhat, the great Jonathan Breech doesnât have any wild stories to tell? No bones broken, girls dumped, houses trashed?âÂ
He snorted at that, like some inside joke you werenât privy to was brought up in your words, and he descended back down on a carefully partitioned line of white. âI broke my baby finger once,â he relented vaguely when he finished, dusting off the table and licking the remains off his hand. âI cried and I cried and I cried.â
âDid it hurt that much?â you grinned, mind trailing off to imagine a baby-faced Jonathan Breech, a juvenile highschool boy, doing something silly to break that finger. Maybe he accidentally flung off his bike, broke it because of a dare, or maybe it happened just by slipping and falling.Â
âIt - uh⌠didnât hurt enough,â Jonathan smiled, tight-lipped and paltry. All at once the air in the room had changed, like someone attached a vacuum to the window and sucked everything out.Â
Your grin fell, and you watched him carefully: perhaps, had you not been as close to him as you were, heâd have let something show. A twitch in the smile, a break in the facade. But you were, and his face stayed the same, and your thoughts ran circles around themselves. This was⌠something else, something belonging to the part of his life he didnât talk about.Â
The atmosphere had grown tense, taut, a rubber band twisted âround and round, threatening to burst, so you leave the matter of his injury alone; of his life alone. You go back to staring at his ceiling, he goes back to his drugs; Jonathan collapses within himself, and you donât notice how badly he suffocates⌠how suffering in silence is also accompanied by the overwhelming desire to be found.
ii.
Sometimes, despite his self-imposed distance, Jonathan lets someone look inside his head.Â
You are both the sometimes and the someone; you donât know why itâs always you, but you chalk it up to the fact that beneath his unpredictable demeanor, the murky and unreadable feelings he holds for others, is this uncharacteristic constant: he holds a softness for you. Itâs what lets you know thereâs something haunted lurking beneath his happy-go-lucky surface.Â
You donât know where this softness comes from, either. But you know you see it, in lingering touches, tender duchenne smiles unlike the devilish tilt his lips usually hold, how he clasps his hand around yours after a night at the pub and walks you home because he knows you get paranoid. You see it in how he comes over to your apartment when you donât answer anyone's calls during exam season, how he remembers what your motherâs name is and what your childhood pet was and what your favorite flowers are. How his lips brush past your cheek when he pulls away from hugs, his hands shuddering around your shoulders, like heâs afraid heâll crush you.
You only wish you could do the same. You want to sit by his side and mend his heart, lend an ear to his most mundane fears, you want to take his hand into your own and kiss it softly, return all that he has done for you, take the same as you have given to him: what is friendship if it is not equal, what is love if it is not returned? It is something broken, unable; split halves of one heart, an imbalance in the scale, Bonnie without her Clyde, a fish out of water.Â
Jonathan pours his heart into your own, filling holes you know you donât have, and you think he may be overcompensating for something else, seeing things in you that really belong to him. It is maddening, and you just want to beg and plead he lets you in.Â
But you settle for the gentle pokes, the prodding, and try to decipher the vague answers he gives you. Most days, you canât really make sense of it.Â
âSorry,â you apologize, about to leave the outing you planned with Jonathan â studying, or, trying to study, at an intimate coffeebar the two of you frequented â âmy dadâs gotten drunk with his lads and my mum needs help dragging him home.â
 âHey, hey, donât worry. I get it: my dad used to do that all the time,â he waves your words off casually, but you donât miss how jilted he says used to and the pain in his tone at all the time.
âOh, surely she was fit to go to the madhouse?â you laughed once, responding to Jonathanâs complaints about an eccentric classmate in his agricultural studies. He laughs back, he always does, but this one is hollow, forced; barely stopping a grimace from coloring his tone.Â
You notice these things like itâs a shadow following someone in the sun. He is lying, hiding; about something you donât know but it is happening. It is happening, and you are so very curious: you pick up on the littlest tendrils of him, fed wholly on any information you can squeeze out. He is a mystery you want to delve within completely; answer that question of WHO ARE YOU REALLY? and leave no room for error.Â
Youâd give yourself to him the very same if he merely asked; youâd whisper childhood fears and tell the origin stories of faded scars on your knees and why you check under your bed before sleeping. Youâd detail your entire life from sunset birth to starry night end if he even made a passing comment about knowing; you would trust your love, your heart, your entire life in his beautiful, shaky hands. This is the relationship you have built around yourselves, and it is beginning to feel terribly one-sided.Â
Alas, your curiosity overwhelms him, and you take it too far, just once. Only once.Â
âWhereâd this come from?â you murmur, brushing your fingers over a scar above his eyebrow. Itâs something you see only now, his hair mussed and wild from the various blankets and pillows on your dinky couch.Â
Heâs crashing at your apartment tonight, an invited event, because you often miss him like you miss home; the boy is sneakyâ he slinks away like a street cat and only comes back for food. Itâs only fair he lets you wrangle him back like this, making him stay by your side at least once a week. Â
Your words make him freeze, like he often does; it reminds you of hikers, who freeze when they see mountain lionsâ he thinks if he stops and stares and pretends to disappear youâll look the other way, drop the question, forget him completely.
But you donât. You donât know whatâs affecting him -- not that he wants you to -- so you just stare back into his cornflower blue eyes. You stop and stare and see right through him; you hold the question like a knife to his neck, and commit him to memory.Â
âThe scar?â Jonathan pales, shuddering despite it having long since been healed over. The aftershocks of an earthquake.Â
You simply nod, fingers pulling away. Youâre still closer than ever though, the two of you being the only things in your cramped concrete apartment, the chosen movie on your telly still running and long forgotten.Â
Your attention remains on him, brandished into something dangerous, like youâll carve the answer out of him if you have toâ but the moment passes. He doesnât say anything and you accept that as the answer. Gone is your razor-sharp focus, and there is nothing more to the matter.Â
But Jonathan doesnât register this, no, heâs thinking, gears in his head turning and creaking. His tongue grazes against the backs of his teeth, jaw chattering like it was as cold as it was when⌠as cold as it was back then, and he doesnât want to tell anyoneâ but itâs you. Youâre not just anyone.Â
Youâre the one he holds a certain softness for. The one he equally bares his heart to and holds the most secrets from. The one heâs most terrified to know. The only one he wants to know.Â
So, he decides to tell a partial truthâ something digestible. People adore that which can easily slide down the gullet: news headlines donât detail the goriness of a murder, they give the âinsiderâ scoop of the scared neighbor. To be able to digest information is what makes the world go round, and he does not think you could digest the full truth-- he does not think he wants you to.Â
He feels ill at the thought of anything between you changingâ oh, how ruined heâd feel if you began treating him like fucking glass.
This abhorrent social pressure is what makes Jonathan grit this sentence through his teeth: âI got into a car accident,â he gulps dry, âwhen I was nineteen. Was drunk⌠went fer a spin. I skidded off a -- um, an empty highway. The tall sorts; high up, yâknow. Fell.â
His voice makes you look back up at him, and your eyes are beautiful and tenseâ it breaks his heart. He knows youâre probably thinking it was in-character, how expected that is of Jonathan Breech, how youâll easily take this partial truth, how youâll never know the full one until it comes in a letter under your door and heâs long gone.Â
âTell me,â you ask him, lips falling into a near-frown instead of laughing or grinning wider. Itâs hushed, whispered like a secret, âWhat did it feel like? Falling, I mean.â
Jonathan licks his lips, bores his shaking gaze into your own, and tells you not everything feels like something else. That the word connotes all you need to know. Falling meant he was falling; his arms raised and the air took him and that was it.Â
It makes your brows twist and your lips press into a thin line: his nonchalance is worrying, no more his signature characteristicâ there is something wrong about this apathy toward injury, toward the potential death.Â
âIs that how you broke your finger?â You murmur, and it startles him. How you pieced the two things together, how you weaved a web from what little you knew about him; how futile his attempts to hide could be.
âWhat?â he responds, hoarse. There is a lurking shadow in his bones telling him heâll taint you, telling him to be ashamed, telling him how badly you will never be his. It is such a damning reality, that no matter how much he may yearn for you, he is too incomplete to meet your needs; he is too hurt not to hurt you too.Â
âThe car accident. Is that how you broke your pinkie?â you repeat, and you gripped his hand resting at your side, bringing it up to present the finger to him like he forgot where his pinkie was.Â
Jonathanâs gaze darts from you to the finger, and he feels his insides quiver; so badly does he want to spill his entire soul to you. But that internal reminder -- hurt people hurt people hurt people -- makes him settle for nodding, parted lips locking closed.Â
Nothing special happens that night, no shocking revelation or bombarded confession; Jonathan nods, keeps his lips sealed, and gets up from the couch, figure dreary and fatigued. He murmurs an incomplete excuse, something half-baked and blatantly unconvincing that he has to leave, and you let him go. You think youâre imagining the shudder in his shoulders, the shake in his voice as he says goodbye, and you let him go.Â
Itâs there, like that club so long ago, you discover another thing about Jonathan Breech: push too far and he shuts down, closes shop and puts up his guard forever. Itâs the mere fact of how attentive you are to his words; you remember how he broke his finger, and he realizes he cannot hide from you any longer.Â
Youâre reaching a point in your friendship -- your relationship, no matter platonic or romantic for all lines have been crossed; nobody is so raw to one another with love not involved -- where youâll bare your hearts on your sleeves, share your every thought and dream and fear. But Jonathan wonât be able to reciprocate, and the very thought of rejecting you, betraying you, makes his stomach twist in knots. That crestfallen face of yours would haunt him for all time, your every melancholy feature burning into his memory like the scars left by cigarettes on skin.
So he leaves, hurt people hurt people hurt people echoes in his ears all the way home; he turns into an alleyway shortcut and prays death swoops down and takes him right there. He leaves his consciousness curled lovingly in your arms; his shell walks home and prays youâre none the wiser. But youâve already reached that point in your relationship; you already know.Â
When people die, or friendships do, sometimes they end with just a goodbye, a mild, casual goodbye because you think thereâll be dozens, hundreds more-- but there wonât be. Suddenly, alone in that cramped apartment, the buzzing from the tv filling your ears, your couch still warm from someone long gone, you know.
You know you startled him, that heâs left your apartment and heâll never come back. Your heart cools, and she whispers that you took it too far, that you crossed a line you were never made aware of, that when you see him in class tomorrow he might not sit next to you, he might not talk to you, that you might lose him forever because he is too stubborn to open up and you are too stubborn to let him go.Â
Well, you were too stubborn to let him go.Â
Itâs three weeks before you speak to Jonathan again. Three long, dragging weeks, moments in time where he avoided your gaze, evaded your presence, slipped past you before you got too close. You certainly try, of courseâ you seek him out every chance you get, trying to get an Iâm sorry, please talk to me out before he runs off, but itâs virtually impossible.
Once, after class, youâd caught him in the middle of a flurry of exiting students by the velvet blazer, your hands curled around the lapel. âJonathan,â you panted, trying to drag him off to the side to escape the bustling activity around you, âplease, we need to talk--â
But then Jonathan had faced you, eyes widened and spooked like heâd seen a ghost, a never-before-seen-by-you fear covering his gracefully cut features, before he tugged off the black blazer and escaped into the crowd. He had seen you, widened his eyes, left. Such a simple action tore your heart in two; it had confirmed your suspicionsâ youâd gone too far, he was never coming back, and you were all alone. There you stood, fingers wrapped around one of his favorite articles of clothing starkly without its beloved owner, completely alone.Â
In three measly weeks, he has put up a biting winter of distance between you two.Â
Your feelings are unable to comprehend themselvesâ they fight and sob and run circles around your mind, they make you doubt, crumble, devour yourself from the inside out; they make you ask yourself what you can do to salvage this, what can you do to fix this? What is there to make of him, of his behavior; what do you do with yourself and this guilt?
If you could imagine time was a construct, you were certain you could convince yourself this stretch of time was nothing⌠propel yourself into a present where Jonathan does not afflict your mind, take over your every thoughtâ does not ruin you like so. If only you could do that, you could close your eyes and reopen them when youâve let go. But you were always too stubborn to let him go, werenât you?
Itâs three weeks to the day before you speak to Jonathan again, and it happens through the crack of his dorm door, your arm wedged through it because you know he is not cruel; he will let you in without a doubt. Â
âPlease,â you plead to Jonathan, âjustâ I just want to talk. Please?â
He stares at you straight, expression cold and reserved, before he breaks and pulls away; bites his lip, lets you in his room, doesnât look you in the eye. Looking around, you sense something in his dorm has changed; it had gained a bereft quality, like it was attuned to Jonathanâs state of mind and felt depressed beyond your comprehension. There was a cold air to the place, an utmost frigid demeanor to a room incredibly warm just weeks prior. In your absence, the dorm had been neglected, gutted, abandoned.Â
âIâm sorry,â are the first words that tumble out of your mouth. âI- I know you donât like⌠talking about -- about your life before here, and Iâm sorry. But please, Jonathan, just talk to me. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you.â
He sits down on the edge of his weak bedframe, pulling his knees up and pressing his face into them. âYou donât need to-- donât⌠donât apologize. You donât need tâmake it better, either. Allâs grand.â he promises, words muffled and shaky. Itâs a weeping kind of tone; you could just as easily imagine him sobbing with that voice.Â
Your brows knit. Your emotions are wavering, treading brutally between disbelief, despair and rancor. âThen -- then why?â
âWhy what?â
âWhy did you avoid me? Why did you - why did we spend these last three weeks playing cat and mouse, if you werenât mad at me? Is this your sick idea of a joke?â
âNo! I-- jesus christ,â Jonathan looked up from his hands before immediately pressing two fingers between his eyes, âI wasnât ⌠avoiding you.â
âI havenât seen you in weeks!â you point out painfully, exasperated. âYou know, youâve been avoiding me for longer than this. Youâ you push me away any chance you get. Youâre afraid. I donât know of what, but youâre- so fucking secretive, and itâs tearing me apart.â
âIâm not - afraid of anything. Iâm just a private personâ you know this. Would you, if I âpushed you away?!ââÂ
At his denying deflection, something within you snaps: âWhy wonât you - fucking let me in? Iâve â Iâve bared my soul to you; you know me from the inside out. I trust you with my lifeâ why, why canât you do the same?â
âI didnât ask you to do that! And I didnât â I didnât mean tâget so close to you, okay?!â He bursts, and you flinch. His hands shakily come up to his face once more; he wipes roughly but itâs no useâ youâve already seen his delicate tears threatening to spill, and it burns more holes in your heart than you thought his suffering would.
âWhat are you talking about?â you pry, now without any cautious reservations about his demeanor.
âI didnât mean to get so fucking attached, because - âcause IâŚâ Jonathanâs hands clenched into fists at his sides, âfuck.â
âWhat?â you repeat, but itâs softer, concerned; how quickly his body language shifted from irritated to terrified has you scrambling to support him. âTalk to me,â you ask, taking nervous steps closer, like you were approaching a wounded animal.
He sucks in a sharp breath, and holds it, like he did cigarette smoke, before exhaling heavily. âOkay- okay. When I was - nineteen, I drove a car⌠I drove off a cliff and tried tâkill myself. I was-- admitted to a psychiatric hospital for a year, and when I got out I moved here fâschool. I- I⌠promised mâself I wouldnât let anyone get too close.â
The confession hangs in the air, a lonely little thing; itâs a bleeding piece of his own heart heâs plucked and placed in your palms. He shudders, and you want to nurture it like nothing else. This is a culmination of a yearâs worth of evasion coming to a close; youâre seeing him completely, rawly, for the first time.
âBut- but why? You donât have toâ Jonathan, you donât need to do that just because you - you⌠yâknow.â
âIâm- I know that,â he starts brashly, defensively. âItâs bâcause I am very, very aware of my - of mâown self destructivenessâŚâ His words taper off into something of grief; the Sisyphean struggle of wanting to live, while that depressive boulder pushes him back, colors him completely. âI just⌠I didnât want to - tâhurt anyone in case I -- in case next time I succeeded.â
âNext time?â you repeat, and your voice broke in a way you wish was less vulnerable, less blatantly miserable.
âThis is why I didnât want toââ Jonathan sighs, deflates, âIâm not telling you this because I want you to - tâfucking save me, okay? Iâm telling you this because you wanted to know, and I couldnât hide from you anymore. Because you asked.â
âYou didnât need tâhide it in the first place!â you exclaimed, coming closer to him. âYouâve never had to hide a fucking âting from me.â
âYou wouldnât have understood!â He said back, volume nearing a shout. âYouâll treat me differently now, you see, youâll look at me fuckinâ differentââ
It made your heart sink-- how sure his words were, how certain he was of your rejection. How little trust did he have in you?Â
(You remember he wanted to sink, too-- lose himself in the baby blue sea; let it swallow him whole and never be seen again.)
âYou - you really think Iâll treat yâdifferently because of this? You know my every crevice, my every thought-- I have never once doubted that youâll accept me.â
âI-I⌠why should I - expect any of this to stay the same?â
Suddenly, you took his face into your hands. âBecause I-- I fucking love you, okay? And itâs not just friendly, or romantic, even if itâs bothâ Iâm⌠I love you like nothing Iâve ever loved before. I accept and adore your every skill and flaw and antic; you wormed your way into my heart and I want to worm my way into yours.â
âThat doesnât meanââ Jonathan tried to interject, a noise all utter disbelief. You cut him off, though, continuing your sudden confession; you hadnât been privy to these own romantic feelings of yours till moments prior, but everything being said just felt right.Â
âJonathan, I donât care if you drove a car off a cliff or cyanide-poisoned our professor or blew something up, because I love you. You, with all your problems and great, big, beautiful life. All I want is for you to want that life; I want you to want me in it. I feel it in my bones that Iâm meant to love you; you are meant to be my home, you are everything I am supposed to know. It wonât fix you or fix anything at all but I just need you to know-- I need you to know the why to my every action. Itâs because I love you.â
He looked up at you, wide-eyed, head resting in your gentle hold. âI - donât know what to say⌠are you - for real?â
âAs real as can be,â you smiled back at him, tracing circles along his smooth skin; you couldâve drank in that attentive stare of his for hours upon hours. âI love you, and nothing and no-one, not even you, can change that.â An aching grip had clenched around your heart at his words, that blatant disbelief: are you for real? God, had you ever been-- had you ever fucking been.Â
Jonathanâs mouth opened to speak, but instead, he let out an agonizing sort of cry; an exclamation of utter surprise at the loving acceptance. Then, he hesitantly leaned into your touch, as if heâd never hugged before, wrapping his arms around your waist to snatch you as close to him as possible. He held you tighter and tighter as the seconds went by, like this was all a mocking dream his yearning mind had made up; that if he closed his eyes now heâd wake up desolate, alone, without you for eternity. His worst nightmare.Â
ââŚGod, Iâm so - fucking stupid,â he grumbled, sounding angry, but you could feel vulnerable, hot tears soaking into the fabric of your shirt. âTo assume you, of all people, would act that way⌠you of all people.â He said that tenderly; you of all people certainly meant miles more things you werenât explicitly aware of, but you still felt the sentiment. âIâm not -- poetic or anything like that⌠but I love you, too.â
You chuckled a beautiful, wet laugh. âYou donât haftaâ say anything sweet or special. Youâre everything to me.â
He squeezed his eyes shut, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling you onto the mattress with him. He flipped you beneath him, and held himself up by the forearms laying on either side of your head. âFuck, I love you. I love you.â Jonathan repeated the words several more times, strange and foreign but right at home being said to you. Like his mouth was made to only ever say I love you to you.Â
Suddenly, you pressed your lips to his, shutting him up momentarily. You could still feel the vibrations of I love you rumbling in his throat as you kissed him. Your tongues danced along one another, an all consuming waltz; you wanted to know everything about him, down to the taste of his tongue, memorize how sweet his mouth felt on yours. Oh, how you longed for this moment; how could you ever think about love again, and yearn for it, without thinking of Jonathan?
You reckoned thatâs what this had been the whole time; your love started as a little flame, something under the guise of friendship, but the two of you had fanned it, nurtured it-- all of a sudden the miniature warmth of platonic love burst into a raging, adoring fire. Youâd fed this flame with tenderness, and it responded in kind; you could never again look at Jonathan without a certain intimate reverie. Perhaps thatâd been why Jonathan found it so hard to cut off this relationship as he had dozens others: something primal and unconscious within him had begged him not to let you goâ some higher being knew his home was only ever in your arms.Â
Jonathan deepened the kiss hungrily, pressing his weight onto you and pushing you into the mattress. Your head was spinning from the lack of air, and one of your hands had to sneak beneath his hat and tug at his hair to get him to stop. âHey,â you panted, looking worriedly into his eyes, âwhatâs up?â
âSorry,â he apologized sheepishly, hanging his head lowly for a moment before meeting your gaze once more, batting his long lashes. âJusâ missed you. Thasâ all.â
âMissed yâtoo,â you murmured, pulling him back down to kiss you again. Your hands left the crown of his head and trailed down his backside, tracing over the curves and bumps of his frumpy yellow v-neck sweater.Â
That touch of yours seemed to spur him on even more, and his kisses began to travel; along your jaw, to your pulse, down the long ravine of your neck, tongue darting out to lick the hollow of your collarbone, making you squeal. He chuckled against your skin, a genuine amusement rather than the mocking one you two so frequently practiced, and it all went downhill from there. His hands skillfully tugged off your tank top, knee between your clenched thighs, more teasing kisses being planted along your now bare -- save for your bra -- chest.
You didnât mean to come over, profess your love and suddenly jump into a steamy, yearning makeout session (which, you were pretty sure was venturing off into sexâŚ) but you supposed that apologizingâ arguing, whatever âmeant your relationship went back on track to wherever it was heading⌠which may have been set to end with an ardor romance anyway. This love of yours wouldâve bursted at the seams of friendship; it could not be confined by such mere things as labels.Â
âFuck,â you groaned, arching into his teasing kisses along the peaks of your breasts, his hands ghosting around your clothed chest but never touching. âPlease, Jon.â
You could feel his cheeky grin on your skin, âTell me what you want, love.â
ââŚTake this off,â you demanded gently, referring to Jonathanâs sweater.
âYour wish is my command.â he snickered, obliging and removing the yellow knit-- as well as his white undershirt and pajama bottoms. He was left in a pair of boxer-shorts and that silly, silly winter-trapper hat, his fingers sneaking up to your supple thighs and tickling the edges of your jean-shorts; a silent plea.Â
âEager,â you mumbled, noticing his over-compliance in completely stripping, smiling and guiding his hands to the waistband of your shorts to tug the tight article off.Â
When he did so, you shivered, both at the feeling of being only in your underwear, as well as Jonathanâs sharp, attentive gaze. âYouâre so beautiful,â he panted, eyes exploring your every sweet feature.Â
He was enamored with your bare body, not in a sexual way despite the blatantly sexual situation, but rather in a worshiping, religiously devoted way. It mayâve been blasphemous to think so, but Jonathanâs sudden chaste kisses along the curve of waist only seemed to prove you right; his mouth on you was gentle, like heâd held you before, except now without any guilt or hesitation. It was a holy way of loving you; something all-consuming, becoming the epicenter of a life, becoming the purpose, motivation, and belief all at once.Â
That familiar broiling in your gut occurred as he made his way closer to the pulsing, lace-covered place between your legs; your hands were gripping the sheets tightly in pure anticipation, his hot breath on your sensitive skin. âDonât be such a tease,â you pouted, legs fumbling for purchase along his body, trying to pull him closer to you.
âWeâve got all the time in the world,â he hummed, but his fingers still curled into the band of your baby-blue panties and dragged them down in one desperate go, âbut I do wanna taste youâŚ.â
Jonathanâs veiny hands pried your quivering thighs apart, murmuring an offhand already stole yâpanties, donât get all shy on me now when you whimpered flusteredly, before he descended on your dripping lips, licking a flat-tongued stripe up to your clit.Â
You gasped at the sudden action, but it quickly morphed into a choked moan when he pressed himself further and parted your lips, nose to your pelvic bone; he made quick work of you, artfully curling his long tongue into your hole and slurping your slick.Â
âSo sweet,â he praised, the vibrations of his voice making your thighs clench around his head. He hummed in amusement at your reaction, lapping you up quicker; he kitten-licked and slobbered, feeding on your sticky cunt, tongue darting in every direction, feeling your walls and prying deeper into your hot hole, which ached for the cock straining against the mattress now. The bottom half of Jonathanâs face was now positively soaked, glistening with his own drool and your needy wetness, all of it mixing dirtily and sliding down the length of his neck.Â
âJon!â you mewled, hands tearing off his trapper hat and flinging it elsewhere before curling your hands into his mousy brown hair and pushing his face deeper into your pussy, desperate to come. You were riding his face now â or, attempting to, more accurately bucking up into him â adoring his unceasing ministrations. He was basically fucking you with his tongue, overstimulating your clit with teasing licks then pulling away, feeling along the ridges of your walls.
âPick mâhat up later, love,â he tutted, pulling away slightly to see where youâd haphazardly thrown it, and your desperate whine neared a sob. He breathed in sharply, taking in how quickly heâd undone you: in a matter of minutes, your expression had grown wanton, eyes blown out, drooling, hair askew, bra riding up your tits and revealing your sweet, puffy nipples.Â
Jonathan quickly forgot about the state of his beloved hat, and went back down on you, mouth devouring in full force once again. You rolled your hips forward, and when he pulled his tongue out of your wet hole to suckle softly on your fleshy nub, your eyes rolled back into your head and your legs shook around his face, toes curling tightly. A choked moan left you alongside the sudden climax, sounding a hundred percent pornographic and all for him.Â
You panted, silent and unmoving for a moment, and Jonathan began moving to get up and let you take a breather before continuing, absolutely terrified to push you too far or do anything you didnât want to doâ he was the spontaneous one, and you were the responsible one, but that didnât mean he ever wanted to force anything upon you. His simultaneous decisions were made mostly in part with your interests in mind; he made the decisions you were too nervous and over-thinking to choose quicker.Â
However, you took a long breath, then trailed your hand over the painfully noticeable bulge within his soft boxers. âWanâ⌠make you feel good,â you murmured, flattening your hand against his erection.Â
Jonathan inhaled sharply, pitifully affected by the minor touch but holding back with an incredible amount of self restraint. âI can wait,â he offered sweetly, one of his hands coming up to your flattened handâs forearm to rub the skin.Â
You shook your head foggily, cupping him through the fabric, slowly adding friction by sliding your hand up and down.Â
âS-shit,â he bit his lip, âyou want this now, baby?â
You nodded vehemently with a whimper, and to make more of a point, you reached behind and unclasped your bra, tossing it elsewhere on his dirty dorm floor, before beginning to slip off his underwear.Â
The hand on your arm stopped you, though, in favor of doing it himself and pressing his weight further onto you, your chests flush with one another. You were only able to take in thin breaths, making your head spin, but it also amplified the arousal blooming in your cunt when Jonathan slotted himself at your soaking entrance, collecting his saliva and your slick on his tip.Â
Before he pushed in, however, his head dipped into the hollow of your neck, plush lips brushing past the shell of your ear. âIs this okay?â he murmured, pressing a wet kiss to your temple.Â
âPlease,â you whined, hands pushing flat on his back to bring him closer to you.
With that, Jonathan slowly buried his length within your cunt, making your breath hitch. âI love you,â he groaned, entering you inch by inch, relishing how your warmth swallowed him whole. âFuck, I love you so much.â
Your hole was stuffed beyond belief, but Jonathan was gentle with you, caressing your waist with the rough pads of his fingers and massaging you, trying to ease his entrance into something painless. Obviously, with that length and thickness it couldnât be painless at all, but his attempts helped your mind drift off elsewhere and take some of the attention off the stinging stretch.Â
After a long moment of ragged breathing, Jonathan cooing words of praise into your neck as he kissed you without moving, you dug your fingers into the skin of his back: âMore,â you choked out, the fullness in your cunt now feeling delicious rather than cringeworthy.Â
He smirked against your skin, âLooks like youâre tâeager one now.â
âOh, get on with it,â you rasped and he let out a low chuckle, sliding out of your hole before thrusting back in. That first movement already made your hips jerk up into him, back arching. It was like all the warmth in your body had collected in your cunt, leaving you freezing from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, but still with a needy, burning fire in your insides.Â
Jonathanâs pace was affectionate and rhythmic: you could feel the tenderness in his each and every gentle roll of the hips. It made you feel like the sun, how attentive he was, but he was also so fucking slow. If anything, that had your walls clenching onto him harder than if he hammered into youâ that slow build-up of friction was dizzying. You squirmed, cunt clenching and contracting around his smooth thrustsâ you wanted to take him within you completely, cause more friction for you were going stir-crazy with this lazy speed.Â
âF-fuck! Faster, please,â you cried out, unable to take his sensual movements any longer. Your legs were twitching with his patient movements, and you couldâve sworn you saw a cheeky grin on his lips. The bastardâ even in sex was he teasing you, wanting to torture you until you gave in to the pleasure and begged him to ruin you. Â
Sure, this was your first time together, and was going extremely pleasantly and sweetly, but you were actually pretty fond of the idea of letting him pound into you like there was no tomorrowâŚÂ
At the lewd thought, your walls pulsed around his cock, making him buck up unintentionally, hitting that sweet spot within you. He grunted at the feeling of your tightened cunt, while you cried out his name, pleasure running like a current through your body. Your face was on fire, reminiscent of a raging fever, and your insides were coilingâ god, how did his cock just feel so perfect within you?
âOh,â he grinned in a pant, âfound yâspot, didnât I?â
Jonathan didnât give you a chance to speak before he pulled out so far his tip was the only thing in your hole, before slamming back in and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Props to him-- he hit your g-spot with utmost accuracy, and you let out a long, stuttered mewl, scratching at his freckled back, legs twitching. Your wail was almost catatonic, loud and cock-drunk, dripping unabashed, filthy pleasure.Â
âMakinâ such sweet noises fâme,â he praised huskily, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, âfuck, âve gotta hear that again.â
He mustâve noticed your neediness earlier, when he was slow and languid, for the new speed he set was double- no, triple that: his hips were snapping against yours, balls smacking filthily against your lips, left hand pinning your hips down and letting him sink into you faster. Shocks of pleasure tore through you at the sudden increase in speed- heâd inured you so well to the torturously slow pace from earlier that this new frenzied one felt like getting hit by a bullet train. You were overstimulated and needing more of him all at once, practically vibrating with need under his touch.Â
âIâve- hnngh- wanted thisâŚâ you gasped between moans, âf-for so longâŚâ
âWanted mâcock?â Jonathan questioned in a hiss, feeling with his every inch how your walls absolutely soaked him. His tone was, obviously, sarcastic, but it still made you feel incredibly lewd.Â
You shook your head numbly, âWanted you⌠I love you, Jon!â
âSo fuckinâ beautiful,â he purred, fucking you faster and making you writhe beneath him, âlove you sâmuch.â
Jonathan targeted the spongy, swollen spot deep within your cunt, suddenly filled with a renewed vigor and motivation to make you come as quickly as possible, and he pounded into that one, specific spot, watching how you twitched and squirmed, heavy moans exiting you. He was relentless, hands reaching to hook under your knees and spread you wider.Â
At the new angle, his cock penetrated you even deeper, fuller, which you thought wasnât possible with how goddamn full you already felt, but when his thick cockhead brushed up against your cervix you thought you were going to burst. Then, one of his hands came up to your tits to knead the flesh, and you squeaked when he tweaked your soft nipples. He was pawing at your sweet tits, fondling you in a needy, boyish way, like yours were the first pair of boobs heâd ever felt.Â
âMâclose!â you gasped, mind going fuzzy with pure ecstacy. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, cold sweat running down your spine, a terribly stark in contrast feeling to the warmth buzzing under your skin.Â
âC-canât last much longer either,â he choked, still pumping in and out of your sticky hole and savoring the feeling of your tight warmness on his long length. He looked absolutely exquisite above you, and you lost yourself in the ethereal picture. Maybe you were in love, or maybe he really was just an empyrean beauty; you took in the sight of his focussed iceberg blue eyes, the cute flush spreading along his pale cheeks and bare chest, how he bit his pink lips to muffle his needy grunts and moans.Â
Then, you mewled and convulsed around him, your walls spasming and contracting as you came undone, reaching the precipice of your pleasure. That made him fall off the edgeâ you had tensed all over- all over, and Jonathan couldnât help how his hips stuttered, knees buckled, cock twitched; he only gave one last, powerful thrust into you before spilling himself inside of you. He painted your soft walls white, and you felt that familiar heat spreading within you; you welcomed it completely, and wanted such warmth to be there forever.Â
You milked him for every last drop, cunt like a vice grip, and Jonathan gave you another wet kiss, this time on your lips, and your hands wrapped around his neck, allowing you to kiss him back. Your brows knitted at the sour taste of yourself on his lips, but it just made everything feel so realâ Jonathan and you had âmade loveâ. It was a phrase you always wrinkled your nose at, feeling uncomfortable and juvenile at the intimacy it entailed, but now you understood it completely.Â
âI love you,â you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, unable to say anything else that conveyed what you felt for him.Â
Honestly, you werenât sure anything could accurately do soâ you felt infinitely about him, your love touching all edges of your mind, heart and soul, filling you completely. You supposed you felt about Jonathan how the sun felt about the moonâ without one, there could not be the other.Â
âI love you-- too,â he responded, pausing in the middle at the aftershocks of your orgasm, which had caused you to tighten around his softening, sensitive cock for a second.Â
You peered deep into his baby-blue eyes, watching the utter love that coloured them; it was like submerging yourself in a great blue ocean, except you didnât want to come out, because you knew you wouldnât drown in those eyes. No, you knew Jonathan would always be there to pull you out.Â
Speaking of pulling out⌠Jonathan slipped himself out of you softly, careful not to agitate that first stretch any more than necessary, before collapsing back into your arms. The two of you tangled yourselves in a messy flurry of limbs on his cushy mattress, sweaty and breathy, something that shouldâve been terribly uncomfortable but just wasnâtâ you swore you could fall asleep anywhere, no matter your own state or the circumstance, as long as you were with him.Â
Blearily, both your eyes began to droop, until you gave into the familiar presence of deep, dark sleep. It was a dreamless sleep for you, but you had an ever present comfort at his weight on yours, something you could feel even in unconsciousness.Â
Hours later, in a brisk, shuddering early-morning that you felt all over due to Jonathanâs unruly habit of opening his window at the peak of the dayâs hottest weather and forgetting to close it before cold nightfall fell, you awoke to Jonathan watching you carefully, so close you could feel his warm exhales of breath on your cheek.Â
There was no goodmorning or anything like that, just pure, uninhibited being, reveling in the space you two occupied together. Like you two were the only things left in the world.Â
When Jonathan noticed you woke up, he shifted, presumably to extract himself from your grip. You stopped him, though, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bringing him closer to you.
âWhat did it feel like?â you asked instead, for the last time. You brushed your fingers over his scar, and, knowing exactly what you were asking, this time Jonathan doesnât flinch away. This time, he leans into your touch: it doesnât burn, not anymore, and he wants your tenderness to swallow him whole.Â
You didnât mean what it actually felt like, of course. You meant, what were you thinking? What have you done, and what will you do to yourself? You meant, I love you.
âIt felt like,â falling; not everything feels like something else; I raised my arms and the air took me and that was it-- âit felt like⌠giving in. Letting my desperation find its purpose. It felt like Iâd reached a point of peace⌠gained clarity after a long stretching, wounded moment came to an end. It felt like becoming something only meant to be talked about in past tense.â
You donât say anything to that; you know he doesnât want you to. Thereâs no need for you to hush or plead or make better, you just need to listen, and love him. He knows you accept him for everything he is, all his flaws and his strengths; he knows your love is all accepting- it veers on saintly.Â
At your silence, he melts into your arms and you can finally relax; there is an admission in the action, a release, an acknowledgement -- is suffering in silence not also accompanied by the overwhelming desire to be found? -- you have found him, at last, and you will never, ever let go.
You take it too far, just once. Only once. And you let him go just once, only once; never again.Â
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut#jonathan breech#on the edge#jonathan breech x reader#jonathan breech x reader smut#jonathan breech smut#cillian murphy x reader smut
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Psychosomatic | Jonathan Breech x Inpatient!Reader
Warnings: Public Sex, Dub-Con, Pet Names, Cockwarming, Mutual Masturbation, etc.
Author's Note: Just a refurbished idea I wanted to share. Jonathan Breech is a skank, obviously. Enjoy!
âYouâre a pretty one, yeah?â Jonathan said, staring at you from the driverâs side of his stolen convertible. He managed to find an empty parking lot behind a pub. The air was brisk. Your heart was beating out of your chest and his words nearly stopped it. You two just broke out of a mental institutionâit was Jonathanâs idea completely. The consequences included solitary confinement and a lifetime membership at the institute. You were happy to see the outside, but you were deathly afraid of being caught.Â
Sensing your anxiety, he put his hand on your thigh and kneaded it gently. His palm was soft and warm. Jonathan dreamt of caressing your smooth legs every time you wore your pajama shorts. It was hard to ignore his piercing gaze when you removed that frumpy sweater once in a blue moon. You were away from prying eyes. He had you all to himself. To him, this was kismet.Â
Leaning in closer, he kissed your jawline. You whimpered and turned away. You were attracted to him, but all you could think about was that traumatic incident that landed you in the institution in the first place.Â
âWhatâs wrong, love?â Jonathan inquired.Â
âI canât do this. Iâm sorry for leading you on. Iâm not meant for this sort of thing.â You admitted, tearing up.Â
âWe donât have to fuck if you donât want to. I just wanted to feel you up a bit, âs all.â He explained.Â
You remembered that you only went to 3rd base with a guy in Year 5. He was not experienced at all and he was the only one who got to finish. You swore you were getting a pap smear. Would it really hurt to try again with a guy who seemed like he cared?Â
âFine. Touching and kissing only, Jon.â You relented.Â
âFine with me, doll.â He agreed.Â
This time, he kissed your lips tenderly. They were as soft as you imagined. You kissed him back hesitantly while he moved his hand to buttons of your pajama shirt. He undid each one without looking as if he planned this. With no bra underneath, the cool air made your nipples harden. His warm hands found one of your breasts. His kissing became more impassioned as his thumb flicked the delicate sprout. You moaned sweetly and touched his crotch. You were stunned to feel a throbbing hard-on. Pulling away, Jonathan stared at you with carnal eyes. Â
âSee what youâve done to me, darlinâ? â He agonized, rutting against your hand.Â
You shyly slid your hand in his pants and wrapped your fingers around his shaft. Growing impatient, he pulled his pants down slightly and began moving your hand up and down.Â
âCâmon, we donât have all day, love.â Jonathan urged.Â
You moved his hand and pumped slowly. You made sure to squeeze a bit tighter when you would meet the tip. You saw his plump lips part as an enchanting moan left his throat. You felt wetness gather in between your legs. Feeling a bit courageous, you spit in your hand and continued your movements. His piercing blue eyes fluttered closed.Â
âFuckâŚIâm already close.â Jonathan hissed. You kissed him to hush him up. This time, you nipped at his bottom lip and slipped your tongue in his mouth. Jonathan whimpered in response. Pumping faster, you began nibbling on his earlobe. His hand found your breast once more. You slid your hand into your shorts and began rubbing your clit. He suddenly snatched your hand away and stared at you with dark eyes.Â
âIâm sick of waitinâ, yeah? Get in the back.â He demanded, slapping your thigh lightly. You went to follow his orders and laid on the backseat. Following behind you, he removed what was left of your clothing. You shivered at the cool autumn air. Seemingly unaffected, he teased the tip of his dick against your entrance before sliding in. You moaned loudly and arched your back. Pressing his forehead against yours, he thrusted harshly and held the back of your head. His gorgeous bore into yours.Â
âIâŚI canât take it.â You whimpered.Â
âYeah?â He teased, thrusting deeper. The burn from the unfamiliar feeling started to subside. He fucked any remaining defiance out of you.Â
âIâm all yours, Jon.â You moaned, tears welling up in your eyes.Â
He kissed you sweetly and dug his fingernails into your hips. Shockwaves of bliss were sent through your body with each movement. Your moans became screams as Jonathan rutted into you desperately. You cycled through countless orgasms before he flipped you over. Entering you once more, he pressed your face into the seat.Â
âFuck, stay just like that.â He panted. You cried out at his merciless actions. You suspected he was using you as a way to release his anger. His thrusts staggered as finished inside of you. A loud groan left his throat. His eyes rolled back and his entire body shook. Lying down with you, he pulled you close and held you tightly. He kissed your shoulder lovingly.Â
#on the edge#jonathan breech#cillian murphy#2000s movies#jonathan breech x reader#psych ward#cillian murphy smut#my writing
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more cillian character memes đsilliesđ
#tom the party#robert capa#icarus and the sun#memes#gay men#silly goofy mood#silly guy#gay#funny#silly little guy#patricia kitten braden#kitten braden#breakfast on pluto#Michael mccrea#Perriers bounty#John 24 days later#jackson rippner#Red eye#Young reaper#At deaths door#emmett quiet place 2#jonathan breech#cillian murphy#on the edge#thomas shelby#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#davin mcderby#sunburn#raymond leon
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đŻď¸Oscar winner Cillian MurphyđŻď¸
#Cillian Murphy#cillian murphy gq#Cillian Murphy Oscarâs#Oscarâs#disco pigs#breakfast on Pluto#28 days later#oppenheimer#on the edge#Batman begins#red lights
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cillian murphy as jonathan breech in on the edge (2001)
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âĄâËâđđĄđđ˛ đŽđ§đđđŤđŹđđđ§đâââËâšâĄ
#tokio hotel#Tokio hotel lyrics#on the edge#automatic#Tom kaulitz#world behind my world#strange#bill kaulitz#gustav schäfer#georg listing#2000s#music#Spotify
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On the Edge- Chapter 4: Submission
Word count: 2.4K
Summary: You can't take this waiting anymore and you give in to Loki.
Warnings: Degradation, Dom!Loki
A coil of nerves wrenched in your stomach as you pushed the button for Lokiâs floor. This was finally it, you couldnât take this anymore. You didnât know how this would play out, but youâve had enough games. Your body physically aches for Loki- his kiss, his touch, his thick cock inside of you. You wanted him to consume you with his lust and power, making you forget who you are.Â
A lustful haze had overtaken your brain as your hand shakily knocked on his door, and within a moment the door opened slightly. Loki peered down at you, his dark locks falling as he moved his head to the side inquisitively.Â
âOk, you win Loki,â you spoke but could barely get the words out. You were so nervous, and you didnât know why. Your whole body both ached and filled with a thrum of electricity, your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest as you looked into his pale blue eyes.Â
âSo easily?,â he mocked, then paused for a moment and smiled wickedly, his tongue slowly grazing his bottom lip.Â
âWell by all means,â he opened the door wide, welcoming you into his quarters, where you knew no one but Thor was allowed to enter.Â
Your nerves were on edge as you tentatively stepped in. His room looked very different from yours and Wandaâs. For one, the ceiling was about 10 feet higher, and there were rich tapestries covering the large windows surrounding his living quarters. You werenât sure if this architecture was from his magic or he demanded this room to live in.Â
Loki walked casually to a large leather wingback chair in his living room, sitting down with his legs spread. You could see the buttons on his vest straining on his muscled chest as he shifted. Your eyes drank him in from the hint of collar bone that the unbuttoned shirt revealed, down his lean torso, to his crotch, where a noticeable bulge showed that his cock was already hard and waiting for you. You bit your lip as you took in the sight of him. Â
âWell darling, Iâm all yours,â Loki purred, gently running his hand down his muscular thigh.Â
You followed his lead and closed his door behind you, walking into the large room on shaky legs. You slowly walked up to him, not knowing what to expect next.Â
âWhat do IâŚ.youâŚ,â you suddenly felt shy, intimidated. He was in control and there was nothing you could do.
âRemove your clothes,â he commanded, looking regal and commanding like a King on his throne.
You slowly removed your shirt and skirt, leaving yourself in just your bra and panties. You felt a chill run all over your body under his scrutinizing gaze. His eyes never moved from your form, his expression getting sterner as his nostrils flared. You could see his jaw tighten, and you knew he was fighting the urge to fuck you senseless right now. The sexual tension was thick in the air, enveloping all of your senses.Â
âDo you want to use me for your own pleasure?,â he asked. You clenched your thighs together and watched his eyes as he noticed your response to him.Â
âYes, please Loki,â you responded, your voice sounding smaller than usual.Â
âBeg,â he responded, his tone getting darker. You shivered at his tone, the deep voice drowning out the sound of your racing heartbeat pumping in your ears.Â
This was it. All that the last month had been leading up to. Loki desired you, wanted you, and prevented you from coming just so that you would have to come begging. Pleading for his cock inside you to release you.Â
âLoki, Iâm begging you, pleaseâŚâ, you nearly cried, the tension almost overwhelming.Â
âOn your knees,â Loki pointed to the floor in front of him.Â
Your knees were on the ground in an instant, as you tried to contain your urge to climb onto his lap. He leaned forward, his dark curls curtaining around his face as he intensely looked into your eyes.Â
He kissed you, gentle at first. You tried to go slow, but your urgent need made you kiss him faster, brushing your tongue against his lips.Â
âSlower,â Loki broke the kiss and commanded with a warning in his eye.Â
You knew he was trying hard to restrain himself too as he continued your kiss. He pushed his tongue for entrance, and yours responded slower this time, gently massaging and exploring each otherâs mouths. Your hand moved on its own to his hair, pulling him as close to you as you could. Loki leaned back and broke the kiss again, a knowing smile on his lips as he looked down at you.Â
 His large hand slowly reached down to his pants zipper, pulling it down while you watched intently. He pulled his cock out and you felt yourself gasp as you saw it. Perfectly long, large, and rock hard. The lust pumped through his veins, and you saw the sparkle of his tip glisten. His cock was everything you had hoped for and more.Â
Loki began to pump his length slowly, deliberately. Your mouth watered as he pulled his foreskin down more, revealing a dark red head that begged for you to suck on it. You wanted nothing more than to swirl your tongue around it, suck it and feel him come down your throat.Â
âYou are so beautiful. A little godslut all for me,â Loki darkly teased as he pumped himself slowly in his palm, making you watch. You whined and squirmed, watching him give himself pleasure. He just loved torturing you, dragging this out as long as he could. This tension was excruciating, and you didn't know how much longer you could take it.Â
âDo you want this? To be penetrated by my godly cock?â he asked, his breathing getting faster as he continued to languidly jerk himself off.Â
âYes,â you nodded quickly, nudging yourself closer to him. The soft fabric of his pants leg tickled your nipple, making you clench again.Â
âBeg,â he ordered, his hand tightening his grip on his rigid length as he continued his motions, clearly getting off at dominating you.Â
âPlease Loki,â you whined, feeling yourself at complete submission to him. In this moment, you would literally do anything for him.Â
With his free hand, Loki pulled you off of your knees and closer to him. In a quick movement he had torn your bra and panties off, making you gasp in surprise. He pulled you onto his lap, your knees on either side of his hips, hovering your aching core just above him. You could feel his breath on your breasts, making you shiver.Â
âDo you need my cock? Need it buried in your tight cunt?,â Loki panted, his desperation now showing on his face as he looked up at you.Â
âYes, Loki, I need you,â you breathily replied, looking in his eyes with as much earnestness as you could muster.Â
Loki slowly guided you onto his throbbing cock, two of you moaning wantonly in unison at the relief. Your body shuddered as your forehead fell to his, the only sound in the room was the two of you breathing heavily. He was so big, stretching you more than you had ever felt before and yet fitting inside of you perfectly.Â
âHow does that feel?,â he asked, sincerity creeping into his voice as he looked up into your eyes. You felt a blush on your cheek as you couldnât help but smile at him. He looked so beautiful, his dark hair falling around his perfect face, his expression full of longing.Â
âSo-so- good-â, you could barely speak as you felt your body tremble at the intense fullness you suddenly felt after so long. You were so sensitive, and this felt like heaven. You enjoyed the moment of stillness, the relief of finally having Loki buried deep inside of you.
âI have wanted this as much as you haveâŚcraved youâŚâ Loki whispered as he began messily planting kisses on your breasts, while his hands grabbed your backside.Â
You began rocking back and forth, but Loki held firmly gripped your hips as you squirmed on him, begging for more friction. His hand grasped the back of your head, bringing you in for another kiss. Your lips crashed on each other in a deep, messy, kiss, the two of you not holding back as your fingers found their way into his soft hair again.Â
His hips began rocking as he slowly fucked into you and you heard yourself whine into his mouth. The feeling was unimaginable, your heightened senses from weeks of torture sending you to another plain of ecstasy.
He wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you tight to him while he went back to licking and sucking on your breasts. Loki deeply grunted as he continued his slow, deliberate thrusts, and you heard yourself moaning his name. You threw your head back as your eyes closed and your hands grasped onto the back of the leather chair while your body trembled with pleasure. Â
Lokiâs clothes created extra friction on your body, the soft fabric and buttons leaving a tingling feeling on your skin. You could already feel the building pressure inside of you, and you knew an orgasm wasnât far. Every motion of his hip grinding was perfectly timed, hitting your most sensitive spot repeatedly. Loki was intoxicating, his smell and the sound of his sinful moans surrounded you, drawing you into ecstasy as you felt yourself tighten around his length inside of you.Â
âOh Pet, I hope youâre ready,â he sucked on your neck, gently biting. A sudden THWACK on your ass startled you.
 You yelped at the sharp, exquisite pain that melted with the pleasure of his cock thrusting inside you. You looked in shock down at him, only to see the gentle side that he had briefly shown was gone. The blues of his irises swirled and you swear you saw a sparkle in his eye as a devilish smile spread across his face.Â
âAre you ready for a God to take his pleasure from you?â he asked with a low, rough grunt as he adjusted his hips and thrust himself harder into you and you squealed. He smacked your ass again, harder than before as he increased his speed, rutting into you.
âY-y-yes oh god yes Loki!,â you cried out, the pleasure nearly making you cry. Your whole body was on fire, your eyes closed tight again in bliss. You felt your wet cunt clench around him as a wave of heat overcame you and your whole body wracked with a sudden intense orgasm. Bright stars appeared behind your eyelids, and you gasped for breath while your hands gripped the chair.Â
âYes! thatâs it Pet, give yourself to me!,â Loki commanded as he said in ragged breaths while holding you tightly in place as he fucked into you.Your eyes shot open to look at him through your blissed out haze. A bead of sweat made its way down his flushed cheekbone, his eyes focused on you. Lokiâs mouth opened, revealing his perfect lower teeth as he tensed his jaw with animalistic lust. His hair was a disheveled mess, his eyes wild.
Words were gone now, you were here for him to do what he wanted with you- use you, take his pleasure from you. Your naked body writhed on his clothed body underneath, and you could feel the wet fabric of his pants as his hips jutted towards yours.Â
 You felt your body bouncing against his vicious thrusts, the only sound in the room was the sound of your coupling and moans and groans. Your fingers dug into the back of the chair, nails digging into leather as you held on tight through Lokiâs intense fucking. His force was brutal, and everything you had needed.Â
You gasped as you felt an intense tremble through your body as another orgasm overtook you and you squirmed on the godâs lap. Your mind was completely blank, your existence being only to be fucked by Loki. You kept your eyes closed, focused on how your cunt throbbed with overstimulation, the pain mixing with absolute pleasure in pure bliss.Â
Loki roughly groaned while his hips began to lose their rhythm. He bit into your shoulder while he held you still, ramming himself into you, marking you. Claiming you.Â
Loki buried his face in your chest, a loud growl erupting from him as he came with one last powerful thrust. His punishing grip didnât let up as he pushed himself to the hilt, spilling himself inside your wet hot center. Loki moaned as he paused and then he continued to roll his hips, pushing his cock inside you so every last drop of cum filled you inside.Â
A strangled moan came out of your mouth as you breathed heavily, trying to catch your breath. You were covered in sweat, and so was Lokiâs suit. Your hands found his hair again, and you began to softly card your fingers through as the two of you quietly enjoyed the afterglow. He gently kissed your shoulders, taking deep inhales of your skin.Â
You suddenly felt your body lift, and realized Loki was picking you up. Your arms tightened around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, his cock still inside of you. Dreamily looking up at him, he gave you a soft smile on his flushed face as he carried you. Clothes disappeared from him as he walked the two of you to his grand four poster bed.Â
You smiled as you felt yourself melt into the soft, silken sheets as he shifted you off of him and onto the bed on your back. He laid next to you, propping himself on one elbow while he gazed at your body.Â
You didnât feel as shy when he looked at you now. Lokiâs hand gently caressed your stomach, and the two of you continued your quiet moment. His blue eyes were less stormy now- now they were placid like a calm lake.Â
âYou know, Iâm glad this happened and everything, butâŚnext time you could just ask me on a date,â you quietly joked.Â
âI told you earlier- where is the fun in that? I didnât chase you, I let you come to me. More dramatic that way,â he smirked.Â
You smiled softly, reaching your fingers up to his face, slowly outlining his perfect jawline with the tips. You realized it didnât matter how you got here, but that you were here-Â with Loki, where you belonged.Â
â---
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On the Edge Masterlist
Peachyjinx Masterlist
#loki smut#loki x reader#loki series#dom!loki smut#dom!loki x sub!reader#loki fanfic#loki x female reader#loki laufeyson#on the edge
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(Mostly) NSFW Headcanons Part III
Disclaimer: Slight spoilers so be warned. Just covering movies I have seen or characters I know enough about to judge. This is just for funsies, just my own personal opinions, so itâs totally okay if you disagree. Fully aware how much of an ass Iâm being. Horny hater at my core.
Disco Pigs (2001) | Enda Walsh, Kirsten Sheridan - Darren
⢠starting out strong with THE freak of freaks
⢠not to state the obvious but.. possessive, dominating, jealous asf but also loyal asf
⢠Incel ass behavior, would definitely have a Reddit account, frequent user of 4chan.
⢠would jerk off to hentai titties if he could
⢠would probably ask you to do the ahegao face during sexâŚ
On the Edge (2001) | John Carney - Jonathan Breech
⢠as much as he would hate to admit it.. hopeless romantic. Super devoted but would have an annoying tendency to flirt with other girls to see if youâd get jealous.
⢠honestly.. great first bf to have. Would absolutely destroy your perception of what love should be.. but hey isnât that first loves?
⢠heavy breathing and moaning in your ear. Loves to give hickeys.
Sunburn (1999) | Nelson Hume - Davin McDerby
⢠oh davin⌠dead beat baby daddy fr.. loved his character arc regardless tho
⢠ngl probably absolute shit in bed. He screams premature ejaculator..
⢠has a porn addiction, but would hide it from you
⢠would pick up edging and would talk about your sex life very openly with âthe boysâ
⢠loves sending nudes and nut vids if he had the chance
Intermission (2003) | John Crowley - John
⢠he has no qualms about saying it: youâre a whore đ
⢠probably feels the need to be in charge and take control but really.. youâd be the one calling the shots mostly
⢠definitely the type to make stupid jokes during sex
⢠whiny, would definitely triple text if you didnât respond fast enough
⢠still a cutie ofc
⢠jealousy is his middle name
Girl with the Pearl Earring (2003) | Peter Webber - Pieter
⢠breeding kink but not in the fun way. Breeding kink in the way where he would wanna fuck like rabbits and procreate like rabbits.
⢠would want you to have like 6 of his kids is what Iâm saying
⢠acts like heâs touch starved half the time, really handsy, likes to tease and leave kisses all over you
⢠knows how to handle his meat
At Deaths Door (1999) | Conor Morrissey - Young Reaper
⢠this one is just for shits and giggles
⢠itâs giving virgin, inexperienced but passionate
⢠shy asf, again youâd probably have to make the first move
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy characters#cillian murphy headcanons#cillian murphy gif#davin mcderby#sunburn#reaper shit fr#on the edge#disco pigs#darren from disco pigs#girl with a pearl earring#butcher taking care of business#enda walsh#intermission movie#forgive me for I have sinned#okay Iâm done rambling now#thank you for reading youâre a doll
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Fidus - On the Shore, 1897.
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