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obsessedwithceleste · 2 days ago

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You Can Say You Love Me Now

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: A little fake dating trope, just in time for Valentine's day

word count: 3k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It was the perfect plan really. Or it had seemed like it at the time. When fueled by frustration, love, and desperation, what could go wrong? Theo had loved you for as long as he could remember and he wasn’t afraid to admit that. To himself at least. But to you, well, that was a bit more challenging.

Coming from a pure blood family, a sacred 28 family no less, Theodore’s fate had been sealed long before he was even born. Destined to marry another rich, pure blood heiress, have children, and secure the Nott legacy another generation. All ridiculous nonsense if you asked Theodore. What was the point of tradition anyway? Pretty much everyone who cared was already dead, so what did it matter?

Unfortunately for Theo, his father was not dead and had been trying to find a suitable match for what felt like years at this point. Names of witches that Theo couldn’t even match a face to had been floated by, but Theo had spoiled each and every potential match and his father had been growing increasingly more agitated by the day.

That’s when it had struck him. Kill two birds with one stone. Get his father off his back and gain the perfect opportunity to win over the witch of his dreams. Was it a bit short sighted? Sure. But he wasn’t left with many options at this point and this was as good a plan as any.

“Please principessa, you know what my father’s like. And it would only be a few months.” Theo begged, following close behind you as you make your way through the labyrinth that is the Hogwarts library.

“I am not going to pretend to date you for a few months Theodore. Or at all. That’s actually insane. Besides, no one would believe it anyway. We’ve known each other for how long? No one is going to buy the idea of us just now deciding to go out. Especially not your father. Do you know how long my mother has been trying to set us up?” you sigh, plucking another book off the shelf.

You had known Theodore practically your whole life. The two of you had been best friends since before you could walk. Your earliest memories involved waddling around the gardens of his family’s manor as your mothers watched on in thrilled bliss. There was simply no way the two of you would be fooling anyone.

“Well that’s just it isn’t it? Father has been hounding me to court you for ages, he’ll be too relieved to care,” Theo replies, an air of desperation creeping into his voice.

"Yeah, And what do you suppose we'd tell them hmm?" You ask.

"Don't know. We wanted it to happen naturally or some other sappy story. They'll eat it up."

You give your friend a pointed look. This was not the first time he had presented you with a half-baked plan that was certain to go wrong at some point.

“You’re being so ridiculous right now Theodore, this easily makes it on the list of your top ten stupidest ideas.”

“You keep a list?”

“It’s alphabetized.”

Theo has the nerve to look offended.

“Please principessa? I know your family has been on you too. This will buy us both a little time at least,” Theo protests. "Just think, we tell them over winter break, string it along awhile, and then after we've gone our seperate ways we're just too broken hearted to even consider any other possibilities for the future."

In all fairness, the boy was right. Your family had been bothering you for months now, asking if you’d found a special someone. You'd known when Theodore's father began ramping up the pressure for him to find a match that your family wouldn't be far behind, but it was honestly starting to get to be a bit ridiculous. And exhausting.

"It's not even completely incomprehensible. We've been mistaken as a couple before." Theo continues to press.

You glare at your friend, eyes rolling at the mere memory.

six months prior

It had been another one of your mother's usual, stuffy garden parties. The sun had been beating down on you all morning and all you really wanted to do was throw your blasted shoes across the lawn. Who thought it was a sensible idea to be out on the garden's cobblestone paths in scorching heat for hours at a time? This was not your idea of a good time.

"Principessa," Theodore greeted, arm wrapping comfortably around your waist.

"Don't even start, Theodore," you grumbled, leaning into the boy. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and if my mother tries to make me join one more conversation about the Ministry or some such I'll set the whole garden on fire."

Theodore just laughed, pulled you closer.

"C'mon love. We can sneak off to the lake I reckon. Berkshire just arrived so the mums will all be too busy throwing him at the Greengrass sisters to notice."

Had you felt a bit bad leaving Enzo to the wolves? Sure. But still, you had let Theodore lead you down the path to the lake, collapsing onto the lawn sofa that was perched almost picturesquely on the patio overlooking the glassy water.

You had closed your eyes, feeling yourself relax into Theodore as his fingers combed methodically through your hair. You didn't know how long the both of you had been sitting there simply basking in each other's company when an excited gasp jolted you from your peaceful bliss.

"Oh! Oh my!" the shrill voice of one of your mother's airheaded socialites tittered. "I wasn't aware the both of you were courting! Oh your parents must be so pleased- what with your families being so close and all-"

"We're not courting." You interjected, holding your hand up to stop the women mid sentence.

She had stuttered awkwardly after that before finally shuffling off. Had you been a bit harsh? Perhaps. But you simply hadn't been in any sort of mood to deal with the notion of dating your best friend.

Theodore hadn't said a word, but you could feel him recoil ever so slightly. Not enough for anyone to notice if it hadn't been you. And things were a bit, strained, for the following days. If you could even call it that. And then things went back to normal as if nothing had happened.

You would have forgotten the whole thing, brushed it under the rug as something to laugh about in a few years, if it hadn't left a nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

You had never even allowed yourself to think that you could ever end up with your friend. Sure, years ago your mothers had shared the fantasy of the both of you ending up together one day. You were sure your mother was still convinced it might happen. But no. He would be auctioned off to the family of some wealthy heiress and you would be matched with some boy your parents deemed suitable. It was just how things worked.

Your feared your father was wearing going to wear through the carpet at any moment with the way he was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. Your mother sat twiddling her fingers on the sofa across from you, watching your father in exasperation.

Theodore was quite pleased with himself. To be completely honest he really didn't think he'd get this far. But sitting smugly on the sofa of his father's office, arm wrapped securely around you as he faced not only his own father, but your parents as well, he felt on top of the world.

"Well? Is it true? Are you?" your mother asks, finally breaking the silence as she had apparently given up on your father being the first to speak.

Your father had stormed off to Mr. Nott's office before you could even let out a breath, and by the time you and Theodore had finally slunk into the room, your mother was already doing a piss poor job of hiding her excitement.

It had always been a dream of hers for the both of you to end up together one day. It was hardly a kept secret. Maybe Theodore had been right and their blind excitement would stop them from asking too many questions because this was truly horrific.

"Of course it's true! It better be! The way I found him all over y/n," your father interrupts.

Mr. Nott just gazes on, eyes seemingly boring into your soul as Theodore meets his father's stare with cool, nonchalance. The smug bastard.

"Oh it's all we ever hoped for!" Your mother gushes, eyes falling onto the portrait hanging on the wall of the late Mrs. Nott.

"Well. That settles it then. They'll begin courting. Or whatever it is they call it these days," Mr. Nott says finally. "But there will be no more of this, nonsense. Not under my roof."

a few minutes earlier

"After further reassessment, this is the stupidest idea you've ever had," you hiss. Glaring at the brunette boy in front of you.

You were currently perched on one of the many desks lining the library walls of Nott Manor. Theodore was pressed up against the side, warm hands on your thighs holding you securely in place and sending shivers down your spine.

"Hush amore. How else will they be convinced we've been hiding a relationship, hmm?" He asks, slowly guiding one of your arms up to wrap around his neck.

"Oh I don't know. Suppose we just tell them? Ever think of that?"

"Yeah, and how would that go? Hey mum, I've been secretly seeing the son of your dead best friend who you've been trying to set me up with for ages. This is definitely not a distraction. Please believe us." Theo scoffs.

"I'm being serious," you respond, giving the boy a light whack on the shoulder. "When I agreed to the whole 'pretend to go out' bit, this is not what I had in mind."

"We've kissed before," Theo drawls, all nonchalance.

"You know that's not the same Theodore."

Before Theodore is able to respond, likely with another of his dry quips that you had grown to adore (not that you'd ever admit it), the door of the library swings open, footsteps echoing on the marble floors.

You don't even get the chance to fully take in the reality of the situation before Theodore's lips are on yours. It's slow and soft and warm as you feel his thumb softly brushing circles on your inner thigh. A soft gasp escapes you as you melt into the boy.

"What is the meaning of this?" Your father's cutting voice calls out, breaking you from your trance.

You jolt away from Theo, eyes snapping up to meet your father's, face flushed with embarrassment. Theo on the other hand looked quite self-satisfied. Oh you were going to kill him later.

"Both of you. Into the office. Now." Your father snaps out, looking like he was wishing he could obliviate himself in that moment.

"How long are we going to keep this going?" you ask, eyes not quite meeting Theo's as you lean your head against him. It was another warm night in which you and Theodore had managed to sneak up to the astronomy tower.

Your visits to the astronomy tower had started back in fourth year. It seemed like forever ago. And now you looked forward to nothing as much as nights spent with Theodore gazing up at the sky. The nights were different now though, you supposed.

It had been what? Five months now? You were almost certain it was five months, but those months seemed to have flown by in bliss. You hadn't realized how easy it would be. You and Theodore seemed to have been carefully tip toeing the line between friendship and more for years. You simply hadn't put the pieces together. It had been a bit clunky at first sure. Awkward maybe. But this was perfect. Standing in Theodore's arms as the stars above you seemed to go on forever. Perfect.

three-ish months prior

"Shut up. Shut. Up. You're joking," Daphne squeals, eyes locking onto your fingers which are tightly interlocked with Theo's as you enter your dorm room.

Something you seemed to have overlooked when agreeing to Theodore's dating scheme, was the fact that an integral part of the plan involved selling the lie to your closest friends.

It was much more difficult than you had anticipated.

You had spent the first initial month spending all your free time with Theodore, never really leaving his side. Apparently this didn't seem out of the ordinary. The flowers sent to your dorm didn't elicit a single reaction from your roommate, nor did Theodore's constant pet names. No, what really did it apparently, was the hand holding. Scandalous.

Your friends never failed to miss an opportunity to humble you.

"Took them long enough. Don't know why you're so shocked Daph," Mattheo replies dryly from his spot on the floor, papers scattered around him. He doesn’t even bother to look up.

"Well duh. We all knew they'd end up together eventually. Just didn't think they'd figure it out while we were still in school." Daph responds matter of factly. “Ugh. I owe Pansy 25 galleons now.” She groans, a frown appearing on her face.

"We can hear you, you know," Theo drawls, raising an eyebrow.

"Well it isn't as if the two of you have been subtle about it. Always holed up together in the library for hours at a time doing gods knows what."

"We study together," you reply, feeling the need to defend yourself.

"You’ve also attend every single ball together since, ever," Mattheo adds.

"Better that then go with whatever tossers our parents dig up."

"I've found the both of you asleep in Theodore's bed on more than one occasion."

"As friends."

"Right. You'd sleep together as friends, but drew the line at hand holding." Daphne says dryly. "You're both hopeless."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Y/n, I damn near saw you hex Theo's hand off in fifth year when he tried to hold your hand, and even that wasn't solid proof that you two weren't already going out." Daphne snorts. "Hopeless."

"C'mon Daph, let's leave the love birds to it then," Mattheo says, gathering his papers. "Make good choices. Don't do anything I'd do," he calls as the two of them make a quick exit.

As soon as the door slams shut, you turn to look at Theo as if to ask 'what on Earth was that about?'

“They make fair points,” he says with a shrug, pulling you onto the bed with him.

"We weren't being obvious about anything Theodore. There was nothing there to begin with." You reply, allowing him to pull you onto his chest.

You knew there hadn't been anything there before, or at least you thought there wasn't, because this was all very new. Sure before you might've fallen asleep in the same bed after staying up until 3 am studying for your charms exam, but you'd certainly never seen Theodore look at you like this before. And you'd certainly never felt his hand creep under your shirt to rub soft circles across your rib cage. You'd definitely never felt your heart try to beat out of your chest like this. Or maybe you had.

"Is it really so absurd to think we've always been so close?" Theo asks, eyes very clearly focused on your lips. Not that you noticed of course.

"Maybe not," you reply, letting your head fall to rest on the boy's chest.

This was nice you thought to yourself as Theo's lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"How long do you want to keep going?" Theo asks after a moment.

"Don't know," you reply, feeling his eyes on you as you continue gazing out at the sky in front of you.

"Another month?" Theo asks carefully, pulling you ever closer.

You can feel your heart begin to race at the idea of it all ending so soon. You shake your head.

"You want to end it sooner?" Theo asks, voice wavering ever so slightly.

You shake your head again. You hear Theodore's sharp breath as he realizes your implication and you feel yourself growing increasingly more nervous as the silence stretches on.

You'd really, truly never allowed yourself to consider the idea of ending up with Theo. You knew that simply wasn't how the world worked. And frankly the idea of rejection couldn't even be a possibility. You couldn't allow yourself to lose your best friend. Or maybe you could. This was all his idea to begin with after all.

"What if we just kept going?" You ask finally, feeling the weight of the world lift off your shoulders.

Theo's arms tear away from you as he turns you to face him, hand holding your chin firmly in place, forcing your eyes to meet.

"Don't play with me like this, principessa," he says, voice all seriousness as his eyes scan your face, searching for anything that might suggest you're joking with him.

"I'm not."

And just like that, Theo's lips are on yours once more. They seemed to find themselves there a lot lately, melting your mind to absolute mush as he pulled you closer. You could feel your back, now pressed up against one of the marble pillars of the tower as Theo's lips moved slowly from your lips to your jawline, and carefully down the side of your neck.

"You can say you love me now," He whispers into your ear, his warm breath giving you chills as his hands continue to wander.

"I love you," you gasp out.

"Sorry, who?" he pushes, leaving little pecks across your jawline once more.

"Theo. I love you, Theodore," You say finally, just as Theo presses another kiss to your lips.

"And I love you, amore."

Did I start this well over a year ago? Yes I did, thank you for asking. Did I change the title three different times? Absolutely I did. Am I posting this before editing? Also yes. Cope.

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #theo nott #theo nott x y/n #theo nott fanfiction #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fic #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x you #slytherin

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bonnie-the-butcher · 2 days ago

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Rip Tide | Chapter VI

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 8.928 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW (p in v, unprotected, implied m!masturbation); Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

OMG Bonnie what is that? A JJ chapter? Yeah, maybe I went insane. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

JJ takes a slow step forward, his shoulders rolling back, his fingers still coiled tight around the handlebars of his bike. There’s a heat rolling off of him, a barely contained energy that makes your stomach twist.

His gaze drifts over to you. The rage burning through his eyes as he climbs down, drifting through Rafe’ arms, how they wrap around you, how close he’s holding you to him. – What’s going on, huh? – His voice is taught, barely restrained. You think of the hiss a rattlesnake makes before pouncing, the barely restrained violence simmering under each sound. – What are you doing here?

– I could ask you the same thing, Maybank. – Rafe hums. You call his name, trying to reel him back before it gets dangerous, but he seems entertained more than anything. – We’re a little far from the salvation army. Not much for you to do around here.

– Rafe!

The kook holds your hand to his chest when you push him, smiling down at you like it’s the funniest thing in the world. – I’m just having a little fun with him, that’s all.

– Get off of her, Rafe.

He’s looking at you with a focus that’s never a good sign, but don’t miss the way his eyes flick to where Rafe’s hand still lingers at your waist. The moment stretches, thick with the weight of his anger, but you can’t bring yourself to move first.

Rafe doesn’t bother hiding his grin. If anything, it grows, slow and deliberate, like this is the most fun he’s had all night. – Why? You scared she won’t come back when she realizes there’s more to life than being leeched off of by her brother’s friends?

– Rafe, this isn’t funny.

– JJ must think it is, it’s the only thing he does well. – Rafe drawls, tilting his head as he finally steps back from you—but not without dragging his fingers along your side, a pointed reminder. – Right, JJ?

JJ’s lips press into a thin line. His fingers flex around the handlebars, his nostrils flaring as he exhales hard through his nose. His gaze cuts to you now, sharp and demanding. – What the hell are you doing with this asshole?

His voice grates you. Every word echoing in your head like nails on a chalkboard.

– This is none of your business, JJ.

He doesn’t even pretend to hear you. – Kie told me what happened at work. We were all worried about you.

You open your mouth, but Rafe hums before you can speak, stepping in again, loose and easy, barely putting in effort but still commanding all the space between you. – Worried? Were you worried that you’re finally gonna have to get a job and deal with your own shit?!

– You don’t know what you’re talking about, okay?! Shut the fuck up!

– Or what? Are you gonna freeload off of me too?

JJ moves before you can stop him. His bike crashes to the pavement as he lunges, fists already clenched, fury twisting his face. Rafe barely shifts, like he’s been expecting this all along, like he’s been waiting for the moment he can finally push JJ over the edge.

– THIS SHIT ISN’T ABOUT YOU RAFE!

You step in fast, hands catching JJ’s arm before he can swing, your pulse hammering. – JJ, don’t. Fuck off. Don’t fucking do this right now.

– He’s the one who needs to fuck off! We’re talking right now, it’s none of his fucking business! – His breath is ragged, his muscles stiff under your grip. But Rafe just grins, smug and taunting, eyes alight with something dark. – Tell him to go away.

– You can’t tell me that yourself? Is that how much of a bitch you are, JJ?

JJ lunges, nearly pushing you into the asphalt by mistake. Rafe’s the one that catches you, his hand steadying you as you hold JJ back. – LET GO OF ME!

– JJ step the fuck back, I’m not even kidding you.

– He started it!

Rafe whistles lowly, laughing just under his breath as his arm wraps around you again. – Your brother really knows how to pick them, doesn’t he?

– Not helping, Rafe.

– I’m just trying to enjoy myself while you talk him down from his tantrum. I’m great.

– Stop fucking talking to her like that!

– Or what? You gonna hit me? – He muses, tilting his head, like the thought actually amuses him. – Go ahead, man. Take your shot. I bet it’ll feel real good.

JJ’s jaw tightens, his arm twitching under your hold. You can feel the war inside him, the barely restrained urge to throw that punch, to finally give Rafe the fight he’s clearly asking for.

But you don’t let go.

And JJ doesn’t swing.

For a second, the only sound is the thick silence between you.

Then Rafe sighs, exaggerated and disappointed. – Shame, – He mutters, stepping back, shaking his head like JJ’s let him down. – I was really hoping you’d play along, JJ. It’s been what? A week since you last got arrested? Has it ever been so long? I bet they’re missing you down at the station.

He flashes a grin at you, sharp and knowing, before brushing past, hands moving over your back like he owns you. – Y’know what, baby? We should really get going. I’m getting kinda bored.

– You’re out of your fucking mind if you think she’s going anywhere with you.

– JJ. – You warn, but he doesn’t seem to hear you.

– She came here with me, buddy. Maybe you wanna look around you. – He glances at you, blue eyes gleaming as he takes you by the arm. – C’mon. It’s getting late, right? Your brother’s probably struggling to figure out the oven right now.

– You don’t know what the fuck your talking about. – JJ growls.

– You’re gonna go home with this pogue? –The question comes out in a hum, almost condescendingly. His laughter thrills up your spine like a shiver of fear. – You’re gonna let him strongarm you like this?

You swallow, breathing in deep.

Rafe’s grip on your arm tightens, fingers warm against your skin, but you don’t move. His smirk twitches—just barely—before he tilts his head, watching you with curiosity, even if the smile he’s giving you doesn’t seem too pleased.

JJ notices too. He exhales sharply, barely holding himself together. – You’re not leaving with him.

His voice is low, coarse. And he’s clinging, moving his arms within your hold like a whiny kid. But it’s not a plea. It’s a demand.

Rafe hums under his breath, low and pleased, like this is all going exactly how he wanted. – She’s not staying for you, JJ. – He flicks his gaze over, like he’s looking at something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. – You have John B’s useless ass to thank for her not leaving with me right now.

JJ clenches his jaw so tight you swear you hear his molars crack. – Shut the fuck up, Rafe.

Rafe grins, slow and knowing. – I will if she makes me. Right, baby? Maybe you can give me a goodnight kiss before I go.

JJ takes a step forward, but you press a hand to his chest, stopping him. He seethes, nostrils flaring, but you shake your head. – Just go, Rafe. Please. – Your voice isn’t sharp—it’s tired, annoyed.

And that’s exactly why Rafe thrives on it.

He tsks, squeezing your waist in his hold on you before pulling his keys from his pocket. – That’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow, right? – He leans in, voice dipping lower. – You can make it up to me.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. – Rafe—

– You’re cute when you get all flustered. – He laughs, tapping your chin with his knuckle. – I’ll call you later.

JJ lunges, and it takes everything in you to shove him back.

Rafe just whistles, all relaxed amusement, stepping back with an easy grin. – Damn, Maybank, you’re really gonna let her hold you back like that?

JJ is shaking in anger, chest heaving.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an answer. He shoots you a wink and a lazy salute before finally turning away, tossing over his shoulder, – Don’t miss me too much, baby.

JJ exhales sharply, shaking off your hold. His head drops for a second, his hands clenching at his sides before he looks at you, eyes blazing. – What the hell was that?

You swallow hard, the weight in your chest pressing down heavy. – JJ—

But he shakes his head. – Nah. No way. You don’t get to brush this off. – His voice is rough, disbelief coating every syllable. – Tell me you’re not— He stops himself, exhaling sharply again before taking a step back, shaking his head like he’s trying to make sense of it. – Tell me you’re not seriously falling for this shit.

You don’t know what to say.

Because maybe you don’t have an answer he wants to hear.

– Oh my God. – You don’t know what exactly in his face shifts, but you feel the air around you thicken. – You are, aren’t you?!

– Spare me the outrage, JJ. I’m not in the mood for your lectures.

– The guy is a fucking psychopath! There’s no fucking way you do’t see that! He’s insane!

You roll your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips before you can think of it. – You say that like you’re some sort of model of normalcy.

– I can’t fucking believe you!

– I don’t fucking need you to believe me, JJ. Clearly you fucking don’t. It doesn’t matter what I say, you already have your pitchfork ready! So what exactly am I supposed to be getting out of this?! Huh? Tell me. – A beat of silence lingers between you, as you turn your back on him. It’s long past 6 PM. The sky is pitch-black. – Can we just go? I don’t wanna do this.

You can see the gears turn in his head when you speak. His eyes soften, jaw unclentching. – I’m trying to look out for you. – You scoff. – Look, I know you’re stressed and all, but you don’t need to be taking it out on me, okay?! Chill out.

– Thanks, Mother Teresa. I feel much calmer now.

– Can we just put down the boxing gloves, right now?!

– I don’t know JJ, can we? I can’t put my guard down with you for a moment. Because that’s what you do. You tell me I should calm down, and when I do, you come up with some insane shit to piss me off all over again!

JJ watches you, chest still rising and falling like he’s trying to catch a breath that won’t come. Then his expression shifts—like something clicks into place, like he’s realizing something he doesn’t like.

His lips curl, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek. – Are you serious? – His voice is quieter now, almost disbelieving. – This is where we’re at?

You shake your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat. – I don’t want to do this right now, JJ.

– Oh, that’s rich. You don’t wanna do this right now? – He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. – You wanna pick a better time? Should I make an appointment? Because it’s like you never have time for me these days! You’ll speak your mind, talk all the game you fucking want, but when it’s time to talk about my feelings, suddenly you’re too tired to deal!

Your stomach twists.

JJ scoffs. – You know, I keep trying. I keep trying to get through to you, and you just— He stops, shakes his head again, shoving a hand through his hair like that’ll help get rid of some of the frustration bleeding off of him.

– Trying to what, JJ? What is it that you’re trying to get through to me so much? That I can’t even talk to people while you go around fucking whatever girl you want? – The words come out before you can stop them.

– That’s funny, I don’t remember leaving with your mortal enemy!

– And I don’t remember kissing your best friend after leaving your bed, JJ. But here we are!

JJ goes still.

For a second, neither of you speak.

Then he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve just confirmed something he was trying not to believe. – There you go again, – He mutters, half in laughter, half in scorn. – You’re insane. Like. You’re actually sick in the fucking head. You and Rafe are perfect for each other. Maybe that’s why you’re here right? I was too normal, so you got bored. And that’s why you’re here in the Country Club, fucking that psychopath!

You stare at him, heart still pounding, but there’s something else gnawing at the edges of your mind now—something off. Something you didn’t notice in the heat of it all.

The country club.

You’re not at your job.

You’re not at home.

You’re not even on your side of the island.

Your stomach twists again.

– JJ, – you start, voice quieter now.

But he doesn’t hear it, or he doesn’t care. He scoffs again, throwing his hands in the air as he turns away, pacing. – I should’ve known. I should’ve listened to John B. He always said you were fucking twisted! But leave it to me! It’s my fault or thinking you could act like a person for once!

Your pulse stutters.

You don’t even register his words.

You don’t remember telling him where you were.

Your job isn't anywhere near the Country Club. You didn’t text him. You didn’t call him.

So how did he find you?

Your skin prickles as you stare at him, the words barely coming out. – JJ... how did you know I was here?

– What?! – He laughs, like you’ve just said something stupid, but you’re not gonna let him do this. Keeping your face neutral, even while your blood runs cold, you repeat:

– How did you know where I was? – He looks at you for a moment, frozen in place. You don’t even see him breathe. But the thoughts run wild behind his eyes, his mouth hanging open, unable to keep up with the speed at which his mind is running. – Answer me. How did you know I was here, JJ?

– I— He swallows, looking between each of your eyes frantically. – I was gonna pick you up at work,

– At a quarter to seven PM? You know I get the bus. It leaves at 5:20. You know that.

– Why are you making a big deal out of this?! I was driving to the wreck and I saw you here—

– No you weren’t. The wreck is East. To get here, you need to be going West.

He’s quiet again.

– Are you following me? How did you even— Realization dawns on you. JJ and John had your phone all day after you left. The notification you saw when you finally got it back, was from your maps app, which you’ve never opened in your life. You pull your phone out of your pocket. The location is on, but you don’t remember activating it. You open your messages. The latest contact is JJ. But you haven’t texted him in days. The chat is empty. – You sent my phone location to yourself, didn’t you? You and John are fucki— Your voice dies within your throat. The hair at the back of your neck standing. – John doesn’t have my password, though.

– You’re acting insane.

– How the fuck did you figure out my password, JJ? It’s a thousand characters long. I expect that shit from Pope, but— You stop again, opening your settings. A second fingerprint is set there, next to yours. – What the fuck is wrong with you?

– Don’t turn this around right now!

– That’s rich, JJ! And I’m the one who’s insane?! You’re a fucking stalker!

JJ scoffs, but it’s different now—less angry, more… wounded. Like you just slapped him in the face instead of uncovering something deeply fucked up. He shakes his head, stepping back like he needs distance from you.

– Are you serious right now? – His voice is quieter, rougher. – After everything?

You stare at him, blood still thrumming in your ears. – After everything? JJ, you just—

– No, you don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it. – He lets out a breathless laugh, dragging his hand down his face. – I knew something was off. I knew you were pulling away. I knew you were sneaking around, lying to me—

– I’m pulling away because you’re messing around with Kie!

– I’m not! Baby, I— He’s slapping himself, pulling out his hair. – I was trying to make you jealous, okay?! I just want you to pay attention to me! But you’re either glued to your phone talking to Barry, or you’re around John B, doing everything for him, everything I want you to do for me!

– What the fuck are you talking about?! He’s my fucking brother, JJ!

– BUT HE DOESN’T DESERVE IT! – He screams, the vitriol burning against his lips like acid. – He was always horrible to you, and I was there! I was there! I wanted you!

– What are you talking about?! You’ve hated me since we were kids!

– NO! I— I wanted you to look at me. I just wanted you to—Please. Just look at me, okay? I don’t want you sneaking around with Barry or with Rafe, or whatever! I want you here! With me!

– Sneaking around—JJ, you broke into my fucking phone—

– Because you wouldn’t fucking talk to me! – His voice cracks on the last word, and it throws you for a second—because the anger is still there, but there’s something else now, something desperate. His hands are in his hair, gripping like he’s holding himself together. – Do you even hear yourself? Do you even care? Or are you just gonna act like I’m some fucking psycho and not the guy who’s been there for you? The guy who—who has wanted you since I was kid?!

Your breath catches.

JJ exhales sharply, jaw clenching like he hates himself for saying it, for letting it slip out in the middle of this.

– You were there for me. – He continues. – When your brother couldn’t be. When my dad started— When he drank. You remember that, don’t you? You took care of me. You always took care of me. John B couldn’t get that! Even if he tried, y’know, who knows, maybe he did! But he was always this golden boy! Your dad, he— He treated him like he could do no wrong— He’d never get it. But you did! You always got me!

You’re quiet. Because you remember.

You remember taking a beating for JJ the day John sent you there to give him his surfboard. You remember laying there on the floor, his dad pulling you by the hair, because you stood there while JJ ran. You remember the face he made when his dad threw you out.

How he fell apart in your arms.

How you remained there, holding him, as he bled through your clothes.

And it tears you apart.

Because the way he spoke to you before, is exactly the way his father used to speak to him.

– But yeah. Sure. I’m the stalker. I’m the crazy one. – He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. – You’re so fucking worried about me following you, but you don’t care that you’re running straight to him! – His eyes flash with something sharp, something dark. – You think he gives a shit about you? You think Rafe fucking Cameron isn’t watching your every move, waiting for you to fuck up so he can sink his claws in? Like Barry did? – He steps forward, voice lowering like he’s telling you some ugly secret.

Your heart jumps in your chest at the mention. JJ knows this is a low blow. – You don’t know anything about Barry and me.

– I know he hurt you. – He’s almost pleading. – He hurt you because you were with him, when you should’ve been with me.

– JJ—

– I did this to protect you. Let me protect you. Like you protected me.

There it is. The flip.

You feel like you might faint.

JJ exhales shakily, his fingers flexing like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. The anger is fizzling out, but what’s left is somehow worse—smaller. He looks at you, really looks at you, and suddenly it’s like all the fight drains out of him.

– I can’t keep doing this. – His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. He shakes his head, eyes flickering away like he’s embarrassed, like you’ve just torn him down completely. – I don’t—I don’t know how else to prove it to you. How else to make you see that I just wanted to keep you safe.

His shoulders drop. He looks exhausted.

– But you don’t believe me. You won’t ever fucking believe me, will you? – He laughs, but it’s hollow, broken. – It doesn’t matter what I do. Doesn’t matter that I would literally die for you—Jesus Christ, I would, and you don’t even fucking see it. I’d do anything for you, and you’re just standing there, looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

– I mean—fuck, what am I supposed to do? Huh? – His voice cracks. His eyes are glassy now, but he swipes a hand over his face before anything can fall. – You want me to apologize? I will. You want me to beg? Fine. – He laughs breathlessly, shoulders shaking as he sinks down onto the curb like his body just gave up. – I’ll fucking beg.

Your stomach twists.

– Just— he exhales, hands clinging to your hips. – Can we go home? – His voice is so quiet now, so defeated. – Please. I don’t wanna fight anymore. I don’t wanna—fuck, I don’t even care. Just let me take you home. That’s all I want.

He looks up at you, and for the first time tonight, he looks fragile. Worn down. Like he’s carrying something too heavy for him, and the only thing keeping him from collapsing is you.

And God help you, part of you wants to believe him.

– JJ. – Your voice is sharp, but your hands are shaking. – This isn’t about that—this isn’t about you wanting to take me home. This is about what you did—

– I know! – he cuts in, his breath coming too fast, too uneven. His hands fist in his hair, like he’s trying to hold himself together by sheer force. – I know, okay? I fucked up, I fucking know— He stumbles over his own words, gasping, like the weight of it is physically pressing down on him. – But I can’t—

His voice breaks.

– I can’t lose you over this. Over Rafe fucking Cameron and his bullshit.

The air between you shifts. Something inside him just collapses.

– Please. – His chest is heaving, his eyes wet, his whole body trembling like he’s about to snap. – I don’t—I don’t know how to make you stay. I don’t know how to fix this. – His voice cracks again, and this time, his knees buckle.

You barely have time to react before he’s falling into you, grabbing fistfuls of your clothes, his breath hitching against your belly. His whole body is shaking.

– I’m sorry. – His words spill out in a frantic, broken rush. – I’m so fucking sorry. Please—please don’t go. Just—just let me take you home, baby, please—

His arms tighten around you, like if he holds on hard enough, he can force you to stay. And God, you shouldn’t. You should push him away, make him listen, make him answer for this.

But he’s crying.

JJ Maybank—loud, reckless, impossible JJ—is sobbing into you like a little kid, like he’s breaking apart right in front of you.

You inhale shakily, your hands hovering before you finally give in, falling before him on the ground, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his hair.

– It’s okay, – you whisper, even though it isn’t. Even though nothing is.

But it’s all he wants to hear.

JJ exhales sharply, his whole body collapsing into yours with something like relief. – Don’t leave me.

– I won’t.

And maybe you mean it.

Maybe that’s the scariest part.

You let him fall apart against you, his body wracked with silent tremors as he clings to you like a lifeline. His breath is uneven, ragged, hot against your skin, and his fingers fist into your top, desperate, like letting go isn’t an option. He presses closer, his whole body sinking into yours, like he’s trying to disappear inside you, like that’s the only place he might be safe.

And you let him. You hold him as his shoulders shake, as he fights to keep from outright sobbing, as the weight of whatever broke him presses down so hard you swear you can feel it, too. He’s unraveling in your arms, piece by piece, like he’s been holding himself together for so long that the second you touched him, he lost the strength to keep pretending.

So you kiss the top of his head, soft but steady, and something in him shifts.

JJ exhales, a long, shuddering breath against your skin, like you’ve reached inside him and pulled all that tension from his chest. His body, wound so tightly, begins to loosen—his grip on you eases, but only enough for his hands to smooth over your back instead of clutching desperately. He leans into you now not just from pain, but from something quieter, something softer.

You feel it in the way his breathing slows, in the way the tremors start to fade as your fingers trace slow circles over his back. His arms tighten around you again, but it’s different this time—not frantic, not desperate. Just… needing you. Needing to be here, against you, in your warmth, in this small, quiet moment where he can finally let go.

His face stays buried in the crook of your neck, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse but steady.

– I’m sorry, – He murmurs, again and again, lips moving against your skin.

You shake your head slightly, your fingers still stroking his back. – It’s okay.

And maybe for him, it actually is. Maybe just for a moment, with your hands in his hair and his body wrapped around yours, he feels something like peace. He doesn’t let go—not yet. He holds on, reveling in the comfort you offer, pressing into you like he never wants to leave. Like you’re the first real breath of air he’s had in a long time.

You stay like that, until the silence grows too heavy and you sigh. – We should go.

JJ doesn’t argue. He pulls back slowly, blinking, his eyes still red-rimmed but calmer, softer. His fingers linger at your waist before he finally steps up, exhaling like he’s reluctant to leave the space you created for him.

The drive is quiet, with him pulling your arms tighter around him everytime he gets the chance. You don’t protest. For a moment it's almost comforting, sitting on the back of his bike, without a word being spoken between you. But the feeling sits there, in your chest, that shiver you got when you realized he’s been following you.

It's not just caution.

It's not strangeness.

It's fear. A real, tangible fear of what he did, of what he can still do. Of what he might have continued doing had you not realized it. —It curls up around your throat, that fear. Pressing against your windpipe. You almost struggle to breathe.— You remain there, arms fastened around him as he slows down, pulling the brakes just before your house, even when he finally stops.

JJ leans back into you, breathing deep, clutching your hand to his chest, his body completely relaxed against yours. You’re still wondering. Mind still running.

How long had he followed you for?

Had he been trailing you? Close behind, just out of reach, or had he stared at your location, waiting, watching you without seeing you?

You don’t know which is worse.

– John B’s with Sarah tonight. – JJ mumbles, his head thrown back against your shoulder, the ends of his hair tickling your face. – I saw him sneak out. He’s probably gonna sleep there. – You hum, not really sure of what to say. – Pope and Kie are gone too. – His thumb brushes over the back of your hand slowly, his voice growing deeper, lower. – It’s just the two of us now.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t know what to say.

JJ looks back as you throw your leg over the other side of the bike, and climb down. He still clings to your hand like he’s got you on a leash: you have to remain there as he pulls the key from the ignition, as he sets his things in the top-box, as he leans back against the seat, pulling you in for a kiss.

You meet his mouth briefly, close-lipped, his fingers interlocking with yours as he pulls you in for another, and another, and one more. – I missed this. – He whispers, eyes barely open, already leaning in again.

– It’s been two days. – You remind him, but JJ only laughs.

– Two too many.

You don’t resist when he pulls you closer. His hands find your hips, sliding beneath the waistband of your jeans, calloused fingers pressing into the small of your back like he’s trying to mold you against him. He kisses you again—deeper, messier, his breath warm and tinged with something desperate.

JJ doesn’t just want this. He needs it.

That's what you like about him. He takes like he can’t get enough. He begs, and he grasps and he clings and he needs you like he needs air to breathe.

His hands are restless, traveling up your ribs, down your waist, over your thighs, like he’s trying to make up for lost time, like touching you might steady him, might ground him. But it doesn’t. The more he touches you, the more insatiable he gets. He’s humming against your lips, sighing into your touch, a little frantic, a little unsteady.

You pull him inside, but JJ can’t seem to break the kiss. He takes your hands to the hem of his shirt, tugging impatiently, his lips dragging from your mouth to your jaw to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin between whispered pleas.

– Touch me, – he breathes, his voice cracking like the weight of everything is still right there, lingering beneath the surface.

Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through the strands, and JJ shudders. He melts against you, knees almost buckling as he exhales a sharp, shaky breath.

– Fuck, – he mumbles, almost laughing, giddy and drunk on your touch. He’s clinging to you now, pressing his body into yours, murmuring against your lips, deeper, please, until you give in, kissing him the way he wants. The way he needs.

He moans softly, hands gripping your waist, pushing your top up just to feel your skin against his palms. He’s lost in this, lost in you, smiling against your mouth in that dazed, breathless way, like nothing else exists beyond the way your body fits against his.

Like everything is fine.

Even it isn’t, not really.

You lead him to your room, kicking the door behind you as he falls back on the bed, tearing his shirt off of him as if it were burning. He doesn’t even give you the time to think before he’s pulling you on top of him.

You try to guide him through the motions, letting his hands explore, letting him pull you closer, letting him bury his face in your neck, all while your mind is somewhere else. Detached. Floating.

Because underneath it all—beneath the heat of his mouth and the weight of his body and the way he pleads for you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart—there’s that feeling.

That cold, creeping thing at the back of your mind.

That fear.

It wraps around your throat, pressing tight, squeezing, reminding you of what he did. Of how long he must have followed you, watching, waiting, just out of reach.

Of how much worse it could’ve been if you hadn’t noticed.

JJ doesn’t see it. He doesn’t feel it. He only sees you, only feels your hands, your lips, the comfort he’s so desperate to take from you.

– I missed this, – he murmurs again, voice slurring slightly, hands still moving, still searching. – Fuck, baby I missed this so much.

You swallow hard, exhaling slowly, before finally answering.

– I know.

And you let him keep touching you, let him revel in this, let him have this, because maybe if he does, he’ll calm down. Maybe if he does, you’ll feel safe again.

JJ exhales against your skin, his body completely unwound, pliant beneath your hands. – Take it off. – He groans, hands shaking against his breeches. – Take it off of me, baby. Please. I just want you to be on me. I need it. Please.

You don’t need to be told twice.

He watches, almost breathless while you strip him bare, moaning at every touch, hips bucking every time you brush against him.

That doesn’t last long though.

It isn’t enough that just your hands are on him. So he drags you onto his dick, still clothed, and he grinds himself into you, eyes rolling back.

There’s something raw about the way he touches you—like he’s savoring every inch, like he’ll be going through withdrawal unless he doesn’t hold on tight enough. His fingers dig into your sides as he pulls your hips into his, his laugh breathy, almost delirious.

– God, I fucking love this, – he mutters against your shoulder, his hands slipping beneath your top, his thumbs brushing lazy circles over your skin.

This.

Not you—this.

The warmth. The closeness. The way you let him touch you, take what he needs. – You love this too, right baby? Your hips— He moans, head thrown back when you roll your hips against his cock, the fabric of your jeans giving just the friction he needs to work himself up. – You're so fucking good at this.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kisses up your throat, his lips tracing familiar paths, his breath hot and unsteady. He hums when you card your fingers through his hair again, pressing into your touch like he’s melting from the inside out.

He's getting wilder, humping you with this reckless abandon he never seems to shake off. But you can see him unraveling. Just the friction isn't scratching the itch.

He needs more.

– Take it off, baby. Please. Please. – he sighs, voice catching, eyes blown out. – Fuck, give it to me. Just ride me.

You hesitate. Your fingers still against the nape of his neck. The sounds he makes, strangled, anguished. Like he’s going mad.

You actually hear him whine when you lift your hips, and his hand flies down to palm himself while he watches you pull the jeans down.

He tilts his head up, catching your mouth again, dragging you deeper into him. His hands slide down, gripping the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer until he's practically in you.

But you don’t let him sink in just yet.

It's more fun when you drag it out.

When you move against him, teasing him, watching him twitch and moan and plead with nothing but the wetness, the softness, the warmth.

There’s a slow, creeping sickness curling in your stomach.

Because you’re leading this. Because you know what he needs, and you’re not quite giving it to him. Because you’re letting him press closer, letting him unravel, letting him forget—for just a little while—that anything is wrong at all.

And a part of you wants to forget too.

It feels good.

It doesn’t matter what he did, what he would do, because he needs you. He can’t get enough of you. He won't leave.

– Please. Please. – He repeats it like a mantra, writhing beneath you, clutching you so fucking tight. His hips go rogue, bucking wildly. – Please let me fuck you. I need to fuck you. Please. Fuck, I can't take this anymore!

The laughter that falls from your lips almost seems to stoke the flames.

He groans out loud when tip pushes into you, and for a second, his entire body just collapses against yours, heavy, needy.

Then his hands slip under your bra again, tugging at the fabric, his breath hot and desperate against your skin.

– Let me see you, – he murmurs, voice thick, rough. – G-Go ahead, baby. I need you to move. Please.

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen, his expression open in a way that makes you ache.

JJ wants you. That much is obvious.

But more than that—he wants to disappear into you.

To sink into your warmth, your touch, your body, and let it drown out whatever’s eating him alive from the inside.

Your stomach twists.

His fingers have long stopped tracing slow patterns against your ribs, now he's bruising you, nails digging in, shaking, waiting. Pleading.

You could give him what he wants. It would be easy. So, so easy.

But for the first time since this started, you wonder if you should. – And who said you deserve that, JJ?

– Huh?

– Because with the way you talked to me before, I don’t think you do. – You move, just slightly, and he folds, back arching. – I think you’re gonna have to convince me.

– Please. Baby, please.

– You think I'm pathetic. – You tsk, your hips rolling so slow his eyes flutter when they roll back. – I'm not the one who’s begging, though.

– Please! – He's screaming now, and you’re moving faster. The bed creaking beneath you. – I need it! Faster, baby. Faster!

He's splayed out, a puppet with the strings cut loose, yet he's anything but relaxed. You can feel him tensing, hands fisting the sheets so tight his knuckles have gone white.

He screams.

Almost yelping when you start going at the pace you know he likes. And it still isn't enough. He still grabs your hips, pulling you closer, and closer, again and again, banging against that soft spot within you like it's the only thing that can relieve him from this torture.

And you let him.

You ride him like a bronco, as if he’s trying to fuck you off instead of closer. As if he isn't begging for it. Screaming for it. – MORE, BABY, PLEASE!

You want more too.

At some point you lost yourself in trying to punish him, and it started to feel good. You're biting him, teeth dragging against the skin at the crook of his neck, the spot that always makes him shudder, that always makes him writhe.

Your nails have mapped half his body over.

He's red. —His face, his eyes, his lips, his scratches.— He’s gasping. Shaking. His whole body trembling, his eyes rolling back. You can’t even make sense of what he's saying anymore.

The only thing that leaves his mouth are these incoherent pleas, these oohs and aahs that make you laugh, humming to yourself as you ride into your orgasm, feeling him fall apart.

– F-uck, fuck! Don’t stop! Feels so fucking good baby, so fucking good! – He pushes it in faster, but it's still not enough. He needs more, he was going mad! Grabs you by the waist, tosses you on the bed, rutting like a wild dog, head thrown back, eyes rolling upwards. – Fuck! Fuck! Feel s-feel so fucking good!

All that was heard was your laughter, the pleased little gasps that escape your mouth as he fills you up over and over and over again, animalistic and heaving, laughing as well, but out of his mind, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the building release. He crashes against you, once, twice, getting careless. But by then he couldn’t hold it in. More! More! is all you heard from him.

And then you felt it.

His body shudders all over again, still rutting like his life would end. – God. God! I need to cum— fuck! I need— I need— Keep going! Don’t fucking stop baby, don— FUCK! FUCK!

You felt him coat your walls, white, hot, and endless. By then, you were shaking as well, the waves of your own climax washing over you as you arch against him.

He collapses over you, trembling and crying as he smiles, moaning your name in that shaky, adoring voice, eyes clinging to you in utter joy as he pumped lazily, through your climax and his, he still needed more of you. – It won-won’t stop. Fuck, there’s so m-much of it. – Laughter. Yours, his.

Your mind is blank.

He's heavy, heaving, still inside you.

JJ's breathing is ragged, each exhale a shaky whisper as he remains, still there, still trembling with the aftershocks. His hands wander aimlessly across the sheets, his body warm and heavy, as though he's been consumed entirely. His eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, and a soft whimper escapes him as he reaches for your hand.

– Baby... can you...? – His voice is slurred, broken, as if he’s still caught between the pleasure and the exhaustion of it all. His hand gently tugs at your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin. – Just... touch me. Please... softly.

There was that, too.

He was always sweeter when he was done.

You give a soft, reassuring smile, your fingers gently grazing his messy hair, pushing the strands out of his face, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before you speak in the same soft, soothing tone. – I’m here, JJ. I got you.

He hums in response, his eyes fluttering closed, a content sigh escaping his lips as you run your fingers through his hair, the action slow and comforting. – I’m... Fuck— Laughter buzzes against your skin as he presses his lips on you again. – I'm never getting used to this... I’m not used to this, – he mumbles between shaky breaths, his hand coming to rest on your arm, the weight of his touch grounding him. – Feels... too good. I need you to... keep me close. Just... just a little longer.

You hate the way your heart skips.

But you love the way he says it.

The way his voice brushes against your skin when he pleads, so softly, so sweetly. Like he could never do you harm.

You shift slightly, pulling him into your chest, the warmth of his body a constant reassurance. His hand rests over your heart, the frantic pace of his pulse now slowing, but his face is still pinched with that lingering tension, a mix of exhaustion and need for reassurance. He lets out a soft groan as you press your lips to his temple, whispering, – I’m right here. You’re okay.

His breath evens out, and as the minutes pass, you keep stroking his hair and kissing his head, each kiss lighter than the last, until his body relaxes fully, his grip on you loosens. – Love you.

You feel yourself tense up.

It’s not the first time he says it.

But it might be the first time you know he doesn’t mean it.

Still you smile down at him anyway, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead before whispering back, – Sure you do, baby. Go to sleep, okay?

He doesn’t need much encouragement.

JJ's never been easy to tire out, but when he does, it's immediate. His ear is pressed to your chest, to your heart, and you wonder what kind of dreams he’ll be having with that soundtrack, but it doesn't take long for his breath to even out.

The house is quiet.

Completely so.

And though you're glad John wasn't there to hear it, laying there, without his snoring to lull you into even halfway into reality only means that it crashes against you like a bucket of cold water a soon as JJ is out.

The day dawns on you, as it has done several times, but still the loathing blooms in your chest and spreads through your body faster than your mind can process.

You're broke.

You're jobless.

The girl you thought was your best friend is a snake.

The boy that's sleeping on you is a stalker.

Your best prospect right now is famously the most spoiled and volatile person on the island. That, because your best friend, the person that could actually get you out of this, has faded away after abandoning you, and you have no idea if he’ll even come back.

What's funny is that this is the thought that hurts you most —Not that you're unemployed, that your now previous boss could ruin you forever, that your relationship with only family member is as unstable as your financial situation, or that the people you thought you could trust don’t care about you— that Barry is gone.

Something he has been plenty of times before.

You lie there in the stillness, the weight of JJ's body pressing against yours. The sheets feel too warm, too much, a world you can’t find a way into. JJ’s steady breathing is a lullaby of sorts, pulling you toward the edge of exhaustion, but it’s not enough to quiet the thoughts tumbling relentlessly in your head.

Barry's absence gnaws at you —You know he’s not gone forever, not really. Or at least you hope so. He’s done this before, pulled away just long enough for you to convince yourself it doesn’t matter. And yet, it hurts like it does. Like it’s different this time.

You turn your head to glance at him—JJ, still sleeping soundly, unaware. His face is soft, the usual edge to his features dulled by exhaustion, but even now, with him so vulnerable in your arms, you feel the invisible distance between you grow. He’s a comfort, but only in the way a warm blanket can make you feel safe when the storm is too loud. And it is too loud. So loud you can barely breathe through it.

Your fingers trace patterns along his skin, but it’s absent, mechanical—the world outside the room, the boy in your arms, the life that’s slipping from your fingers, and the ghost that won’t stop haunting you, and you don't even know why.

Barry.

You know, deep down, that it’s not about him being gone. It’s about the fact that, despite what JJ has just tried to convince you of, Barry actually is the one person that was there for you.

When your father went away, he celebrated with you. When he was declared missing, he comforted you, even if you said you didn't care. Even if you didn't even know you needed it.

And maybe that's the problem: He saw you better than you saw yourself. He knows you. Really knows you.

But does he now?

So much has changed in two days.

You can’t even tell yourself it was real anymore because everything you thought you knew about him, about you, is shifting—becoming something else you can’t identify.

There’s no way to put a name to it, though, is there? That dull ache you’ve learned to live with. Not quite loneliness, but not contentment, either. Just an empty space where hope used to live, and you're so used to it now that you don’t know what it would feel like to fill it.

You let your gaze fall to JJ again, watching the way his back rises and falls with the easy rhythm of sleep. Maybe this is it—this is what you have now. A boy who doesn’t even know what he’s asking for when he whispers his need into the quiet night. And you, too tired to push him away, too lost to turn to anything else. You can almost convince yourself it’s enough, and for a second, you do.

But then, Barry’s face flickers in your mind again, like a ghost.

You wonder, just for a moment, if you would’ve been able to say anything if he were here. If you would’ve told him how much you needed him to help you, how much you needed him to be here, not just physically, but with you in the way that only he ever did.

But he’s not here.

And you’re not sure when he will be again.

The buzz of your phone slices through the silence. You freeze. What's the likelihood that he would call you right then, when you needed him most?

You slide from under JJ, and he grumbles, hands reaching for you even deep into sleep, but you don’t see it. All you see is the unknown number flashing on your screen amidst the darkness, and your heart races as you bring the phone to your ear. – Bee? – The word falls from your lips almost fearfully. You don’t want to know where he's been, what he's doing, or how much of what he had to take to call you like this, in the middle of the night. But you’re impatient to hear his voice, you just want to know if he's okay. – Bee, is that you?

The line scratches softly, the familiar sound of skin whispering against the microphone echoing in-between the two phones. Your pulse thrums against your ear. – Not bee. – You finally hear. – Are, actually.

– “Are”? Barry, what are you talking about? What did you take?

– It’s not Barry, baby. – The edge of his words resounded even through the distance. Pleased, but not quite satisfied. – It’s Rafe.

You let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

– Oh, “R”. Okay I got it.

He chuckles, a long, breathy noise. His breathing is heavy. – Did you put the cry-baby to sleep or is he still up whining?

JJ turns in his sleep. His arm, still lying, lax, over your lap shifts, and he pulls himself closer, brow brushing against your thigh. – JJ is… gone.

– Good. Thought I was gonna have to call CPS or some shit. – He scoffs, turning, in bed, you gather, since you hear the squeak of furniture.

– How considerate.

– Well, baby, I'm nothing if not considerate. – He hums. – What are you doing awake?

Regretting your life decisions, pondering the benefits of suicide. – Thinking of you. – It was meant to be a joke, but it didn’t sound like one as it slipped from your lips.

There's half a second of silence from him before you hear that laugh again, like you shocked him.

Rafe Cameron was shocked.

That's definitely a headline.

You can almost hear the smirk on his face. – I was thinking about you too, baby. What are you wearing?

You scoff, almost rolling your eyes. – Rafe.

He laughs again, even breathier. – Sorry. Was that too soon? – His bed creaks again. – You don’t seem like the kind of girl who needs a lot of foreplay.

– Hilarious.

– I was really hoping you'd give me a taste of what you’re wearing tomorrow, though.

You look down almost unconsciously. The only thing covering your skin is sweat. – Definitely not what I'm wearing right now. Unless you're hiring for a job other than personal chef.

Rafe’s quiet again. He moves around. You can hear him breathing. – Maybe I am. What kind of job are you thinking?

– Well, aren’t you the little hiring agency? Should've met you before. There’s some things on my resume I'm definitely not proud of. – He laughs with you now, though there's something strange in his tone. – Did you talk to your governess, or that other guy you said you didn't know the name of?

– Did. We'll be waiting for you.

– Well, you call and I come. – He laughs at the double-entendre, another noise escaping his lips. – What time should I be there?

– How's 10 AM sound?

– Perfect, Rafe. Thank you. Again, really. I can’t thank you enough.

– You're welcome, baby. You really are. – He groans, the bed creaking. JJ moves around again, his head on your lap, hands around your knees, and he mumbles something unintelligible. – What was that?

– Sorry, uhm. Just… thinking out loud.

You swallow, but Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. – And what are you thinking about?

– About… What I'm gonna wear. – Improvising was never really your forte.

Rafe hums, a long stretch of the M, then something smaller, a sound you can't quite catch. – That skirt. – He sighs. – The blue pleated one.

You pause.

– What?

– It's pretty. – Is all he says, then a groan, or a purr. The phone falls on his pillow, you can hear it scratch against his skin as he moves. But the way he says it, as if he’s seen it a thousand times in the two days you've known each other, as if he can picture you wearing it right in front of him. – Fuck, baby. You’re so pretty.

The compliment grates at your ears.

How does he know your clothes?

You think of the skirt. Your blue pleated skirt. It's been ages since you've worn it. It's way too short. You’ve outgrown it a while ago. – What else, baby?

– Hm?

– What else are you wearing for me?

His bed creaks again, over and over, and he doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just sighs.

– I, uhm. I don’t know. – What even is this conversation?

– Far as I'm concerned you don't need to wear anything. You can come— He laughs, low and unsteady, a strangled “yeah” cutting through the word. – Come as you are.

You feel a trickle of repulse run down your back. You don’t wanna talk to him anymore. You don’t want to talk at all.

– Talk to me, baby. – He groans, again.

– I, uhm. – You kick the nightstand, the noise echoing loudly around your room. – Shit, uhm. Sorry, that's my brother. I'll see you tomorrow.

You kill the line before he can say anything else.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @sassyvillaintrophy @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss

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hotvintagepoll · 2 days ago

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LAST POLL OF ROUND 4

Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant (Holiday, Bringing Up Baby, The Philadelphia Story)—They're both unspeakably hot and putting them together only makes them that much hotter. Because physically attractive people are WAY hotter when they're also incredibly funny, and both of them are. They play off each other to perfection, and I could eat them both ❤️

Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing (The Curse of Frankenstein, The Horror of Dracula)—Obviously never canon romantic but the definition of toxic old man yaoi. Whether it's the look on Lee's face as Dracula about to bite Van Helsing in "Horror Of Dracula" (1958) or Cushing destroying his life and engagement to create Lee's monster in "Curse Of Frankenstein" (1957). Such a popular team that the "Dracula" sequel lifted their final fight from the original and used it as a prologue even though Cushing isn't in the rest of the film.

This is round 4 of a mini tournament. Each poll lasts for a week. Please reblog with propaganda for your favorite hot couple. To vote in all the polls, click here.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Hepburn and Grant:

Truly two of the hottest people ever to grace our screens and when you put them together, it's volcanic. They are totally magnetic on screen together, with the perfect love/hate chemistry. The ultimate 'you drive me crazy' couple, no one is doing it like them.

They are delight and joy and ALSO insanely hot together. Friendships have ended over the ship war of The Philadelphia Story, and you know what? Valid.

They are the hottest couple because they are clever, witty and beautiful. They spark off each other magnificently.

I feel like they’re almost too obvious to bother submitting but I’ve made that mistake before so Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn. I present Bringing Up Baby and The Philadelphia Story as evidence, your honor

Perfect onscreen match in some of the greatest romcoms ever. My, they were yar!

Cary Grant & Katherine Hepburn! They're my favorites! Dapper & ridiculous both!

I'm sorry, that's not a very romantic pic, but I had to include the serenading the leopard

and the fluffy bathrobe!

youtube

Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee:

Not exactly propaganda but I received this ask after Cushing and Lee's submission:

oh, I completely missed the qualifiers for the couples poll! Nevemind. Unless we count characters attempting to murder one another in multiple movies as peak couple behavior, Cushing and Lee tragically don’t qualify.

Editor's note: in this case I'll absolutely count that as romantic.

#cary grant #katharine hepburn #peter cushing #christopher lee #hotvintagepoll #hot couples tourney

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somnus-lucis-caelum · 2 days ago

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So, part of the stories were true… and others not. It was a tale as old as time. Their lands might have been neighbours, but reality got wrapped into stories and carried from mouth to mouth, there were many things that changed until these stories crossed the borders to be spread elsewhere.

Even messengers could not outrun rumours.

But one thing had always prevailed in Somnus’ head when he had heard of the devastation that had happened to the Cetra. Following Aerith’s gesture, he mustered the simple farm tools that seemed so out of place in these halls full of fantastic old artifacts. And yet they suite the farmlands so well.

“Hm…”, he mused quietly, seemingly thinking deeply about the fate of the Cetras. That only the royal family seemed to openly admit to their roots. And all the others preferred a life in shadows and hidden places…

Though maybe he could amdit this to her. After all, she shared the Cetra’s fate with him so openly. And this collection of their ancient wisdom…

“When I heard about what happened to your people, I always imagine that this must be what is in the cards for Lucis, should we fail to defeat the Daemons and the Starscourge. I… we can not afford this.”

Looking back to her, there was a careful smile.

“Do not take this the wrong way… the farmlands are thriven – in land. But your numbers are small. That is why you needed our army’s help after all… but Lucis does not have that kind of magic deeply woven into their lands. We had to have the Gods step in and bless our family specifically. If we, if I fail… then I fear Lucis will turn into a wasteland of the vanishing sickness…”

It was so foolish, wasn’t it? To make himself so important. But… it was what Bahamut had told him.

“… what exactly was it that devastated your people so much? I heard different things. Of a monster with eyes so empty, they could swallow souls… of friends turning against each other, turning insane… and sickness. But which is it?”

Aerith immediately nodded to his question, without any hesitation. "I do." she confirmed, smiling at Somnus before she glanced back to her own favourite wall. It wasn't uncommon, to be drawn to one particular area here. It was like... a silent call, that only your soul could hear.

There was a quiet comfort, resonating with the past. Her hope was to one day leave her stave behind... that someone she would never meet in life would take up her weapon for a just cause.

Then Somnus uttered a careful sentence. One that reinforced her own wishes. What he heard was true, their people were once a great civilisation — and now their grand city was occupied mostly by humans. The Cetra had been shattered, splintered off into all different directions, some migrated across the seas and some hid in their most ancient temples.

"I don't know." Aerith answered honestly, looking down at her own hands for a moment. "What happened to the Cetra... it was more than an empire coming to an end. Our people faced devastation that drove us to the brink. Our people splintered in so many different ways."

Her attention shifted to where Somnus stood. "The rumour that my family is the last isn't true at all. We're... openly Cetra. We don't hide it. Then there's the healing, it was always a rarer magic, even among Cetra. I think that's why a lot of people are mistaken about us..."

She gestured then, gently towards some humble farm tools. "You witnessed a fraction of the farmlands for yourself. I think even that glimpse is enough to tell you that there are more of us out there who practice gentle magic, who are in tune with the Lifestream."

#holyguardian #au | star crossed

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sinful-lanterns · 1 day ago

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CW: Threesome, inappropriate workplace sex, cunnilingus, fingering, double penetration, jealousy

I just realized that a Deren and Lady Pearl sandwich would go so hard considering they’re both directors. Being a famous film star and broadway actress, imagine Deren and Pearl having a rivalry for you as they both want you to be their star in their next show. Whichever one will you perform in though? They figure that the best way to get you to decide is to have you split between them and toyed relentlessly in your trailer. You’re pressed against Deren’s front while Lady Pearl is bent over and lapping at your sopping cunt. Meanwhile, Deren is plunging her fat cock inside you, grunting with each thrust and murmuring about how she can fuck you like this every day on set if you choose her…

That of course, makes Lady Pearl growl under her breath and pull away. Licking her lips clean, she plunges her own fingers into your cunt, thrusting in time with Deren’s movements as both Pearl’s fingers and Deren’s cock were now inside you. “I can fuck you good too, my dear. I always keep a strap in my room for pretty actresses like you…” Pearl all but purrs as she eyes the way you swallow her fingers in. The feeling of Pearl’s fingers rubbing against Deren’s shaft while she simultaneously thrusts into you, it has the other director stuttering in her movements from the extra friction.

Both women are so green with jealousy it’s insane. You’ve never looked prettier with your lips pursed in a moan and your eyes rolled back. Just whoever will you choose when both directors crave to have your beautiful self all to themselves…

…And then you propose a collaboration for their two shows. One where you get to be on the same set with two of your favorite directors. 🩷

#⛓️ mbcc lovepost #deren smut #ptn deren smut #lady pearl smut #ptn lady pearl smut

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xo2dee · 2 days ago

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NOW LOADING. .

JJK MASTERLIST

OPIA/GOJO NSFW WEEK 2023 - DAY SEVEN: PANTY KINK

PAIRING: Gojo Satoru x (Fem)Reader WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Panty kink, scent kink, masturbation. WORD COUNT: 1,078 SUMMARY: It was highly indecent, but it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever done. Or: Gojo uses your panties to masturbate.

A/N: nee stop putting panty kink onto everyone challenge(impossible)

Maybe he was finally going insane.

Or maybe he’d already gone insane and his brain was just finally acting on its own will.

It started out innocent enough, Satoru had been digging through the dryer for his favorite pair of pants and once he’d gotten them on he noticed an oddly shaped ball of something wadded up in his front pocket. He fished it out curiously thinking perhaps it was one of his missing socks, however what he pulled out was far too thin and intricate to be a pair of his socks. And once he’d stared down at them in his palm, a familiar gut-wrenching sensation began to brew and his pants suddenly felt way too tight.

He had pulled your panties out of his pocket.

The lacey pair you only wore on ‘special’ occasions.

Immediately, Satoru was assaulted with mental images and flashbacks – how many times had he become a victim to those racy panties? Practically losing himself and acting like some sex-brained fiend when you would pull the hem of a dress up to let him know you were wearing them. How many times had he pulled out and cummed all over them par your request? The panties were practically a cum rag at that point, but they remained in near perfect condition somehow despite he swore once he accidentally ripped them when he got too excited. Satoru was used to seeing them sitting prettily on your hips, or on the floor after he had flung them across the room…

But seeing them in all their glory in the palm of his hand ignited a new type of burn inside his body.

His body moved on its own, one hand freeing himself from his pants before he spit into his palm and wrapped his fingers around the girth of his cock. The heat nearly made him back off, palm burning, but instant pleasure that busted behind his eyes was enough to keep him going. Just looking at the damn things made him insane, especially when he had memorized to a fucking T what you looked like in them. It didn’t take him long to build a good rhythm and speed, his balls tightening in record breaking time as he propped his other arm up against the dryer and his eyes remained locked on your panties as his fingers began to twist into the fabric.

The color of it contrasted nicely against his skin…

And the material brought him back to the time he’d pressed his cock against your pussy covered in them…

Satoru’s mind whirled, eyelids flickering shut as his fingers on the dryer began to leave a dent in the object. The tip of his dick was swollen and red, precum spilling out onto his knuckles as he jerked himself faster when suddenly just seeing the panties wasn’t enough. He needed more – needed to actually feel the hold those damn panties had over him.

A thought suddenly struck him – lewd and unhinged, but it wasn’t like you weren’t used to it.

He couldn’t help himself, pulling your panties free from his cock and lifting the flimsy thing up to his nose –

Oh, he was sick in the head.

He was insane.

Satoru fisted his cock harder, his movements speeding up as he kept your panties against his nose, breathing in the scent of you in greedy intervals. His mind was fogging up, eyelids flickering with rolling eyes, and the smell of you giving flashbacks to each time he buried himself nose deep in your pussy – or when you wrapped around him so snugly his balls ached and his stomach twisted. It was just the smell of sex – his brain was wiring itself to react so animalistic over him when he got so much of a whiff of you in that matter. It was no wonder he practically lost his mind each time you fucked.

It was depraved – animalistic, and he had no idea what had come over him.

…He couldn’t take it, gritting his teeth as the burn within his pelvis blazed to a new height, a strangled moan of ‘Fuck’ hissed off of his tongue as he felt the familiar pull of his orgasm hurtling towards his cock. It should’ve been embarrassing, your panties he greedily sniffed (that suspiciously didn’t smell like the laundry detergent, but Satoru was far too busy to care for that) pushing him faster to completion in a way he’d never before, but he didn’t care when the raw scent of you was what was really making him act insane.

Once Satoru felt his stomach begin to cave in and his moans rise a pitch, he realized he had seconds at best. To the human eye, the speed of which your panties were found curled around his dick and the way he fisted himself wasn’t possible to see, but he could see well enough when he finally – finally covered his greatest weakness in his cum. His balls practically felt like they had deflated, his chest heaving with newfound sweat and his body twitching from overstimulation when he kept stroking himself to make sure the damn thing was positively drenched in his cum. Another belonging of yours that he marked.

Clarity did him no good; no shame was found in the bones of Satoru’s body. And he was content to stay there with your panties wrapped around his cock with cum dripping onto the floor as long as he was allowed to. Maybe he’d move to the bedroom and cockily await you, watch your jaw drop at his new depravity before he got the treat of you riding him into the mattress. Oh, that sounded hot. God, he was a genius – it was perfect.

If you hadn’t came home early.

“I see you found my panties,” your voice spoke up from his right, Satoru’s head swiveling over with startling clearance to lay eyes on your form leant against the door with a smug smile creased along your lips. It took a moment for him to piece the puzzle together – the panties not smelling like your detergent, the fact he didn’t remember putting them in the wash

And there Satoru was, red-handed with your panties covered in cum wrapped around his cock.

You had planned it. He couldn’t help the grin that broke out across his face.

Maybe you were just as insane as him. And maybe he’d still get ridden into the mattress with glint that was in your eye.

#{🩸} nee fics #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo

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lostinlovingrevery · 13 hours ago

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Smutty Stuff About Logan: The Reckoning

pt 2 about Logan and cute (and maybe nasty) smut scenarios. Grab your vibrators folks

Logan definitely likes to make a mess. A big mess. He cums a lot, so messes are inevitable. But his kind of mess is the kind where he comes inside, or over your pussy and he just sits and spreads it all over, likes he's in a trance. It sends shocks through you every time his thumb rubs his cum over you clit and stuffs it into your cunt. Is he drooling?

You're on a mission. You and logan get put in a position where you won't be able to go anywhere for awhile. Logan thinks it's a great chance for some bonding. The next thing you know your suit is gonna and Logans been fucking you for two hours. Its when Scott finally clears you both that you have to both quickly get your suits back on and you gotta finish the mission with his cum leaking out. Hes very smug about it (such a perv)

hes big about his cum being on (or in) you in general. it's one of his many ways he likes to "claim" you

making breakfast together, it turns steamy. Now he's pouring whipped cream and syrup over you tits and belly and licking it off you.

He doesn't finished cleaning you when he desperately lunges to kiss you, his chest sticking to your messy body, food covering him. you guys just end up a bunch of lovesick horny fools with syrup and whipped cream. You take turns cleaning each other.

I think Logan wouldn't be a huge masterbater. I think he'd do it out of boredom. Maybe if he was pent up. He'd probably prefer the real thing. But when you come into his life, and you guys aren't sexually together yet- he's yanking his chain nearly every night to the thought of you. An animalistic instinct he just can't control bc if he doesn't get himself off to the thought of you he's going to pounce you (pls do Logan)

Mutual masterbation. You both sit across from each other (or your straddling him) and get off on watching each other. It drives Logan insane. The rule is that you don't touch each other during the session but Logan always breaks that rule

I think Logan has potential to be a peeping tom. He wouldn't do it right away, it starts when you shower and he walks back the bathroom, the doors cracked bc you forgot to shut it- and he catches you in the mirror. You didn't see him.

He's now in his room desperately getting himself off because he's picture you naked hundreds of times but then he just saw a nice view of your tits and they're even better than he imagined

It's not how he imagine he'd get to see you, but he'll take what he can get. Now he searches in moments he could catch a look at you.

One night he catches you masterbating in your bed. You're moaning his name. He could smell your arousal. He nearly blacked out

His claws will pop out at sudden things that arouse him. You're planning to go to the beach, and he sees you in a bikini for the first time. He spots you and snikt! They're out. He didn't even notice, too busy staring at the way you tits looked in that top.

I'm currently writing a fic over this BUT, you don't like alcohol, but when you taste it on Logans lips/tongue, you can't get enough. you quickly discover you really like alcohol, but only when logans spitting it in your mouth.

you gift Logan naughty polaroids. Some are of you scantily clad, others are you just straight nude in sexual positions. He keeps one inside his coat pocket. It's not just cause it turns him on, but he deadass thinks you look so damn beautiful in your natural state. He just gotta be careful of where he is when he looks at it.

Sucking on Old Man Logans dick, you drooling and your eyes are hazy. he tastes so good, and feels so good on your tongue. He's praising you for being a good girl, telling you he's all yours, to enjoy as much as you want. He wants you to get sloppy, to suck on him and forget about everything else. You've made him cum multiple times already, and you're still sucking on him, even as he's soft and gets hard again.

Trilogy Logan ravishing you over and over again. It's been a stressful week, and he suggested you both get away from the mansion the weekend. You got a hotel room- and haven't left the bed other than to use the bathroom, and take a nice romantic (and sexual) bath with Logan. Hes putting you in positions you didn't even know was possible, pounding into you with an animalistic fury, stuffing you full of cum. you should probably consider getting plan b (unless you want a baby)

Having an argument with Worst Logan and you say something that implies that you worried about logan really caring about you, a discreet and quiet anxiety you never told him. Of course, it pisses him off and he has to show you how much he loves you. Which involves hot, rough, and sensual sex. he's fucking you and making you tell him that he loves you and that you believe it over and over.

Riding DOFP Future! Logans lap, after he woke back up in this new life. Hes been begging you to keep riding him, to keep fucking him. Kissing you sloppily as you ran your hands through his hair. You were busy grading papers, but Logan stormed into your office and practically yanked you into your bedroom. he found you, his pretty wife that he lost before he fixed things. Safe to say, reunion sex is fun.

70S! DOFP fucking you in an alleyway by the bar you two were in. "You looked too damn good in there baby. All those boys making eyes at you. Gotta make sure you know you're mine." he moans as he buries himself deep inside you, practically lifting you into the air against the wall

Watching Origins Logan chop wood from your pretty little log cabin. You get an idea, taking off all your clothes and standing on the porch, ass naked and waiting for him to notice. His face is concentrated, a cigar hanging off his lips. He just looked so hot, and you found it funnier the Logan he went not noticing your naked figure. When he finally looked up, the cigar hung off his parted lips almost comedically, before falling as he dropped the axe to his side, and he made his way to run after you, throwing you over his shoulder and bringing into the house as you shriek with laughter. He makes sure to make up for the lack of attention he gave you by stuffing you full of him and eating you out for hours

Having sex on Logans motorcycle. You're riding together when Logan pulls off suddenly, somewhere private. he gets you to sit in front of him, pulling your pants (or your skirt) down. The motorcyle still rumbling he makes you lean down so you could feel the vibrations of it, while he fucks you. Lets just say you don't last long- but logans not ready to stop.

Logan certainly doesn't want you to hurt or be in pain, but a certain amount of pride does hit him when he sees you walking around with shaky legs

This man can eat pussy for days. He'll get lost in you, licking and sucking and licking over and over. You'll have to push him off multiple times before he's done

I did my Logan variants BUT riding around with old man Logan in his car. Your legs across his lip. He's got one hand on the wheel, the other massaging your ankles and feet. He made you feel good, so you move around and give him a handjob and a blow. He pulls over, making you get into his lap and ride him- because he can just never get enough of you

Thigh jobs.

Tit jobs

nuff said

Actually no

Logan gets so damn excited when you offer one of those. Something about being able to fuck a body part that's not technically fuckable

this man would get himself off on every part of you if you'd let him

yes, armpits, elbows, knees included. hes insatiable. and gross. but thats why we love him. keep being a freak baby, i'll be a freak with you

anyway, he's fucking your thighs and you're watching as his tip appears and disappears, his precum soaking your thighs, he cums and shoots it all over your belly.

with titjobs, hes sitting over you, thrusting his cock between your wet tits. he spit all over them to lube everything up. his cum lands all over your face and open mouth

Tying each other up? Yes pls

Logan definitely loves it. Tying you up, having his way with you. I mean, he's strong enough to pin you down of course, buuuut something really fun about watching you be helpless to him

and vice versa

logan doesn't have much self control with you, so tying him up can prove difficult. he ends up breaking through the ribbons, rope, handcuffs- etc to grab you and fuck into you

you finally figure it out though, the way to make him behave

you grabbed his box of prized cubans. expensive, rare. he only smokes them on special occassions. you had him tied up, and blindfolded, taking off the blind fold- you told him the rules

"no touching. no breaking the ropes. if you do, I destroy each one of these."

Logans face fell as he saw his prized cigars. okay, maybe you both knew you really wouldn't...would you?

logan couldn't risk that

powerplay is fun

cue the most torturous session logan has every experience. he swears he'd rather have adamantium bound to his organs this time than what you're doing to him

you're playing with him. like a cat who caught a mouse. your messing with him, edging him, depriving him of your sweet pussy. an hour of sensory play. another hour of edging. He's not sure if he can take it anymore. surely he can find another box of cubans...

but then you reward him for being such a good boy. lots of praise. lots of riding and sucking. lots of kisses. when he finally gets to cum he's begging and thanking you for it

now he's starting to see why you like him being so dominant

you had your fun though. next time, he's putting you through worse :)

that's all folks! I'll make a pt 3 soon, i just got a few other fics i wanna focus on ;)

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #vans daydreams #wolverine smut

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chimuelo2005-blog · 2 days ago

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Jayce Talis' worst enemy is the fandom.

Okay, I need to talk about Jayce Talis because the way this fandom butchers his character is insane. People act like he’s just some dumb, arrogant golden boy who bumbled his way into power, but if that were true, he never would’ve made it past episode one. Jayce is smart —like, actually smart. He’s just not the same kind of smart as Viktor, and people act like that makes him useless.

Jayce isn’t a scientist in the way Viktor is. Viktor is all about pure innovation, pushing boundaries no matter the cost. Jayce? He’s an engineer. He takes ideas and makes them functional, practical, marketable. Hextech wouldn’t have happened without him—not because Viktor isn’t brilliant, but because Viktor never would’ve played politics, never would’ve known how to navigate Piltover’s elite, never would’ve gotten the funding or public support. Jayce made Hextech into something that mattered on a global scale. And yeah, he stumbles, yeah, he gets caught up in bureaucracy, but acting like he’s just some dumb himbo is a massive misread of his character.

And speaking of massive misreads: let’s talk about Jayce and Viktor. Because whatever *that* was? It wasn’t just friendship.

Jayce and Viktor’s relationship is so intense, so emotionally charged, and so central to both of their arcs that you can’t just hand-wave it away as “science bros.” Like, Viktor is the only person who fully understands Jayce’s ambitions, and Jayce is the only person who ever made Viktor believe he could actually change the world. Their whole dynamic is built on this deep, aching need for each other—not just professionally, but personally. Jayce trusts Viktor in a way he doesn’t trust anyone else. Viktor pushes Jayce in a way no one else does. And when that trust starts to crack? When they start moving in different directions? It wrecks them both.

Jayce doesn’t fall apart when he fights Vi. He doesn’t fall apart when he gets manipulated by Mel, when he struggles with the council, when he makes bad political moves. He falls apart when he realizes he and Viktor are no longer on the same path. That’s what breaks him. And the way he looks at Viktor when he finds out he’s dying? The way he crumbles at the idea of losing him? Come on.

So yeah. Jayce Talis is not dumb, and his relationship with Viktor is not just some casual friendship. That man was ready to rip apart the entire council the second Viktor started slipping away from him. If that’s not love, at least I know that's certainly not just friendship.

#Jayce talis is canonically an immigrant #jayce is too good #arcane #jayce talis #arcane jayce #viktor arcane #jayvik #i dont know what they have going on but it's certainly not just friendship.

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trashcakery · 3 days ago

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fadelstyle headcanons bc why tf not

Style has already apologized (wholeheartedly and with tears) for ambushing Fadel’s support group sessions.

Every Saturday, they make breakfast together, trying new recipes, flavors, etc. They also almost always fuck it all up, because Style is too distracting in an apron.

Style listens to heavy metal now.

Fadel often naps with his head on Style’s lap, and Style plays with his hair while he sleeps.

Fadel and Style’s dad watch 70s/80s shows together, leaving Style completely left out. They actually have nearly identical 80s rock CD collections too.

Style asks Fadel about his ex often. His personality, their time together, what Fadel loved about him. He’s even suggested they take flowers and visit his grave together. When you’re ready.

Fadel has yet to win an argument.

Saying no to Style is literally impossible for him. He’ll frown, sulk, look pissed, but never actually say no.

Fadel has bad days, lows that become debilitating. His past crashes down on him, but Style is always there. Gentle. Quiet. Giving him space, but also taking care of him. Helps him in the shower. Brings him food. Takes it away when Fadel refuses to eat. Brings it back. Holds him while he sleeps.

They love shopping together. Fadel loves the way Style glows when he tries on new clothes.

Yes, they’re both freaks. Yes, it excites them to do it in public, grabbing at each other’s necks, indulging in chest play, roleplay, you name it. But their biggest turn-on, especially for Fadel, is actually being domestic. Being soft and vanilla, even. No, because think about it— Style has probably had his fair share of sleeping around, experimenting, partying, going wild. Fadel, on the other hand, has always felt burdened by his body and its needs. His teenage years, his early adulthood, none of it was normal. He never got to experience sweetness. Never got to take his time, to feel wanted, to feel loved. To him, sex was always transactional, until his ex, who 'left' the moment Fadel showed vulnerability. So yeah, they love being wild. But what they love more is being at home—lazy morning sex, showering together, taking it slow, looking into each other’s eyes. It’s actually so sweet and heartbreaking.

After months of nagging, Fadel finally folds and teaches Style how to use a gun.

Style knows how to use a knife very well. (Don’t ask how they found out.)

Fadel practically lives at Style’s house, spends 80% of his time there.

Style’s dad is teaching Fadel how to fix his car. “What do you mean you’re marrying into our family without knowing these basics???”

Fadel whimpers. :)

Style has proudly stolen and cut up at least ten of Fadel’s t-shirts, including a vintage 1970s Led Zeppelin Rules America tee that he spent half his savings on when he was 16.

Style loves taking Fadel’s fingers into his mouth when they have sex, because it drives Fadel insane. :)

One time, while they were just hanging out in Fadel’s room, Style asked, “So when did you start finding me attractive?” Fadel’s face went beet red. Style, being the menace that he is, kept pushing, until Fadel finally blurted: “Yes, I found you attractive the moment I saw you. Yes, I thought about you while I was alone. Yes, of course I fucking did. And yes, it happened here—where else would it happen?” A smirk. “So you liked it when I lay on my stomach for you in the sauna… like this?” Style rolls onto his stomach, looks up at Fadel exactly like he did that day. “Tell me, what did you think about? Did you imagine my face?” “Shut up." “Did you imagine they were my hands or mouth?” “Style.” “Did you call my name?”

They both smell amazing. Fadel wears deep, earthy colognes. Style wears fruity, flowery ones. He also goes crazy for lip balms so Fadel buys him a new one every time he goes to the grocery store.

“Hey, you really need to stop being so trusting.” “He said his cat was dying.” “Style, he was literally trying to steal your wallet.” “But he showed me a photo. :( He had one leg missing.” “…Jesus fucking christ.”

#fadelstyle #joongdunk #thk #the heart killers #fadew #obsessed with their dynamic

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alienguts · 22 hours ago

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Cocoon (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce and Y/N take things one step further and a little hotter.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, first-time sex, inexperienced reader, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, body worship, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control, bruce had the snip but it's not mentioned) reassurance, tooth-rotting fluff.

Request?: No

A/N: it's finally here!! enjoy, you horndogs

1 - Picking Up the Pieces | 2 - Kintsugi | 3 - Stay with Me | 4 - Cocoon

It had been a year since Bruce had been left at the altar, a year since he’d shown up at Y/N’s apartment for someone to talk to, a year since he’d taken her out to lunch to make up for it.

A year since he’d first kissed her.

Although they hadn’t used any specific words to describe each other, the world saw Bruce and Y/N as a couple. They were frequently photographed together, gossip columns wrote about their relationship, the boys constantly asked her to come over to the mansion, and even Alfred had started treating her like his daughter-in-law.

All was going well for the two of them, but there was just one last hurdle that Y/N was having some difficulty with. One that she found a little embarrassing.

While Y/N was definitely not a virgin, she was still rather inexperienced in the bedroom and had a few bad experiences but the thought of being intimate with another person made her nervous.

The thought of being intimate with Bruce made her almost terrified. And she had no idea why.

She wanted to sleep with him, so much it was driving her crazy. The thought of his large, muscular body pressing her into the mattress kept her up some nights and seeped into her dreams on others. They were always so vivid, she could feel his warm skin on hers, smell his cologne, hear his voice and feel how he moved inside her, driving her body wilder and wilder.

Until she woke up, that is. Unfortunately, they were just dreams. Wonderful dreams that left her soaking wet when she woke up, but still just dreams. And she wanted those dreams to come true, so badly that it twisted her heart and left her unsatisfied with just her fingers or toys. She had to know what he felt like, what he tasted like, everything.

If Y/N hadn’t thought she was crazy for Bruce she was certainly insane for him now.

She hadn’t told Bruce how she felt, but in his own special Bruce way, he just knew. Thankfully, he’d been completely understanding and never pushed her into doing anything, but she was tired of not being ready. She’d started retaking her birth control, stocked up on condoms, and put ‘Operation Get Laid’ in action.

When she’d gotten a text from Bruce asking if she wanted to come over, she immediately replied ‘yes’, took the longest shower of her life, styled her hair, sprayed her best perfume, and picked out her fanciest lingerie to go underneath her sweater and jeans. It wasn’t exactly a ‘date’, but most of Y/N’s visits to Wayne Manor these days ended with the two of them making out like teenagers until her nerves butted in.No more getting scared, she told herself as she put on her jacket and gave herself one last look over in the bedroom mirror before heading off.

Y/N arrived at the Manor after the boys had gone out for patrol and Alfred was already in the Cave watching the comms, leaving her completely alone with Bruce. Her heart started racing as soon as she pressed the doorbell and didn’t get much slower once Bruce opened the door.

“Hi,” she breathed as she smiled at him.

“Hi,” he said and returned her smile as he opened the door wider to let her in.

She could smell his shower products as she brushed past him and immediately wanted to bury her face in his chest. The outfit he wore was relatively simple - a plain navy sweater and jeans - but to her he’d never looked more handsome. She’d seen him in his fancy suits and knew how uncomfortable they made him at times, so knowing that he was so comfortable around her made her heart flutter. It didn’t matter how hard he leaned into his Bruce Wayne persona, she always saw him as just Bruce, her childhood best friend.

And the man she was hopelessly in love with.

“How’s your day been so far?” Bruce asked as he took her jacket from her, his fingers brushing against her shoulders.

“Just the same as any other day,” she said, lying about how much preparation she’d put into just coming over.

Y/N fought off a shiver when she felt him standing so close behind her and resisted the urge to lean back into him. Even after a year of holding and touching each other, she was still nervous to initiate things, no matter how comfortable Bruce was with touching her. If she was a more forward person, just a little braver, she would let him ravish her then and there, but she thought Bruce was too much of a gentleman for that kind of thing.

She’d reached down to take her shoes off, and as soon as she stood up straight she felt him standing even closer behind her, his chest almost flush with her back. Her breath caught in her throat when he gently wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. His body was so warm against hers that she felt like she could just melt into him.

Even when his hugs were completely platonic, being in Bruce’s arms was like being completely enveloped in warmth. He was all hard muscle but he kept his touches soft and gentle, as if he was afraid to squeeze her too hard in case he broke her. Y/N wished she could stay in his arms forever, safe and warm and loved.

He bent down slightly and rested his cheek on the top of her head as he gently squeezed her waist. She felt his chest expand slowly as he breathed in the scent of her hair products and shampoo and fought back a shiver when he exhaled again.

She thought it was over too soon when he lifted his face from her head, only to feel his lips against her temple. His breath brushed her skin as he softly kissed her, letting his lips linger against her.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against her hot skin before kissing her temple again.

Y/N turned around in his arms and stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

“I missed you too,” she whispered as she rested her forehead against his, the height difference making her stretch up to meet him.

Bruce gently pressed his lips to hers, making warmth spread through her body. It was just one gentle little kiss - just him saying ‘hello’ to her - but it felt right. Like this was how they were always supposed to be; kissing each other ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’, telling each other how much they missed each other.

Y/N whimpered softly when he slipped his tongue into her mouth and his hand under her sweater, letting him explore her more. His large palm stroked up and down her skin, sending shivers through her body as he pulled her further into him. She continued to kiss him back, tangling her fingers in his hair as she started to get that familiar ache between her legs, the one that called out for him and clouded her thoughts.

But it was all over too soon.

Bruce slowly pulled away from her, taking his hand out of her sweater and placing it back on her hip before leading her away from the front door. Y/N felt like her legs were made of lead, but she still forced them to move. With her hand wrapped in his, he led her through the Manor and into the giant kitchen, where dinner had already been prepared and plated up for them.

“I see Alfred’s been busy,” she said as she took in the meal before them.

“I wanted to make something myself, but he insisted,” Bruce said sheepishly as he pulled a chair out at the kitchen table for her to sit down.

Y/N laughed softly, knowing very well how much of a disaster Bruce was in the kitchen. She would have even been happy helping him make food, but Alfred’s cooking was always just as good as any Michelin-star restaurant that Bruce could have taken her to.

The night had gone well: Bruce and Y/N ate dinner, talked about what they’d both been up to since the last time they’d seen each other and settled in front of the TV. But instead of watching something, their time was better spent getting more physically acquainted with each other.

Y/N had freshened up a little after dinner, but now what little lipstick she’d applied had been completely smeared off onto Bruce’s face. Her body thrummed with desire for him, and the ache between her legs only grew stronger and stronger as she fought the urge to grind against him as she lay nestled between his legs.

She could feel that he was getting hard beneath her and wanted so badly to stroke him through his jeans, but she still didn’t want to come across as too forward so settled for resting her hands on his chest instead. That nervous streak was building up inside her, but she forced it back down, like a bad dog that needed to be trained.

This is what you wanted, she told herself. Stop being scared.

She briefly broke away from him to catch her breath and shuffled up to sit in his lap, her palms cradling his face. Before she kissed him again, she took a good look at Bruce; his dark hair was tousled from her fingers, his lips parted and swollen from being kissed, his pupils blown wide with desire, and a blush crept across his cheeks as he breathed deeply, clearly needing to catch his breath too.

He was so beautiful, just the sight of him made her want to melt into a puddle right there in his lap. In fact, she’d felt herself get so wet that she felt like a puddle already. And she was sure she could feel him getting hard underneath her.

Bruce took hold of her hips and gently pushed her down and forward in his lap, guiding her to slowly grind against him. She followed his lead and slowly rolled her hips against him, the friction of her jeans providing the perfect amount of friction as she felt his cock harden more with every stroke of her hips.

“Is this okay?” he asked her softly, his voice rolling deep in his chest as he trailed his hand from her hip and around her stomach, his fingertips gently stroking her skin.

“Yes,” she said, her voice barely a whisper as she took hold of his wrist and guided him to continue touching her.

She felt like she was on fire, every touch of his fingers on her spread more and more warmth throughout her body as he trailed them under her sweater, one hand reaching up to caress her breasts, the other snaking around her back to unhook her bra.

Y/N couldn’t help but shiver when she felt Bruce’s hands slip under the cups and take her breasts in each hand, gently squeezing them and rubbing his thumb over her nipples as she continued to grind against him.

She’d had boyfriends in the past and she’d had sex with them, but foreplay like this was something completely alien in those relationships. She didn’t know if it was because it was Bruce, or because he was fully paying attention to her body, but she never wanted him to take his hands off of her.

Bruce sat up to kiss her neck as he continued to play with her breasts, his warm breath tickling her skin.

“C’mon,” he said, his lips still brushing against her skin, “let’s go upstairs.”

Y/N nodded, barely taking in what he had said until he removed his hands from her sweater and gathered her in his arms to carry her upstairs to the master bedroom. She buried her face in his neck as he carried her through the manor, taking long strides to get to bed as fast as he could without running.

Once they’d reached the bedroom, Bruce kicked the door shut behind him and sauntered across to the bed. He gently placed Y/N on the end of the mattress and kissed her forehead tenderly before going to turn on the lamp on the nightstand.

Y/N let her eyes wander around the room for a second, seeing how much of it she remembered. It had been a long time since she’d been in the Waynes’ master bedroom, in very different circumstances. Doing adult things in that very room was the last thing she’d thought about while playing hide-and-seek with Bruce when they were children.

Bruce came back to kneel in front of her, his hands on her knees as he gently spread them apart. Her breath caught in her throat at the feeling and she lightly bunched the sheets underneath her in her fists.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t like anything, okay?” he asked her softly.

Y/N nodded and swallowed thickly in anticipation. “Okay.”

“I know you’re a little nervous, but you’re safe with me. I promise I won’t do anything to hurt you.”

How did he know? she wondered. Am I that easy to read?

“Can I take this off?” he asked as he played with the hem of her sweater, pulling her attention back to him.

She nodded and lifted her hands from the mattress as he pulled the warm wool up and over her head, leaving her in her jeans and unhooked bra that was barely hanging onto her body. Once the sweater had been tossed aside, she rolled the straps of her bra down her arms and cast it off to the sweater, her breasts now free for him to see.

Bruce’s breath hitched when he looked at her, his eyes wandering from her chest to her face and back again. He took hold of each of her breasts in his warm palms and caressed her neck with kisses before trailing them down to her collarbone. Each kiss felt like a spark, spreading electricity throughout her body until he finally reached her breasts.

She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her mouth when his tongue brushed against one of her nipples, softly teasing it until it was hard and taking it into his mouth to suck on. Electricity shot straight from her breast to her clit, making it throb in the confines of her clothes and her desperate cunt clench around nothing.

She whined his name and laced her fingers in his hair, keeping him close to her as he continued to worship her breasts, alternating between the two until they were both hard and covered in love bites.

“Lie down for me,” Bruce murmured against her skin when he drew away from her. “Keep your legs off the bed.”

Y/N did as she asked him, letting herself fall back onto the mattress as he continued to kneel between her legs. She gazed up at the ceiling, trying to calm the nerves that threatened to crawl back up again and focused on Bruce’s hands on the waistband of her jeans instead.

He unfastened and unzipped her jeans with deft fingers and slowly pulled them down her legs, making sure his fingers brushed against her skin as they went, before throwing them aside, presumably along with the rest of her clothes. He then travelled back up her body, leaving a trail of kisses as he went until he finally came to her core, heat radiating from her.

“Did you wear these just for me?” he teased when he noticed her panties. “You didn’t need to. They were just going to end up on the floor anyway.”

She clenched again at his words, completely not expecting him to be like that. She’d heard stories about how Bruce was a very generous lover and very good in the bedroom from gossip sites and tabloids, but she always passed them off as just rumours. Now she could see that those rumours were true.

Y/N tried to keep her body as still as possible as Bruce kissed the insides of her thighs and stroked her skin with the tips of his fingers. She was starting to grow impatient with how much time he was taking teasing her and placed her hands on his head to guide him to where she needed him the most.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled before kissing her clit over her panties. “No need to be impatient.”

He finally dipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her legs, revealing her to him. Spread bare, she suddenly felt self-conscious and tried to close her legs again, but his hands on her thighs kept them open.

“Don’t be shy,” he said softly. “You’re beautiful.”

Y/N felt her whole body go warm as if she’d just been dipped into a warm pool of water. She wanted to hear him say it again, and again.

Bruce was about to start touching her when he pulled away from her. She must have looked disappointed since he softly laughed at her before pulling his sweater up and off of him.

“It didn’t seem fair that you were the only naked one,” he said before settling between her legs again.

He softly kissed her clit again, only without the confines of her panties she could feel him more intensely. Her breath caught in her throat and she bit back a moan when he finally dragged his tongue through her folds, gathering her wetness and spreading it around before flicking the tip against her clit.

“You taste so good,” he mumbled into her hot skin, his voice vibrating through her body.

He continued to pleasure her with his mouth, alternating between licking and sucking her clit and folds until she was a writhing mess on the bed, trying to keep her moans to herself by biting her lower lip until it was sore.

“Hey,” she heard Bruce say when he pulled away from her and crawled up her body. “You don’t have to be quiet, I want to hear you.”

She was about to open her mouth when he covered it with his own, plunging his tongue into her mouth and making her taste herself as he toyed with her clit with his fingers. She moaned into the kiss and took his face in her hands as she melted into the bed, letting him take control of her body.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned when she felt one of his fingers slide inside her.

“How’s that feel?” Bruce asked as he slid his finger in and out, feeling around to find her sweet spot.

“Good,” she panted once he’d found it and slid another finger inside. “It feels so good.”

He kissed her once more before sliding down her body again to use his mouth on her again, his fingers curling into her spot as he licked and sucked on her clit.

Y/N let her voice free, not caring how loud she was or how ridiculous she probably sounded, whining and moaning Bruce’s name with every stroke of his fingers, every flick of his tongue.

She could feel her climax fast approaching and started to pull on his hair as she gave in the pleasure he was giving her. He took the hint and curled his fingers more harshly and faster into her sweet spot, her cunt sopping and dripping on his fingers.

The sounds that came from her mouth got louder and more high-pitched as he continued to wind her body up until the feeling in her stomach snapped and her cunt fluttered around his fingers. Her throat was raw and her legs tried to close themselves around Bruce’s head to push him away, but he welcomed them squeezing him as he continued to pleasure her through her high.

Once she was finished, her body shook and spasmed on the bed until he pulled his fingers out of her and gave her clit one final kiss before crawling back up her body to kiss her mouth.

“Holy fuck,” she breathed against his mouth, trying to calm her body down after being worked up so much.

“You feel okay?” he asked when he pulled away and stroked her face with the backs of his fingers. She smiled and nodded as she leaned into his touch. “Good. Lie back against the pillows for me.”

Y/N reluctantly peeled herself away from Bruce and scooted up the giant bed until her head rested against the soft pillows. After tonight, she’d only be able to see the pillows on her own bed as rocks.

She watched Bruce as he undressed, shedding his jeans and throwing them aside before he pulled his underwear down his legs, setting his already hard cock free. She swallowed thickly as soon as she saw him naked, that last piece of nervousness jumping into her throat. It wasn’t just that his body looked like it was sculpted by an artist, it was how gifted he was too.

Holy fuck, he’s huge! She thought, trying to not let her nerves show on her face. How’s he supposed to fit inside me without it hurting?

“Don’t worry,” Bruce said cockily as he climbed onto the bed. “You’re more than wet enough for me.”

He kneeled between her spread legs, his long, thick, hard cock in his hand, and stooped down to kiss her again, easing her nerves once more. Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled her to him as he ran the tip of his cock through her folds, slicking himself up so he could slide inside easily.

“Ready?” he asked against her mouth when the tip sat at her entrance. She nodded against his mouth and let her whole body relax as he continued to kiss her.

When he finally pushed into her, it was like having her very first time again. Even though she was sopping wet, Y/N had never had someone quite as big as Bruce was. In many ways. He was the only thing she could see, the only thing she could feel as his cock stretched her out, her cunt almost burning as he pushed into her.

“Are you okay?” he asked when he noticed her wince. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she said through a shuddering breath. “You’re just a lot bigger than I’m used to.”

Once he was completely in, he stilled, letting her adjust to having him inside her. She took hold of his face with both her hands and brought him down to kiss him again, her tongue leisurely dancing with his as he rubbed her clit, making her wetter and wetter so he could move inside her more comfortably.

She wrapped her legs around Bruce’s waist, now more used to his size, and signalled for him to move again. Slowly, he dragged his hips back until he was almost unsheathed before pushing back inside, making sure to hit her sweet spot as he went.

That slight discomfort lingered for the first few strokes, but once he’d found Y/N’s sweet spot again, it melted into pleasure. She let her head fall back into the pillow as she moaned, begging him to keep fucking her until she was nothing but a boneless mess.

She could have lived in the moment forever; their bodies tangled together as he slid in and out of her, kissing her face and her neck as he slowly fucked her and played with her clit. She’d read about moments like this in so many romance novels, but they paled in comparison to the real thing.

Y/N could feel herself getting close again, her cunt starting to tighten and flutter around Bruce’s cock as her clit twitched under his fingers. She moved her hips in time with his as he started to fuck her faster, his own climax starting to approach.

Bruce had been relatively quiet, saving his voice for talking to her rather than moaning, but now he couldn’t help being vocal, his breath coming out in short pants as he wound up both their bodies.

“Can I cum inside you, sweetheart?” he asked through a stifled moan.

“Yes,” Y/N whined, desperate to feel him completely. “Please cum inside me.”

As soon as she’d spoken, her breath caught in her throat as her climax crashed through her, her cunt clamping down on his cock and contracting around it. The room went white when she came, the only thing bringing her back was the sound of Bruce’s own moans as he came, his pulsating cock shooting thick cum inside her.

Both of them completely spent, Bruce held himself up and caught his breath before gently kissing Y/N’s forehead and pulling out of her, letting his cum leak out of her. She felt empty without him inside her but was quickly welcomed back into his arms when he lay down next to her.

They lay in comfortable quiet, Y/N listening to Bruce’s steady heartbeat as she caught her breath. She didn’t understand how he was so relaxed when she felt like she’d just run half a marathon. She let herself melt into him as he stroked her skin and played with her hair, making sure she still felt okay.

“Bruce,” Y/N breathed when she’d caught her breath. He hummed in response as he continued to stroke her bare skin. “I love you.”

Bruce stopped and sat up slightly to look at her, his eyes wide with surprise.

Did I say the wrong thing? she wondered. I shouldn’t have said that, there’s no way he feels the same way, it’s too soon.

Her racing thoughts were put to a stop when he closed the gap between them to kiss her softly.

“I love you too.”

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