ro’s recs

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 .·✩·. 25 .·✩·. 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

[amornoire]

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# rory’s fave ♡

fics i really love

# rory’s likes ✯

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[supershit-hits]

find me somebody to love

clark kent (superman 2025) x f!reader

summary: clark has the perfect plan to get to know the love of his life. it consists of eight dates, eight carefully crafted steps, and if all goes well, a happily-ever-after. but when jimmy sets him up on a blind date with you, sticking to the plan turns out to be a lot harder than he thought.

word count: 21k (i’m so sorry… the plot was plotting)

warnings/tags: 18+ mdni, tooth-rooting fluff, comfort, banter, slight angst if you squint, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, slow-burnish, clark’s pov, teacher!reader, reader’s in her late 20s, reader is shorter than clark, reader is skeptical of superman, kissing, cursing, introspection, miscommunication, fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving), multiple orgasms, doggy style, missionary, unprotected p in v, creampie.

a/n: i’ll admit i went a little off the rails diving into clark’s head and writing from his pov. i really took my free will to the next level, but i hope i managed to capture him and his essence. special mention to @sai-int for helping me edit this fic!!! she was so supportive and kind, and made me feel like a professional writer <3 dear angel: you’re a mastermind, and i’m beyond grateful you took the time to engage with my work!!! and thank you all for reading :) likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!!

Over the years, experience has taught Clark that whenever Jimmy labels one of his ideas as brilliant, it’s usually the complete opposite.

Which is why, the moment he approaches his desk first thing in the morning, Clark’s already saying, “No. Thank you.”

“Hello to you, too,” Jimmy notes, rolling his eyes and watching as Clark drops into his chair, adjusting his tie. “You haven’t even heard what I was going to say.”

“I don’t need to, because I have the feeling it involves me in some type of way.”

“Well, aren't you smart?”

“If smart means being your friend long enough to know you, then yes.”

Spreading his arms wide, Jimmy smiles as if he were a kid about to ask for a pony. “Come on, Kent! You’re going to love this brilliant idea I had yesterday.”

Were there a hidden camera in the office, Clark would be staring straight into it right now, like they do in The Office. Instead, he just glances at Jimmy while unpacking his bag. “Your brilliant ideas are never to be trusted.”

“Now why would you say that?”

“It’s just that you always find a way to put me in the thick of it.”

“That’s not true. Name at least one time something like that happened.” As Clark inhales to list a dozen examples, Jimmy stops him by holding up a finger. “Never mind. But you have to trust me on this one!”

Clark blows out his cheeks, peering up at him over his glasses. “Alright. What is it?”

“So there’s this girl—”

“Here we go again.”

“—which is totally your type.”

“You said that last time.”

“But this time I mean it.”

“You said that the time before last time.”

“Well, I’m not perfect, you know? Neither am I a certified matchmaker. This is a hobby, which I do out of pure affection for you.”

“I don’t recall ever asking you to do this.”

Jimmy shrugs, inspecting the coffee Clark had set on his desk as if it belonged to him. “Technically, you did. You said, and I quote: Oh, it’d be nice to have somebody. I’m all alone. I’m miserable.” He drops his voice into a deep imitation of Clark’s, hunching his shoulders in an exaggerated way.

For the record, he hadn’t exactly said it like that. Jimmy just loves being dramatic.

Clark clenches his jaw the moment Jimmy lifts the cup closer to his mouth. “Buddy, that’s mine,” he mutters, though he makes no move to snatch it back.

Completely unbothered, Jimmy takes a trial sip, smacking his lips together as he drifts his eyes shut. “God bless caffeine.”

Clark sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Just because you heard me saying it once doesn’t mean I was explicitly asking you to get me a girlfriend.”

“I still wanna do it,” Jimmy argues. “I’m telling you, that girl’s out there, and it’s my duty as your best friend to find her.”

That last bit has Clark shaking his head. When put that way, what he wants sounds stupid, even childish. The whole relationship thing, falling in love. The white picket fence and the late nights in.

It had been around the time Jimmy introduced his current girlfriend, Molly, to both Lois and him that Clark found it all so endearing he actually snorted and patted his friend on the back.

They were at a bar, drinking with the ease of a Friday night, and despite not being able to get wasted, he felt tingly all over. Perhaps it was because the mere image of love was standing right in front of him, this time personified in a couple he knew.

“It must be nice to be in a relationship,” he had mused, without meaning to say it out loud. It was meant to stay a thought, but it had slipped past his lips, and immediately three pairs of unrelenting eyes were scrutinizing him. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to ruin the mood. I’m really happy for you guys.”

Lois, it seemed, had only heard the first part. “You want to date?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“And here I thought you weren’t the dating type,” Jimmy said, raising his eyebrows and taking another sip of beer. “I mean, you never have any free time outside of work. You’re constantly in a rush. In fact, I’m surprised you’re even here tonight. How would you even manage to fit in a girlfriend with your schedule?”

In moments like those, Clark wished alcohol would have an effect on him. “I’d figure it out. But of course I’d like to be with someone.”

If other people could have it, why couldn’t he? In his mind, he deserved it as much as anyone else. Though again, he wasn’t like anyone else. He wasn’t even a person to begin with. He might look like one, but his DNA was far from normal.

As obnoxious as Jimmy was, and still is to this day, once he got something in his head, it was as good as done. “Babe, don’t you have, like, a hundred friends who are single?” he asked Molly, intertwining their fingers, and she pursed her lips, thinking.

Molly ran a hand through her long red hair, toying with a specific strand. “A great deal.”

Jimmy’s gaze slid back to Clark, a smirk plastered across his features. “Then consider it done, mister. You may start calling me Cupid from now on.”

Fueled by desperation and maybe a little fear, Clark almost choked on his own saliva. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to! It’ll be fun.” Jimmy clapped a hand on Clark’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “You leave it to me, and I’ll set you up with the love of your life.”

That night, promises were made, and days later, Jimmy had put together a PowerPoint presentation, each slide featuring a different woman, along with her job and hobbies.

In the end, Clark ended up going out with several of Molly’s friends and work colleagues. One would think that, with this much help, he would’ve had better luck, but none of those dates were of his liking.

The ones at the forefront of his memory were the following:

Alexandra: sweet, but her ex-boyfriend had cheated on her just two weeks before their date, and she was still in love with him. He spent the entire evening listening to her cry and handing her tissue after tissue. They decided to stay friends.

Casey: tried to convince him to take off his glasses, insisting that they looked ‘unconventional’. She said she often wondered why natural selection didn’t eliminate poor eyesight before glasses were inverted. He faked a call from his mother twenty minutes in and ran to his apartment.

Emma: claimed Superman was a government-made hologram designed to control and terrorize human beings. He didn’t stick around to hear the rest of her theory.

Not just finding someone, but actually connecting with them, was becoming harder than he’d thought. Jimmy often tells him he’s too particular when it comes to meeting new people, although Clark doesn’t consider being meticulous a flaw.

Years ago, he’d come up with what he believed was the perfect plan to get to know someone. It consisted of eight dates, eight carefully crafted steps.

Dates 1 and 2: Minimal physical contact. A handshake or a kiss on the cheek at most, but a first kiss that soon was off the table.

Dates 3 to 5: A real kiss was allowed, but nothing more. Hugging was fine. Still in the getting-to-know-her stage. Visiting each other’s apartments was too risky, though small gestures were encouraged. Conversations could start leaning toward future relationship prospects.

Dates 6 to 8: Resist the temptation to go further. Make sure the other person was as invested as he was. If all is still going well by the eighth date, tell her the truth, and hopefully think about marriage someday.

The problem is that Clark has never made it past the first date with any of Molly’s friends, and it’s starting to get on his nerves. How difficult could it be to find someone even a little like him?

Jimmy snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Clark. Where’d you go?”

“Sorry,” Clark says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”

“I can always create you a Hinge account—”

“We’re definitely not doing that.”

Jimmy raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright. But please, you need to trust me on this one. I have a really good feeling about this girl.”

Clark’s expression sours, going poker-faced. “Is it because she’s the last option you have?”

Jimmy clutches his chest, pretending to get offended. “You always think so badly of me.”

Scowling, Clark sighs for the hundredth time this morning, and the clock hasn’t even struck nine-thirty yet. “Can I at least see a picture of her?”

“Nope. It’s a blind date. Exciting, right?”

A crease forms between Clark’s brows. “You can’t be serious. How am I supposed to recognize her if I don’t know what she looks like?”

“That sounds like a you problem,” Jimmy replies, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “Does tonight work for you?”

“Well—”

“Perfect. I’m so glad you’re not busy saving the world or whatever. I’ll text you the details. And hey, if everything goes according to plan, maybe you can even tell her about… the thing.”

Clark hooks two fingers into Jimmy’s sleeve, tugging until he’s leaning down so they’re eye-to-eye level. “We said we wouldn’t talk about the thing at the office.”

“I know. I just still can’t believe it! You’re Sup—”

“—Super committed to my job? Yup. Love it. I’m a big fan of newspapers,” Clark interrupts, his voice an octave too high.

Across the bullpen, Lois asks, “What are you two whispering about over there?”

“Someone’s got another date lined up!” Jimmy chirps, now popping around behind Clark to give his chair a spin.

“Poor thing,” Lois says, crossing her arms over her chest. “I thought you were done with those.”

“Me too,” Clark mumbles, palming his cheek flusterdly.

Grinning, Jimmy adds, “I could help you next time, Lois.”

“I’d rather die alone, but thank you.” At that, she strides off, and Jimmy’s mouth downturns, resembling something that looks a lot like a pout.

Before strolling off toward his desk, he gives Clark one final glance. “Just imagine the double dates we’ll go on, CK!”

Clark forces a smile to appease his friend.

Perhaps being single wasn’t the worst fate after all.

While getting ready, he finds himself torn between restless anxiety and utter resignation. It’s a strange combination, to say the least. Both feelings coexist tensely inside him, neither winning out over the other.

You’re ten minutes late to the date, which isn’t much, not really. After pacing the block twice, he’d arrived half an hour early to the restaurant Jimmy sent the location of, hoping nothing in the world would go wrong and force him to abandon the establishment and leap up into the air.

Already, he’s read the menu more times than he can count, memorizing each dish with its ingredients and price. He knows the chicken parmigiana comes with a chicken breast that can be topped with mozzarella, Parmesan, or provolone, and that the garnish—

“Clark?”

His head snaps up from the menu, and he sees you standing there with an apologetic smile, holding out your hand in greeting.

“Hey,” he says, standing so fast his chair nearly tips. He grips your hand, enveloping it, and swallows like his throat has gone dry, suddenly parched. “I’m—Yes. Hi. Hello.”

Golly.

He’s temporarily lost the ability to speak coherently. No longer does he know which letters go together to form the words he wants to say. It’s beyond incredible, the effect your beauty has on him.

You tilt your head, studying him before giving him your name. “Jimmy said I should look for a guy who looks tall even when he’s sitting, but you’re way taller than I expected.” Your nose wrinkles immediately after hearing yourself. “That sounded weird, didn’t it? Sorry. I swear it sounded less awkward in my head.”

A nervous laugh escapes his throat. “It’s alright. I’ve been mistaken for Bigfoot a handful of times now.”

Usually, when he jokes, the response he receives is no more than a polite chuckle. He’s convinced he has no sense of timing, no instinct for delivery, but now you’re genuinely laughing at what he’s just said. It feels authentic, and for him, that’s unbelievable.

Then he realizes he still hasn’t let go of your hand. He drops it like it burns, wiping his palms on his black slacks as he sits again, silently chiding himself for how much he’s sweating.

“I’m so sorry I arrived a bit late. I couldn’t find a place to park.” You hang your purse from the back of the chair as you sit, the corner of your mouth quirking up. “Did I make you wait too long?”

Clearing his throat, he lifts the menu and waves it awkwardly. “I, uh, had plenty of time to learn all the dishes.”

“Then I suppose you’ll have no problems ordering for me.”

He’s left flabbergasted. “But—How?”

“I like almost everything, that’s why it always takes me forever to choose. Trust me, you do not want to be stuck here with me until closing,” you explain, lifting your shoulder in a half shrug.

A distorted echo of his own conscience cuts through his thoughts: who says I wouldn't want that?

Soon you’re talking, the conversation unspooling. You tell him you’ve known Molly since primary school, and that when she initially asked if you wanted to go on a date with one of Jimmy’s friends, you turned it down.

“—So I thought I’d try to navigate the dating world on my own, but months passed without much success and I lost motivation.” You lace your fingers together, setting them neatly on the table. “Then Molly asked to meet, and this time she brought Jimmy, and… well, here I am.”

“I’m glad you didn’t lose all your hope,” he rejoins before realizing the hidden meaning of his words. He steers away from that subject. “Jimmy’s a pretty… chatty guy, don’t you think?”

“He’s great! Plus, I’ve never seen Molly this happy.”

“You’re right. They look good together.”

“And he talked a lot about you. Said some very nice things.”

“Does that mean you know more about me than I know about you?”

“Maybe.” Your eyes wander around the room before returning to his. “Besides, he paid me to be here, so this date better be a success.”

His expression falls. There’s a sudden tightness that creeps into his chest, and he can’t help but blink owlishly. “Wait, did… did Jimmy actually pay you?”

“I’m kidding!” you clarify, stumbling over your words as you lean forward, your knuckles brushing his across the table. His shoulders loosen, and he exhales. You continue with a soft chuckle. “That was my best attempt at breaking the ice. I don’t think I’ll ever be good at jokes.”

“I’m no better. Want proof?”

“Go on.”

“Why are colds bad criminals?”

You lift your brows. “Why?”

“Because they’re easy to catch.”

Propping your chin on your hand, you shake your head with a crooked smile. “That was… terrible.”

“Oh come on, you could at least pretend it was funny.” Clark laughs.

“And lie to you? Never.”

“You’ve crushed my dreams of following my true passion.”

“… Which is?”

“Pursuing a career in comedy, obviously.”

You’re laughing. Again. He thinks he’s never managed to make someone laugh this much in such a short span.

Once the laughter dies down, you offer up another question: “So, you work at the Daily Planet, right?”

He nods. “Mostly reporting. Some articles and interviews as well—”

At that moment, a waitress interrupts before he can continue, carrying a notepad in her hands. After she finishes listing off tonight’s specials, he blurts out both orders: the same dish, because panic takes over. He then asks you to choose the drinks; you settle on water, and he echoes your choice without thinking.

Once the waitress is gone, you continue your thought. “I’ve read some of your pieces—Some of the interviews with Superman, for instance.”

“Oh.” He hums, with an air of shock.

“Sorry. You’re probably tired of people bringing him up.”

His pulse quickens in the blink of an eye. “No, not at all. It’s just that I sometimes forget people are meant to read what I write, you know? It still amazes me.”

“Well, you’ve got an avid reader here.” Your lips curve knowingly. “So… is he cool? Nice? Or does he think too highly of himself?”

That last part catches him off guard. He fumbles with the napkin in his lap, mindlessly tearing it into smaller pieces. “What makes you think that?”

You ponder, wrinkling your nose. “Well, when someone has that much power, it’d be easy to slide into arrogance.”

His voice, when it comes, is so subdued that he can barely hear it. “I believe he takes what he does very seriously. I wouldn’t say he’s arrogant.”

You rest your chin on your palm, studying him. “He’s not so fond of the media, though, right?”

“That’s because some have chosen to distort his image.”

“I see you’re a Superman apologist,” you tease, tapping the table with two fingers. “So tell me: if he’s not exactly approachable, then how did you manage to land all those interviews with him?”

In situations like these, Clark realizes he’s been taking air for granted. How do you know which buttons to push to make him sweat?

“I just…. happen to be in the right place at the right time. That’s all.”

You give him a lopsided grin. “Don’t be so modest! Give yourself some credit. You’ve given him a voice no one else has. I think it’s admirable.”

There’s a fleeting moment when he falls silent, partly blinded by your radiance. He feels as though he can’t look at you properly while speaking, as if he’s staring straight into the Yellow Sun.

It seems almost unreal that you’re here, sitting across from him, breathing the same air, your shoes only inches away from his under the table.

You’re beautiful. And he’s petrified of making the wrong move—of saying the wrong thing and scaring you off forever.

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends or anything like that,” he adds after a beat. “It’s strictly professional. He wants others to hear his side of things, too.”

He isn’t too sure what he just said, too stuck on the fact that he could really be falling for you after knowing you for less than half an hour. It sounds absurd—Gosh, it is absurd. That he knows for sure.

But what role does absurdity play when it comes to love? Aren’t those the very things that can’t be logically explained? The unreasonable acts?

Stick. To. The. Plan. You big poet.

Cutting off Clark’s mental spiral, the waitress timely returns with both of your drinks, placing them carefully on the table. He takes a sip, the water cold and numbing against his throat, though it does nothing for the heat rising in his cheeks.

He sets the glass down. “Anyway, enough about me. Tell me something about yourself.”

“I teach,” you say, your tone softening. “Primary and high school. For my older students, I focus mostly on literature.”

“That sounds like a lot of responsibility.”

Your eyes brighten a little. “It is. It can be incredibly exhausting at times, but I wouldn't change it for anything in the world. Teaching is my calling, you know? What I’m meant to do.”

His lips quirk before he even speaks. “Should I confess then that I haven’t read a fiction book in years?”

“How are you still going on with your life?” You jest, taking a sip of your water.

“I manage just fine.”

“Lucky you, I can recommend you something whenever you want.” It’s like you’re half hoping for a denial, because then you clarify, “Not like I’m forcing you or anything. Not everybody enjoys reading. I’m only saying that if you’re interested—”

Jimmy won’t believe it, Clark thinks, that he set him up with someone who overthinks their words just as much as he does.

His heart sings as he answers, “That’d be nice.”

While you eat, Clark starts memorizing all these details that you mention, storing them in the back of his head:

You’ve trained yourself not to curse, thanks to all the hours spent surrounded by children, though every once in a while a bad word sneaks out, especially when you stub your little toe on the edge of your bed.

He learns that you’re not much of a drinker. You’ll take a gin and tonic every now and then, but you refuse to accept beer, wine, or anything too sugary.

As a kid, you dreamed of being a librarian, and you even worked in one through college.

When the check is paid and his cheeks ache from smiling more than he has in weeks, he insists on holding the door open for you as you step outside.

The moment he turns back, you’re holding your phone out toward him.

“I’d really like to see you again, if you want to,” you murmur, fluttering your eyelashes with a hopeful grin on your lips. “Think you can—Would you give me your number?”

His mouth hangs agape briefly before he shuts it tightly. His eyes gloss over you once more. “I’d love that. Of course. I mean, you’re great, and I think—”

A giggle escapes you as you perceive him to be just as nervous as you are, and you give the device a playful shove back into his chest.

He takes it, pressing each number with practiced delicacy while trying not to waste the little time you had left. He hands the phone back, rocking on his heels, searching for the right thing to do with his hands.

“It was a good first date,” he admits at last.

The silence between you deepens, and then you say, “I’m glad I accepted Jimmy’s offer.”

“He’ll be all over me at work tomorrow.”

You beam at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “Tell him I said hi.”

“I will.”

Even so, there’s a part of Clark that doesn’t want to leave. He wants to know more about you, despite having already memorized all those little details you shared throughout the night.

You both have responsibilities, and he knows he can’t ask for too much when you’ve only just met, but he would stay up all night if it meant spending just a little more time with you.

God, he’s already in so deep.

You tighten your grip on your purse strap, slinging it over your shoulder. “Okay, then… bye. I guess I’ll see you around.”

You shift closer, rising on your toes, and judging by the way you’re tilting your head, he’s pretty sure you’re planning on kissing him on the cheek.

He suddenly remembers his plan, panic kicking in before common sense, his hand shoots forward to hold yours, stopping you.

Startled, you slip your hand into his, saying, “A true gentleman.” You give it a firm shake. “Noted.”

“Sorry, I just—”

“Don’t worry.” You offer him another one of your earth-shattering smiles. “Goodnight, Clark.”

He waves, and so do you, but neither of you moves right away. He gestures toward the sidewalk. “I’ll go first.”

You take two steps backward. “Yup. Fine.”

Needless to say, when he’s a block away and risks glancing over his shoulder, he finds you already looking back at him.

“I need all the details!”

“Jimmy, I swear to God—”

“You’re entitled to tell me! I was the one who set you up!”

Clark shushes him, pressing a hand over his mouth. They’re right by the printers, and he flashes an innocent smile at a woman passing by on her way to the break room, concern flickering in her eyes.

“Stop yelling, man!” Clark hisses, his gaze boring into Jimmy’s as he all but slaps his large hand over his mouth. “You’re scaring people, and you have—What the hay, dude?!”

Clark yanks his hand back, staring at his palm in disgust. His skin is wet and sticky.

“Did you just lick me?” Clark grimaces, wiping the saliva on Jimmy’s shirt. “How old are you? Three?”

“I will not be silenced.”

“You’re gross.”

“And I’ll continue to be if you don’t tell me how it went last night,” Jimmy presses excitedly, giving a light punch to Clark’s chest.

Clark sighs, looking around to make sure no one’s eavesdropping their conversation. “I already told you it was fine. What else do you want to know?”

“Did you kiss?”

“What?! No!” Now Clark’s the one yelling.

“Relax. It’s not like I asked if you two reenacted the Kama Sutra.”

A rush of heat prickles at the back of Clark’s neck. The newsroom feels stifling, and he tugs at his collar, aiming to keep his voice even. “Why are you more… unfiltered than usual?”

“Kissing isn’t a sin, pal. Stop treating it as if it were,” Jimmy explains, and with a shake of his head, he drifts toward the coffee machine, leaving Clark even more confused.

He quickly follows after him. “But it’s too early for a kiss. We’ve only been on one date.”

Steam curls from the machine as Jimmy fills his cup. The vapor fogs Clark’s glasses, blurring his vision for a second.

“You notice how you're trying to control the situation? It’s like you want to structure every single thing,” Jimmy says, stirring in sugar, clinking a spoon against the ceramic. “You need to just let it flow. See where it takes you. Forget about that stupid eight-dates thing.”

Taken aback, Clark’s brows snap together. “I don’t ‘go with the flow’. And my plan’s not stupid. I just… put a lot of thought into it,” Clark laments.

“How many times did you shake her hand last night? Five?”

“In my defense, she did it first.”

“Oh! Fantastic. Looks like I’ve found someone who matches your freakiness.”

Clark opens his mouth to argue, but the unexpected buzz in his pocket derails his train of thought. As his heart hammers, he fishes out his phone. His lock screen lights up with a new message from an unknown number.

He can’t help the way his lips twitch upward, betraying him. He’s been waiting all morning for this.

Jimmy leans in, trying to angle the screen toward himself. “Oh, man. Is it her? Tell me it’s her.”

Clark pivots the phone away trying to use his size to his advantage, but Jimmy cranes his neck anyway, squinting at the text that’s popped up:

I really hope you didn’t give me a fake number last night.

Clark’s thumb hovers over the screen, debating his next reply. Out of the corner of his eye, Jimmy remains grinning next to him, taking a long sip of coffee before nearly hollering, “Remember that sexting in public is gross!”

He walks away after that, and a few heads turn in Clark’s direction as he jerks upright, almost dropping the device. “He’s joking, obviously,” he sputters, his head bent. “I’d never do that. You’re all… safe.”

Retreating to his desk, he sinks into his chair, hiding his face behind the glow of his phone screen. He creates a new contact under your name.

Clark: What kind of person do you think I am?

The typing dots appear right after.

You: I barely know you. Why should I trust you?

Clark: I can’t think of any good reason right now.

You: Well, if you want to prove your identity, tell me the color of the jacket I wore yesterday.

Clark: It was blue… and you paired it with a black sweater and a pretty pair of earrings.

You: Your eyes do work wonders.

Clark: It’s the glasses. They take all the credit.

You: But is your memory always this good?

Clark: Only on important occasions.

Your second date comes a few days later at a bookshop café you’ve been meaning to try. Clark’s determined to leave with at least one book under his arm, and after debating his choices with you, he ends up choosing Atonement.

Turns out you don’t talk much. You mostly read, and yet the silence between you feels natural, almost familiar. Most people don’t consider Clark’s quiet nature much of a virtue, but he’s never seen it that way.

He thinks back to his parents on the Kent farm, sitting side by side on the porch. They wouldn’t speak, only stare at the horizon, steady and unflinching.

He wonders if this is how they felt when they were younger, or how they still feel after so many years of being together.

It’s too soon, and he knows it. Still, the thought lingers, stubborn as ever: if that kind of comfort was supposed to take years, why is he already finding it with you?

As with most things in life, Clark has always believed that something very good is inevitably followed by something very bad. After the date, a thousand excuses run through his head, all the things you could say to ghost him.

I don’t think we really connected. Maybe we could just stay friends.

Actually, I’m not single. I have a boyfriend and two dogs in another city, waiting for me to come home.

You’re kind of boring, your relationship with Superman is concerning, and I never want to see you again.

All his doubts fade the moment you text him before going to bed, reminding him to send you his thoughts after finishing each chapter of the book.

The third date happens almost a week later, when both of you finally manage to carve out the time. You’d mentioned a certain movie you’d been wanting to see, and now that it had finally hit theaters, Clark wasn’t wasting the chance.

You’ve taken your seats in the designated theater. The movie, Materialists, won’t start for another ten minutes. You’re devouring the popcorn he bought, tossing kernel after kernel into your mouth, while he steals a handful whenever you pause.

“I didn’t know you liked popcorn so much,” he says, laughing softly at the way you pop them into your mouth.

“I love it, but I’m starving, too.”

“Guess you’ll have to survive on popcorn for now.” He stretches his legs, sinking deeper into the seat. “By the way, what’s this movie about?”

He can't tell you that he got these tickets online while he was in Europe just a few hours ago, and that's why he didn't have time to read the plot.

“A love triangle,” you explain, crossing one leg over the other. “I hope it’s good. I’ve heard all kinds of opinions.”

It starts off promising. When Pedro Pascal’s character, Harry, flirts with Dakota Johnson’s Lucy at the wedding, he spares you a quick glance, noticing how your gaze is fixed on the screen. You partially cover your face each time they get too close.

About halfway through the film, there’s a scene where Harry and Lucy start making out in his apartment. It’s heated, and now Clark finds himself picturing doing the same with you, which isn’t helpful at all.

The safest distraction, he decides, is eating. He dips his hand between the two seats, where the bucket of popcorn should be wedged.

Except it isn’t there anymore. Somehow, in that moment, it’s gone, and instead of buttery kernels, his hand brushes against yours.

Driven by reflex, you jerk it away, nearly jumping in place. Clark turns to you, and an expression of perplexity settles on your features. A thousand thoughts race through his mind.

He wants to say he’s sorry, that he didn’t mean to be so forward, that he was only reaching for the popcorn to derail thoughts of which you were the protagonist.

What he doesn’t know, because that would require slipping inside your head, is that you’re forcing yourself not to turn and stare at him. Every so often your control falters, and you steal a glance from the corner of your eye, grateful for the excuse of being seated so you can drink in his profile unnoticed.

His nose, the soft fullness of his lips, the line of his chin. The way his glasses slip down and he pushes them back up, how the flickering scenes from the film ripple across the glass in short fragments.

He’s everything you ever wanted, and more. Your friends would probably tell you you’re rushing, that you should be more objective, keep a cool head. But nothing feels cool beside Clark. Your emotions turn visceral, heat rises under your skin, and logic abandons you exactly when you need it most.

From then on, it all happens in slow motion.

Your hand goes back to the armrest, palm tilted upward, as though waiting for something from his side. He notices the faint creases of your skin, the twitch of your wrist as you squirm.

The most primal part of him aches to grab your face and kiss you until you’re breathless. But that’s not something he can do, something he should do. It doesn’t go according to the plan.

Instead, he makes the choice to take your hand deliberately. He intertwines his fingers with yours, no inch of skin apart. Warmth radiates from you, seeping into him where you’re joined as his thumb brushes along your knuckles.

There’s a moment when the movie fades into background noise for him, and he can’t help catching every small disruption in the theater. A woman a few rows down chewing with her mouth open. A young couple kissing like the world’s about to end. A phone that buzzes and refuses to be ignored.

And yet, the sound he picks out most clearly is your heartbeat as it drowns out the rest. It echoes in his ears so loud, so frantic, that he feels as if it belongs to him.

Clark tests his luck, as though this were an experiment, and squeezes your hand. The effect is immediate; your pulse stumbles, skips, and the rush of it startles him enough that his knee jerks, knocking into the seat in front and making a stranger yelp.

The man turns around in an instant, forehead wrinkled in annoyance. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Clark swallows hard. He hadn’t meant to hit him that hard. “I’m so sorry. I think I got a cramp,” he whispers, hoping that he’ll take pity on him.

All he gets in response is a grunt, which sounds like a curse, but he couldn’t care less.

He hasn’t been this buried in work in months. If he had to lay the blame on someone, he’d have to call it quits and tell Superman he’s not doing any more interviews.

In other words: no more referring to himself in the third-person.

Defending himself against every critic and headline is one thing, but doing it disguised as a reporter is entirely different.

He’s afraid the people who read his articles will eventually start thinking he’s losing his objectivity. But given the circumstances, and since Lex Luthor appears to be on every TV program calling Superman a filthy martian, it’s not like Clark can stay silent.

His stomach’s been growling for the past hour. It’s officially lunchtime. He should put something in his body before hunger drives him to slam his keyboard against his desk, though the thought of abandoning the draft in front of him makes him itch.

Good gosh. Perhaps he should start writing under a pseudonym.

When he checks his phone, there’s a message from you. You’ve got a long break between classes, and you’re thinking of grabbing lunch. The mere thought of food makes him fantasize about gnawing on anything remotely edible.

Clark: Think I’ll just skip lunch today. There’s so much I have to get done.

He sends the text without waiting for a reply, sets the phone down beside his computer, and goes back to work.

From behind his back, a hand waves a Pop-Tart in his direction, waggling it. A theatrical voice murmurs, “Eat me.”

Clark lets out a laugh, swiveling just enough to see Steve smirking as he leans on the edge of his desk.

“I’m serious. Take it. You look like you need it more than me.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just eat later,” Clark retorts, rubbing at his temples and sinking back into his chair.

Narrowing his eyes, Steve says, “You look stressed.”

“Well, I most certainly am.”

“Is it about all the hate your little friend’s been receiving lately?”

On any other occasion, were he not this tired, he’d have corrected him, insisting they’re not friends. But today, he lets it slide. “It’s draining. Collecting all this information and then—having to ask—”

His own sigh cuts him off. There’s a weight pressing on his chest he can’t shake, and he peers up to stare at Steve.

Steve bites into the Pop-Tart, chewing it with a thoughtful expression. “I wonder if this is the end of Superman.”

Clark tries to keep his voice level. He really does. “What?”

“I mean, he’s constantly being criticized. Sure, most people still like him, think he’s great, but—”

“He’s not gonna stop helping others just because there’s some… bald guy on TV who lives to antagonize him. His entire purpose on earth is to be helpful. It’s what drives him. It’s—He’s not giving up.”

Startled, Steve tilts his head. “Did he tell you all that?”

Clark stammers, “He didn’t, but I—I know that’s what he’d say if I were to ask him.”

After that, Steve appears to have decided to drop the subject, finishing what’s left of his snack. Clark assumes that’s the end of their conversation, which had been long enough to exasperate him anyway, even though he considers himself to be patient.

But then—

“So… I’ve heard you’re going out with this girl.”

“You mean Jimmy told you.”

Steve shrugs. “Same thing in my book. When are you seeing her again?”

Clark stiffens, stretching his arm to grab a pen and rhythmically clicking the end of it. “I don’t know. We’ve both been busy the last few days.”

You? Busy teaching, preparing lessons, and correcting assignments.

Him? Busy juggling two lives. When he tells you he’s exhausted and heading to bed early, it’s often a lie. Later, you’ll catch him on TV, throwing himself at some gigantic creature, and text him a picture of the screen: Unlike you, your friend’s not getting much sleep tonight.

“Got a picture of her?” Steve asks out of nowhere.

Studying him for a moment, Clark draws his brows together. “I’m not showing you—”

“Kent,” a voice cuts through, calling his attention. Nino, the security guard from the entrance, stands a few meters away, and he looks irritated to have been sent upstairs. “There’s someone waiting for you outside.”

That’s weird. “For… me? Are you sure?”

“It’s a girl. Says she’s looking for Clark Kent.” The man’s voice thickens with annoyance. “As far as I know, you’re the only Clark Kent in the entire building, so unless you’ve got a secret twin brother or something—”

Clark’s already rising to his feet before the guard finishes. “Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

He doesn’t expect to see your face when the doors open and the rush of cooler air spills in. His heart jolts inside his chest as he steps toward you, and that’s when it hits him.

He had actually missed you more than he realized. What stage of the plan was he in now?

“What—I don’t—You’re here?”

“I texted you, but you weren’t answering, so I figured I’d just… drop by,” you begin, slightly breathless. “You said you were skipping lunch, and I brought you food, and—”

Looking down, he catches a glimpse of the paper bag you’re clutching. The smell alone makes his stomach rumble in betrayal. “You didn’t have to.”

“I was getting something for myself as well.”

“But—”

You take one step closer, a grin tugging at your lips. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Don’t play that card with me. You know I am.”

That makes you laugh. “Then take this, and tell me if you like it.” You press the bag into his hands, and your fingers brush against his. Neither of you pull away. “It’s a sandwich and fries. I got myself the same thing, so I’m counting on it being good.”

I missed you. I missed you. I missed you. I missed—

“I’m sorry I didn’t check my phone. I just… there’s a lot going on at the moment.” His pinky hooks against yours, and you glance down for an instant. “I wasn’t avoiding you or anything.”

Nodding your head, your eyes twinkle with something he can’t describe. “I know. I didn’t think that, and I—”

You quiet down when a crowd of people interrupts your moment, the murmur of voices overlapping, making you grimace.

“I'd better be going,” you say, jerking your thumb toward the street. “My next class starts in about half an hour, so—”

“Makes sense,” Clark answers, though his words don’t match the way his throat tightens, wishing he could disappear into the crowd with you instead. He massages the back of his neck, scanning the sidewalk like he’ll lose you if he looks away. “I’ll head back inside.”

You sigh, shoving your hands into your pockets. “And I’ll go back to dealing with eight-year-olds.”

Would now be a good time to ask when he can see you again? The thought burns on his tongue, when—

“Kent, are you coming in?” Nino’s holding the glass door open with one hand, and he seems to be seconds away from letting it slam shut.

“Right. Sorry,” Clark murmurs, clearing his throat. “Yeah—Bye.”

He lingers until you vanish from sight before stepping back inside. The moment Jimmy spots the bag, he’s immediately smirking, but Clark walks straight past him, setting it beside his keyboard and reaching for his phone.

You: Want me to grab you something? I’m nearby anyway.

You: Hello?

You: Well, now I’m just getting you food.

You: Would it be weird if I dropped it off at your office?

You: I’m trusting my instinct.

All the while he eats the sandwich, he can’t stop beating himself up for not telling you how much he’d been wanting to see you. He rubs his fingers together, the salt of the fries clinging to his skin, and he gets the best idea he’s had in weeks.

There’s a chance Perry will scold him for leaving earlier than he should, but he’s willing to take the risk.

Hours later, he finds himself at a florist's, buying you flowers. He waits outside your work longer than he expected, watching as each child is picked up one by one.

Eventually, as the last of your students leaves, he watches as you descend the steps. Your face lights up as you catch sight of him.

“Clark?” You’re smiling now, walking faster. Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline when you notice he’s hiding something behind his back. “What is it?”

You reach out, but he dodges. “Easy there.” He thinks about teasing you a little longer, but the way you’re looking at him makes him weak in the knees, and he brings the flowers out from behind him. “This is my way of thanking you for today’s lunch.”

“Oh my God!” you squeak, taking them into your hands. You bury your face in them, smiling wider. “These are so pretty! Thank you, thank you, thank—”

Before he can react, your arms loop around his neck. Your chest collides with his, and he stumbles back, losing his balance for a brief moment. He circles your waist, lifting you off the ground. You laugh against his ear, the flowers brushing the back of his neck, while his nose sinks into your hair as he breathes in.

How is he supposed to go slow when being with you feels like a dream?

That’s it. He’s gone. Completely head over heels for you. You could do anything to him, tear him apart and piece him back together, and he wouldn’t even try to stop you. He can’t understand how someone who was a stranger just weeks ago can now make him feel a hundred different things at once.

A month ago, if he’d seen you on the street, he would’ve glanced twice and kept walking.

Today, he’s terrified of losing sight of you.

The hug lasts only seconds, but for him, it stretches into years. As he sets you down, he notices how close you are.

His breath comes unevenly as you curl your fingers into his tie. You’re staring at him, deeply, though you make no move, and he offers you a crooked smile.

“I take it you liked the flowers?” he asks, his voice pitched a little higher than usual.

Your answer doesn’t come in words, but in a kiss.

Your lips fit against his perfectly. The kiss is sweet, fleeting, and gentle. You pull away, and he follows your mouth instinctively. You throw your head back, laughing, so that he’s met with your cheek instead.

He noses your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “Are you free tonight?”

For the sake of his sanity, he counts both encounters as the fourth date.

Tonight, you’re having your fifth date. This event marks the end of stage two of his plan.

Everything feels like it’s moving too fast. He has to remind himself that sex is absolutely off the table for a fifth date, even if he’s stepping into your apartment for the first time.

“It won’t happen.” He’s talking to his own reflection now as he fixes his hair in the mirror. “You’re strong. You’re… committed to the plan.” Tapping his finger into the glass for emphasis, he says, “Stick to it. Think about the final outcome.”

This plan wasn’t something he came up with overnight. Its roots go back to when he was sixteen, when his friends first started dating and fumbling through romance—a life he thought was reserved for everyone but him.

Clark believed he was a danger to others if he wasn’t careful. For the longest time, he smothered every feeling that even brushed against love, locking it away before it could grow. He was afraid of hurting someone.

He never quite stopped feeling like an infant in the body of a man, learning his limits piece by piece. He knows he has two arms and two legs, two eyes and a mouth. He knows that when he grips something, it stays there.

But then there are the gifts. The strength, the senses, the heat in his blood; powers he never asked for, but could never escape. With Ma and Pa’s help, he learned how to live with them, though the process was frustrating, sometimes terrifying.

At the age of seventeen, he didn't know what was destined for him. He was just a boy who wanted to hold a girl’s hand without worrying about burning holes in the ground with his heat vision.

He always knew his life would be complicated. He knew finding someone who could stand beside him, someone willing to accept his calling, would be nearly impossible.

That’s why he couldn’t just let things happen. He didn’t trust fate. He didn’t want to wait for love to stumble across him by chance. He had to find it, not wait around for fate to find it for him.

His phone rings, pulling him from his thoughts, and he realizes he’s been standing in the bathroom for almost five minutes. He accepts the call without checking the screen.

“Hello?”

“Well if it isn’t my favorite lovebird. How are you doing?”

“Jimmy, I’m leaving in ten minutes. Be quick.”

“Are you nervous?”

He is, but Jimmy doesn’t need to know that. “Why would I be?”

“You’re finally getting laid!”

Clark stops buttoning up his shirt. “Wait. What? Why are you even saying this?”

“Because—aren’t you going to her place?”

“Yeah. And?”

“Well, do the math, dude!”

“You’re trespassing all my limits. Please, Jimmy.”

“Look, it’ll do you good. Even Superman needs to copulate sometimes.”

“Copulate?! I don’t—That’s it. Goodbye, Jimmy.”

The state in which he arrives at your apartment is far from what he’d hoped. Hair toussled, cheeks pink with windburn.

His hand trembles slightly as he knocks, checking his phone for the fifth time to confirm the hour. He’s not early, nor is he late, but right on schedule.

He’s really doing this, standing outside the apartment of the girl he fancies. He tells himself it’s simple: come in, talk, share dinner, leave within the span of two hours. Easy-peasy.

Only nothing about this feels ordinary. One single line of his plan won’t leave him alone, and it flashes every time he closes his eyes: visiting each other’s apartments was too risky. Now, with his pulse racing and nerves gathering tight in his chest, he knows exactly why he wrote that.

Dear Clark from the past: you were wise beyond your years.

When you finally open the door and invite him in, he has to remind his lungs how to work, forcing in a breath. Crossing the threshold feels less like walking into a room and more like stepping into uncharted territory.

His eyes roam over the portraits on the wall, the small decorations, the ceramic sculpture of a dog perched on a shelf. It hits him only then how desperately he’s been avoiding your gaze.

“You have a really nice place,” he murmurs at last, forcing himself to turn back. It would feel wrong not to.

You surprise him with takeout from a place he’d mentioned once in passing. They sell these wraps you can customize to your liking, and he doesn’t remember ever telling you his exact dream order, but you’ve nailed it anyway.

His has pulled beef, cheese, and a rich dressing that overshadows every other flavor. Salsa slips from the edge of the wrap, trickling down his chin as he takes a big mouthful, and you laugh, cheeks full, still chewing.

“What?” he asks, the word muffled, and it’s almost as if he’d momentarily forgotten the first rule of table manners his parents had taught him. He wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, a clumsy but effective maneuver to deal with the greasy mess on his fingers.

You sip your water, pressing a napkin to your lips. “Since when are wraps so messy to eat?”

“Mine’s about to explode, but it’s worth it,” he replies, and you nod.

You lean back in your seat, scratching your chin in thought. “Hey, remember the other day you said you were staying late at the office?”

Clark hums, his eyes fixed on his wrap. Better to stay absorbed in his food than risk betraying the truth. That he hadn’t spent his Wednesday night typing, rereading the same sentences until they blurred into nonsense.

“Did you manage to finish that article?” you ask, now resigned to using a knife and fork instead of wrestling with your wrap.

“Oh, yeah. I just… had to check some minor details with… my source,” he says, hoping the conversation won’t make the food turn in his stomach.

Lifting your fork, you point it at him. “Let me guess. Does his name start with an S and end with -man?” He doesn’t bother answering, because it isn’t necessary. “Don’t even say it. I already knew I was a mastermind.”

“He told me all about his fight with the Kaiju,” Clark tries.

You chew slowly on a carrot, thoughtful. Your gaze narrows on him. “Do you agree with everything he does?”

Clark nearly bites his tongue. “What—what do you mean?”

“When you’re writing about him, quoting him, making references to all his rescues, don’t you ever feel like… maybe your opinion might differ from what he did? That you might disagree with his actions?”

Why did it feel like tonight you were the journalist and he was the one on the record?

“I get what you’re saying,” Clark answers, straightening in his chair. “But yeah, I agree with what he does.”

You arch your brows. “With every single thing? Really?”

“I wouldn’t interview him if I didn’t.”

“I don’t believe you.” Your tone is teasing, playful, but under it runs a thread of sharp skepticism. “There’s gotta be something about him you don’t like.”

Clark pretends to think, then shakes his head. “Not that I can remember.”

You ball up your napkin and toss it at him, laughing. “Come on!”

“What?” He catches it and tosses it back with no real effort. “I’m being honest. He gets me exclusives, front page spots. What’s not to like about that?”

You click your tongue and wave him off. “See? You’re biased. You’re not thinking straight. If you were, you’d find something unlikeable. Everyone has flaws.”

Clark attempts to shift the focus of the conversation. “So does that mean I’ve got something you don’t like about me?”

You bite your lip, glance up at the ceiling as though calculating. “You could say that.”

His interest sparks immediately. “What is it? Now I have to know.” He scrapes his chair across the floor until he’s sitting at your side, facing you directly. “You’re not getting out of this.”

“I’m not roasting you for free!”

“I’m literally asking you to!”

“Clark—”

“I’ll just keep going until you break,” he teases, leaning in closer. “You’ll get tired of me eventually.”

With him this near, your eyes betray you, flicking from his gaze to his mouth before you catch yourself. Clark notices. Of course he notices. He watches as you squint, weighing whether or not to give in to his persistence.

Finally, you decide to, because the next thing you say is: “You never question him, not even once.”

He had been waiting for you to say something untrue, something easy to laugh off. But your words catch him off guard. He leans back slightly, needing that extra inch of distance to really look at you.

Your gaze softens as if you regret pushing too far. Rising from your seat, you gather both your plates and glasses. “I’m sorry. I was just—I was joking. You know I’m terrible at that, right?”

You’re trying to dissolve the tension, to make it vanish into the clatter of dishes. He can’t blame you for it.

“Yeah, now I remember,” he says quietly, watching the curve of your shoulders as you walk toward the kitchen. “Please, never give up teaching.”

He trails after you. You’re at the counter, cutting squares of the brownie you baked earlier. You take the first bite, humming at the rich taste as your foot taps the floor, and he can’t stop watching the way your face relaxes with delight.

“Good?” he asks, folding his arms. Despite your recent exchange, he can’t avoid getting lost in your beauty.

It’s a fact that you always look pretty, but tonight there’s something different he can’t quite place. Maybe it has to do with the way you carry yourself, more at ease, a little less preoccupied.

You’re glowing, and it has nothing to do with a physical change, but with something harder to name, something more intimate.

You answer his question with a small, “You have to try it,” and then you’re holding out a piece to him, the same one you’d bitten into seconds ago.

His eyes flick to yours, then down to the brownie, then to your fingers, and back to you.

“Come on,” you insist, swaying the piece a little. Your tongue darts out to lick the chocolate at the corner of your mouth. “I swear it’s not poisoned.”

This is the end of him. Who would’ve thought, out of all possible scenarios, that he’d die right here in your apartment?

He inches forward a little, carefully biting into the brownie, hyper-aware of how close his teeth are to your fingers. He braces for you to look away, to break the tension, but you don’t, and neither does he. His gaze stays locked on yours as he literally eats from your hand.

Don’t get hard. Please, just don’t.

“It’s… delicious,” he manages after a beat, clearing his throat. “Can you make, like, a whole batch for me?”

Rolling your eyes, you say, “Sure.” You finish the last bite yourself, brushing crumbs from your fingertips. Then your brows knit together, like a thought just struck you. “By the way, how’s Atonement going? You like it so far?”

He scrambles in his mind for the last place he left off. “I reached the part where Robbie and Cecilia are… well, you know.”

“You mean the library scene?”

“Yeah.”

“They recreated it so well in the movie. I still remember it to this day.”

“I had no idea there was a movie.”

“It’s from 2007. We should watch it someday… or perhaps tonight?”

There’s no way he’s surviving you, not with the way you’re looking at him now, the way you’re leaning back. You tilt your head to the side, the movement shifting your shirt just enough to reveal the faintest strip of skin. His breath catches before he can stop it.

Your lips part slightly, as though you’re about to speak, but the silence stretched instead.

“Darn it,” he mutters under his breath, and he’s sure you’re about to ask what he said, but you never get the chance, because he cups your face and kisses you.

His mouth crushes onto yours, and it takes you a few startled seconds to catch up before you melt into it, fingers clawing at the collar of his shirt to drag him closer. You climb higher, nails raking against the sensitive skin at his nape, and he shudders under your touch.

Without drawing away, he makes a sudden movement and lifts you onto the counter. Your lips break apart for just a gasp, and you’re immediately tugging him back down, kissing him harder.

As your tongue slides against his, a moan dies on his throat, caressing your hips through layers of fabric. He can even taste the chocolate from the brownie you both just shared.

Your legs part instinctively, and he looms forward, fitting himself between your thighs. You feel the unmistakable hardness against you, and the sound that escapes you is closer to a whine. Hooking your ankles around him, you lock him there, grinding just enough to drive him nuts.

Any other man in his shoes would be floating. Ecstatic. But he isn’t, not fully, because beneath the fever of it all lies the stinging edge of guilt.

He’d sworn to himself he wasn’t here for this, that it was too soon. He’d promised. Yet what you two are doing couldn’t be further from just talking.

The back of your head bumps against the cabinet, making you wince, and instantly he adjusts, pulling you tighter into him, angling your body until you’re practically perched on top of him.

His senses are overstimulated, beyond heightened. He swears he can hear the rush of blood in your veins, the frenzied beat of your pulse. Outside, cars pass, sirens wail, horns blare. Tires screech against concrete, and voices rise and fall.

He presses his hand more firmly to your skin, needing to feel the weight of flesh beneath his palm to remind himself that this, what he’s living right now, is real.

He’s here with you, though at the same time he feels like he's everywhere all at once.

The moment your hand slides even an inch lower, this will all be over too fast. He can’t stay still. He can’t think, because doing so would mean putting a stop to this madness. And the truth is, he doesn’t want to. He knows he made a vow to himself, but—

Your phone starts ringing somewhere down the hall. Your room, or maybe the bathroom. Once his ears catch it, it’s not like he can unhear it. That insistent sound drills through everything.

His hands freeze at your sides, his voice coming out rough. “I think your phone’s… ringing.”

Between kisses, you reply, “I don’t care.”

“What if it’s important?”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“But what if it is?”

Finally, you break away, drawing in a long breath. His lips chase yours for just one last kiss before he moves aside to let you slip down from the counter.

Clark takes a step back. The second you’re gone, he’s leaning back against the wall, his head thudding against it. He drags in a shaky breath, noticing how fogged his glasses are, and then his eyes peer down at the front of his tented pants.

In a rush, he drops onto the couch, grabbing the nearest cushion to shield his lap, shifting uncomfortably as he adjusts beneath it. Even though his cheeks feel warm, the guilt burns worse than the ache.

You come back with your phone in hand, shrugging, and you drop it onto the table. “Wrong number. Told you it wasn’t important.”

Sinking onto the couch beside him, your gaze flickers down before you can help.

He drags a hand over his face, desperate to find a way out from your unrelenting stare without having to meet it. “Please, just ignore it. It’ll go down. Eventually.”

“Clark, it’s normal.”

“That doesn’t make it any less mortifying.”

“I actually feel flattered.”

Silence envelops you both. He can feel himself relaxing.

Then you speak again. “I’m sorry. Was that too much?”

His head jerks toward you. “What do you mean?”

“Like… the kissing. I feel like I got carried away.”

“I didn’t think you were too much. I—I liked it,” he admits, scratching the side of his nose. “I think you were able to see that clear as day.”

That has you exhaling a breathy laugh, and he tries to shake off the discomfort weighing down on him.

There’s a question he knows he should wait to ask you. It's been playing in his mind, formulating itself at odd hours of the day. Normally, he's able to suppress it, to file it away in a mental junk drawer, but he must be too affected to tell right from wrong.

“Are you seeing someone else?”

“No,” you answer quickly, a puzzled frown on your face. “… Are you?”

“No.” He also shakes his head to make his answer more emphatic. “But would you want to? See other people?”

“Oh, no.” You keep quiet for a moment, your lips pressed into a thin line. “Why are you me asking this? Do you want to?”

He snorts. “Gosh, no.”

“It’s always a possibility.”

“Trust me, it isn’t.”

“You could want to explore other connections.”

“Are we on Love Island?”

“You get what I’m trying to say.”

In fact, he does. Sliding the cushion back where it belongs, he turns to face you. “I like where this is going.”

What he’d meant to say was: I like you. He only reformulated it at the very last second.

The next time you kiss him, it’s different. Slower, softer as your nose brushes his, and he wonders if he’s still in control of the plan.

You wake up with the flu on the day you were supposed to have your sixth date.

You: I must’ve gotten it from one of my students.

You: I feel like crap. I’m so sorry, I really wanted to see you :(

Clark leaves the sentence he was typing half-written, fingers abandoning the keys. He pushes his chair away from the desk with his feet, staring at his reflection on the phone. The white glow of the computer screen casts shadows across his jaw and under his eyes.

Clark: At least let me cook for you.

You: Nooooooo!!!

You: I don’t want you to get sick.

He wishes he could tell you that you're not passing him any germs; not today, not ever.

Clark: I won’t stay for too long.

Clark: I know a soup recipe my mother taught me. I haven't made it in a long time.

That should be enough to soften you.

You: Alright…

When night comes around, he’s in your kitchen, chopping vegetables on a wooden board. The TV hums faintly in the background, interrupted every so often by the sharp sound of you blowing your nose.

The soup is simple, just as it’s always been. His Ma used to make it for him whenever he was sulking as a boy, a cure for bad moods as much as for colds. He only hoped his came close.

Steam curls upward as the vegetables start getting tender, and he keeps one eye on the pot while stirring. You’re standing beside him, watching the procedure.

“I’m sure it smells great,” you mumble, congested. “I mean, I wouldn’t know, but it looks like it does.”

Clark lowers the heat, sets the spoon down. His thumb grazes your cheek before he pulls you into his chest, whispering, “Come here.”

You let out a disapproving sound, but your body doesn’t offer any resistance as he hugs you. “You’re going to end up catching what I have.”

“No, I’m not.”

“That’s how contagious illnesses work.”

“Turns out I’m the exception.”

His arms wrap around your shoulders, palm smoothing circles into your back. You lace your fingers behind his waist, muffling your face against his shirt with a pleased noise.

“You’re so warm,” you say groggily, like you might fall asleep standing there. He kisses your forehead and goes back to stirring with one hand, not letting you go.

Later, after you’ve eaten and declared that the soup made your stomach feel simultaneously more full and leagues better, you put on a random movie to pass the time. Clark actually tries to follow the plot, but you don’t.

Your attention keeps drifting toward him, more interested in the man sitting beside you than in the film.

“You never take them off?”

“Take what off?”

You say it like it’s obvious. “Your glasses.”

Subtly, he adjusts them out of pure instinct. “I can’t see much without them.”

“Have you ever tried contacts?”

“Oh, no. My eyes are too sensitive for that.”

“Everybody’s eyes are, in fact, sensitive.”

“I can’t handle them,” he insists, shrugging. “They feel weird.”

Another minute passes without you uttering a word.

But you won’t drop it. “Can I try them on?”

“Some other day. They’ll make your headache worse.”

Blowing out your cheeks, you hug a cushion to your chest, propping your chin on it. “You keep talking to me like I’m a child.”

He picks up the remote to pause the movie. “I’m just answering your many questions.”

“Curiosity is one of my best traits.”

“I know.”

“Which is why I keep wondering why I’ve never seen you without your glasses.”

“Because I wouldn’t be able to make out your gorgeous face without them.”

“Touché.” You lean against his shoulder, stifling a yawn. “Let’s save this debate for another night.”

“Want to call it a day?”

“No, I can stay up for a little longer.”

Your eyelids end up betraying you ten minutes later, fluttering shut as your head tips against him, your body pressed firmly into his side.

By the time the credits roll, you’re fast asleep. He takes a slow breath, carefully gathering your frame in his arms, and you stir just enough to mumble something about being fine, but you don’t fight him when he carries you to bed.

Clark sets you down gently, covering you with the blanket, smoothing it over you and tucking it along your shoulders. You sink deeper into it with a soft sigh.

“Clark?”

“Tell me.”

“There’s a spare set of keys on my nightstand—”

He freezes. A key? Sixth date. Sixth. Date. What does this mean?

“—so you can lock the door on your way out. I don’t want to get up anymore.”

Sinking to his knees, he lingers at your bedside for a moment. His hand hovers before caressing your cheek, and then he gives a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

You try to hide from his gaze, but it’s nearly impossible. You bury your face into the pillow. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Clark can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “Like what?”

“Like I’m dying and you don’t have the cure,” you mutter, peeking through one eye. “I know I look bad, but don’t make it so obvious.”

His brows knit in concern. “You don’t look bad at all.”

Attempting to shove him away, you lift a hand from under the sheets to push at his chest, though he doesn’t budge an inch. “Oh, you’re too sweet.”

“I mean it,” he says, voice steady, eyes holding yours. “You’re beautiful. Can’t you see it?”

The certainty in his words makes your smile falter. You don’t miss the confidence in the way he stares at you, the weight behind his honesty. In a sudden urge of truth, perhaps fueled by your discomfort, you ask him, “Where have you been all my life?”

He can’t think of anything clever to say, because he’s afraid of making a false move.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep, huh?” His lips brush your forehead again, this time scattering delicate pecks across your skin. “I’ll call you in the morning to check on you.”

You nod, surrendering to exhaustion, your eyes fluttering shut as your body relaxes. “Don’t forget to call me,” you whisper, rolling onto your side to fully face him, curling against the sheets.

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “I promise I won’t.”

When he rises, he stills, watching you without realizing it. Your face has softened into pure calm, the rise and fall of your chest unchanging, your lips parted in a quiet breath. The sight disarms him.

“What are you doing, giving me your keys?” he whispers into the room, as if someone might answer.

He finds them right after that, not daring to make noise, and only exhales once he’s outside your apartment, the door clicking shut behind him.

His first loss shouldn’t look like this.

As he plummets from the sky, body tossed by the Hammer of Boravia as if he were nothing but a ragdoll, Clark tries to frame the fall as a lesson.

All heroes who wear capes face a moment they don’t win. They fall, they falter, but they always get back on their feet.

Sooner or later, that would happen to him, too. Just not now.

He’s driven into the ground once more. He can’t stop it this time, can’t even shift the angle, so he braces himself for whatever comes. His back collides with the pavement, and it shatters beneath him.

The debris pulverizes into dust, thickening the air, and it scrapes his lungs as he breathes. He’s got a rib, maybe two, fractured. He’ll have to check at the Fortress.

All around, screams erupt and people scatter. He’s 99% sure no one got caught under him. A burst pipe sprays water across one side of his suit, and as flexes his wrist, he tries to mask the pain and fails in the process.

Tiny voices start murmuring all sorts of things. Even tinier shadows edge closer.

“Is he dead?”

“He can’t die, you dummy.”

“My dad said he could beat him up.”

A little girl points straight at him, her tone squeaky with awe. “ARE YOU THE REAL SUPERMAN?”

Blinking slowly, Clark realizes they’re all wearing the same clothes.

It’s a school uniform.

He crashed outside a school. Fantastic.

“Kids? What did I say about not overwhelming him back in the classroom?”

Is that your voice? Maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought.

“But Miss—”

“No buts. Move a bit further away. Give him some air.”

Oh, God. It’s definitely you.

He attempts to sit, but the pain rips through his ribs, pulling a wheeze from his chest. His vision steadies in flashes, until finally, there you are, standing at the edge of the crater, eyes wide.

From high above, the Hammer’s deep voice pours into Clark’s ears, saturating him.

The United States will continue to feel the wrath of the Hammer of Boravia…

“Are you okay?” Your soft voice cuts through the chaos. You descend through the debris, your focus seemingly fixed on helping him. Even though the crowd swells around the scene, you’re the only one moving. “Can you stand up?”

When he looks up, the sights hit him. Dozens of phones are raised, their lenses all aimed at him. Clark swallows, hearing the strain in his own voice when he manages, “Ma’am, you’ve got to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

You shake your head, determined, and you offer him your hand. He takes it, barely, and with your help he staggers upright, your shoulder slipping under his arm for support.

The absurdity of it all. You've been in this exact position before, only last time he wasn't wearing the suit.

The Hammer speaks again, hovering high above, his voice reverberating across the city. “This is your last warning,” he roars, vanishing into the sky, leaving the street shaking.

Clark's instincts urge him to follow him, to continue the fight. But he’s too weak, and as he intends to move, he collapses again, groaning as if his entire body’s crumbling with every effort.

“Don’t force yourself right now,” you scold, slipping an arm under his to steady him. “You can’t… fly in these conditions.”

Of all the people to see him like this, it had to be you. His luck is unbelievable.

The crowd begins to thin, and by the time you help him to a bench, fewer eyes linger. The city seems eager to swallow the moment whole and move on.

Another ordinary day in Metropolis.

He presses a trembling hand to his side, each breath stabbing his ribs as they expand. You stand in front of him, arms folded, watching him closely without taking a seat.

He needs to recover fast, but his strength keeps slipping away.

“So… Superman in the flesh,” you say, tilting your head. “Funny thing. I know someone who knows you.”

“You’ll… have to be more specific than that,” he murmurs, keeping his gaze low, afraid the dizziness will swallow him if he looks up.

“Clark Kent,” you reply, tipping your chin up. “He’s my—well, it doesn’t matter.”

That makes him tense, pulling himself upright despite the pain. “Your… what?”

“We’re seeing—” You stop, narrowing your eyes. “Wait. Why do you care?”

If he weren’t certain the laugh would tear his ribs apart, he’d laugh at the absurdity of it all.

He ignores your question, his gaze drifting past you to the school. Children are filing back into their classrooms. “I wouldn’t want to take up more of your time,” he says quietly. “Your students must be asking for you.”

You follow his line of sight, then back to him, your brows knitting. “I don’t know if you’ll find this disrespectful, but—maybe you shouldn’t have done that thing in Jarhanpur.”

It’s the last thing he needs. Pain gnaws at his body, but the sharper sting comes from hearing you dissect his choices to his face.

He pushes himself up, almost limping, his hand dragging across his shoulder. “Thank you for the constructive criticism, ma’am. But I have to go now.” His eyes catch yours for just a beat. “Stay safe.”

Then he’s gone, vanishing into the sky.

When he checks his phone hours later, he finds a message from you waiting for him.

You: I think now I’ve got beef with Superman. Call me?

Clark gets Jimmy a last-minute birthday gift. A dumb, cheap disposable camera despite the fact that he has tons. But it's the thought that counts, right?

Yeah, blame him. He’s definitely not getting the best-friend-of-the-year award. He had almost forgotten about the whole event, until Jimmy approached him at work that Friday before they parted ways.

“See you later!” Jimmy had said, and Clark had stood there, his eyes locked with his friend’s for a solid half-minute, trying to understand why they’d be seeing each other in just a few hours.

Right. The party.

Clark had forced a smile. “Sure.”

The party’s at the bar where Molly works. This is her night off, but she still manages to score him a huge discount, which is the only reason Jimmy’s picked this place.

The bar’s already buzzing by the time Clark slips inside. He spots Jimmy instantly, his laughter carrying above the noise. Clark shoulders his way through the crowd, tapping him on the back. “Hey, buddy.”

Jimmy turns, face lit up red by the neon bar lights. His grin grows even wider when he sees Clark. “Man, you came! I wasn’t sure—”

“Of course I came. Got you something, but don’t open it yet.”

Jimmy nods, taking the small ‘Happy Birthday’ bag from Clark’s hands. Molly drifts by and he loops an arm around her waist. “Babe, can you put this with the other gifts?”

She says something Clark doesn’t quite catch. A guy nearly barrels into him, waving a tray of free shots. Clark thanks him but refuses to grab one, stepping aside.

For a fleeting second, he thinks Jimmy and Molly are staring at him, but then he realizes their gaze is aimed past his frame. “What is it?” he asks.

He follows their line of sight, and there you are, standing in the doorway.

Jimmy slings an arm around his neck. There’s sweat trickling down the sides of his face. “I know it’s not your birthday, but I also got you a gift,” he murmurs into Clark’s ear. Meanwhile, Clark can’t stop staring at you, waiting for your eyes to find his. “It just arrived.”

It takes you a full minute to reach them, murmuring apologies to the people you brush against. You’re wearing a denim skirt and a long-sleeve top. He reminds himself not to stare too long, not to look at you as if no one else exists.

Clark’s been having a problem. Actually, he has many, scattered across cities, countries—even galaxies. He’s had them for many years now.

But lately, one specific problem has been bugging him, and it’s solely your fault.

Ever since you kissed for the first time, he hasn’t stopped thinking about it—dreaming about the feeling of your lips on his, the taste of you on his tongue, waking up hard and aching. Nearly every morning, still half-lost in a dream, he finds himself rutting into the mattress, moaning your name.

The worst moments are when his phone lights up with your messages. Sometimes you’re up before him, and you send him voice recordings, your voice still thick with sleep. He places the phone on the cold pillow beside him, turns the volume up, and pretends he isn’t waking up to an empty bed.

When he says it out loud, in the privacy of his head, it sounds pathetic. Creepy, even.

And then he texts back, Good morning! Hope you have a wonderful day at work! You’d never guess that just minutes before, he’d been in the shower, stroking himself to the thought of you.

It’s become a ritual now: open his eyes, get out of bed, jerk off, shower, Daily Planet.

At present, you give him a quick hug, and you seem shy, almost hesitant. He understands the feeling, since it’s the same one running through him. The first time you’re together in front of mutual friends. The very friends who set you up.

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

“It was a surprise,” you reply, a delighted smile breaking across your face. Your eyes crinkle at the corners with a playful sparkle. “Are you surprised?”

Your smile is so contagious it gets to him. “Very much surprised, yeah.”

He hasn’t seen you since that morning, since the fight he lost against the Hammer of Boravia. That day he wasn’t Clark for you; he wore another name, another face, a cape heavy on his back.

The urge to kiss you rises fast, blocking out everything else. He lowers his head, holds his breath—

But before he can, Molly tugs at your shoulder.

Clark steps back and watches the two of you lean in, whispering. You glance at him as she points toward the bar, mouthing a sorry.

“You mind if I steal her for a bit?” Molly asks.

He shakes his head, and you catch the small gesture he makes.

With a beer in hand, he engages in small talk with half the bar. He ends up the listener, executing a series of practiced moves, because his body may be there, keeping him present in appearance only, but his mind and heart are elsewhere.

He nods at the right moments, shakes his head in disbelief when needed, parts his lips when the other person’s excitement spikes. Even mutters “Jeez, that’s tough” if the story calls for sympathy.

He slips away from one of Jimmy’s cousins, who probably managed to utter a hundred words per minute, and paces through the crowd. He expects to find you with Molly, but instead you’re alone in a booth, circling the rim of your glass with your finger.

He takes the opportunity and slides in beside you. “Did it hurt?”

You squint at him. “What?”

“When you fell from heaven, did it hurt?”

That elicits a low chuckle from you. “You’re real smooth.”

His shoulder brushes yours as he leans closer. “You having a good time so far?”

“Yeah,” you breathe into his ear, raising your voice over the music. “Even better now that you’re here.”

He doesn’t miss the way your gaze flicks to his lips. He tilts his head, breath grazing your cheek, lashes fluttering—

Someone clears their throat, and you pull away.

Lois slides into the seat opposite. “Kent, I see you’ve decided to invade female territory.”

Under the table, his knee knocks yours. “It’s not my fault you left her alone, Lois. What else was I supposed to do?”

“I didn’t leave her alone! I was just getting more of this,” she says, lifting her drink and taking a sip of it. “So, where were we? Oh, yes! Superman.”

Clark nearly chokes, coughing hard. You rub his back, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he rasps. “Just choked on my saliva.”

“You should see how flustered Clark gets at work whenever we talk about his most beloved friend.” Lois beams at you, setting her palms down flat on the table.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Oh, I can imagine.”

“He gets pretty defensive,” she presses.

He lifts a finger, calling her attention. “I don’t.”

“You totally do.”

“I just give my opinion,” he counters, raising his brows. “It’s literally our job.”

Lois rolls her eyes, her hair flicking over her shoulder. “Don’t do that. You’re changing the topic.”

“I’m not—”

“What do you think about what Superman’s been doing lately” Lois turns to you, the corners of her mouth quirking up, turning the spotlight on you.

You toy with your glass, your expression dull. “I guess some things could’ve been avoided if done differently.”

“Like what?” Lois inquires, leaning forward.

“The fight with The Hammer of Boravia. Entering a country without first getting permission.”

Clark downs the last of his beer in a single motion. He needs to do something with his hands. At his sides they feel strange, unfamiliar, like they’d only just been stitched onto him a moment ago.

Lois reclines in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, a smug smile stretching on her features. “This is what I was talking about! He’s dying on the inside.”

“Don’t you think he had… fair motives?” he turns to you, gesturing too broadly. “It’s not like he thought it would make things worse.”

“Well, then maybe he should think twice before acting,” you reply, straightening. “I’m not one of those people that think he’s being dishonest. I believe he wants to do good, but he interfered with international affairs. He knew the authorities weren’t going to give him a medal for it.”

“But he was stopping a war,” Clark insists, his voice tighter than he means it to be.

“I’m not saying what he did was wrong, Clark. Regardless of his intentions, he should reflect on his actions no matter what they are. Everything he does ripples across the planet,” you continue to explain, your eyes locked on his. “He might be morally right, but he has to know any intervention he makes on another country will be questioned.”

A sickness twists in his stomach. Between the thrum of music, the clatter of glasses, the press of bodies, and voices overlapping like static, a dizziness blooms at the base of his skull.

At that moment, Lois cuts through. “He crashed outside a school the other day, didn’t he?”

Your head snaps in her direction. “I work there.”

“And how was he? Got his ass kicked?”

“Excuse me,” Clark begins, adjusting his glasses, “but he didn’t completely get his ass kicked.”

“He was pretty hurt,” you argue, your nose crinkling. “I saw him. I helped him get up.”

As if sent from God above, Jimmy bursts into the booth wearing a birthday hat crooked over his hair. “Okay, enough chatting. Less than thirty seconds until my birthday. Dance floor, now!”

Lois trails after him when he disappears back into the crowd, but you stay seated, and so does Clark.

The countdown begins in the background. His chest is tight, and it would be an outright lie to pretend the conversation hasn’t rattled him. He sizes you up. “I didn’t know you hated Superman.”

You exhale a long breath. “When did I say that? Honestly, what part of what I just said gave you that impression?”

“You took the opportunity to rip him apart.”

10…

“I’m being critical, Clark. We all need to be—even you.”

9…

He can’t control the way his face twists with each passing second. He must be watching you without a shred of remorse, because then you’re saying, “Can we talk like adults without you looking at me like I’ve murdered someone?”

8…

He averts his gaze. Holds his tongue.

7…

You catch your lower lip between your teeth. “Are we really fighting over this—”

6…

“—over Superman?”

5…

“Clark, will you please look at me?”

4…

He does, but stays silent.

3…

“Why do you care so much about what I think of him?”

2…

His tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he intends to speak. “I—I don’t—Can we—”

1…

The look on your face is beyond devastating.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JIMMY!

The bar explodes with cheers. Lights dim, the room falling almost entirely into shadow. Even in the half-dark, Clark notices the tight line of your jaw, how tense it is. You don’t meet his eyes when you ask to slide out of the booth to go congratulate Jimmy.

When he rises, it’s slow, like his muscles are made of lead. His legs feel numb, his fingertips burning. He watches you cross the room, sees you touch Jimmy’s back before hugging him briefly.

Molly arrives and folds you into a hug too. You shake your head, adjusting the strap of your bag. A moment later you step back, and Molly turns her attention to Jimmy, arms looping around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Clark realizes you take that as your exit. You’re leaving without even glancing back at him. Panic flares, and he strides toward Jimmy, interrupting a conversation to pull him into a hug.

“Happy birthday,” he murmurs as he pulls away.

Jimmy smiles, though not fully. “Thanks, man. I appr—”

“I got you a disposable camera, hope you like it, happy birthday!”

Clark rushes out of the bar, nearly stumbling onto the sidewalk in his haste. He scans both sides of the street and spots you nearly at the end of the block.

“Wait!” he shouts.

You turn, startled. “I’m heading home,” you say. Your apartment is only four blocks away.

“Let me walk you.”

It isn’t necessary. He knows you’ll be fine. The streets on a Friday night are crowded, buzzing with life. But the most profound part of his being needs it. He needs it.

You hold your hand up. “Don’t—just don’t,” you say, frowning. “It’s no use.”

“Please, let me.”

“I’m tired.” You rub your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “I should—My head’s a mess right now.”

He takes a step forward. You’re still too far away. “I just want to make sure you get home safe,” he says, opening his heart to you. “You can kick me out later, but—just let me do this one thing.”

You tilt your head back toward the sky as if searching the stars for an answer. It takes you some time, but you end up sighing, giving a small nod. He jogs up to you, and together you start down the street toward your building.

When you slip the keys into the lock, you ask if he wants to come in for a minute. It goes without saying it won’t be a minute. It won’t be two, not even five.

A sixth sense isn’t among his powers, but he knows that once he steps inside, once he breathes the air of your home and the door clicks softly shut behind him, it will be almost impossible to leave.

The first thing you do is toss your purse onto the counter. He doesn’t move past the doorway. He just stands there in silence, coat still on. His eyes follow you as you turn your back on him, and then you spin around, forcing the confrontation.

“What was that back in the bar?”

The question cuts straight through him. Clark had improvised answers before: quick excuses about why he stayed late at the office, why he never took off his glasses, why Superman, of all people, chose to grant interviews only to a soft-spoken reporter like him.

Yet this is different. What’s about to happen feels inexplicable, and has no easy exit.

“I got carried away,” he finally says, burying his hands in his pockets to prevent you from seeing how hard his skin is burning, knuckles white from balling his fists too tight.

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Don’t do that.”

“What exactly don’t you want me to do, Clark?” You take a step closer. Your lips are trembling, he notices that. “I don’t know what happened there. I don’t know what got you so… defensive all of a sudden.”

In his mind, he compares this moment to the first time he ever saw you. Maybe you were standing at the same distance back at the restaurant Jimmy had picked that night. Maybe you were even wearing the same shoes you have on now.

But everything feels different tonight. He can’t deny it, can’t cover it up with anything.

“I was asked for my opinion, and I gave it, and then you suddenly changed completely. You’re stiff, you didn’t talk to me. You didn’t even look at me.”

Clark struggles to meet your eyes. Every time he does, he sees the lie he’s been weaving for nearly two months.

“Even still, you won’t look at me.”

He knows he’s here to talk. You want answers; you deserve them. But even though he understands that, sees it as rational and appropriate, it doesn’t mean his body comprehends it the same way his mind does.

You continue, each of your words is punctuated by a wild movement of your hands. “Why does it bother you that I don’t agree with every single thing he’s done?” Your mouth opens and closes before you find your voice again. “Last time I checked, I was dating you, not him.”

There are a million clever things he could say, but the only thing that comes out is: “The Boravian government isn’t well intentioned.”

A humorless laugh bursts out of you, almost leaving you breathless. “You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, rubbing your temples. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yes. I asked him.”

“That’s right. You seem to have unlimited access to his knowledge.”

“What are you implying?”

“Does he pay you for the interviews?”

The question made his head snap back, as if dislocated. “You think Superman’s bribing me?”

“I don’t know! You’re just so—loyal to him!”

“He’s not a bad person.”

“Nobody’s said that, Clark! You’re putting words in my mouth. All I said is that he should’ve considered the consequences of his actions.”

“You believe he had the time for that while trying to save a whole country?”

“Why don’t we call him and ask, huh? Do you have his number? Does he own a phone? Does he—”

“People were going to die!” Clark’s shout rips through the room, his throat raw with the effort. Heat surges through his veins, rushing outward until every nerve is thrumming. He feels both more alive than ever and completely paralyzed.

You take a step back, stunned. His voice still echoes in the room, and shame rises in his chest. He’s never known where his breaking point was until now.

“Okay,” you say slowly, steadying yourself. “What is it that you’re not telling me?”

Should he leave? Vanish? Hand back the spare key you offered him one late night?

You continue to stare at him. “There’s something more to this. I know there is.”

It’s over. He can’t undo what just happened, so why not risk the last chance he has with you?

His fingers close around the edge of his glasses, pulling them from his face. At first, you don’t register what’s happening, until your hand flies to the wall, bracing yourself.

“Holy fuck.”

It’s the first time he’s heard you curse.

You blink furiously, chest tightening with every breath. No sound comes out at first.

“You—What? This… this whole time, you—WHAT?!”

“Please, don’t freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out. I’m fine,” you snap between gritted teeth, though your expression betrays you. “I only had one drink.”

“I know.”

“I’m not drunk,” you insist.

“I know,” he repeats, softer this time.

Your eyes don’t leave him, even as your breathing slows. “You look… different. How?”

He holds up the glasses between you. “They’re called hypnoglasses. They—they alter the way people see me.”

You swallow hard after a while, brow furrowed, like you’re working out impossible math in your head. “Were you going to tell me, or are you doing it out of—what, guilt?”

“It was supposed to happen after our eighth date.”

You stop dead in your tracks. “Excuse me, eighth date? Have you been… counting them?”

Something good was supposed to happen tonight. That’s what he’d thought initially.

He feels stupid as soon as the words leave him. “That—You didn’t have to know that.”

“Why after the eighth date? Why only eight?”

“I don’t know! I like even numbers.”

“Clark, I swear—”

“I thought if we got that far, then… then it meant you really liked me,” he mumbles, heart clenching in his chest. “That you liked me as Clark. And then—well.”

Now it’s your turn to be speechless. He pushes forward anyway.

“I care about what you say about Superman because I’m him. I’m sensitive. I speak before I think. I took matters into my own hands because I believed it was the right thing to do, and I don’t regret it. I wasn’t representing anyone except myself.”

His voice softens, almost breaking.

“And for the record, I like you. A lot. I know I’ve never said it out loud, and I know that it’s late for a confession like that, but I think you deserve to hear it.”

He’s afraid you might slide down the wall, that everything he’s said has been too much. That tonight has shifted something in you. He tells himself he’s half-ready to face another loss, and though it wouldn’t be fought with fists, it would still break him all the same.

“Please, just—just tell me you want me to leave and I’ll go.”

“I don’t want that.”

Perhaps he’s heard you wrong. “What?”

“I said I don’t want you to go.”

He can’t answer in any form other than monosyllables. “Why not?”

You gather your courage and step closer, tilting your chin to meet his eyes. “You have to be more careful. I know you’re—bulletproof, but you still need to take care of yourself. Take care of what you do. Think things through.”

“I seriously don’t understand—“

“What I’m trying to say is that—that I like you, too.” You cut him off, voice rising just a little. Those four words undo him. “I—I really do.”

“Even after all this?”

“I guess I’m really stubborn.”

“So… you don’t want me to go?”

“No.”

“You don’t hate me?”

You touch his forearm gently. “I’d never be able to hate you.”

“You don’t hate… Superman?”

“We may not see eye to eye on everything, but that shouldn’t be an issue,” you counter. “We’re both adults. We can deal with it.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Holding his gaze, you whisper, “No. I don’t hate him, and I don’t hate you.”

Clark pulls you into his arms, tucking his chin near your neck. He hugs you with unguarded enthusiasm, your hands stroking small circles along his back. He breathes in your perfume, closing his eyes briefly, as if he could keep you there forever.

“You know what I would hate?”

“What?” His answer is muffled against your shoulder.

“Not knowing more about your dating plan.”

He draws back just enough, still holding you close, your faces inches apart. “Forget about it.”

“Impossible.”

“It’s—not worth it. Trust me.”

“Please, tell me.”

“You’re gonna make fun of me.”

You narrow your eyes, lips curving into a pout. “I promise I won’t.”

For an instant, Clark thinks about changing the subject, but he gives in.

“It consists of eight dates. Divided into three parts—” He cuts himself off when your lips quiver, fighting a smile. “That’s not fair! You’re already laughing.”

You have to bite your lip to stifle your grin. “I’m sorry. It’s just that—you had it all planned. It’s cute.” Your hands slide up to link behind his neck, and a flush creeps across his cheeks. “Okay. You may continue.”

He clears his throat. “Right now, if we count tonight as our seventh date—”

“Are you sure you want to count our first argument as a date?”

“—we’d be in the last stage,” Clark finishes. “Then one more date. After that, if everything went well, I’d tell you the truth, but I—I got ahead of myself. For obvious reasons, of course.”

“Does each stage have… its own conditions?”

“Sort of.”

“Is not touching me one of them?”

“S-sorry?” he stutters, ears going red.

“It’s just that your plan sounds a lot like a chastity one.”

Clark sputters, looking down. “I mean—I never specified such a thing. It’s not prohibited, but—No, I wouldn’t say engaging in that kind of activity was written into the actual plan.”

You hum thoughtfully, nodding. “And would you like it to stay that way?”

“I’m the one who made it, right? So… theoretically… I’m allowed to make a few changes here and there.”

“How interesting.”

His thumb grazes the strip of bare skin between your top and your skirt. “It depends on what you want to do tonight.”

Your chest rises with expectation. You wet your lips, and Clark sees how your pupils expand until they nearly eclipse the rest of your iris’, as if the Yellow Sun had been replaced by an overwhelming moon. “I want it all.”

A tempered heat begins spreading through his limbs. “All as in… all of it?”

“Why don’t you start by kissing me first,” you murmur, rising onto your tiptoes to hover your mouth over his, “and then we just… see it as we go?”

Clark nods as though you’ve given him a concrete assignment that he must now accomplish.

And suddenly, he has a goal.

This is really happening. He knows it doesn’t exactly fit the plan he drafted for himself. If he were following it, he’d wait. But circumstances have shifted.

Again and again, life has pulled the ground out from beneath his careful steps, and strangely enough, he can’t complain.

It’s hard enough to control his own feelings, but trying to rein in someone else’s is nearly impossible. And he can see it, that you want this as much as he does. There’s a yearning, something raw and real, sparking between you.

Maybe Jimmy was right. Maybe he should… go with the flow. At least for once.

RIP Clark Kent’s dating plan. You were a loyal ally through all these years of restraint and abstinence, but your time is up.

Clark kisses you, slowly at first. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and the way you kiss him back sends a deep shudder through him. At some point, his glasses slip from his pocket and clatter to the floor, but he hardly notices.

The sweetness doesn’t last. That first careful kiss soon spirals into something more frantic. You tug at his hair, drawing involuntary sounds from him each time your mouths break apart by the barest inch. Like magnets, you find each other again and again, tongues clashing, your teeth knocking into his.

He’s already hard. It hasn’t been long, barely anything at all, and yet his body is betraying him with a raging boner. Every time you brush against him, he shifts his hips back, desperate not to let you feel it. He doesn’t want to push too far or make you uncomfortable.

But you notice, and before you can speak, he blurts out, “I’m sorry. It’s just—you’re… so pretty, and I’m—”

Your lips are swollen, flushed from kissing. “You shouldn’t apologize for being aroused,” you say, the corner of your mouth lifting in a brief smile. “Besides, you’re not the only one.”

You pull away just enough to unbutton your skirt, sliding it down the length of your legs. He stares, entranced, before shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside with his glasses.

Eyes locked on his, you take his large hand and guide it between your thighs, pressing it lower until he cups you. Even through the lace of your black thong, he feels it: the undeniable slickness clinging to his fingers. You’re wet.

No, scratch that—you’re beyond wet.

His breath hitches at the scent of you. You gasp when his fingertips trace your folds over the thin fabric. “See?” you manage, your voice trembling despite your attempt at calm. “I’m just as—as affected as you are.”

Something in that moment snaps him out of restraint; it’s as if a hand has struck his cheek, jolting him awake.

He devours your mouth this time, pushing you backward until your shoulders hit the wall. His strong thigh wedges between yours, prying them apart and holding you there.

One hand braces the wall beside your head, while the other hooks your underwear aside. He’s transfixed by the sight of you: glistening and inviting in equal quantities.

His fingers skim you at first, his knuckles grazing your stomach as he lifts your top. His mouth wanders down your throat, and you throw your head back, hips canting up instinctively. “Clark—please—”

You sound so sweet, so needy, that he can’t make you wait any longer. He pushes a finger inside, achingly slow, your slick guiding him deeper. You’re tight and warm, and he swears he can feel the pulse of your heartbeat.

You moan, and the sound elicits a groan from him, his mouth ghosting over your jaw as he curls his finger inside you.

“Shit,” you mutter, eyes squeezed shut, hands fluttering helplessly with nowhere to hold on. Not that you could fall, because Clark’s holding you as though the world itself depends on it. He pumps his finger a few more times before easing it out of you, instead focusing on rubbing your clit with earnestness.

He captures your lips again, angling your face with a firm hand on your chin to deepen the kiss. All the while, his ministrations on your clit don’t falter, and you can’t help but whimper.

“You’re—God, you’re killing me with these sounds,” he rasps. You melt against the wall, chest heaving, and he inhales unsteadily, peering down at where his hand moves against you. “I’ve been dreaming about this. About you. I can’t—believe you’re mine.”

He fears that last word carries more meaning than it should, but it’s the only truth he knows. He wants to be yours as wholly as you are his; he wants to give you his time, to learn every last detail of who you are.

You nod as best you can, your fist curling into his shirt. “I’m—I’m yours,” you coo, voice thick with desire. Between kisses, you add, “And… you’re… mine.”

Another moan bubbles up in your throat as he sinks two of his fingers into your heat, stretching you even further. The wet sounds each time he draws them back and forth captivate him.

“Are you close?” he asks, though he already knows, but you still whine in agreement. “Oh, I know. You're shaking so bad. You wanna come?” Your nails rake over his arms, clutching at him. “Alright. I got you.”

He works you toward your peak, and moments later, you break, coming around his fingers. Your thighs clamp around his hand, hips twitching with aftershocks. His own moan muffles against your cheek as he peppers it with sloppy kisses, drinking in every one of your mewls.

When you come back to your senses, you kiss him languidly, your tongue sliding against his. “That was… amazing,” you breathe into his mouth, giggling as you attempt to catch your breath. You tangle your fingers in his hair. “I want to touch you.”

He stills. Clark carries so much pent-up tension that it might work against him. He’s pretty certain that the moment you put your hand on him, he’ll finish embarrassingly fast, and he can’t let that happen.

So instead, he drops to his knees.

Your brows lift in surprise. There are beads of sweat clinging to your temples, and Clark parts your thighs with his hands, positioning himself between them. Your cunt, still dripping, is right before him.

He hears you swallow, suddenly shy with him this close to such an intimate part of you. “You don’t have to—”

“But I want to taste you.” His thumbs spread your folds as his mouth waters, and his gaze flicks upward, asking for permission. “Can I?”

You nod frantically, panting, and he settles in. His tongue slides into your entrance, savoring you, before laving over your folds. He closes his mouth around your clit and sucks with intent, and you can’t keep watching him. It’s too much.

“So—fucking good,” you stutter, threading your fingers in his black curls. Your hips rut instinctively against his face, chasing the friction when he eases back a little. “I don’t—I don’t even want to know where you learned all this.”

Clark slips his digits back inside you, plunging them to the hilt. He’s not used to this loss of control, this need to consume, but he doesn’t know how else to do this. If he stops, he fears you’ll vanish, leaving him to wake from the same cruel dream where he’s helplessly humping his mattress.

“You taste like heaven,” he purrs, pulling back with a string of slick connecting his mouth to your pussy. His hand slides higher, palming your breast through your bra. It’s as if the rawest part of him, which is usually buried beneath restraint, has broken loose, and now he only craves more.

“Please, don’t stop.” Your voice is barely a whisper. Your eyes are teary, and for a moment he worries, but then you look at him, pleading. “Keep—keep going, just like that—”

Your flesh is soft beneath his grip, and he squeezes your thigh, grounding you as his fingers piston in and out of you. His tongue draws the same pattern again and again over your nub, and he can feel your whole frame trembling.

As you experience your second orgasm of the night, you don’t make a sound. Your knees buckle, and Clark has to press you against the wall to keep you upright.

With broad strokes, he continues to drink from the nectar between your thighs, enamored with the taste, the scent, the feel of you.

He lets go only when you tap his shoulder, your eyes half-lidded. He rises, making sure to steady you with a hand at your waist. You cradle his face, wiping the spit running down his chin.

You kiss him, softer than before, standing on top of his shoes. “Why are you still wearing clothes?” you ask, your hand slipping down to tug at his belt. You unbuckle it as you lead him toward your bedroom, and he follows without a word.

He sits at the edge of your bed, touching you wherever he can while you undress him. You pop each button of his shirt with ease, taking your time, leaving a kiss here and there before trailing lower. Your fingers caress his chest, and your gaze meets his.

Your voice carries a strained edge when you speak. “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

You’re looking at him with so much affection he could cry on the spot.

“I—I think—” The words die on your tongue, and after a beat you say. “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you.”

His heart stings. For a moment, he’d thought you were going to say those three words he’s been biting back.

Nevertheless, his lips cover yours gently, smiling. “Oh, I have.”

“Yeah? Who is it?”

The answer is simple. “You.”

You stifle a laugh. “That’s very cheesy,” you murmur, kissing him shortly. Your fingers unbutton his pants, lowering the zipper, your eyes searching his. “I want to take care of you.”

He draws back a little, takes a deep breath. Again, he’s nervous, as though you aren’t both already half-naked. “There’s something I need to tell you.” You hum in encouragement, and he clears his throat. “Well, I—Gosh, I don’t know how to say this.”

“Just… say it however it comes.”

“I’m not going to last long,” he admits, heat prickling at the back of his neck. You blink, brows furrowing. “I’m not being modest or anything. I—I just know it. I know my… body.”

You take a moment to think. “And what’s the problem with that?”

“Well, it’s certainly not… what you’d expect from me.”

You shake your head. “You’re overthinking it.”

He swallows, lifting his hips so you can tug his pants down. You sink to your knees on the carpet, kissing him again, your nails scraping lightly at the skin just above the waistband of his boxers.

“I don’t care how long you last.” You lick into his mouth, swallowing his whimper. “I just want you to feel good. That’s all.”

Pressing his forehead against yours before straightening, he observes as you push his boxers down. His cock springs free, unashamed, like every other time he’s thought of you alone in his apartment.

The only difference tonight is that it isn’t his hand that grabs it, but yours.

You stroke him once, tentative, studying every vein. Your mouth hovers over the tip before your tongue darts out to taste a bead of precum, moaning at the taste. Clark fists the sheets beneath him, peering up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” you whisper, urging him to look at you. Your hand glides up and down his length, and you chuckle. “Eyes here.”

Clark plants both hands on the mattress, leaning back, his gaze locked on yours.

“That’s it,” you coo, flattening your tongue along his shaft as your hand works him. “Is this okay?”

“Feels… nice,” he manages, attempting to come up with coherent sentences. “It feels—Oh, Jesus.”

His tip disappears behind your lips, and you suck dutifully, making his thighs twitch. He tries to even his breath, but it comes in rapid exhales.

As you hollow your cheeks, he slides a hand down, feeling the outline of himself through your skin. A choked moan rumbles in his chest when you take more of him, your throat tightening around his length. Seconds later you pull back, eyes watery, stroking what you can’t fit into your mouth.

The knot in his lower stomach is becoming unbearable. At times, his knee jerks with small motions. He can’t remain still, about anything but you and the hot paradise of your mouth.

His eyes flutter shut for an instant, and then you pinch the skin above his navel, startling him back, almost tickling him. You bob your head, trying to keep eye contact, but even you have to take a break sometimes from the intensity.

That’s when your free hand slips between your legs, pleasuring yourself too.

“Oh, baby,” he groans, barely registering the pet name. It only spurs you on, and a little saliva begins to drip from your lips, sliding down the side of his shaft, making a mess in his trimmed hair.

And now he’s close. So close he could come any second. He drags a palm over his face, holding his breath, and—

The pleasure disappears. He blinks once, twice, unsure if he’s lost what was left of his sanity or if you’re having fun edging him.

Sort of breathless, you sit back on your knees, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and it only takes one look at you for him to know exactly what you’re thinking.

For a moment, he swears he blacks out. He feels as if he’s outside himself, disoriented, like a runner who has to reach the finish line at all costs. Except here, the goal waits between your thighs.

Then the haze clears, and he’s back in the bedroom with you. You’re on all fours before him, back arched, presenting yourself. His hands knead the flesh of your ass, and he gnaws at his bottom lip before the urge overpowers him.

He bends, tongue sliding through your slit and tracing it along your folds, tasting you until your voice breaks, pleading for more.

At long last, the moment of truth has arrived. He fists himself, lines up, and notches his tip at your entrance, slowly pressing in.

Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t—

“Fuck,” you keen, wriggling your hips, quivering. “You’re—you’re splitting me in half.”

“Don’t… try to rush it.” He pulls back a little to push in again, then pushes deeper, growling through clenched teeth. “It’s gonna take a while, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t miss the way you clench around him. His knees buckle and he has to steady himself with a bruising grip on your waist.

“You like that, don’t you? You like it when I call you those names?” Clark asks, voice rough, desire thick in his throat. “That’s why you’re clamping down on me?”

He watches as you nod, the gesture nearly imperceptible. “Please, move.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he blurts, “Can’t. You’re—really tight.”

“I wanna feel you,” you retort, your hand groping back, searching for his thigh. Your neck twists so he can cast you a glance: you look already wrecked, mascara smudged under your eyes, lips swollen and parted. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me. I can take it.”

He knows you can. He repeats it all along as he continues to feed you his cock, storing all the noises you make and the responses you have to his touch in his memory.

Once he bottoms out and can’t go any further, when his balls are flushed firmly against your cheeks, he pulls out until only the tip remains, and slams back inside.

The sound alone is pornographic. Your inner walls stretch to adjust to his size, welcoming him in, and you mutter something about feeling him in your stomach.

“Y-you hear that?” Clark asks, voice breaking. To prove his point, he rolls his hips, the obscene squelch filling the void. He does it again, and again, each thrust making your breath hitch. “She’s crying for me. Wants me to keep her full.”

With a whine, your arms finally give out, and your face sinks into the pillow. That change in angle drives him mad. Clark spreads your cheeks wide, watching the way he disappears into you as he ruts harder into you. He pounds against your sweet spot, the room echoing with the lewd slap of skin meeting skin.

Chest flush to your back, he buries himself even deeper, one arm curling around your breasts to pull you upright as he jackhammers into you, giving you no chance to recover before he’s plunging forward again.

“C-Clark, oh my God,” you wail, clutching at him, trying to turn your face to catch his eyes. “You’re fucking big, you’re—you’re everywhere.”

He licks a stripe along your shoulder blades, tasting salt, and then drags his mouth along your damp skin. “You feel so good, baby. So good, so warm—I never wanna leave you.”

His own pace is killing him. It’s too fast, too deep, too erratic, but he can’t stop. He’s far too caught up in the moment to think of a way to make it last. His body, acting on instinct, moves on its own, leaving him behind.

You’ve told him before that you’re on the pill, that it’s safe, but he still needs to hear it again.

“I’m—I’m close,” he whimpers into your ear, twitching, working every muscle he has. “Can I—I’m just—Please, let me. I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you, but p-please.”

“Come inside me,” you breathe, arching your back. “I want it. You can let go.”

And with your permission, he does, spilling inside you. His hips falter, driving in short thrusts as he spills inside you, pumping his release deeper with each spasm.

His heart hammers like it’s going to burst free from his chest, tearing out of his ribs, beating hard against your spine as he clings to you. He chokes on a sob against your nape, mouthing at your hair, feeling a surge of blood rushing through him.

Your body lies flat against the mattress, his last brain cells fighting not to crush you with his full weight. He braces himself on his forearms, the fire in his abdomen slowly ebbing.

He thinks he’s spent, but then another hot spurt escapes him, and he tightens his grip on the sheets.

Your walls flutter around him, and you crack one eye open, trying to glance back. “How are you still—”

“I have no idea,” he replies, nosing your cheek. “There’s probably a Kryptonian anatomy book somewhere that could explain it.”

You chuckle, exhaling as your body softens beneath him, getting comfortable. Maybe you think that’s it, that the two of you will collapse into bed, or shower, or do anything other than keep going at it.

But Clark gets hard… again. He never fully softened in the first place. Now, buried deep inside you, he feels himself swelling again, his length hardening back to steel.

After a couple seconds, you notice it. “Are you—are you hard again?”

“Looks like it,” he husks, hips shifting before he even realizes it. “Feels even better now.”

He’s still sensitive from his first orgasm. He can hardly believe either of you are ready for more, but his body isn’t listening.

You wince when he pulls out, clenching around nothing. You try to push yourself up, but your arms refuse. “What are you doing? I wanted you to stay.”

No answer. Just pure silence.

You twist your neck, brows knitted. “Clark? Is something wrong?”

He’s too entranced by the sight in front of him. His essence leaks out of you, and he surges forward to glide his fingers through the mess, gathering it to smear it along your folds. You moan low in your throat as he pushes it back into your hole, your body greedily swallowing two of his fingers.

“You’re—much kinkier than I thought,” you mewl, and then he presses his arousal flush against your lower back, making you chuckle. “Second round?”

He hums, kissing your neck, then your jaw. In one swift motion, he flips you onto your back, pinning you to the mattress. His lips claim yours as his palms slide down to your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers before replacing his touch with his tongue, lavishing attention on each hardened peak in turn.

You rake your nails against his scalp, squirming beneath him. He kisses his way back up to your mouth, biting at your lips.

“I can see you better this way,” he rasps, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds, sighing when he catches your entrance. “You’ll tell me if it hurts?”

Looping your arms around his neck, you tug him closer, kissing him shortly. “I will.”

This position grants him the privilege of watching your eyes widen as he sinks into you, inch by inch, until you’re filled to the brim again. Your nostrils flare, your mouth falling open in silent pleasure. His forehead drops to yours and his eyes roll back, high on the sensation.

He braces both arms on either side of your face, and you lock your ankles at the base of his spine, urging him on. Clark starts a slower rhythm this time, his only focus now to pull you apart.

His balls swing and impact rhythmically against the curve of your ass. You tilt your pelvis on each of his thrusts to help him reach deeper, telling him to go faster, harder.

“You’re so beautiful,” he chants between ragged breaths, whatever thought crosses his mind spilling out unchecked. You’re pinned beneath him, his sheer size overwhelming, like he could consume you whole without much effort. You tilt your head back, turning to putty. “I’d do anything for you. Just say the word and—and I will.”

His eyes fall closed as he inhales deeply, only reopening them once he’s expelled the breath.

“I love you,” he confesses then, voice wrecked, each word punctuated by a jerk of his hips. Any sort of reaction involving coherent speech appears to be beyond you. You just take what he’s giving you, your tits swaying as he pounds into you.

“C-clark, I—” You can’t finish your thought. He can almost see the gears turning in your head, how your face scrunches in ecstasy and the words tangle in your throat. “I—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it back just because I did,” he answers, sneaking a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, circling it with precision. “I just wanted you to know it. I can wait.”

Your breathing staggers. You grab his face to kiss him, tangling your tongue with his. His gaze flicks between your blissed expression and the place where your bodies meet. His own orgasm creeps closer, though he’s determined to wait until you’re there with him.

The headboard keeps rocking against the wall, and you’re murmuring his name like it's the only word you remember of the English language. By the look on your face, he knows you’re close, that you just need a little more pressure for the knot in your stomach to snap.

“I’m gonna get you there, don’t worry,” he promises, rutting harder into you, never letting up on your clit.

“I—I’m so close,” you whine, sucking in a sharp breath, your thighs tightening around his frame. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he pants, holding himself on the edge of the precipice. “I’m right here, honey. I’ve got you.”

You come with a cry, shockwaves wracking your body as your walls clamp and flutter around him. Clark follows instantly, shuddering as he spills deep inside you for the second time, his whimpers muffled by your neck.

He doesn’t pull out until he’s sure you’ve milked every last drop. When he finally does, it’s reluctant, wishing there could be a way to live his whole life buried inside you without facing any consequence. He drops onto the mattress at your side, tugging you into his chest.

To his surprise, he actually feels tired. He’s sticky, sweaty, and madly in love with you.

Wait. He told you he loved you while still inside of you.

Romanticism isn’t dead, ladies and gentlemen, because Clark Joseph Kent is the living proof of it.

Your hand traces absent shapes on his chest, your breath warm near his ear. “I think we need to shower.”

“Yeah,” Clark mutters, staring up at the ceiling. “With holy water.”

You both laugh at that, and he holds you closer, stroking up and down your arm. After a while, he realizes you’re not tracing nonsense on his skin.

You’re writing the same letters, over and over.

I. L. O. V. E. Y. O. U. T. O. O.

“Oh,” he breathes, capturing your fingers and tilting your chin until you’re looking at him. Your lashes flutter, your face glowing with a pleased expression. He can’t stop the smile pulling at his lips. “Really?”

“Yes.” You kiss him softly, brushing your nose against his. “I love you, Clark.”

He seals his mouth with yours. “I think we should start saving to gift Jimmy and Molly a trip somewhere nice.”

“That’s your way of saying thank you for setting us up?”

“Exactly.” He gives you another peck. “I’d suggest preparing yourself for the double dates. I’ve already made my peace with the idea.”

The mere thought doesn’t unsettle you in the least. If anything, it only widens your smile, and your eyes crinkle at the corners.

Clark’s duty on Earth had always been clear. He came from a distant planet called Krypton, and despite the circumstances, his life’s purpose was to serve humanity, to make the world a better place.

What he never expected was that, beyond that destiny, he would find someone who would make his time on Earth feel greater than any calling ever could.

Over the years, experience had taught Clark that whenever Jimmy labeled one of his ideas as brilliant, sometimes… he was right.

dividers by: @chrisssiren <3

[innorality]

clark is in kryptonian heat

part 1 here :p cuz I promise if u don't read it you won't understand a THING

clark kent feels weird, today.

like, really weird.

this morning when he woke up, he felt like he was having a heat stroke. his skin was buzzing and uncharacteristically warm, but he just brushed it off thinking it was his kryptonian body acting up again.

well, he wasn't wrong.

at work, everything felt worse. he felt intensely disoriented, his head buzzing and spinning endlessly. he had trouble controlling his strength, accidentally shattering his coffee mug or even unwilling snapping his keyboard in half.

but everything got worse when he sensed you.

not saw, sensed.

it was unusual, truly. he spotted your body heat among others, could only focus on your voice, and damn, since when does your skirt hug your butt like that? he quickly shook his head to escape those nasty thoughts but, in vain. it was like his entire body—the codex itself—was forcing him to focus on you. every thought in his head were of you, you, you.

but that was before you interacted with him, before you even laid your eyes on him.

when you did, everything spiked.

as soon as he saw those pretty eyes bore into his, he felt the heat in his chest spread out throughout his entire body. he shifted uncomfortably because of the raging boner he had and licked his lips in what seemed to be dehydration.

and his mind recognized it, recognized you—the groove of your walk, the sound your thighs rubbing together with each step, the familiar beating of your heart, and if he listened close enough, he could even hear the sound of your pussy lips–

"hey, clark," you waved at him and he stopped breathing, clenching his jaw tightly to conceal the ungodly sound that was currently clawing at his lips, ready to escape.

you noticed something was wrong with your beloved, and set a hand on his chest. his usually rock solid skin felt softer and incredibly warmer. when you moved to the right, you could feel his larger heart beating atleast ten times faster than it usually would.

"what's wron..." you trailed off when he grabbed your hand—tightly—and gave you a crooked smile as his eyebrows bent and pinched together. "p-please, dear, go away b-before i–" another spark of heat, "j-just go." and with that, he let you go, disappearing into the men's bathroom and leaving you there, confused and concerned.

it was only hours later, in the evening, that you saw clark again.

you were simply getting up to reheat your food before something—someone—crashed through your living room wall, knocking you down with it.

a strong hand wrapped around your head before you could knock it on the ground and before you knew it, a very familiar pair of lips came locking onto yours, kissing you deeply into his palm.

he pulled away to give you a moment to breath as he dipped down into you neck, licking and sucking. "c-clark what has... what has gotten into you?" you barely manage to breath, the dust and smoke of the broken wall was making it hard to inhale (and see clark at all), aswell as the weight of his body on yours.

"i don't- I dunno, I..." he kept licking your skin like a dog, your taste giving him some kind of sexual gratification. "all day I've been... my body felt so... so freakin' warm and just– I felt like all I needed was you... I couldn't even focus on anything i kept..." he was curiously out of breath, like the effort of simply speaking to you while holding back the urge to fuck your brains out was too much for him.

"...I kept smelling you and- and hearing you... and– jesus, I just.. want you so bad, darlin'.." he licked his way back up to your lips, nibbling on your bottom one softly. "clark," you finally managed to say, the dust settling. "tell me what you need." your hair ran up his back and into his hair, scratching his scalp which nearly made his eyes roll back.

"you. I need you, c-can I have you? please?" and the way he's just asking makes you want to give him everything he could ever ask for.

so you do.

as soon as you let out a soft "yes," he became a totally different kryptonian.

and that's how you ended up with your back arching away from the dining table, shoulders pressed against the cold surface by clark himself to keep you from slipping away at each mean thrust of his hips.

it's been, what, 4 orgasms? neither of you knew and honestly, neither of you cared—matter of fact, you both stopped caring when he finished inside for the first time and it happened.

the hooks.

"i- I wanna..." he swallows sharply, "I wanna feel it again, d-dont you, sweet thing? i-it felt so good, right? right." the both of you nodded dumbly at eachother and he smiled, terrifyingly so.

clark kent looked feral. his eyes were as hectic as his hands, moving everywhere. he wanted to see you, to feel you, to give in to you. he was inside you and yet he wanted more. he wanted you to be his—more than you already were.

"stuffin' you full so that- oh, god, yes— so that you can carry my kids... so that everyone will know you're– m-mine... mine, mine." he squeezed your breast, his gaze zeroing onto the oddly shaped (thanks to his buds) bulge on your stomach before his hand followed, caressing his cock through your skin and twitching every time the buds were stimulated.

it felt perfect, truly. he felt like you were made for him. the gummy texture of your walls fit perfectly with his buds as each of them grazed the crevices of your rugae every time his hips bumped into yours.

"c-clark, I don't... I'm gonna— i- i cant-" he presses down onto the bulge which makes you scream, "y-yes you can, baby, please- one more, just one more- i– please, sweetie, gosh, I love you so much!" his speech quickly became incoherent—a sign of his impending orgasm.

another tell-tale sign is, of course, the hardening of his buds. they were so strong that they halted his movement, burying him deep inside you while hooking onto your ridges. "o-oh my god–" you gasped, feeling the vein on his cock rubbing against your g-spot. "t-too much– I'm- I'm too full, clark!" and he shakes his head, chuckling lowly.

"n-no you're not baby! i-i can see it! you still... you can still handle more..." he starts to look more and more pained with each word, his body aching for release. "p-please.. pleasepleaseplease–- take it, baby, take it... please, it hurts... y-you're gonna be good f'me right? gonna be good and take it?" fuck, it was intoxicating. everything was. his speech, his smell, the feeling of his alien dick literally hooking inside you to cum deep in your womb...

"please..." was all you could mutter, but he understood. his body understood.

his release was cataclysmic. the buds settled slightly deeper into your crevices, allowing him to shoot into you with bullseye precision. "h-holy– oh my‐" he couldn't even speak. his breath came out in short pants and he looked up, as if begging some higher being to release him from this seemingly everlasting ache.

upon feeling his warm cum painting your insides, and hearing him mumble "g'nna make you a mommy... you're gonna look s-so pretty with my– hhnnng... my kid inside y-youu...", you orgasmed aswell. you walls clenched and rubbed against the now soft buds on his dick, pressing down onto his shaft which has his stomach clenching and caving, almost folding the kryptonian in half.

in the midst of it all, you swear you saw his eyes glow red for a moment, but he quickly blinked that away. his eyes flickered back to your face, and then back to you pelvis, before he threw his head back again with a groan.

"y-you're... shoot.." he's barely catching his breath, "you're not... full enough.." and he resumes his thrusting which makes you give up on looking at him, eyes lazily rolling back.

your entire body relaxed and went limp, allowing him to use you as he pleased.

"wanna make you a mommy... and you're not full enough."

you were right, after all.

those buds are, in fact, useful for breeding.

[innorality]

"y-you're gonna kill me, sweetie... freakin' kill me..." clark groaned above you, his hips ramming into you like never before as your legs bounced on his shoulders.

clark kent was a possessive man and he knew it. it was in his kryptonian genes, he swears! he can't control the moan that slips out when he successfully marks you with his scent, or the hand that sneaks into the crook of your back in public settings. he tries to, but he can't.

and you know it. you know it so well that you wanted to mess around with it.

and it was only natural for clark to fuck your brains out when he saw the "C" anklet you had on when you came home today.

it got to him, truly. it got to him because he marked you, because you're his and you're showing it off. because now the entire world knows that you, his beloved, belong to him.

he kisses your anklet, his eyes narrowed and uncharacteristically dark. "you're too cute... way too cute f'me, hmm..." and he pecs and pecs, his soft lips contrasting with the force of his thrusts, fucking into you like it's the only way for him to breath. and it might aswell be.

"c-clark, i– ah—! ohh... shit, fuck.." you couldn't even form proper sentences, your lips wobbling at the sensation of him knocking at your cervix. he so desperately wanted to claim you, fully and inside out, and the cute jewelry you had on your ankle was definitely helping.

his heavy balls tightened everytime it reflected the light, shining like the most precious of diamonds. "mine.. all mine..." he mumbled before he nibbled at the "C", his eyebrows bending in pleasure as he neared his end. his pace quickened while one of his hands migrated to your clit, rubbing tight circles to get you off.

you mewled, back arching when you felt the heat of his digits on your bud. the sight of him, blushing and drooling, utterly drunk on his possession—drunk on you—had you quickly approaching your climax, but it's when the first rope of his cum slipped its way into your womb that you finally let go.

you both cried out in your orgasms, his cock twitching with every pulse of your cunt, hips sporadically fucking his seed into you.

"mine, mine... mineminemine—" he chanted, as if repeating it would make it any more true than it already was.

[innorality]

needy!clark kent who...

needy!clark kent who calls himself a good boy during sex. he'd be smashing into you, jackhammering his thick cock and battering your insides while his chest is pressed up against his back, his skin sticking to yours and he whimpers in your ear, "I– I'm a good boy, r-right? yeah? a good, good boy for— hmm, yeah, jus' f'you... all f'youu..." before nibbling on your earlobe when you cry out the slurred praises her lives for.

needy!clark who wants to be good for you, he truly does, but he just can't hold back the thick load of cum that is simply aching to fill you up. and he knows you told him to hold it, to wait and be patient and good, but when he sees those tits of your bouncing in sync with the rhythm at which you're jumping on his sensitive cock, how is he supposed to hold back?

needy!clark who shoots out load after load, his balls tightening with every clench of your sticky walls. the image of your womb getting filled to the brim with his seed is too much for him to handle, and simply thinking of the fact you're full of him has him cumming and cumming and cumming in the matter of minutes, the bulge on your lower stomach twitching with every rope of cum that jumps out to paint your walls.

needy!clark who pretends he's still in kryptonian heat for way longer than he actually is, because all he wants is an excuse to fuck, and fuck, and fuck all day without feeling bad about it. "p-please, baby, need it," he'd beg, deliberately radiating extra heat to pretend he was still in his rut, when he simply was just unreasonably horny.

you eventually caught on, and he knows that you did, but neither of you say anything because the sex is just too good.

needy!clark who fingers you while using his x-ray vision and jerks off to the image of your tight cunt clamping down on his digits. "I see it... oh, gosh, baby, I see it allll..." he mindlessly rambles while his eyes stay dead focused on your pelvis, the sight of your pussy hugging his fingers to much for his lust-clouded mind.

he cums when you get especially tight after bumped into your sweetest spot, his back arching when yours do as he cries out, "p-please, I need to fuh- hmm.. need you.."

needy!clark who came home mid-mission to taste you, his instincts beating his duty. he claims he was having withdrawal, that he felt like he couldn't breath (even though he's literally the man of steel) without the taste of your arousal on his tongue.

so you allow him, ignoring bruce's many phone calls as his tongue lapped you up and his lips sucked on your clit. he eventually ended up blocking bruce's number right after making you squirt on his now filthy tongue.

needy!clark who wants you everyday, all day.

[uhhhj13iguess]

the lover

clark kent x fem!reader nsfw rant

clark kent is such a lover boy in and out of the bedroom, and he would 1000% talk you through it. argue with the wall

masterlist and taglist!

clark kent, the lover

clark kent, who has the world's biggest praise kink. who loves to tell you how beautiful you look on top of him, or how perfectly made for him you are. he loves to feel you clench around his cock each time he calls you his good girl. who can't help but talk you through your orgasms as you cum again and again, praising you for how well you're taking him and how gorgeous you look all fucked out.

clark kent, who talks you through it. who encourages you when you see just how thick he is for the first time, telling you that you can take it. who just won't shut up about how good you feel around him, how tight you are on his cock.

clark kent, who loves to see his bulge in your stomach. who presses down on it as he ruts into you, smirking as he anticipates the whine that falls from your lips. it gives him an ego boost -- to see you so full of him. who loves to tease you before he even touches your entrance, lining himself up on your skin and showing off just how deep he'll be inside of you. just how much he's going to fill you.

clark kent, who loves to be inside of you, no matter the situation. who loves to give you all his attention and energy, fucking you for hours on end like it's his sole purpose in life. but, clark also loves to be inside of you when his attention is elsewhere, feeling you warm and snug around him as he does his work. who loves when you cockwarm him as he edits, a book in your hands as you wrap your arms and legs around his torso, head on his shoulder like a koala. you tried to fight him on it the first few times, trying anything to move and get some sort of friction. needless to say, you lost the fight.

clark kent, who has an insatiable taste for you. who has begged on his knees to eat you out, damn near in tears over the need to taste how sweet you are on his tongue. who could spend hours between your soft thighs, lapping up your juices and whimpering into your cunt as he ruts against the mattress. your moans only encourage him, music to his ears as he eats you out until you squirt all over his face, only to dive back in and clean up the mess he made.

clark kent, who just loves you. who loves to make love to you, and cherish you with every touch. who loves to make you his sole focus in the bedroom, making sure his boxers aren't even off before you've cum at least once. who swears he lives and breathes to hear the way you moan his name when he first enters you, a vice he holds close to his chest.

clark kent, the lover.

[shes-an-odd-bird]

Billy + eddie or if you only do billy hargrove him with a shy female virgin who won't have sex easily with him and he wins her over.

Hi! I do love Eddie, however, I don't write for him, but I will gladly write your Billy/virgin reader request. Sorry it took forever. Hope you enjoy it.

Summery: Billy takes your virginity and you love every second of it. He’s actually very sweet. Maybe even falls for you 🥹

Title: Please Billy

Warnings: !!minors dni, 18+ only!! You and Billy are over 18, smut, dirty talk, fingering, kissing, p in v, loss of virginity, Billy is a sweetie with a big dick

My Masterlist in case you need more Billy

Who wouldn’t want this guy to be your first?👇🏻

Virgins weren’t necessarily Billy’s thing. Sure he’s had a few, but he’s more interested in easy girls. Girls who give up their pussies without a lot of hard work on his end. But you… you were drop dead gorgeous and he seriously couldn’t believe that a sexy little thing like you had never been fucked. He’s been chasing your pretty little ass for weeks now. So here he sits, in your bedroom one evening, your parents out for the night, you sitting on his lap in a pretty little sundress on a big soft cushioned chair. How'd he get so lucky?

He leans back against the plushness, his thick body engulfing the chair, making it seem much smaller than it actually was. His hand rests on your soft bare thigh, thumb rubbing little circles against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, even though it was June and no where near cold. His hot minty breath tickling your ear as he whispers in that deep, sweet, smooth talking voice of his. Voice like honey. Smooth and seductive. Whispers soft, making you bite your lip. Nips at your earlobe, chuckling at your soft giggles. You feel it, that familiar feeling in-between your thighs. "Mmm, pretty girl." He mumbles, other hand squeezing your hip, kneading it softly.

"Billy, I don't think we should." You say, looking into his beautiful blue eyes, loving the way his eyelashes curled, like he was wearing mascara, but of course his were all natural. You feel suddenly embarrassed, like he can read your thoughts, which were opposite of what you were saying. He thinks you're the prettiest thing, soft full lips, all pouty. You had no idea what you were doing to him. Something about you.

Doesn't say anything, just crashes his soft, slightly chapped lips against yours in a much too rough and messy kiss, his tongue fat and thick, no time for you to think, invades your mouth, so hot it makes your head spin. Pulls you closer to him, helping you straddle his lap, instead of sitting across his thighs like you had been, but this position is dangerous. Too dangerous, you think, feeling the heat rushing over your body. His thighs so thick it’s making your legs open impossibly wide, exposing your most intimate parts to his greedy hands. He grinds against you, feeling your heat through his jeans. Your soft, pretty breath against his face. You whimper softly, already feeling like you could cum. He huffs and rests his forehead against yours, eyes so intense it gives you butterflies. Why did you invite him here? You decided a long time ago you weren’t sleeping with him, not because you didn't want him, oh you definitely wanted him, just thought maybe you'd lose your virginity to someone else, someone safer, yet here you are. You’re so dumb, thinking he actually just wanted to come over to see your record collection. How could you fall for that?

"Don't think, baby. Just feel." He suddenly says, voice so deep it sends a wave of electricity down your spine, tickling between your thighs. Can that happen, just with a voice? His thumb brushes over your plump bottom lip, tracing the natural curve.

"I don't know, Billy." Your palms against his hard pecs, barely pushing, barely holding him at bay.

"C'mon baby, don't be like that," he mumbles against your lips. "Wanna make you feel so good." His fingers grazing the damp cotton fabric of your panties. There's an explosion of pleasure running deep inside you. Your mouth open slightly, sending huffs of little breaths into his mouth.

"I want to... It's just, I'm just a little scared." You say. Not so much scared of having sex for the first time, but having with with him. He's a lot to take in, so beautiful, so strong, so much more experienced than you, you feel like you could never please him, how could you possibly, you’re so shy whenever he’s around. You feel so small, like you could get lost just being in the same room with him.

"Shhh, baby. I know you're scared, but I promise, sweetheart, gonna take real good care of ya." His fat hot tongue pushing into your mouth again before you have time to say anything. His thick fingers push your simple cotton panties aside and rub along your soaked slit. “Ohhh,” you moan against his lips. Jesus it feels nice. Too nice. You feel suddenly embarrassed, like he has too much control over you.

He groans at your sweet sounds. You have no idea how crazy you make him, how hard. "So fuckin' wet, baby. Little sexy cunt made just for my fingers?" His words felt lewd, nothing any guy has ever said to you before. You know you must be blushing. His thick middle finger slips inside your tight hole, pumping it in and out real slowly, but very deep. His thumb finds your clit and he rubs wide circles around your sensitive nub, making your hips buck softly. Feels so good you whimper. You’re so wet you can feel it against your thighs.

He swallows the soft little sounds you’re making. Those pretty little noises causing his dick to ache in his too tight Levis. Slowly he adds a second finger, he's impatient. Your pussy making these obscene sounds you can hear even over your Duran Duran record playing on the turntable. He moves his hand, his palm grinding against your clit now, gets his fingers in even deeper, his eyes focused on your pretty face, likes watching you. You're gorgeous. Never knew a girl this pretty before, and he knew a lot of pretty girls. His mouth hangs open, you can see his pink tongue and his perfect white teeth. How can one man be so perfect, so beautiful.

You grab his wrist weakly, "Too much!" You whine, so close to cumming you're afraid. Of course you have before, many times, but usually by yourself. Once with that dorky guy Sam in your Math class, but you basically made yourself cum that time, by rutting against him. He just sort of laid there. This was different though. No one had ever touched you like this before.

"I got you, sweetheart. Gonna feel so good." he murmurs. Something about his touch gentle, still fingering you deep though, his palm grinding harder against your aching clit. You don't want him to stop, you just feel a little overwhelmed, he's big, too much sometimes, thick fingers. Your body wants him desperately, your heart wants him even more, every part of you aches for him, to take from you what you have to offer him. Your innocence. His if he wants it, and you know he does, been begging you for it for weeks.

He can't help but moan, feeling your intense heat, imaging what it will be like when he gets his dick inside you. You’re so tight, feels like your pussy keeps pushing his finger out, but he just pushes in even deeper. Curls them softly, hitting that delicious spot deep inside you, a feeling you never knew existed. He’s biting and sucking on your neck, adding a third finger now, stretching you so nice.

"Slow down, Billy... please... too much" you whimper again. Never having three fingers inside you before, feels intense, in a good way, too good. You start to panic. Feels like you're losing control.

"Not gonna hurt you baby. Gonna make it so good for you." his fingers moving a little slower. His mouth back on yours. "So fuckin' sexy.” He mumbles into your mouth as he pulls the strap of your pretty sundress down with his unoccupied hand. Your beautiful tits bounce free. His face flushed and eyes hazy as he leans forward and takes your nipple into his mouth, wet sounds instantly coming from his sloppy lips as he sucks on you hungrily. This is too much, feels so good, you're so close. His fingers start moving faster inside your aching pussy. He pulls back from your nipple, string of spit connecting his mouth to you, his mouth hangs open a little, making a cute little O shape. His thumb back rubbing faster against your swollen clit. His eyes on yours until you see them go down to watch your tits bounce softly from the roughness of his fingers inside you. You're so beautiful it's hard for him not to just throw you down on the bed and fuck you senseless. Needs to hear you moan his name.

You moan loudly, seeing his pretty pink lips back on your tit, eyes closed, and feeling how deep his fingers are inside you, you lose it, arching your back, rutting against his thick digits, so deep the ring he wears on his middle finger is soaked with your juices. Your hungry pussy clenching around his pumping fingers as you cum.

"Fuck, yeah, baby. That's it." He growls, pumping even faster. "Cum on my fingers, love, such a sweet little pussy." He leans down, grabbing a nipple in his lips and suckles hard, his fat tongue flicking around the hard bud and he feels your walls flutter around his pumping fingers.

"Oh God, Billy!!" You scream, louder than you meant to, you don't even recognize your own voice. "Don't stop, please Billy." No one has ever done this to you, made you feel this way. Your fingers dig into his tan muscular shoulders, gripping the white tank top he's wearing and pulling at it awkwardly. "Billy...it's too much...ahhh." Your eyes rolling back, so lost in your own pleasure.

A slight smirk on his pretty face as he leans against your ear." You're fuckin' gorgeous like this." (he says your name).

Sure, he makes girls cum all the time, but this for some reason, this was the hottest thing he's ever seen, like he's watching a porno, just real. Pretty little thing, making pretty little sounds. The way your eyes flutter closed. Feels things for you. Some kind of ache in his chest. Slowly he eases his fingers out of you as you come down from your high, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean, closing his eyes like he's eating the most delicious honey. Needed to taste you. Has wanted to taste you for weeks now.

He grips your thighs and lifts you up effortlessly, like you weigh absolutely nothing, carrying you the short distance to your big bed. His face so handsome, you can't take your eyes off him, soft little freckles fall across his nose and cheeks, blonde curls bouncing on his forehead, everything about him is too beautiful to be real.

He takes a moment to take you in, sprawled out on your bed, hair all mussed up and spread across your pillows, cheeks flushed, lips pink and swollen from his rough kisses. "Fuck, baby, never seen anything so beautiful in my life." He confesses. Uses lines all the time on girls, but this isn't a line, he means it.

He stands at the edge of your bed, his eyes stay on you as he takes off his tank top. The cotton stretches over his muscular chest and back before he throws it behind him to the floor. He's like a god, tanned and sculpted, perfect specimen, covered in sweat, body glistening, you want to lick it all up. Lick every inch of him.

With a casualness, a lazy air, he undoes the button on his jeans, pushing down the zipper. Suddenly it feels like Christmas, waiting to open your presents. He slowly shimmies his jeans down, they get stuck on his thick thighs at first, before he finally kicks them off completely and flicks them to the floor.

He just stands there before you. Completely naked and unashamed. Like he does this everyday. He’s like no man you have ever seen. Yeah, sure you have seen naked men before, a few anyway, and that one time you saw a porno, but this, this was different. Billy was different. He just smirks and winks at you, tongue dances out of his mouth for a beat, licking at his bottom lip. He knows he looks good, stands there a minute letting you look him over. Soak it all in. He can tell by the look in your eyes that you are feeling a little shy, or maybe nervous, he’s not sure.

You heard the rumors but you weren't sure you believed them, but here it was jutting out at you, the prettiest thing, long, hard and thick, standing proud against his toned stomach. The head glistening with pre-cum. It’s big, real big. A little lighter than the rest of his tan body. You see the softest little bit of blonde curls running from his belly button down, so light you can barely see it against his tan skin. You didn't know Billy had a happy trail and the cutest little tan lines. You're so nervous. No way, never going to fit that thing inside you.

He slowly crawls over you. The heaviness of his body dipping the mattress slightly. He settles down between your spread thighs, one elbow beside your head, the other on his rock hard cock, rubbing it slowly up and down through the damp cotton of your panties. You're already so turned on you could cum again, but also so nervous you don't think you can do this. You’re trembling slightly. "You're so fuckin' beautiful." (he says your name), groaning softly.

"Billy, I don't know. I'm scared." you plead, hoping he's going to be gentle with you.

But before you can even finish your thoughts, your panties are being flung across the room and he’s pushing the fat head of his cock slowly into your wetness, instantly stretching you. "You can take it.” He murmurs, his voice so deep it rumbles in his chest. You swear it just gets deeper and deeper the more turned on he gets or maybe that's just how you hear it.

Your legs instantly close against his body. He feels you tense up. "It's okay, love, just relax for me." he murmurs in your ear, his voice soothing you and tickling your skin. You giggle, can't help it.

He rocks his hips slow, working his thickness deeper inside you. He closes his eyes, feeling your pretty pussy gripping him, you’re so hot and wet. "So tight baby, never felt anything so perfect in my life." He muses.

"Too big, Billy." is all you can say, your fingers digging into his biceps, nails pushing into his tough skin. You feel a burning sensation, but also something else, this intense pleasure like you've never felt before. Like you want nothing more than for him to push so deep inside you and take you right here, hard and fast.

He slides a hand to your face, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing softly over your plump lips, his gaze intense, eyes so blue, ocean eyes you think to yourself. "I promise I'll go slow, baby." he mumbles as he continues to rock his hips working a little more of his cock in, feeling your pussy fluttering, trying to pull him in deep.

He groans loudly against your ear as he feels your tight walls suddenly give way, his thick head pops inside your slick hole. Your legs opening wider for him. The feeling overwhelming you. His hand sliding down your body, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing it. "Mmm, that's it sweetheart, " he moans, jaw clenching as he struggles with himself not to just push himself deep inside you, the urge so strong. Needs to bury himself balls deep in this sweet virgin pussy, but you’re so beautiful, so sweet. Thinks he’s hooked on you. Likes you a lot, something about you.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're doing so good. Taking my cock like a good girl." his voice rumbles against you. You are his. His good girl.

He feels you start to relax, grinning to himself as he rolls his hips, stretching you around his thick girth. "That's it baby, just like that. I wanna feel you pull me in deep." His mouth crashes into yours, tongue pushing into your hungry mouth, swallowing your happy screams. Your pussy gripping his so tight he's losing it. Starts fucking you faster, the bed moving across the wood of your floor, headboard hitting the wall. Your nails raking down his sweaty, muscular back, you feel it flexing as he fucks into you faster, hips snapping forward, driving in an out of your sweet pussy.

"Fuck Billy, Yes...oh GOD!! Fuck me Billy, please...feels so good! Don't stop!" You cry loudly, your voice filling the whole room. Your hips start moving, rising up to meet his deep thrusts. There's no more pain or burning, just an aching need that only Billy can fill. Your heart beating hard against your ribs, his curls tickling against your skin.

"Don't stop, Billy, please!" You beg him, your legs wrapped around him so tight, heels digging into his ass. You want him deeper, need him deeper, need more of him, all of him. Your arms holding onto him for dear life.

His need to pump every last bit of his cum deep inside you overwhelms him. Desperately wants to make this last, but your tight hot cunt feels so good. So perfect. Made just for him. He's going to cum, the feeling overwhelming him as he slams into you, his sweaty curls sticking to his neck. "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!" he chants under his breath as his balls tighten, his forehead against yours, his curls sweaty now, brush your cheek. Each drag of his thick length against your sensitive walls sends bolts of hot pleasure shooting through your entire body.

“Gonna cum, baby girl,” He warns you, hips fucking you desperately, chasing his rapidly approaching high. He can feel tightening in his heavy balls, burning pressure building at the base of his spine. He slams into you, buries himself balls deep as he cums, flooding your pussy with streams of hot cum. Everything around you disappears except him. You squeeze your arms and legs around him, holding him tightly against you. You moan as your pussy clamps down around his shaft, as your second high crashes over you. Your walls spasm and flutter. You're pussy like velvet, milking him for every bit of his hot cum. "FUCK, take it baby, take my fuckin' load! All for you, baby girl." A deep moan leaving his throat as you both cum together. Your pussy milking his cock for every last delicious drop. "Fill me up, Billy, fill my pussy." you cry out, eyes watering, overwhelmed with intense pleasure.

His thickness collapses heavily on top of you, his muscular, sweaty body pressing you into the soft mattress. You love feeling his weight and warmth against you, even in this summer heat. He grinds his hips against yours, working his sensitive, softening cock inside, an instinctive urge to push his load deeper inside you. Feels like an animal, filling you up, marking you as his. His girl.

He pants, struggling to catch his breath as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Smells so good, your soft perfume. Places tender kisses along your racing pulse, feeling it beneath his soft lips. “You were so fuckin' perfect, angel” he murmurs, his voice rough. He can feel the cool air hitting his sweaty back as he lies there on top of you, his heartbeat slowing down. He knows he should pull out, should use some common sense, also desperately needs a smoke, but for now, he just wants to stay buried inside your perfect heat, endorphins running through his body making him smile to himself. Doesn't ever cum inside girls, too smart for that, but you, well this feels different. Might regret it later, but he doubts he will.

Your heart is pounding too. You feel every inch of his muscular body pressed heavily against your soft curves. You never want him to get up. You brush your fingers through his sweaty curls. No way did you ever think you would let him cum inside you and now, here you lay, hoping he never pulls out.

He hesitates a moment, a war raging inside him. Every instinct, every habit, every past experience is screaming at him to pull out, to roll over, to leave as quickly as possible before things get too messy. That's what he's always done, what he's always had to do, to protect himself from getting too close to girls, from getting hurt. But as he looks at you, your eyes saying something, something that looks almost like love, he feels a strange tugging in his chest. He feels a sudden, overwhelming urge to stay, to hold you.

Instead of pulling away like he normally would, he surprises himself by doing the exact opposite. He shifts positions slightly, rolling you close into his arms. Tucks your head under his chin, cradling you against his chest as he settles back against the pile of pillows.

“Mmm that was really nice, Billy.” You mumble against his sweaty chest.

He reaches over to the nightstand, taking you with him, grabbing his pack of Marlboros and shaking one out of the pack. He places it between his lips, the unfiltered end dangling loosely as he settles back against the pillows again, cradling you back against his chest. “Yeah, real nice, baby.” Is all he says, taking a long, deep drag, feeling the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling slowly, the cloud billowing up towards the ceiling. The nicotine adding to his already relaxed state. His hand rubs soothing circles over your back. You feel so warm and cozy against him, your eyelids flutter and then close softly. You nuzzle closer, smell him, feeling safe and warm in his strong arms.

He takes another drag. He's never had anyone snuggle in his arms before. Not that girls haven't tried, they have. He just never wanted to linger around long enough to let them. But with you, it feels right, feels good. He doesn't know why. Takes a final pull of his cigarette before dunking it out in the glass of water by your bed.

You touch the chain that rests around his neck and this strange warmth spreads over him, doesn't get it, this sudden urge he has. Almost on impulse he reaches up and takes off the dangly silver and black earring he's wearing. Looks at it. Doesn't understand what he's about to do, just going on a feeling. Looks at your pretty face, your stunning doe eyes looking back at him, almost confused. He has this sudden urge to give you something of his, something just for you. Wants to see you walking around school wearing it, like you belong to him, like your his.

Slowly pushes your hair back away from your ear and carefully fastens the earring to your earlobe. The silver glints for a moment in the low lamplight of the room.

"What's this for?" You smile, touching the earring once it's in place. You're surprised. This isn't what you expected, although none of tonight is what you expected honestly. His fingers linger, thumb brushes over the silver, his blue eyes soft, warm, somehow different.

"Just somethin' for you babe, wanted you to have it." His hand slides down to your waist, squeezing it softly.

First time he's ever given someone a piece of jewelry, first time he's wanted to give someone something to show that they are his. He's not a sappy guy, never felt the need to bare his soul to anyone, especially not to a girl he just fucked, but there are feelings bubbling up in him that are a little foreign to him. Kind of felt it before tonight too. All those times he drove you home after school. Thought maybe he just wanted to fuck you. So why is he still feeling this way? The thought of getting too deep, or of letting someone in is terrifying. Can't say this stuff out loud, just squeezes your waist and kisses your mouth. That's the best he can do. Hoping you can feel his thoughts in that kiss and that small gesture, giving you a piece of himself, even if it's just a cheap piece of nothing. Hopes you understand what he means in that gesture. Hopes you can understand what he can't say.

[djohours]

ahem.. billy smut where him and reader fuck all day because it just feels so good perhaps…

I hope this tickles ur fancy hehehe

cw: 18+, minors dni, smut, sweat, cum as lube, hand stuff, dirty talk, p in v (unprotected as always, don’t be like them)

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Billy’s panting, blinking rapidly as his body rocks with his motions. He’s absolutely covered in sweat, making his skin cool and sticky. Little grunts and groans roll from his lips as he places his palm on your chest, pinning you to the mattress as he drills into you.

You’re not sure what’s gotten into the pair of you today but this is round two and it doesn’t feel like you’re gonna stop anytime soon. It just feels too good to stop.

This particular session is lasting extra long because every time you or Billy get close, you stop. Like now, his face contorts and he pulls out of you quickly, squeezing the base of his cock to abstain from cumming. He leans down, licking into your mouth and grabbing a hold of your jaw.

“Fuck, you feel so goddamn good,” he babbles into the open mouthed kiss.

You smile at the compliment and skate your hands down the damp skin of his back, feeling the contours of his muscles. “Thank you.”

“No, fuck that, thank you,” he purrs. “So fucking soaked for me, milking my cock like you were made for it.”

“That’s ’cause I am,” you hum out, “All I wanna do is make you feel good.”

Billy nips at your jaw, groaning lowly, “Such a good girl for me.”

He flips you over then, so he’s on his back and you’re straddling him. You hold yourself up, palms on his pecks. With shaky legs, you grind down against him. The shaft of his cock dragging against your dripping folds. You bite your lip, eyes rolling back before your lids close as you let yourself use the side of his hard cock to rub yourself silly. Quick rolls of your hips, the tip of his cock catching against your clit in an excruciatingly pleasurable sensation.

“Christ,” he huffs. “That’s right, baby. Make yourself feel good.”

“Billy,” you babble out, working your hips faster and harder.

You feel sweaty and way too hot but you’re determined now. Bliss only an inch away. He grabs hold of your hips and squeezes them, “Slip it in, please baby.”

Quick to obey, you lift yourself enough to line the head of his cock with your pulsing hole and sink down in one fluid motion. The pair of you moan out in unison. Billy guides your movements with his grip on you, gazing up at you with lust filled eyes. You’re the hottest goddamn thing he’s ever seen. Can’t get enough of you.

“Fuck,” he heaves, “Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.”

You grin wide, bouncing up and down on his length. His tip strokes that deep, spongy spot inside you repeatedly. Makes your eyes cross with how amazing it feels. Your hands find your tits, groping and pinching your nipples as you ride him. The sight makes Billy even more feral. Soon, he’s planting his feet on the mattress, holding you still and thrusting up into you with a relentless force. You cry out, head leaning back as he fucks up into you.

“Billy, Billy, Billy!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moans out, voice wavering from the exertion, “Say my name, just like that.”

You continue chanting, occasionally interrupted with high pitched moans. Then his hips still, holding you firmly against him as he moans and grunts. Signaling to you that he’s cumming, and you feel it. Hot, thick spurts filling your cunt. You whine at the feeling of it and then he’s pulling you off of him, tosses you on your back and kisses you harshly. As he’s making out with you, his fingers find themselves between your legs and they sink into you. Feeling his cum coating your walls, he uses it as lube as he fucks you with his thick fingers.

A loud cry is swallowed by his mouth, his fingers curl every time he pumps them inside. Knowing exactly where that special spot is. The cries don’t stop, repeating with every thrust of his fingers. He licks all filthy into your mouth.

The pressure builds in your stomach rapidly. Billy doesn’t stop kissing you for a beat, panting into your mouth as your orgasm sneaks up on you. Waves crashing through you and he talks you through it. Finally breaks the kiss to press his hot mouth against your ear.

“That’s a good girl, cum for me, just like that, you’re so good for me.”

Then the pair of you catch your breath. Laying all curled up together, sweaty and exhausted. Yet still not satisfied.

Barely ten minutes later, Billy’s grinding against your thigh and kissing sloppy against your jaw. And you feel it— he’s still hard. You giggle and reach down to grab his erection.

“You wanna keep going?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he begs.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Vampire lover that can’t drink your blood without you keeping his cock warm.

He has to be balls deep in your pussy, otherwise he gets all hard and cums in his pants just from one sip of your blood.

It’s just way less messy to already have his cock buried in your cunt, and he doesn’t like to waste his seed. He’s a powerful vampire that needs an heir, that sperm is valuable!!

So every time he needs to feed, he pushes your expensive panties to the side and sits you on his cock, content to cum inside of you.

[amornoire]

Sounds like either Elijah or Klaus…possibly Kol too. I’d take all 3 tbh.

[wholoveseggs]

would you ever do a story like Y/N is at a bar and some guy wont stop flirting with her and Elijah sees it and gets mad?

Insatiable

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You are at the club with the Mikaelsons, and your husband Elijah gets a little jealous when someone else hits on you.

♡♡ Thank you for the request sweet @nerdygamer829! I love writing possessive Elijah, and I would love to party with the Mikaelsons ♡♡

♡♡ Working on another fic i'll be posting tomorrow! Its a sweet domestic Elijah one ~xoxo ♡♡

3.9k words - Warnings: smuttt, possesive!elijah, dom!elijah, lots of drinking, drunk mikaelsons, drunk reader, public sex, rough sex, fingering, grinding, slight humiliation, exhibitionism, biting, blood drinking && dancing...

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer

Partying with the Mikaelsons was always a dangerous game, but one you would play on the regular. They were a fun group who could be a little wild in their partying ways, and if you weren't careful you would end up getting swept away with the craziness of the night.

Rebekah had convinced you to come out with them to a popular nightclub that was filled with sweaty bodies and the smell of alcohol and cheap perfume. She had been a bit mopey for a couple of days, having gotten into a fight with Marcel, so she decided a night out was just what she needed. When Klaus and Kol joined you both in the club, the night quickly devolved from there.

"Come on darling, drink up!" Klaus urged, handing you another shot of vodka.

You shook your head and held up a hand to refuse the drink. "Nope, I think I've had enough."

Klaus scoffed and shoved the drink into your hand. "Come now, sweetheart. I'll make sure you're not hungover, just have fun for once."

"You always say that, and I'm always hungover." You sighed, but then you proceeded to down the shot.

You winced as the alcohol burned the back of your throat and then slammed the empty glass down onto the counter. Klaus chuckled and shook his head at your pained expression. He signaled to the bartender for two more shots and handed you another, raising his own glass in a toast.

"To our night of debauchery." Klaus smirked, tipping his glass towards you before taking his shot.

You chuckled and then did the same. This time you managed to keep from making a face at the strong taste of the liquor. Rebekah came over and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, looking rather drunk. She was a giggly, happy drunk, and always wanted to dance.

"I love you, you know that right?" Rebekah said, leaning heavily on you.

You smiled and patted her arm. "Yeah, I know, I love you too, Rebekah."

"No, but … like … I really love you. You're the best thing that happened to my brother," she explained, nodding her head as she spoke.

Klaus and Kol snickered and Rebekah looked at them in confusion. "What? It's true! She is sooooo good for him. They're perfect for each other."

You rolled your eyes and took Rebekah's drink from her, making her frown. "Hey, I was drinking that."

"No more for you," you replied, giving her a stern look and handing it to Kol without even looking his way. He dutifully drank it back in one gulp and handed the empty glass to Klaus who shook his head and gave it to a random person walking by.

"Come on, let's dance, yeah?" you suggested, taking Rebekah's arm off your shoulder and dragging her to the dancefloor.

The two of you danced for a few songs until Rebekah got bored and went off to find some poor sucker to bite. You weren't really a fan of dancing alone, so you went looking for Klaus and Kol, but they were nowhere to be found. Eventually, you gave up and decided to head over to the bar for another drink.

You pushed through the throng of people and managed to get to the front. Leaning against the bar, you waved the bartender over and ordered a whiskey. You were really starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, your head buzzing and your movements a little slower than normal. You felt a warm hand on your lower back, you were about to turn and see who it was when the familiar voice of your husband sounded next to your ear.

"On me," he said to the bartender and the man nodded.

You looked over at Elijah and smiled. "You're late,"

Elijah took the drink from the bartender and handed it to you, leaning in to kiss you. "Just fashionably so."

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of the whiskey, relishing the burn as it went down your throat. Elijah wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, his hand settling on your hip. You looked up at him and smiled. He was so handsome, especially with the way the lights in the club cast shadows across his face and the way he was so casually dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt.

"You look good," you told him, placing a hand on his chest and looking up at him.

He smirked, leaning down to kiss you. "So do you. I don't think I've ever seen you in this dress before."

"It's Rebekah's, and she was determined I wear it," you replied, smoothing down the fabric that hugged your curves.

His dark eyes seemed to smolder as they roamed over your body, his hand sliding lower on your hip. He signaled the bartender for a drink of his own, keeping his other arm firmly around your waist, holding you close to his side. He was always so protective, especially in public. It was almost as if he was afraid someone would steal you away if he wasn't paying attention.

You finished your drink and set the glass down on the bar, leaning against Elijah's side and placing your hand on his chest. You could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt, and you looked forward to the end of the night without the barrier of clothing between the two of you. Elijah had only arrived moments before, and already your body was reacting to his presence.

Klaus and Kol had returned and joined the two of you at the bar, the three of them discussing something that you weren't really interested in. Elijah's hand stayed on your hip the whole time, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your skin. You could feel the alcohol flowing through your veins, making your skin hot and your head fuzzy. You wanted to dance again, but this time with your husband.

"Come on," you tugged at Elijah's shirt, trying to pull him towards the dancefloor.

"I'll meet you out there, just a moment," he replied, turning back to the conversation with his brothers.

You huffed and gave him a look. "I'll just go dance with Rebekah, then."

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and smirked. You knew he wasn't a fan of the way people danced in clubs, he preferred something more formal, but you didn't care. You wanted to dance, and if he wasn't going to join you, then you'd just have to find someone else.

You made your way out to the dance floor, weaving through the throng of sweaty bodies. The music was loud, the bass thumping, and the air was thick with heat and lust. It was the perfect atmosphere for letting loose and having fun.

You couldn't find Rebekah, but you didn't let that stop you from moving your hips to the music. The alcohol made everything feel better, the sensations more intense, the beat of the music throbbing in your veins.

You felt a pair of hands on your hips, and you turned your head to see who it was. The guy was tall, with tattoos all over, his eyes raking over your body appreciatively. He smiled and began moving with you, his hands sliding up your sides, pulling you closer to him.

"You're gorgeous," he said in your ear.

You giggled, the alcohol making you more receptive than usual to a stranger's advances. His hands were firm and sure, and the way he moved his body was almost hypnotic. You felt yourself relaxing in his arms, allowing him to guide you as you danced.

"What's your name, gorgeous?" he asked, his voice low and raspy.

"Ohh that's a good question," you giggled again, feeling a little tipsy from all the alcohol you had consumed. "My friends call me (Y/N), but you can call me whatever you want."

The guy grinned, his eyes flashing with a predatory gleam. "(Y/N), huh? That's a pretty name."

You smiled, your head swimming with the buzz of alcohol. You were enjoying the attention, Elijah was always so busy lately that you rarely got any one on one time. You hadn't had sex in over a month, and the thought of it made your body ache with need.

The guy's hands wandered, sliding over your hips and ass, and you let him. He was attractive, and you were feeling reckless.

"Let me buy you a drink," he offered, his breath hot on your neck.

"Sure," you agreed, following him to the bar.

He ordered two shots of vodka, and you eagerly took yours. He chuckled and took his own, his eyes never leaving your face. He suddenly leaned in to kiss you, but you quickly deflected, turning your head so that his lips landed on your cheek instead.

You giggled nervously, feeling a little guilty for leading him on. "Sorry, I'm married,"

He didn't seem put off, smiling and shrugging. "So? I'm not going to tell."

You laughed and shook your head, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. You were a little flustered, and the alcohol was making your thoughts cloudy.

The guy placed his hand on your lower back, leaning in to speak in your ear. "Just one more drink, that's all I'm asking for."

This had gone a bit too far, and you were starting to get uncomfortable. "No, I'm sorry. I have to go,"

"You don't have to be such a bitch about it," he snapped, his hand tightening on your waist.

You pulled away from him, and his grip tightened, causing you to wince. He had switched up on you so fast, his tone and demeanor changing, and you knew you had to get away from him.

"Let go of me," you demanded, trying to pull away.

He refused to let go, his other hand moving to your ass, squeezing it roughly. You were getting angry now, and you were about to slap him across the face when your husband's voice sounded behind you.

"I suggest you let go of my wife, or else I will rip out your spine and beat you with it." Elijah growled, his hand coming down hard on the guy's wrist, breaking his hold on you.

The guy cursed, rubbing his wrist and backing up, holding his hands up in surrender. "Whoa, man, chill out. We were just having some fun."

Elijah grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt and yanked him forward, his eyes dark and full of fury. "You will never lay a hand on her again, is that understood?"

The guy nodded frantically, his eyes wide with fear. Elijah released him, shoving him away roughly. You watched as the guy disappeared into the crowd, and then turned back to face your husband.

Elijah looked furious, his eyes hard and his jaw clenched tightly. He had clearly seen what happened, and he wasn't pleased. You were worried he was angry at you for being so reckless, and you braced yourself for a lecture.

Instead he took your hand and led you through the crowd, not quite sure where he was taking you. The club was big, with several floors, and a variety of rooms. He finally found a quiet area on the second floor, overlooking the dancefloor, and turned to face you.

He didn't say a word, he just grabbed you by your waist and pushed you against the wall. His lips were on yours in an instant, rough and demanding, a stark contrast to his usual gentle way with you. 

His hand slid down your leg and pulled it up to hook around his hip, pressing his hardening cock against you. He was really worked up, and you couldn't deny the way it made your body respond, a bolt of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"You're mine," he growled, grabbing your other leg and lifting you up, wrapping them around his hips.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, stroking the back of his neck to comfort him. "He... I... Just took it too far."

He nodded, a soft, possessive growl rumbling in his chest. "I saw you dancing, watching you grind against another man nearly drove me crazy."

You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark with lust. He was breathing heavily, his body pressed against yours, his hands holding you tightly, keeping you in place.

"I'm sorry, 'Lijah," you mumbled, trying to hide your smile.

His eyes narrowed, slowly smiling back at you. "You're not sorry at all."

He was right, you weren't sorry, not when his body was so close to yours, his hands all over you. He only behaved this way when you pushed his buttons in just the right way, and tonight you were happy to see his rough possessive side come out to play.

You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to look innocent. "No, not even a little bit,"

He smirked, shaking his head, his lips brushing over yours. "I know how much you like it when I show you who you belong to," he spoke softly, his hands sliding up your thighs pushing your dress up to expose your panties.

You shuddered, your heart racing in anticipation. "Yes, and tonight I think I really need a reminder."

He pressed his thumb against your clothed cunt, rubbing it in a slow, agonizing circle, making your toes curl. "We'll see how much you need to be reminded once I'm done with you,"

There was a dark promise in his eyes, and you couldn't wait to see what he had in store for you. He tore off your panties in one quick motion, stuffing them into his back pocket. His hand returned between your legs, finding your clit and circling it with agonizing slowness.

"Tell me, did he make you wet?" He asked, leaning in to suck on the flesh of your neck, his tongue tracing patterns on your skin.

"N-no..." you breathed, your hips bucking against his hand, trying to get more friction.

He chuckled at your desperation, his fingers sliding lower, "so this wet little pussy is all for me?"

"Just you," you whined, trying to keep quiet despite the throbbing need growing between your thighs.

He smirked, sliding a finger into your soaking cunt. You moaned, letting your head fall back against the wall, your eyes fluttering closed. He continued to slowly finger fuck you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in a slow, firm circle.

"Please..." you whispered, your hips grinding against his hand.

"Please, what?" He asked, his voice a low growl.

"More," you breathed, unable to form complete sentences.

His hand went to your throat, squeezing lightly, his thumb resting on your pulse point. Your heart was racing, and your breath was coming in short gasps, your body aching for release. He added a second finger, his movements becoming faster, more urgent, his eyes never leaving your face.

You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing with anticipation. Your hips moved in time with his fingers, your hands gripping his shoulders, holding yourself steady.

He suddenly pulled his hand away, your eyes snapping open at the loss of sensation. You were about to complain when he squeezed your throat again, harder this time. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a heated, passionate kiss, his body flush with yours, using his hips to pin you against the wall.

He used his free hand to unzip his jeans, pulling his cock out, smirking as you felt it press against your stomach. He didn't take his hand from your throat, merely used his grip to hold you in place.

You realized how exposed you both were, anyone could come up here, or look up from the dancefloor below and see your lewd display.

"Elijah... Wait, not here..."

"Not here?" He asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Not here where anyone can see how desperate you are for me?"

Your face heated up at his words, and you looked away, trying to avoid his piercing gaze. He suddenly gripped your chin, forcing you to

"Eli...," you whispered, looking up at him from under your eyelashes, trying to convince him to stop, pressing your hands into his chest.

"That's what makes it so much fun," he smirked.

Your eyes went wide when you realized there was no changing his mind. He was determined to fuck you, right here in the club, where anyone could see and it was turning you on more than it should.

He could sense your unease mixed with your arousal, he kissed you, softer this time, but no less urgent.

"I won't let anything happen to you, my love," he whispered against your lips, his hands moving to grab your hips. "Now spread your legs."

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding, and then did as he asked. He lifted you up, his hands cupping your ass, pulling you closer to him. You felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and you moaned, your eyes closing as he eased into you.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his fangs scraping across your sensitive skin, his hips rocking slowly, pushing himself deeper inside of you. You could hear him breathing heavily, groaning softly as he filled you completely.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands clutching at his shoulders, his skin hot beneath your fingertips. His pace increased, his thrusts becoming more forceful, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body.

He smiled, his eyes dancing with amusement. He was enjoying watching you struggle to stay silent, and the thrill of the possibility of being caught. And the way you clung to him, looking at him with desperation and lust. It was the most alive he had felt in a long time.

You could hear people coming down the hall, laughing and talking, and you froze.

"Elijah..." you breathed, panic in your eyes.

He placed his hand over your mouth, shushing you, his eyes focused on yours. He kept thrusting, his movements becoming rougher, his fingers digging into your ass.

"Do you want them to see how badly you need my cock? How you're practically begging me to fuck you harder?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes full of mischief.

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head, your breath hitching in your throat. He continued his brutal pace, his body flush against yours, his hand still covering your mouth. You could feel his fangs scraping against your neck, his cock pounding into you, and you struggled to keep quiet.

The footsteps were closer, and you could hear their laughter echoing down the hall. If they saw the two of you like this, you'd be mortified.

Suddenly, he stopped, his hips stilling, his cock buried deep inside of you. You let out a soft, needy whine, desperate for more. He grinned, his hand leaving your mouth, moving to cup your cheek, his thumb running across your lips.

"Shhh," he whispered, his eyes flashing with amusement. "You don't want anyone to know what we're doing, do you?"

You shook your head, trying to catch your breath, your body trembling. The footsteps were fading now, the group moving on, and you let out a sigh of relief. He waited until the sound disappeared before he started fucking you again.

You gasped, your hands clinging to his shirt, your body aching with need. He held you tight, his hands gripping your ass, pulling you against him with each hard thrust. His lips were pressed against your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin. You felt his fangs scraping along your neck, then they sunk into your skin, piercing the flesh.

"Fuck, 'Lijah!" you gasped, your back arching, your toes curling as pain shot through your body.

The sting of his bite was sharp, but it was quickly replaced by a wave of intense pleasure. He growled against your skin, his hips moving faster, his cock driving into you deeper and harder, his movements frantic and wild.

He kept drinking from you, his body tense, his hands holding you tightly, his cock thrusting into you. He could feel his climax building, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. He pulled his fangs from your neck, his tongue licking at the puncture wounds, his hands grabbing at your hips, pulling you closer.

His lips were bloody, his eyes black with lust, his fangs still barred. It was the most beautiful sight, seeing him like this, and knowing that you were the one who had driven him to the edge.

You grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a passionate kiss, his mouth warm and soft. He tasted like blood and sex, and you wanted nothing more than to be completely consumed by him.

You felt yourself tumbling over the edge, your body shuddering, a soft cry escaping your lips. He groaned against your mouth, pressing his hips against yours as he came, his body trembling.

He leaned his forehead against yours, both of you struggling to catch your breath, your heart racing. He chuckled, pulling back slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Well, that was unexpected," he said, a smirk on his lips.

"Definitely," you agreed, unable to stop the smile that spread across your face.

He chuckled again, his eyes full of warmth. He slowly pulled out of you and set you down, keeping his hands on you, making sure you were steady. You fixed your dress, smoothing it down, a little embarrassed at what you had just done.

"I hope no one saw," you murmured, blushing.

He shook his head, his fingers gently lifting your chin so you were looking at him. "If they did, I wouldn't care. You're mine, and I want everyone to know it."

You giggled, leaning into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

He tucked himself back into his jeans and made sure you looked presentable, although you couldn't exactly hide all the hickeys and marks he left on your neck. His hand intertwined with yours as he led you back downstairs, a satisfied grin on his face.

Back on the dancefloor he pulled you close, his hand settling on the small of your back. You danced together, swaying to the music, his body pressed against yours, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

Rebekah, Kol and Klaus all watched the two of you from the bar, amused smiles on their faces.

"Do you think she knows that this place is pretty much packed with vampires... And everyone heard them?" Kol asked, glancing at his siblings.

Rebekah snorted, shaking her head, taking a sip of her drink. "I don't think so,"

Klaus laughed, a wide grin on his face. "Elijah definitely knows,"

"Oh, I'm sure he does," Kol smirked, winking at his sister. "And he doesn't give a fuck."

They all chuckled, and Rebekah raised her glass, gesturing towards her brother and you.

"To Elijah and his loud, insatiable wife," she laughed.

The other two raised their glasses and they clinked together, all three of them laughing. They watched as Elijah leaned in and whispered something in your ear, causing you to blush, and your heart to race. Partying with the Mikaelsons was never without a bit of scandal and mischief, and tonight was no different.

[amornoire]

"I suggest you let go of my wife, or else I will rip out your spine and beat you with it." Elijah growled.

Lol this shouldn’t be funny but it is + it’s also turning me on 🥵

"Do you think she knows that this place is pretty much packed with vampires... And everyone heard them?" Kol asked, glancing at his siblings.

Klaus laughed, a wide grin on his face. "Elijah definitely knows,"

Naughty Eli but I’m sooo here for it. We should totally do it often.

"To Elijah and his loud, insatiable wife," she laughed.

Hear hear Bex! And insatiable I shall always be, how can’t I when I have Eli as a husband??!

[hertzwritings]

Three’s (the best) company (part 2 to Jealous)

A/N: ooooooh, boy, the first part blew up – and I’m glad I’m not the only one, who’s thirsting for these two tall glasses of water. This one is the second and final part (maybe) to this request from @fanartandfanfiction and it made me take a shower because of the pure FILTH I’m about to deliver to y’all.

Remember, feedback feeds the soul and requests are always open! A quick note: This is mainly a Henry Cavill blog, BUT I’m about to expand a little, and if you got anyone you’d either want to jon Henry x reader or just have a separate lil’ thing, let me know! Also, I’m going to start making a separate masterlist of gender-neutral stories, so if you have any ideas for that, I’d love to hear them!

MASTERLIST

HENRY CAVILL MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairings: Henry Cavill x female reader x Chris Evans

Warnings: Language, smut (18+, minors DNI PLEASE), fingering, oral (M and F receiving), p in v, anal, unprotected sex, choking, breathplay, light BDSM, Dom!Henry, Soft!Dom!Chris, double-trouble, spanking, degradation-kink, praise-kink, breeding-kink, daddy-kink, sir/master-kink, cream pies, cum-play, toy-play and probably some other shit I forgot about

Wordcount: 5.471 (not even sorry)

Part 1

Three’s (the best) company

You walked slowly to the two men, who were still whispering, and smiled at Chris, trying to ignore the weird stirring in your stomach.

“You ready?” You asked with a smile. He nodded and patted Henry on his shoulder. “Sure. I’m just going to use the bathroom first, then we’ll find the seats, okay?” You nodded and squirmed a little under his gaze, that seemed to burn into you. As soon as Chris was out of view, Henry turned to you with narrowed eyes and an unreadable expression lingering on his face.

“When I said you should go live your life, I didn’t mean find someone older than me.” He whispered, a smile on his face as several journalists passed by. You quirked your eyebrow a little and leaned your head to the side. “Well, maybe I just have daddy-issues.” He groaned. “Besides, who are you to tell me what to do or who to do? I thought you had a lapse of judgement.” “Well…” He didn’t know what to say, sighing. “You’re being a brat.” He almost pouted and you had to bite back a laugh. “Says you?” He rolled his eyes and moved until he was flush with you, reporters and cameras on you both as he leaned in. “You should be careful, Y/N. You’ve got no idea how badly I want to fucking punish you right now.” You couldn’t help the surge of heat to your core, but he moved away quickly before you had a chance to answer, and you saw Chris jog towards you both.

“Alright, baby, can you go find our seats? I just have something I need to discuss with Henry.” You weren’t much for it, but you nodded and left the two men and found your seat. You groaned as you saw the small pieces of paper with the names on them – you were going to sit next to Chris and Henry on his other side. You had kind of hoped that Henry would be next to you, but no matter.

You sat down, straightening your dress, the high slit on your thigh falling open. You couldn’t help but smile slightly at the thought of teasing Chris a little; it wouldn’t be the first time. Your last project with Chris had led to a few drunken nights and light, flirty teasing – all in good fun, of course. And now you’d been going steady with him for a few months, it would be even more fun, mostly because you knew how easily you could rile him up.

As you looked towards the entrance, you couldn’t help but bite back a moan as you saw the two men walk towards you, talking in low voices, their strides dominant and firm. It made you squirm in your seat.

“Hi, sorry it took a while. We had some stuff to talk about, we’re maybe doing a project next year.” Chris apologized as they sat down. You nodded and smiled. “No problem, really.” You smiled softly. He winked at you and faced the screen, waiting for the movie to start. “By the way, wat’s the movie about?” He asked with a grin on his lips. You rolled your eyes. “You’re an ass.” He chuckled and leaned in, kissing your cheek. Even over the loud chatter and people getting seated, you could hear Henry groan at the affection. “But I’m America’s ass, so you’re not allowed to be angry with me.” He retorted. The lights dimmed, and your director, Craig, got on stage and droned on about his vision, the work behind it and the many thanks, he had to get through before the movie started.

Chris was restless next to you and when you glanced at him, you saw his hand jerking, as if he wanted to do something while Henry was whispering in his ear. What the hell were they talking about? You leaned over to ask, but the movie started in the same moment as you opened your mouth, and you fell back against your seat with a soft groan.

30 minutes in, you were restless in your seat, a throb in your core, as you watched you and Henry on the screen – it was electric to see the two of you practically dry-humping on the motorcycle, and you felt weirdly turned on by it.

“Girl, you need to stop moving around so much.” Chris whispered in your ear. You exhaled as his lips ghosted over your earlobe. “I’m just… Uncomfortable.” You whispered back, clenching your thighs together, eyes staring unseeingly at the screen. “Well, your dress is riding up and it’s damn distracting.” He whispered, his fingers gliding over the bare skin on your thigh. You hadn’t even noticed the way your dress had gathered around your waist, the slit almost on your hip. “Sorry.” You whispered back, trying to adjust again. It helped nothing, except for your dress riding even further up. You bit your lip at the feeling of Chris’ fingertips still lingering on the bare skin, sending surges of goosebumps down your body. You felt him shift a little closer. “You need to take the edge off?” He mumbled, his fingers a little closer to your inner thigh. Your breath hitched. Here? You glanced around at the people around you, all eyes glued to the screen, and nodded once, your eyes on the screen as images flashed in front of you.

His fingers dipped, gliding sensually against your inner thigh, and you spread your legs slightly, allowing his fingers to gently stroke against the wet patch on your panties. You sighed happily as his fingers deftly moved your panties to the side, and you felt it a little strange, as if his hand was bigger than you first suspected it too be, your panties stretched over your skin. You shimmied and grabbed the side of your panties, moving them down slightly for him to grab – he quickly took them, moving them down your legs so he had free access to your wet core. He hummed happily as his fingers found your throbbing clit, a long finger stroking circles over it; you moaned under your breath as he added pressure, more than you expected him to, and you sank a little deeper in your seat to allow yourself to spread your legs further. “You’re fucking dirty, aren’t you?” he whispered. You moaned softly as he dipped a finger inside of you, curling up. You felt so full already, it was strange – you knew he had thick fingers, but this? This was new. He pumped slowly, adding another and you had to bite your lip to keep quiet at the overwhelming sensation, he provided – you were already pulsing around him, closer and closer to your edge.

“Baby, look down.” He whispered finally, his fingers moving faster now, and you followed orders, gasping loudly as not two, but fourfingers were inside of you, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. You followed the fingers and saw another hand on top of Chris’, leading to a thick arm, whose owner was grinning wickedly. You almost came on the spot, as you saw Henry lead Chris’ fingers faster in and out of you, the fullness of the two men together completely soaking you. You were a panting mess as they sped up, their fingers moving faster and faster, curling upwards, hitting every sweet spot in you.

“You want to cum, love?” Henry was leaning over Chris as he spoke, clearly not at all worried if someone saw or heard him. You nodded, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood as you tried to keep quiet. He looked at Chris with a raised eyebrow. “What do you think? Does she deserve it?” His words were punctuated by a particularly deep thrust in you. You groaned. “Hmm… For now, yes. Look at our good girl, keepin’ quiet for us.” He grinned. Henry found your eyes in the dark and their fingers moved fast and hard in you. “Well, then. Cum, baby girl.” You couldn’t have held it back, not even if they had refused you to do it, your core exploding with pleasure, wall throbbing and clenching around their fingers as you came hard, slick running down their hands. They both chuckled darkly as they removed their fingers, Chris licking his clean, and you panted as you got yourself seated back normally. You tried to pull your panties back, but Chris tutted at you. “Nuh-uh, you better give those here.” He held his hand out and you, your cheeks flushed, slid them down your legs and handed him them; he winked at you before he stuffed them in his pocket. “Let’s hope that doesn’t stain that pretty dress.” He said in a soft voice laced with flirt. You had to admit you were wondering the same; silk didn’t exactly help a lot wit wet stains. “Ah, let them see what we’ve done to her.” Henry chimed in with a grin.

Jesus fucking Christ.

---------------------------

When the movie finally finished, you were hot, sweating and very, very aroused. Chris had constantly been teasing you, and Henry had been shooting you glances and stares all throughout the movie, which just made you squirm even more.

As you left the theater, Chris’ jacket hanging from your shoulders to hide the spot on your dress and his hand firmly on your waist, he stopped right before you reached the car, his expression unreadable. You saw Henry lingering a little away, his hand on his own car, awaiting something you didn’t know. “Babe…” His voice was silk and honey. “Yes?” His hand was burning your skin. “I have a surprise for you back at my place.” He grinned mischievously and you frowned. “Oh?” “You’re going to love it.” He opened the car door for you, and you slid inside, his hand falling on your thigh as soon as he got in as well. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Henry, the way he lingered and what happened inside the theater, would it?” He shrugged and leaned in as the car began driving. He pressed a button, and a divider slid up, separating you from the driver. He hummed and his lips met yours, softly and with a hint of lust. His lips slid over yours deliciously, his fingers already moving under your dress again as you moaned into the kiss. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He whispered against your lips. You groaned as a finger slipped inside of you, pumping languidly. You found the button on his pants, desperate to get it open, but he moved slightly away from you and out of reach. You whined against his lips, and he pulled out of you with a wicked grin.

“Patience, Y/N. You need to have your wits about you for later.” He said with a grin. “Also, that movie was pretty good. I knew you were good, but… Damn that sex-scene was something else.” You rolled your eyes, willing yourself to ignore the heat between your legs. “Remind me to get you hired for my next romantic interest, if I can get some of that.” You chuckled at him, and your fingers intertwined as the car moved through the city.

“Honey, you’re getting it at home.” “Well, I’d like it on camera.”

The car stopped in front of Chris’ home and you frowned, seeing lights on and the gate open; you turned to him, but he simply smiled, held your hand and led you inside. “Honey, we’re home!” He yelled to the seemingly empty house, and you laughed – he was being an idiot, but he was your idiot.

You didn’t expect a deep, rumbling voice to yell back.

“Bedroom, now!” you turned to him with gaping mouth. “Well, what are you waiting for? You better run, girl.” “Chris, are you sure about this?” You asked as he pushed you towards the stairs leading to his bedroom. Even though you wanted to be sure he was down for this, you couldn’t control your pussy, which was already dripping wet. He cocked an eyebrow, the dominant side coming through.

“Are you questioning me, baby?” “No, sir.” You answered before practically running up the stairs to the bedroom.

Henry was sitting stoically on the bed, his eyes trained on yours as you came inside – he nodded once to Chris, who followed behind you, and you heard him chuckle slightly before he sat down in a plush chair somewhere behind you. “Strip.” Henry’s voice was commanding and definitely didn’t leave room for talking and you turned slightly to Chris, who nodded at you. “What are you waiting for, Y/N? Strip.” You finally came to the realization that Chris wanted this, whatever the hell this was. You undid your dress, letting it fall to your feet, leaving you in only your bra; Chris was fondling your panties. Henry’s eyes were dark as he stood and began circling you.

“You’ve been bad, haven’t you, Y/N?” “I don’t…” A smack on your ass that made you gasp, rang through the room. “Don’t fucking talk back to me.” You were panting. “Yes, daddy.” You heard Chris groan happily behind you as you whispered to Henry. “You found another cock to ride, huh?” Another smack, this time hard enough to send you surging forwards, almost losing your footing. “Y-yes, daddy. I’m sorry.” “Are you? I think you like it, don’t you?” You whined as the skin of his palm connected in a hard smack on your wet folds. It was pain but in the best fucking way. “I do, daddy.” “Yeah?” You nodded and moaned as a finger dipped inside of you from behind. “Chris, want to help here?” Henry’s voice was casual, as if he was asking for a glass of water and Chris chuckled, stepping over to the two of you. “Get that bag and get plug out.” Henry ordered and Chris followed, unloading the bag next to the bed. He handed that and a bottle of lube to Henry, who stroked your back in soft strokes. “Lay down on the bed, darling.” His voice was dangerously sweet, and you nodded, finding Chris’ eyes as you laid down on your back, spreading your legs. He mouthed an I love you to you as he sat down next to you, his fingers finding your nipple, rolling and tugging at it before his mouth descended on it.

You mewled as you felt his teeth tug slightly on your nipple, squirming slightly under him, as you heard lube being splattered on something. “Are you good with this?” Henry asked softly and you nodded insistingly; how the hell could you not be okay with this? He chuckled. “Desperate whore.” He murmured and you felt a cold tip press against your puckered hole. You moaned loudly as Henry slowly, but surely, slid the plug inside of you, the stretch of it hurting slightly; Chris moved to your lips and distracting you as Henry let the butt-plug bottom out in your ass. His tongue found yours, and his hand slid from your nipple to your throat, squeezing slightly and he pulled away, eyes burning in yours. Henry groaned at the sight in front of him and you found him, your eyes blazing with lust and your pussy throbbing around nothing. He discarded his clothes quickly, a smirk playing on his lips as Chris squeezed harder around your throat, stealing the last air in you. You gasped against the feeling of his fingers on your pulse-point and your eyes rolled back in your head, as Henry dipped his face to your throbbing pussy. “You want this, you fucking slut? Me eating you out while your boyfriend chokes you?” You nodded and mewled brokenly, feeling like your entire body was light on fire. You were going to die if something didn’t happen soon. “Tsk, so impatient.” Henry chuckled and caught Chris’ eyes. “I think her mouth needs a little work, don’t you?” Chris grinned and let your throat go, a rush of air flowing back to you. “Oh, definitely.” Henry bowed down and blew air straight on your slick folds, causing you to jerk around and felt the plug move with you. Fucking hell. His hands found your hips and held you with bruising force to the mattress as Chris stripped next to you.

You almost drooled at the sight of Henry between your legs, a wicked grin on his lips, and Chris who stood next to you, cock standing big and proud from the small mound of light curls on him. “I’m not going down until you are, sweetheart.” Henry’s voice was condescending, and it made you mewl slightly, moving to the side so you could reach Chris’ cock with your mouth.

“Good girl.” Henry dipped his head again, his tongue stroking between your folds and you gasped at the same time as Chris pushed the head of his cock between your lips, forcing himself in your throat. You gagged around him as Henry fucked you with his mouth, assaulting your senses and your clit with his tongue.

The sounds of you gagging and slurping at Chris while Henry ate you out like a starving man filled the bedroom along with Chris’ moans, that ignited something in you. You tried to take him deeper, and tears welled up in your eyes as you did, feeling your orgasm inch closer for every second you were filled with him in your mouth and Henry’s tongue on your clit, his finger sliding inside of you and pumped at the same speed as his tongue danced around your clit.

You pulled away from Chris and drew a deep breath, spit connecting your mouth and his cock – he simply chuckled and grabbed you by the throat, forcing you to his cock again. “O, no, you don’t.” His voice was dangerous and he pushed inside of you again, holding your throat so you couldn’t move and began fucking your mouth hard. Henry hummed delighted as a gush of your slick came over him, your orgasm rolling over you in an instant; the feeling of Chris fucking your mouth sent you toppling over the edge, small fires burning under your skin as you came, your cries muffled by the cock in your throat. You barely had a breath left in you and you saw spots, when Chris’ hips stuttered, and he pulled away with a groan. Henry kissed your inner thigh and stood up, cock proud and dripping with precum. “That’s the last one you’re getting without asking first, darling.” He said huskily and moved to the side of you, standing next to Chris. Chris groaned. “Come on, I was just…” “Evans, if you don’t make the switch, I’m going to tie you up and make you watch.” Your eyes rolled back at the demanding tone and to your surprise, Chris followed suit; you knew he was a softer dom, but definitely not one to take orders. Henry chuckled and stroked your cheek gently.

“You don’t think I haven’t ordered him around before?” He whispered, wiping a stray tear away. You moaned as Chris plunged two fingers inside of you quickly and without warning. “You look so pretty when you’re dirty like this.” He wiped a streak of mascara off your cheek and grinned, before lining his cock up with your mouth. “Just like last time, you remember, don’t you?” You nodded eagerly and opened your mouth. Chris pumped his fingers harshly, his other hand wrapped around his hard length pleasuring himself as he watched his fingers move in and out of you. You were trying your hardest to fit Henry fully in your mouth, but he gave you no chance to adjust yourself; he held your head in place and rutted into your mouth, burying his cock in your throat deeply. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, both in pain and pleasure and Chris groaned at the end of the bed.

“Fuck it, I need to be inside of her.” He mumbled, crawling over you, his cock twitching, as he kissed along your body. Henry chuckled, still fucking your mouth, before he let his hand fall harshly on your cheek and pulling out. His fingers held a tight grip on your chin and cheeks, his eyes searing into your fucking soul. “You think you deserve it?” You nodded eagerly. “Words, Y/N.” “Please, daddy?” You pleaded, rolling your hips under Chris. “On top of him.” He ordered and you easily followed orders, Chris laying down and you straddling his thighs, his cock pressed against your dripping core. “No. Turn around.” Henry ordered and you frowned. “Oh, you want first pick, man?” Chris hands found your hips, digging fingers into the supple skin. “If you’re okay with it.” Henry questioned. Chris found your eyes and you nodded once, more than happy to get filled to the brim by them both. “Sure. It’s been a while for you, anyway.” He said with a grin, and you turned to face Henry, who grabbed your face again and held you tightly in his grip. He forced your mouth open, and he let a string of spit land on your tongue, sending your nerves into overdrive – it felt so fucking humiliating, so much toomuch, but you felt yourself grow hotter and slicker at the gesture. Chris maneuvered under you, pulling at the plug and slowly inching it out of you as Henry moved his hand to your throat.

“You’re not breathing until he’s fully inside of you, got it?” You nodded and gasped as his big hand and thick fingers tightened around you, cutting your air off; you mewled soundlessly at the feeling of the plug slowly being pulled from you and Henry’s hand on your heated skin, already questioning if you could handle waiting for Chris to be fully in your ass. He groaned as the plug fell from you with a soft pop and he hummed appreciatively, pushing the tip of his thick cock against your hole. You closed your eyes, dots already forming in your vision, as he pushed inside of you with a loud moan. It felt so fucking full, you were squirming at the sensation; it was burning, but also made you grow slicker second by second as Chris sank inside of you, finally bottoming out when you felt like you couldn’t take anymore. Henry released your throat and you coughed slightly, feeling yourself tighten around Chris’ cock. He groaned and snapped his hips slightly, causing you to moan and your breast to bounce slightly. “Fuck, you better join now, or I’ll fuck her myself.” Chris said in a strained voice. You knew that voice; that was the way he sounded when he was about to snap and loose control completely, the side of Chris you fucking loved. Henry smirked at you. “Go right ahead, I’ve got some business first.” Chris chuckled behind you and slowly moved himself out of you, before pushing back into you, hips snapping and he lost control; he roared and started to mercilessly fuck your ass, sending stars up and down your back as he did. Henry leaned in, his cock twitching impatiently. He was almost lips to lips when he finally spoke.

“You like being fucked like a good little whore, don’t you?” “Yes, daddy!” You practically screamed, bouncing on Chris’ cock. “You’ve been bad, you know.” “Daddy…” He held on to your chest, steadying you as he looked down at Chris’ cock sliding in and out of you, your dripping pussy empty and throbbing. His palm connected with your exposed clit with a hard slap, once, twice, five times before you yelled out, barely able to hold back your orgasm. “Fuck! Can I cum, daddy, please?” Henry chuckled and lined himself up with your pussy, the head of him hitting your overly sensitive clit. “Ask your master, darling.” “Sir!” Chris moaned as the preferred nickname rolled off of your tongue like a drowning man would gasp for air. “Can I cum, please, please, please…” “Stop begging, baby. Cum for me.” As his words hit your ears, Henry’s cock buried inside of you and you screamed as you exploded around the two cocks inside of you, the orgasm feeling like it would blind you. You were tight in every single extremity as you came, gasping for air, and Henry and Chris chuckled as they both bottomed out. Henry shouted a string of obscenities, and spat at your mouth again, you gasping at the feeling of it on your tongue.

You were about to split in half. They were both huge in both length and girth, and you felt like you couldn’t take it, not both of them at the same time. “Please, I can’t, not both…” You were a panting mess. Henry chuckled and slapped your cheek. “Oh, baby… You can and you fucking will.” He held you by your throat and searched the bed for his shirt – he found it and grabbed the tie, that lay next to it, before commanding Chris to hold you still. Chris held your arms as Henry wrapped his tie around your mouth, effectively gagging you with the navy-blue silk. “Now, where were we?” He said, almost mockingly, before pulling out slightly and slamming back in you. Chris followed him and soon they had found a rhythm where you were constantly filled with them, both of them dragging against your walls and stretching your holes until you felt like you were going to explode.

The sounds of their moans and grunts turned you on more than you’d ever imagined it would, and the feeling of Chri’s fingers digging into the skin on your ass, leaving crescent moons in their wake, made you feel weak at the knees. They fucked you in tandem, their rhythm never faltering until Chris roared behind you and his hand fell on your ass in a hard slap, and you felt him twitch inside of you. “Fuck, I’m going to fill your ass, and you’re going to take it, baby…” He moaned his words and your moan sounded muffled as your pussy throbbed around Henry’s thick cock. “You want him to fill you like a good little whore, darling?” he whispered darkly. He was fucking intoxicating when he was this dominant. You nodded eagerly; wanton moans stuck in your throat. Chris moaned. “Speed it up, old man, I’m not going to last.” Chris mumbled behind you and you had to swallow a giggle. “Jesus, you’re impatient.” Henry turned back to you, his thick cock dragging along your walls as he rutted deeply in and out of you. “You want me to fill your sweet little cunt as well, love?” He said, his fingers sliding over your sensitive clit. Your back arched at the feeling, drawing them both deeper and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of your orgasm. “Yes, daddies, fill me!” You finally said as Henry harshly jerked the gag from your mouth. They both buried themselves deeply in you, not caring about a rhythm to it anymore, simply chasing their own highs. You were burning, both from the stretch of the two men, but also from your impending orgasm, and you knew you would have a hard time walking tomorrow.

Chris fell over the edge first, his cock twitching in your ass right before he jolted and stilled in you; you felt the warmth spread with thick ropes of cum in your ass, and Henry roared, chasing his own and your high as well. His fingers rubbed furiously at your clit, and you were mewling, moaning at him, begging to cum. “P-please, please, daddy, please, I need to cum, please…” You were almost screaming at this point, your fingernails dragging long, red and angry scratches down Henry’s arms as he fucked you hardly. You felt Chris twitch under you, keeping inside of you and you could feel the seed leak out from you and pool around his spent cock, which sent you straight into a tailspin.

Henry finally let a final roar go. “Fucking cum, Y/N!” He pulled at your nipple harshly, and you fell over the edge, your body going rigid as you came hard; you saw white, your nerves shot to hell, as you came around him, milking him for his spend. He stuttered and stilled, spraying long, warm ropes of cum inside of you, filling you deep within. You were panting as all three of you came down, and Chris gently eased himself out of you, laying you down on your back and scooting out of bed, Henry still in you. He followed your body as you laid down, completely spent, while Chris got up and found a wet towel to clean you up.

A moment alone, Henry gently kissed you. “I know you’re with Evans, but… I made a mistake.” Chris came back before you had time to answer, and Henry pulled out. Both men went to work cleaning your spent body up, gently caressing you with the damp towels.

“C’mere.” You mumbled to them both, cuddling against Chris, while Henry spooned you from behind. “You know, I wouldn’t mind making this a permanent thing, y’know.” Chris said softly in the stillness that fell over the bedroom. You looked at him “Really?” “What?” Henry asked. “Yeah. I mean, I’d like to have a go at your pussy as well, but…” He looked at the both of you. “I know I love you, and from what he told me…” He pointed to Henry. “It seems like he’s been having a hard time letting you go.” He kissed your forehead. “And I know you, so I know you have wanted something like this for a while… Besides, I like Henry.” “Are you sure?” You asked Chris, who simply smiled and held his hand out to Henry, who shook it.

“Welcome to the family, man. Buy your own towels, I’m not wiping my face with your ass-towel.”

--------------

Months passed in each other’s company and the tree of you had found a steady routine; it was weird how easily it came to all of you. The boys never wanted to screw each other but were more than happy watching and sharing you. You had all moved in together in Chris’ house a month back, and the life had become pretty normal, even with two giant men around you at all times.

They had become best friends and you had fallen head over heels with them both.

“Chris, babe!” You yelled at him as you struggled to zip your dress. “I need a hand!” He poked his head inside of your dressing room and smiled softly. “Gotcha.” He zipped the back of your dress before placing a chaste kiss on your shoulder. “You’re beautiful.” He whispered against your skin. “You look pretty dabber yourself.” Henry’s voice soared from downstairs.

“Loves, we need to go, or we’ll be late!” You nodded and quickly put on your shoes, following Chris down the stairs and out to the waiting car, where Henry opened the door for both of you and kissed you, before all three of you got inside.

“We sure we’re ready for this?” You asked uncertainly. The little love-bubble had been nice. Henry and Chris groaned, both of them rolling their eyes. “Y/N, we have to do it at some point in our lives.” Chris said. “And I’m so sick of pretending not to be with you.” Henry chimed in. you nodded, grabbing both of their hands and putting them in your lap.

“We better get it on when we get home.” You joked.

The car stilled near the red carpet, and you drew a deep breath, looking to the crowd of cameras and reporters. Chris opened the door and kissed your hand before getting out; you quickly looked to Henry, who smiled. “Here goes nothing.” You said before stepping out of the car, sliding straight against Chris’ side and kissed him deeply, the cameras going crazy. You grinned as you felt a hand on your ass and turned to your other love, finding his blue eyes and angling your face towards him. Henry bent down slightly and kissed you just as deeply as you had kissed Chris, and you faintly registered the flashes going off, but the crowd growing quiet. You pulled away with a wide grin, your arms around your two men, as they waved to a shocked crowd of reporters and cameras.

This was going to be fun.

TAGLIST:

@acaceta @a-skov @angelmather1 @cooldreamlandsandwich @est1887 @enchantedbytomandhenry @fionnthebandersnacc @herroyalbubbliness @keiva1000 @kebabgirl67 @luclittlepond @multifanficdom @one-sweet-gubler @pandaxnienke @perfunctory-username69 @sleutherclaw @summersong69 @spookyboogyuniverse @stardusted26 @thereisa8ella @timetraveller4 @thatonechickhere @themanfromu

@thelastpyle @yourlocalhoney @wheretheriversrunintothesea

[amornoire]

Fictional me (aka reader) is such a lucky bitch. She’s literally living my dream life and I hate that for me 😭 I have no words to express how I’m feeling at all so I’ll just use these gifs instead 🥵 🤤

[kimberly-spirits13]

Growing Up in the Justice League HC

Purely self indulgence cause I've been on this and idk why so bear with me here

I can just easily romanticize growing up in the Justice League too easily and it would be a problem

you're brought in at as a baby to be trained by Diana

Apollo brings you to her and tells her that you are an ancient being that regenerates as a new person when you die and this is the form that you have taken. As you get older, you will remember the skills and memories of your past lives but you will have to be raised with someone who can handle you

Diana just loves babies so she had no problem with that

I'd say the league has been established for some time during this point and everyone knows each other's identities in the core group

You grew up in Paris and New York being raised as a mama's child

Bruce is the closest you get to a dad and he does his best

SPOILS YOU ROTTEN

all the Barbies and Legos and whatever toys you'd want as a child

They know that you've been trained as an assassin, wizard, queen, knight, sorceress, scientist, all of these other things that can be traumatic so they just want you to have a great, decent childhood

when you start remember things they begin training you to be a hero

It's like PE and recess all in one since they're really just trying to figure out what you can do

Clark treats you like a fragile piece of glass up until you're a teen cause teenagers confuse him and he just cannot not see you as an innocent beep boppin child sometimes

Barry keeps up with the culture and knows all the songs from your favorite childhood movies and tv shows that you grew up watching on the massive computer in the watch tower when you were up there

will dance to any Barbie song since he knows them all by heart

Hal makes fun of you two but secretly enjoys the movies and is very emotionally invested in Princess and the Pauper and Diamond Castle

Diana and Bruce make sure that you have a great education and training

They are the mature parents of the group and want to make sure you're a functioning member of society

you've got a bag full of grandparents in the Kents, Allans, Princes, Alfred and they all love you to death

Alfred teaches you to make the best tea and gardening, Ma Kent teaches you to quilt and make bread, Pa Kent teaches you how to drive a tractor and farm, Hippolyta teaches you about the Greek gods and ancient cultures and how to ride horses, the Allans would have loads of board games to play and love having you over

Once Young Justice or Teen Titans comes around you don't join since you're officially a Justice League member and get along better with the adults since you were raised by them

That doesn't mean that you don't like or hang out with the kids, it's just that you have better inside jokes with Hal and Barry

When Superboy comes around and the League disappears, you were the only one not taken by the portal since you were helping out some civilians

You knew that Clark wasn't dead and you knew the League was somewhere

What kept you afloat was humor and Kon attached to that since he just needed someone that wasn't insane in his life

you probably won't develop romantic feelings for each other but it's more of a camaraderie since you were both raised in a really unorthodox way

when the league finally comes back, you say it's the happiest day of your life and rant to them that you were the only one who knew they weren't gone but no one understood it

Hal and Barry are known for having a thing for chicken tenders and make sure to instill an addiction in you for chicken tenders

Arthur (Aquaman) really really really likes them too but he doesn't realize it until he comes to the League

Clark would be the one to take you out for ice cream randomly or if you're having a bad day

the mother hen therapist type

You're America's favorite Justice Leaguer and often go viral for in uniform interactions with the League

Dancing with Flash at a Presidential ceremony because the music is too beep boopin good and you can't help but bop around a little bit

Media also loves you as a civilian and it's been suspected that you are the love child between Diana and Bruce since I mean- that would make the most sense

it's a running joke in the league

[amornoire]

oh my goodness this is precious! i’d 100% love to be Diana and Bruce’s bio daughter!! does this make Clark my godfather or what? am i half royalty bc Diana is a princess? i’ve got soo many questions!

also my smiled dropped when i read the part where JL disappeared 😭😔

[royalsweetteaa]

sadbucksblog asked: Ok here’s a thought that’s been running through my head. 1940s steve forcing himself on shy!innocent!reader and forcing her to marry him. Later when reader found out that he ‘died’ (during the plane crash), she was secretly glad. But surprise surprise Endgame steve came back to return the infinity stones n decides to stay with his widow for good.In my head, endgame steve is meaner & more jaded 😈

Oh, definitely!! Endgame Steve gives the most dom vibes out of all his previous versions. If reader thought Steve was bad in the 1940s, she has another thing coming when he returns. His stay in the modern age has corrupted him more and made him kinkier. Like imagine the things he would do against 40s reader now that he knows how to pleasure a woman, because I know for sure they didn’t care about that stuff in the 40s.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - Following contains: non-con, explicit smut, forced marriage, misogyny, 40s gender roles, dom/sub dynamic, dom!Steve, unbalanced power dynamic, mentions of somnophilia, slight bondage, dumbification, loss of virginity.

Title: His return

I imagine with this scenario, Steve liked Y/N a lot before he received the serum. You were so sweet and actually nice to him unlike the rest of the girls, but whenever he asked you on a date, you would reject him, saying you only saw him as a good friend.

And so after he got his super soldier strength, he expected you to like him back, because all women love strong and masculine men who can protect and provide for them (at least that’s how the gender norms were back in the 1940s). So imagine to his surprise when you kindly reject him even then after he has become a living female fantasy.

He literally cannot contain his fury and forces himself on you the same day, ignoring your pleas when you beg him to stop because you wanted to save yourself for marriage and give your virginity to someone you love.

“Don’t worry, my love. It’s not a sin if we end up getting married. You will take me as your husband or I’m going to tell everyone how much of a whore you are for spreading your legs so easily for me.” Steve threatened.

You were so scared, and knowing you had little authority in this situation, you did as he said. You knew no one would side with you if you were to protest against the new hero of the country; Captain America.

A month later, the two of you married and became husband and wife. Steve made you into his little house wife, and for each mission he came home from, he would fuck you for hours until you passed out. You were so clueless of the things Steve did to you sometimes, like whenever he would thrust inside of you in a specific angle causing you to feel an arising sensation from your abdomen. You didn’t know what it was, but it felt good no matter how shameful you were of it.

Whenever you accidentally dropped something, like a plate of food or when you burned dinner in the oven because you forgot the time, Steve would punish you by harsh spanking, telling you how bad of a wife you are for messing up your husband’s food. You would cry and apologize profusely until he stopped and left you with a sore butt.

He would also take you when you were fast asleep. You were a light sleeper, and only would you wake up when he jackhammered into you, causing a burning feeling around your sore pussy. Steve was huge due to his bodily enhancement, and it took a while for you to get used to his size. He would hardly talk when he fucked you as his only mission was to cum for relief. Steve was a busy man after all, with the war still ongoing. The weeks he was gone were the most peaceful times of your life ever since Steve took claim of you.

One fateful day, a military personnel visited you at your house and gave you the unfortunate news of the Captain’s loss. You shedded tears, but not because of Steve’s death. It was rather because the nightmare of a life was finally over. You felt relieved knowing Steve could never put his hands on you ever again.

2 years pass by, and you have all forgotten about Steve Rogers. You would occasionally see his face on posters and articles, and while it brought back some of the trauma, you always reminded yourself that he was gone for good.

At least, you thought he was.

It was a day like any other in your small little suburban house that you moved to after selling Steve’s house, and you suddenly heard the doorbell ring to your front door. You shouted ‘coming!’ to whoever was waiting outside, and turned off the temperature of your oven where there were freshly baked cinnamon rolls waiting for you later.

You open the door, and it’s like your whole world shatters before your eyes. There he was, your unmistakably still alive husband standing there. He looked more older, and it was only 2 years ago he was announced dead.

“Hello, my love. Have you missed me?” He asked darkly. You shrieked and tried to escape through the back door, but it was too late. Steve ran after you and grabbed you around your waist and held you down on the floor, preventing you from struggling away.

“That is no way to greet your husband after thinking he was dead for such a long time. I expected better from you, my wife. Maybe you have forgotten who you belong to and I need to give your dumb little brain a reminder.” He said, and carried you upstairs to your bedroom.

He threw you onto the bed like a rag doll and started to tie your wrists with velvet ropes he had brought with him to the headboard. This was new to you from all your previous experiences of having sex with Steve, and it scared you. “S-Steve, what is this?..what are you-!”

“I’m going to fuck you so hard and make you wish you never pulled that little escape stunt earlier. Silly woman, thinking you stand a chance against me. You’re mine, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure your dumb head understands that.”

He ripped your clothes off harshly, and he unbuttoned his trousers to free his cock from the restraints. You expected him to penetrate you like he always did before. That was the only type of sex you two were familiar with. But this ‘new’ version of Steve had different plans.

Your eyes widened when his face lowered at your pussy, causing you to feel distressed. “W-Wait, don’t do that!…I-It probably smells, I don’t want you to get too close to it!”

“Oh, Y/N, my sweet wife. You’re so clueless. What I did and did not do before I disappeared was when I was a boy. But I’m a man now, and I’m going to teach you so many things of how we can pleasure each other.”

His tongue stuck out of his mouth and he licked a stripe of your cunt, causing you to cry out a moan. You have never felt anything like this before. It almost felt unreal. It only got worse when his tongue glided between your pussy lips, gathering all your juices for him to savour.

“You taste delicious, my love. There isn’t a thing that’s more tastier than your sweet pussy…” he mumbled into your sensitive skin.

Steve never talked like this during sex, and somehow you preferred him not to talk because it made it easier to not enjoy it. This Steve however was making it harder to hate it with each new thing he did, and it made you feel horrible about yourself.

Suddenly, Steve used what felt like his thumb to rub at a particular spot. It caused your whole body to jolt at once like you were electrocuted, and you felt an overwhelming heat spread across your whole body.

“Do you know what this little pearl is, doll? It’s called a clitoris. It’s your most sensitive part of your pussy, and it will only be recognized as what engorges your wetness and surrounds your vagina in 2009 - about 70 years from now on. It also has about 8,000 nerve endings, which is why you become so sensitive when I touch it. Isn’t that fascinating, my love?”

You didn’t pick up a word of what he was rambling about because you were too out of it from his circling motion of rubbing your pearly nub. You couldn’t stop moaning and panting. Again came that familiar feeling of a rising high. Before you knew it, the feeling hit you like a wave and you felt your hole quivering.

“Aaaww, you just came. How cute….” He cooed, with a victorious grin. “Now, let’s get to the main course of this session. Haven’t been in this pussy for a loooong time. And I’m sure you’ve been a good girl not having anyone else inside you, right?”

You didn’t respond to that question, still pretty out of what had taken place moments earlier.

He slapped your cheek lightly but harsh enough to take you out from your daze. “Answer me, whore.”

“N-No! I haven’t, Steve! No one has been inside of me since you disappeared! I promise!” You answered with frantic.

He smiled again. “Good.”

He aimed his cock at your hole and shoved himself in with little care. He groaned loudly, sounding so content with the current feeling. “Oh, I’ve missed her…missed your pussy so much…I’ve missed you..” he said followed with a grunt. “I’m so glad I’m back. Back together with you.”

For the rest of the evening, he would torture you with new tricks of his that opened a new world of sex for you. By the end of the night, Steve had you wrapped in his strong arms, whispering the most obscene things and promises in your ear. Most of them were connected to one promise that made you dread for the future.

A promise of never leaving you ever again.

Note from author: this turned out a lot longer than I originally planned but I really enjoyed the concept and couldn’t help myself. I’m a hoe for endgame AND 40s Steve.🧍Anyways, thank you @sadbucksblog for sharing your idea! <3 Hope you enjoy it!

(This has been reposted here as I have deleted my old account!)

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! <3

[amornoire]

Fuck. I now need an extended version & filthier.

[wholoveseggs]

Part 1 was fab, thanks so much darling, so why not a part 2? Alright so months later Y/N (me) is on her spring break vacation and she somehow manages to convince Elijah and Klaus to take her on a yacht. Rebekah had bragged to Kol and his brothers also hinted at what happened previously with Y/N so then he says he wanted to join too. Kol and Y/N have fun skinny dipping in the ocean and when it lands on the island, it’s quite literally a fuckfest. So it’s 3 brothers x Y/N although I want to make this one a reader insert if that’s okay. {kinks: cock choking/gagging, tit fucking, overstimulation fucking, lots of degradation, little praise, ass play, squirting, double penetration, and messy/sloppy sex (idk if that’s a kink tbh)}.

Magnificent

Did I spend a long time on google trying to find an image of them together? yes

Did I give up? also yes... So instead... here are three pictures of them in the sun...

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Just a quick little ménage à quatre with Klaus, Elijah and Kol... on spring break...

♡♡ Thanks for the request darling Aurora... this was such an insane challenge and I loved every minute of it. I personally wouldn't survive this, but it was fun to write! ♡♡

8.8k words - Warnings: this is by far the wildest thing I've ever written, smut smut and more smut, my Elijah bias coming in hot... dom!Mikaelsons, blowjobs, oral sex, rim job (f!receiving), gagging, overstimulation, choking, squirting, anal, dp, beach sex, yacht sex.... it really is a fuckfest. So much cum, a ton of dirty talk, sir kink, daddy kink, lots of degradation and praise... probably missing something, but you get the gist.. it's extremely horny... so strap in and enjoy...

You stretched out on the sofa at the Mikaelson compound, phone in hand, browsing through social media. You let out a heavy sigh as you scrolled through your friend's photos on vacation, posted only a few hours ago. You were happy for them, really. You just wished you had fun things to do too. It was spring break and you had no plans, Rebekah was supposed to be here, the two of you planned to spend the week together. But she ditched you to go to Mystic Falls to go see some guy named Matt who didn't even seem very interesting.

Elijah walked in, lifting your legs so he could sit on the sofa. He set your legs down on his lap, and you continued to browse your phone, noticing another picture of a girl in a bikini, holding a margarita, in front of the ocean.

You let out a huff, closing the app, and dropping the phone on to your chest.

"What is the matter?" Elijah asked, placing a hand on your shin, caressing you gently.

"Everyone is having fun on their spring breaks, except me. I don't have any plans," you complained, staring up at the ceiling.

"Why don't we go on the yacht for a few days?" Elijah suggested, a smile forming on his lips.

"You have a yacht?" You asked, sitting up on the sofa, resting your back against the armrest.

"Of course we do darling," said Klaus, who just entered the room, standing behind the sofa, putting his hands on the backrest and looking down at you.

You gave him a wide smile and then glanced at Elijah, their proximity reminding you of a certain memory. Your cheeks flushed as you remembered the way they had both fucked you senseless. You bit your lower lip, as your eyes traveled from Elijah's eyes, down to his lips.

After your ménage with Rebekah and the boys you had come back for more from Elijah. The two of you had a series of secret rendezvous, whenever the rest of the family were away. Elijah had a way of making you feel so good, and when things got really heated he made you call him something special. Something only the two of you shared.

"Sunshine, endless sands, alcohol, good music, the sea... What more do you need?" Klaus said, smirking when he caught the look on your face, breaking you out of your dirty thoughts.

"That all sounds wonderful... What else is going to happen there?" You asked, as Elijah ran a finger up your shin, his hand traveling up to your bare thigh.

"Whatever you desire," Elijah said, giving you a knowing smirk.

"Can we bring Kol?" You asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

They both looked surprised and a little annoyed, it amused you to see their expressions.

"Why?" Klaus asked, his lips pursed, and brows furrowed in annoyance.

"Why not?" You shrugged. "We are just going to have fun. And besides... He's always being left out," you said, trying to be as neutral as possible, looking at both men as you said this, trying to read their reactions.

Elijah just looked at you, trying to hide the jealousy, but his face was giving everything away. Ever since you hooked up with them, you realized how much power you held over them. They would literally do anything you asked. Of course you would never take advantage of that power... At least not very much... You just wanted to be able to have a little bit of fun and spice things up with the three men, and it wasn't going to work without Kol.

"Kol can be... Insatiable," Elijah warned, giving you a knowing look.

"Kol behaves like a horny teenager, love. Don't you want this to be a classy affair?" Klaus added, his gaze moving over your body.

"Please?" You asked, looking at them with wide, innocent eyes, a teasing smile on your lips.

"Very well, if you wish for Kol to come, he can come. Just try to keep him under control," Elijah said, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

Klaus groaned and bowed his head in defeat, running his fingers through his hair.

You beamed, hopping on Elijah's lap, straddling his hips. "So when can we leave?" you asked, your eyes lighting up in anticipation.

Elijah grabbed your ass with both hands, kneading your cheeks, "we can go tonight."

You cupped his face, "oh I can't wait! It's going to be so much fun," you exclaimed, pressing a quick peck to Elijah's lips and then jumping off his lap and heading to pack, getting ready for your little adventure with your three favorite guys.

The yacht was extravagant to say the least, meticulously decorated and very well kept. You were in your private quarters, unpacking your various bikinis, deciding on what to wear to go sunbathe. You felt two hands grab you from behind and turned your head, seeing Kol smirking at you.

"I don't know how you did it but thank you," he whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to the shell of it.

You leaned against him, humming, closing your eyes. He squeezed your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, taking a look at the bikinis that you had sprawled on the bed.

"Oh, this one's nice," he said, grabbing one of the pieces of cloth, "but I'd like it better on my floor," he chuckled.

You chuckled too, "why am I not surprised?" you said, grabbing it from him.

He gave you a kiss on the cheek and let you go. He laid down on the bed, stretching like a lazy cat. You decided on one of your new bikinis and headed to the bathroom to change into it.

Kol sat up and watched you walk away, "why aren't you changing in here? There's plenty of space," he said, scooting back on the bed, making room for you.

"What gave you the impression I would do that?" you teased.

Kol gave you an offended look, placing a hand on his heart. You shook your head and closed the door, getting changed quickly, and returning to your room. You sat on the bed next to him and pulled out your tanning lotion from your suitcase, taking the time to lather your arms and legs in it. Kol's eyes followed your movements, watching your fingers trail along your skin. You glanced at him and smiled when you saw him lick his lips as you put more lotion on your hand and applied it on your chest.

He reached over and took the lotion from your hands and gestured for you to get on his lap. You turned and sat sideways, your legs dangling off the bed. He massaged your shoulders, then moved to your arms and your back. You let your head fall back against his shoulder as his hands traveled along your body.

"I heard this rumor," he whispered, his breath warm on your ear, "about you having a bit of fun with my siblings," he said, as he slipped his hand under the hem of your bikini bottom and squeezed your butt cheek, "and me being left out," he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You turned to face him, "who told you that?"

He gave you a smug smile, "let's just say, someone has been doing a little bit of gossiping about what happens in the compound."

Your eyes widened when you realized what he meant, "Rebekah!" You gasped. "Well... Now she's the one who's being left out," you giggled.

Kol hummed in approval, his lips forming into a lopsided smile, his eyes wandering your face and neck, lingering on your chest. His gaze traveled to your cleavage, as you pressed your boobs together.

"So what you are saying is that it's true? Rebekah, Klaus and Elijah. How was that?" He asked, looking at your eyes again.

You blushed and averted your gaze, "good," you whispered, feeling his cock twitch underneath you. You laughed softly and swatted his arm, "why does that excite you so much?" You teased.

"Don't judge me, darling. You are just so damn beautiful, I thought you were all innocent and shy. I'm dying to hear you describe what they did to you... Tell me about it."

You smiled mischievously, moving to straddle his hips, "well... Rebekah and I touched each other while the guys were watching us..."

"God, that's so hot," he breathed out, running his hands up and down your thighs.

"Then they all took turns fucking me," you whispered, kissing along his jaw.

Kol's grip on your thigh tightened, "fuck, I would've loved to see that."

"I've been thinking about it ever since," you confessed, your eyes dark with lust, "and I'm not sure I had enough," you whispered, nipping at his earlobe, tugging at it.

"Do you think Klaus and Elijah would want to share you with me, sweetheart?" He asked, his voice deep and husky.

You bit your lower lip, grinding your ass on his cock, making him moan. "It's not up to them," you said, kissing him softly, "I decide who gets to fuck me," you murmured against his lips, grabbing his hands and moving them on your breasts, making him squeeze them, "and right now, I'd like it to be you," you purred.

You looked into his eyes, his hunger for you was palpable. You kissed down his chest, scooting back until your knees touched the floor. You pulled his swim trunks down. His erect cock sprung free. You stroked him slowly, watching the precum spilling out of his tip.

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, placing your lips on the head of his cock, licking his slit. His fingers threaded through your hair as you took him in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head, taking him in inch by inch, until you reached his base.

"That's it, darling, just like that," he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening.

You hummed around him, bobbing your head up and down, sucking him hard, moaning at the taste of him. He rolled his hips, thrusting up into your mouth. You knew he was close, so you withdrew, smiling at him as he gave you a confused look.

"What are you doing darling?"

You stuck your tongue out, sliding the wide part of your tongue up and down his shaft. "I don't want you to cum just yet, I want you to fuck my mouth," you said, licking the underside of his cock, your eyes never leaving his.

"Oh, fuck, you are a dirty little thing, aren't you, darling?" He whispered, as he cupped your jaw with his hand.

"Mhm," you moaned, taking his tip in your mouth, sucking it gently, and looking at him, waiting for him to make a move.

He smirked, holding your hair, and pushing your head down untill your nose was pressed against his groin. You hummed, looking up at him, and relaxing your throat, letting him use your mouth. He began thrusting into your mouth, and you reached for his balls, squeezing them gently.

"Good girl. If only you could see yourself right now. Your lips stretched around my cock-"

"It's quite a sight," said the deep voice of Elijah, he was leaning in the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. Klaus was standing behind him, amusement flashing in his eyes.

You pulled off of Kol and looked at them, blushing furiously. "Hi," you said in a small, raspy voice, wiping off the spit from your chin.

"Hello sweetheart," Klaus said, walking over to the bed. He brought his hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks.

"Aww look at your flushed little face," said Kol, pinching your cheek with his thumb and forefinger, smirking at you. "Why are you shy all of a sudden?" He teased, chuckling.

All three of them were towering over you and you had to crane your neck up to look at them. You were so wet from the sight, the three of them in only their swim trunks, exposing their toned chests, muscles bulging. You just wanted to jump in bed and have them take turns with you.

You shuffled a bit on your knees so you were between all three of them. They were looking down at you expectantly, Elijah ran his fingers through your hair, caressing your cheek with his thumb. All three pairs of eyes were glued to you, hooded and half closed. Your gaze was traveling from one perfect body to another. You could see their erections growing underneath the tight fabric of their swim trunks.

Kol stood up, his hard cock dangling next to your head. You circled it with your hand, gently stroking him, and looking up at him with pleading eyes. You didn't care which one of them it would be, as long as they were all going to fuck you.

You opened your mouth, waiting for one of them to fill it with his cock, Kol, who was the closest, was the first one to do it. You took his cock in your mouth again, bobbing your head, and looking up at him. 

You reached out with your other hand and pulled Elijah closer by the waistband of his shorts, touching his hard on through the fabric. His breathing got heavier and he smiled, helping you free him from his confinement, hissing when you wrapped your hand around him.

You looked up at Klaus, a lustful look on your face. He gave you an amused smirk, shaking his head in disbelief, taking his time to observe you, clearly enjoying the way you begged him for his cock without even using words.

You batted your lashes at him, and he obliged, taking himself in hand, giving it a few strokes and stepping closer to you. 

You pulled off of Kol, with a loud 'pop' and turned your head slightly to lick and nip Klaus's cock, all while pumping your hands up and down their lengths. They were groaning, pulling you closer, pressing against your face, leaking for you.

"Get it nice and wet for me love," Klaus said, the smirk still playing on his lips, "show me how thankful you are for this little vacation," he taunted you, "be a good girl for us."

You hummed, eagerly taking him in your mouth, sucking him hard. You took Elijah and Kol in your hands, and stroked them simultaneously, the sounds of their moans made your pussy throb.

"I don't think good girls do this, Nik," Kol said, tilting his head and grinning down at you.

Klaus moved his hips, slowly pushing himself deeper into your mouth. He released a breathy moan, watching you swallow his cock, flattening your tongue along the underside of his shaft. You swirled your tongue around him. He tangled his hand in your hair, his eyes closed, mouth parted in a low grunt. 

"What a good little whore, taking all of me in," he praised, rolling his hips, thrusting shallowly in your mouth.

You moaned at his dirty words, making Kol chuckle, "I think she likes when you call her that, brother."

Klaus smirked, pulling his length out and gave you cheek a little slap with his cock, "Mhm... She does, doesn't she? "

He entered your mouth again, shoving his cock down your throat, holding your face in place. You gagged, letting out a muffled whimper as he pressed your face into his groin. Klaus's mouth fell open, and he let out a moan that was so low and guttural that it made you almost cum. He rocked his hips, fucking your mouth so deeply, watching tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

You tried to keep the pace with your hands on Elijah and Kol's cocks, but you were unable to concentrate. Your legs were trembling, wetness pooling between your legs.

Klaus held your face between his strong hands, still buried deep in your throat, using you like a doll, "good slut," he said in a strained, breathy voice, thrusting into you a few more times and releasing your face.

You almost fell forward, catching your breath, gasping for air. A trail of spit dribbled down your chin. You blinked a couple of times, looking up at the three men, their hungry, lustful eyes boring into yours.

"Finish me off and then do Kol," Klaus ordered, grabbing you by the hair.

You kept your eyes on him as you gave him a couple of long and slow licks. You brought your hand up to his pulsing shaft, rubbing your thumb against the leaking tip of his cock. He threw his head back, grunting, his hips bucking. You took the tip of him in your mouth, your head bobbing up and down, sucking him quickly and moving your hand in quick motions.

"Yeah... Yeah, just like that, sweetheart," he groaned, slapping your hand away, and thrusting into your mouth a few more times, before pulling out and releasing his load on your face.

Kol and Elijah looked down at you, pride flaring in their eyes.

"What are you waiting for? Clean the mess up," Klaus grunted, smearing his cock across your lips.

You lapped up the cum from his cock, humming in pleasure. He watched you intently as you swallowed and then smiled.

Elijah and Kol were pumping themselves, groaning, waiting for their turn. The view of them, hard and aching for you, their muscles flexing and their mouths parted, was so fucking hot. You felt so powerful, having all three of them so worked up and turned on.

“What a filthy little pet," Elijah said, still stroking his length leisurely.

Klaus moved away, sitting on the bed to watch the show. You pivoted on your knees to face Kol. He had a predatory smile on his face, "shall I do you in the same fashion my other brother did, or would you prefer something different?" He asked, his eyes darting to your cleavage for a split second.

His hands went to your throat, lifting your face up to meet his gaze, his other hand coming up to your face, caressing your cheekbone. He dipped his head and kissed your breasts, hooking his fingers inside the fabric and yanking it down. He sucked one of your tits in his mouth, nibbling, and biting until you winced.

"God, you are gorgeous," he said, pinching a nipple roughly, swiping his tongue around the other, moaning around it.

You were so aroused, being at the mercy of the three of them. Each of them dominating you in their own manner. You were so excited that you were trembling in anticipation.

You gasped as Kol grabbed a fist full of your hair, guiding you crouch in front of him so your breasts were in line with his hard length, "open," he said, his tone harsher than before. You opened up and he started to shallowly fuck your mouth.

"Press your tits around it," he ordered, slowing his thrusts down. You pressed your tits around his cock, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting his precum. His head rolled back and he let out a deep groan, slowly fucking the valley of your breasts.

"Fuck that feels amazing," he moaned, making sure his length was sliding between your breasts as he moved his hips, creating friction and using your spit to further lubricate his cock.

You moved your hands, leaning back a little. You took your nipples between your index and forefinger, twirling them in different directions, you were so turned on that could could probably cum just from playing with your boobs.

"Enjoying yourself are you?" Kol sneered, "I didn't say you could do that," he said, stopping his hips altogether and grabbing you by your throat again.

You whined around him as your head was pulled back, his shaft slipping from your mouth.

"Use your hands to move your tits," he said, slowly circling his hips, fucking your mouth again. Your eyes drifted to Elijah, who was leisurely working his hand up and down his rock hard cock, watching the scene playing out.

"You look so pretty like that," Elijah said with his velvet voice, his signature smirk playing on his lips.

Kol's thumb was running back and forth over your throat, "does my cock please you?" He asked, with a naughty glint in his eye.

You were too focused on all the sensations to answer and he didn't take well to that. He squeezed your throat and pulled you away, bringing your face close to his, "I asked you a question, answer," he ordered through gritted teeth.

"Y-yes it does, Kol" you managed to breathe out, your cheeks blushing.

His smirk widened, and he loosened his grip on you. He ran the pad of his thumb over your lips, looking between your eyes and your lips. He was so close that you could feel his breath fanning over your face.

"Sir," he corrected you.

You felt heat spreading through your entire body, "yes sir," you whispered, looking up at him.

The corners of his mouth twitched and his eyes flashed with excitement, "Good girl," he praised, rubbing his thumb over your lower lip and sliding it inside your mouth. Your tongue swirled around it and you moaned softly. Kol grabbed your wrist and directed your hand to his cock, moving it up and down.

"Put this mouth to use now," he breathed out, tucking his hand back in your hair, tilting your head back a bit, making you look up at him.

You maintained eye contact as you teased him, kissing up and down his shaft, "take all of me," he grunted, resting his hand on your cheek as you circled the tip of his cock with your tongue.

Your eyes widened at the demanding tone of his voice, and did as you were told, closing your mouth around him, opening it wider, taking in more and more of him.

He tapped your cheek lightly, "what a slut," he teased, rolling his hips, pushing himself deeper down your throat. You gagged, your hands gripping his thighs, squeezing them, trying to steady yourself. He kept thrusting, his balls slapping your chin. You were drooling around him, the sound of your gags filled the room.

"Oh, yeah just like that, baby," he said, holding you in place.

You gagged some more and tried to breathe through your nose, tilting your head back, letting him use your throat as his own personal fucktoy. The corners of your mouth were aching and you were drooling, small moans escaping you.

He didn't pull out once, as he was chasing his release. Your jaw was aching but you were enjoying this dominance over you. He let out a low groan and pulled out completely, tugging roughly at his hard length until he came all over your chest and your face, his warm cum spilling over your breasts.

Kol tucked himself in his shorts and flopped down in the nearby armchair, draping an arm over his face with his usual dramatic flair, "damn..." He tilted his head and gave you a long look, his eyes trailing up and down your form. Kneeling on the ground, trembling and disheveled in your bikini, completely fucked out and sticky with cum all over your chest and your face.

"Oh, sweetheart, you are an incredible sight to see," he laughed, sinking into the chair with a relaxed demeanor. "Don't you think Elijah?" He smirked at the older Mikaelson brother who was still standing in front of you, his bottom lip between his teeth.

Elijah was giving you the most intense, penetrating stare, eyes boring into yours, a hint of a smile quirking his lips up. You pivoted on your knees to face him, stroking him up and down as you looked up at him through your lashes, waiting for him to make the first move.

"Oh, I could get used to this view," he chuckled, running his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. You caught his digit with your lips and hummed softly, swirling your tongue around the pad of his thumb.

"Do you like having our cocks in your mouth?" He whispered, dark eyes looking deep into yours.

You nodded, whimpering in response as his finger slipped past your lips, plunging into your mouth. You sucked on it eagerly, moaning around it, and lowering your hand to play with his balls. You caressed them gently, cupping them, giving them a soft squeeze.

"What a perfect whore you are," he said, freeing his finger from your mouth and pressing the dripping tip of his cock against your lips. You parted your lips and let him push his length into your mouth. You took him deep, all the way down your throat, making him curse and release a satisfied moan.

He placed his hands on your cheeks, guiding you as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking him harder. He was the biggest out of the three brothers and took a while to get used to his length and the width of his cock.

He pressed your head down further, stilling it and holding you in place until you gagged, your hands coming up to grip his thighs in an attempt to ground yourself.

"That's it, take it all in," he cooed, running his hand through your hair.

Tears formed at the corner of your eyes and you tried to swallow around him as you choked.

"I can do whatever I want to your pretty little mouth and I will have you worshiping me just the way I like," he said as he slowly pulled his length out. You were gasping for air, blinking away the tears that had formed in your eyes and desperately trying to catch your breath.

He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for a response, stroking your cheek with the back of his fingers.

You opened your mouth, he didn't give you a chance to answer him before he was pushing himself back inside. He thrusted deeply, snapping his hips and forcing the entirety of his length down your throat. His hips snapped sharply, fucking your throat hard and fast. You continued to choke on him and you squeezed his thigh, struggling to breathe.

"Good girl, I want to see those tears stream down your cheeks" he moaned, picking up the pace and continuing to fuck your mouth, the feeling you gagging turning him on even more.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes, the look on his face made you moan, his lips parted, his eyes watching you with lust. You wanted to make him feel good. You wanted to make him cum.

He slowed his hips and you took the opportunity to press you head all the way down, deep throating him then pulling off and repeating this. You gagged with every pass, maintaining eye contact with him.

"God, I love seeing you like this," he breathed, his hips jerking. He grabbed your hair and pressed you against his groin, holding you there, your nose buried in the coarse, dark hair around the base of his cock.

"Mmmmm" you moaned, choking, the vibrations of your moan caused Elijah to release a deep, guttural sound and his hips to buck involuntarily. You could feel the muscles in his thighs tighten and he held your head in place as he emptied himself into your throat. You swallowed eagerly, milking him, taking everything he had to offer.

You kept sucking him, cleaning his length and pulling more from him untill he softened.

You looked up at him, waiting for his next order. He was standing above you, breathing heavily, his face flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded.

He stroked your cheek, his fingers brushing your bottom lip, his expression unreadable, "such a perfect little cock whore aren't you?" He said in a low voice.

You smiled and nodded, humming, looking around at the three of them. All of them were breathing hard, their skin covered in a sheen of sweat. They looked absolutely breathtaking, lounging around and completely spent, the satisfied smiles on their faces making your heart swell with pride.

You were a mess as well, kneeling on the ground in front of them, trembling, panting, sweating. Your bikini top was ripped and all you were wearing was the skimpy bottom, your skin was sticky with their cum. The taste of all three of them lingering on your lips.

Kol stood and suddenly scooped you up, carrying you bridal style to the deck of the yacht, you shrieked and giggled as he ran.

The sunlight blinded you momentarily, and you blinked, tucking your head in his neck to shield your eyes from the blazing sun and take a deep breath.

"Ahh look, a beautiful beach right up ahead!" He said, laughing, his breath tickling your skin. "I want to fuck you on the sand, doll," he said in a rushed whisper, making you wriggle in his arms.

"Kol!!!" You protested, trying to break free, but he held you tight as he ran towards the side of the boat, stopping in the nick of time, "what are you doing? Oh, my god! You're crazy!" You were laughing, and cursing as you struggled against his grip, your hands cradling the back of his head.

"I am darling," he said, then jumped off the edge of the yacht with you in his arms, into the water below.

You screamed before you hit the water, bubbles rising up around you. Once you emerged, Kol pulled you back into his arms, peppering your face with kisses.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, arms circled around his neck, giggling, "you scared me."

"Sorry, it was too tempting. I couldn't help myself," he said between kisses and giving you an unapologetic smile.

You splashed water at him and he responded by diving underwater, pulling at the fabric of your bikini bottoms and yanking it off you. He swam to the surface and waved the fabric in his hand, "this is mine now."

"What?! Kol!" You said, swimming towards him and grabbing his shoulders, "give it back!" You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He kissed your nose, his eyes darting over to the beach, "I'll let you have it back after I've had you on beach," he said, smirking.

"No!" You shrieked and giggled, trying to wrestle him and snatch the material from his hand.

"Give them back Kol," Elijah's voice rang out from above, him and Klaus were leaning over the side of the yacht, looking down at the two of you.

Kol ignored them and threw the bottoms as far as he could, you immediately lost sight of them in the ocean waves.

"KOL!" You squealed, hitting his chest.

He let out a sharp, short laugh, "you don't need them, sweetheart, we are the only ones out here, just relax, enjoy yourself," he was massaging your ass in his large hands, tugging your cheeks apart, spreading you open, squeezing your flesh.

"Besides, I love the idea of you walking around naked," he added, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

He carried you to the shore, pressing you down into the wet sand. He pinned your hands over your head, kissing and nuzzling your neck, "be a good little whore, won't you? Stay still for me."

You hummed, nodding and squirming underneath him, he had you pinned under his weight and he was grinding his hard cock against your clit, making you gasp and arch your back.

He sunk his fangs into your neck, eliciting a yelp from you, "be still," he repeated, licking the spot that he just bit, soothing the tender flesh. He eased his cock into you, filling you slowly, inch by inch.

His hands gripped your thighs, pulling them apart and rolling his hips in a steady rhythm, sliding in and out of you. The sand was rough and hot against your skin and your back was moving up and down the sandy ground with each thrust. It wasn't the most comfortable situation, but you didn't care at the moment.

Your heels dug into the back of his legs, egging him on, angling your hips up for him. You were focused on his fangs grazing your neck, his grunts and heavy breathing, his cock nudging against your g-spot with every stroke.

He had you gasping and squirming underneath him, he smirked at you through hooded eyes, picking up the pace, hearing the sounds of his skin slapping against yours over the crashing waves.

"Cum all over my cock, darling," he breathed in your ear, as his pace quickened, his strokes became sloppy and uncoordinated as he neared his own climax.

You squeezed around him and let go, arching up to kiss him and moaning into his mouth as you shook, waves of pleasure flowing through you. He was relentless, pounding you fast and hard, stilling his hips and releasing deep inside you, letting out a primal grunt.

You were both sweating and completely out of breath as you stayed connected. You slid your hands up his arms and into his hair, smiling up at him.

"Enjoy yourself?" He asked, his damp hair falling into his face, droplets clinging to his forehead.

"Always," you whispered, pulling him closer, and pecking his lips.

He was about to say something else when Klaus' voice boomed, interrupting him.

"Ship is leaving, you two! Stop fucking and get back on board!"

Kol chuckled and looked over his shoulder at his brother, "we're not done yet, Nik! We're staying on this island and finding that missing bikini bottom," he shouted back.

You laughed and pushed on Kol's chest, "come on, you idiot, let's get back to the boat."

"Fine," he said, with an exaggerated sigh.

You swam your way back to the boat and climbed up the nearby ladder. Elijah was standing at the top of it, waiting for you, you stumbled as you clambered up the last few rungs of the ladder and would have face planted, if his strong hands hadn't caught you.

"Hello there," he flashed you a grin, "having fun I see," he surveyed the multiple love bites across your neck and shoulder with a hint of amusement.

"Hi," you smiled, placing your hands on his chest, admiring the hair curled there. He was your favorite of the three, the way he would look at you made your heart race, his deep voice made your knees weak.

The private hook-ups the two of you have had were always the most intense. You weren't sure what it was, but there was a fire between the two of you, one that burned hotter than the others.

"Where is Kol?" Elijah asked, looking over your shoulder.

"Still looking for my bikini," you said, giggling, "he won't find it, it's too far gone."

"Well, in the meantime," he said, before leaning in and kissing you slowly and passionately, gliding his hands up your bare back. You smiled against his lips, looping your arms around his neck as you deepened the kiss.

He guided you backwards to the built in couches that lined the side of the boat, pushing you down onto the seat. You let out a soft gasp from the impact, looking up at him and biting your lip. He was towering above you, the sun illuminating his muscular form, making his skin glow.

He smiled and kneeled before you, his hands running up and down your thighs. He continued to spread them, leaning forward to kiss your stomach, making you giggle. He hooked your legs over his shoulders and pulled you towards him, kissing his way down, trailing his lips over your inner thighs, sucking and nipping at the skin.

He ran his nose over your mound and pressed a gentle kiss right above your clit, "so lovely," he breathed, his warm breath caressing your already sensitive pussy. He flattened his tongue and dragged it over your clit, flicking the tip.

He hummed as he tasted you, pressing his mouth to your pussy lips and sucking on them, drawing a long moan from you. He flicked and teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, before closing his lips around it and sucking gently, swirling his tongue around the nub.

"Eli," you whined, letting out a long moan, running your hands through his thick hair. He hummed, the vibrations sending tingles through your whole body.

He moved his tongue to your entrance, slipping it in, licking up the slickness. He fucked you with his tongue, his thumb coming up to massage your clit.

You were a moaning, writhing mess under his mouth, so lost in bliss you didn't notice Klaus sitting down next to you until he spoke.

"Hello, love," he smirked, taking a sip from his glass.

"Hey," you moaned, reaching a hand out to caress his cheek, running a finger over his bottom lip.

He grabbed your hand and kissed your fingers, before placing the cool, crystal glass to your lips.

You sipped the cool, bubbly liquid, looking up at him, eyes sparkling, "thanks."

He set the glass down, and leaned in, pressing his lips against yours, his tongue parting your lips and dipping inside. You gasped into Klaus' mouth as Elijah's tongue dipped between you cheeks, licking up and down, teasing your entrance, before circling his tongue around the tight ring.

You whimpered as he licked you and Klaus chuckled, kissing his way down your neck.

Kol finally appeared, standing over the two of them, watching as they ravished you, "look what I found," he said, dangling a bikini bottom from his fingers.

"I don't think she needs it," Klaus said, his breath tickling your neck.

"True," Kol said, tossing the scrap of material away and sitting on the couch next to you, reaching out to pluck a bottle of champagne out of an ice bucket, before taking a long drink and pouring some down your chest and torso.

Elijah licked the bubbles off your chest, giving special attention to your breasts, before making his way up and claiming your mouth again. You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands were gripping your thighs, keeping them spread open.

"Such a perfect slut for us," he breathed. You moaned, gyrating your hips, craving their touch, your body flushed with desire. Elijah moved back down, kissing your stomach, making his way back between your legs.

Your fingers curled in Elijah's damp hair, massaging his scalp as he kept his mouth on you. The warmth in your belly was spreading and the tightness building. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, as he sent you over the edge, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking as your orgasm ripped through your body.

You gushed over his face, moaning and gasping at the stimulation, panting as you came down from your high. He sucked a little harder, making you kick your legs and try to push away.

"Too much, Eli!" you pleaded, unable to escape his vice-like grip.

He didn't stop and just gave you a smirk, making a show of it, and enjoying the look of pleasure and agony on your face.

He hummed softly, pressing two fingers into your ass, causing you to cry out and squeeze your thighs together, as he continued his attack on your clit, "Eli, I can't, please"

Kol bit your earlobe, and you felt the sharpness of his teeth, "you can and you will, you'll give our brother exactly what he wants, won't you?"

You nodded, moaning in response, letting Elijah stretch you open, working another finger inside, his tongue swirling, licking, sucking.

"Eli-" you cried, pulling on his hair as you felt him plunge his fingers deep and curl them inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut, tears stung the corners of your eyes, it was overwhelming, so intense.

"Eli, I'm cumming, please, I'm-" the rest of your sentence was cut off, your whole body tensed, a loud, long, drawn out moan escaped you.

You couldn't control the shaking, your mind went blank, your body was flooded with endorphins and you were a puddle in the arms of Kol and Klaus, who held you as you came.

Elijah finally moved his mouth away, his fingers still in your ass, he kissed you hard and you tasted yourself on his tongue.

Klaus grabbed the bottle of champagne and handed it to Elijah, who drank deeply, wiping his mouth on his forearm. He pushed your thighs back, and Kol and Klaus hooked their arms under your knees, holding you open.

Elijah removed his fingers and pushed his trunks down to his thighs, grabbing his cock, stroking himself slowly, smirking as you watched him.

You swallowed, looking between the three men, feeling like a trapped animal, you had nowhere to go, they had you surrounded.

"What a sight, sweetheart, such a slut," Elijah praised, brushing his thumb over your clit. You jolted and whined, "so sensitive, aren't we? Poor little whore, you've been fucked so many times, your body is just aching to be used."

"Eli," you whispered, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. He chuckled, wrapping his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly, making you moan. "That's not what you call me when we are alone," he whispered, his dark eyes boring into yours, his expression stern, the veins rippling under his eyes.

You licked your lips, taking in a breath, Kol and Klaus exchanged glances, they didn't know about your private hookups with Elijah.

"I'm sorry... daddy," you replied, looking up at him through your lashes, your eyes wide and innocent as they could be in this position.

He grinned, pleased with your answer and Klaus and Kol snickered, making Elijah's smile widen, showing his white teeth, "much better," he cooed, his grip tightening, as he aligned his cock with your ass, pushing past the rim, sinking deep inside.

Your hands flew to his wrists, squeezing tightly, your eyes pleading with him to go slow, even though you knew he wouldn't, and he didn't. He thrust hard and fast, making your toes curl, Klaus and Kol holding you tight and keeping you from wiggling away. 

They were both touching and groping, whispering dirty things in your ears, the combined attention had you soaring towards your next orgasm.

"You're such a little slut for us, aren't you? Our perfect, little, cock whore, aren't you darling?" Kol murmured, his hand cupping your breast, rolling and pinching the nipple. Klaus was playing with your other nipple, tugging and squeezing, and you were lost in their touch and words.

"Yes, I'm a little slut, please-" you gasped, arching up, the intensity of Elijah's thrusts sending shockwaves through you. Elijah's hand tightened on your throat, his cock plunging deep, making your eyes roll back and you let out a choked moan, the stretch was so good.

"Tell them," Elijah said, his voice was commanding, demanding, his tone leaving no room for discussion. "Tell them how much of a filthy little slut you are," he said, his eyes staring directly into yours, his thrusts getting faster and sloppier.

You whined, squirming in their hold, the heat was building and your head was fuzzy. Kol gave you a light slap on the cheek, bringing you back, "tell us, sweetheart, don't keep us waiting."

"I'm a dirty little whore," you panted, looking up at Elijah, whose lips were curled into a devilish grin, "a cock-hungry little slut," he grunted, his hips snapping.

"You're ours, all ours, aren't you? You love this, being filled and stretched, being used by all three of us, don't you?" Kol's words had you clenching around Elijah's cock, your whole body was trembling, so close to your climax.

"Yes, yes, yes," you moaned, arching your back, feeling Klaus and Kol's hands exploring your body.

"Good girl," Elijah said, loosening his hold on your neck, "so obedient"

He withdrew his hips and snapped them forward, drawing a loud moan from you, which encouraged him, and he began fucking you, hard and fast, setting a brutal pace. He leaned down, capturing your mouth, kissing you tenderly, as if to apologize for the roughness of his thrusts.

"I want to see her ass stretched wide and gaping for us," Kol hummed, his hands roaming down your sides, his fingers digging into your flesh, as Elijah continued to pound into you.

Elijah was getting close, his hands were shaking, his face contorting with the effort to control himself, his mouth open in a silent moan. His hips stilled, he let out a guttural groan as he filled you, his cock twitching and pulsing, his cum dripping out of you.

He pulled out slowly, and Kol watched, entranced, watching how your ass gaped, and the cum leaking from you.

"Such a dirty, filthy, slut, sweetheart," Kol cooed, his fingers sliding down and rubbing your sensitive clit. You gasped and whimpered, the stimulation making you writhe and squirm, trying to escape his touch.

Klaus' hand covered your mouth, "shhhh, we're not done with you, darling, we want you to cum for us one more time." He looked at his brother and smirked, "do you think she can do it?"

You cried out, muffled by Klaus' hand, feeling him pinch your clit, before he pulled you onto his lap, moving your legs to straddle him. His lips found yours and you moaned into the kiss, he held you tightly, his hands on your waist, guiding you to his cock, "such a good girl, you're going to ride me, and you're not allowed to cum, understand?"

"Yes, Sir," you breathed.

"Good," he said, his voice was a low growl, his eyes flashing amber, he looked dangerous, and it made your blood rush and heart race. "Now make yourself useful," he smirked, smacking you hard on the ass.

You sank onto him, moaning as he stretched you, grinding against him, loving the feel of his cock rubbing inside you. He smacked your ass again, "come on, darling, move, I'm not getting any younger," he growled.

You lifted yourself and slid back down, rolling your hips and clenching around him. Elijah sat down on the couch and took your hand, placing it on his already hard cock, encouraging you to stroke him. He leaned forward and kissed you, his hand caressing your cheek, "so perfect, little one, keep riding my brother, I know you can do it."

Kol came up behind you, running his hands over your hips and down your legs, before sliding them up your stomach and cupping your breasts, rolling and squeezing them. He kissed your shoulder, and nibbled on the skin, his cock pressing into your ass, grinding against you.

The sensations were overwhelming, and you were panting and moaning, the tightness building in your core. Klaus grabbed your throat, squeezing, "look at me," he demanded. You forced your eyes open, gazing at him through your lashes, feeling light headed and dizzy, the pleasure building, the tightness almost painful.

"Don't cum, not yet," he ordered, and you whimpered, squeezing his cock, the feeling of being full was driving you crazy. You were close, so close, and he wasn't letting you finish.

"I'm sorry," you whined, stilling your hips, trying to pull away from his hand, "I can't, sir, I'm gonna cum."

Klaus pulled you forward by the neck, holding you tight against his chest, his hands on your ass, squeezing and massaging, spreading your cheeks wide. 

"Don't you dare move," Klaus growled in your ear, "and stay quiet, you don't want everyone to hear what a filthy whore you are, do you?"

You shook your head, biting your lip, burying your face in his neck, your breathing heavy. You felt Kol press his cock against your asshole and he slid in slowly. You cried out, the sound muffled by Klaus' shoulder.

Kol's hands gripped your waist and he started moving, fucking you in earnest. Klaus held your hips still, his fingers digging into your flesh. You were trapped between them, their cocks filling you. Kol's thrusts were hard and fast, each time he hit bottom, the air was pushed from your lungs, and you could only hold on and take it.

They were relentless, their bodies moving in unison, and when they picked up the pace, and you were on the brink, you had no choice but to let go.

You tried to stifle your moans, to hide the fact that you were coming apart between the two men, and they weren't having it.

Kol's hand found its way into your hair and he tugged, pulling your head back, "we said no, and yet, here you are, cumming without permission," he hissed, slamming his hips into yours, his cock pulsing.

"Such a naughty slut," Klaus added, reaching between your legs, rubbing your clit, and making you gasp, "such a bad girl," he said, his voice low, "and we know exactly what to do with bad girls, don't we Elijah?"

Elijah stood and stepped up onto the couch, and placed his cock on your cheek, "open your mouth, darling, you need to be taught a lesson," he demanded.

You obeyed, and his cock slipped into your mouth, he didn't let you have control, he held your head, pulling you flush into his groin, "take it, all the way," he urged, and you gagged, trying to relax your throat, your nose pressed into the hair at the base of his cock.

"Good girl, such a good slut," he praised, thrusting his hips, fucking your face, and you closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of being used and filled by the three men.

Kol smacked your ass hard, over and over, until the skin was hot and sore, he slapped it again and again, as he fucked you, his movements becoming more erratic, his cock pulsed and twitched, and you felt his cum fill you.

His orgasm was intense, his breathing heavy, and when he was finished, he withdrew from you, laying back on the deck with his limbs spread, a goofy smile on his face. 

You were still full, your jaw ached, Elijah's cock was deep down your throat and you gagged around it, but he didn't relent, his hips bucking, fucking your face. Your vision was blurry, the tears in your eyes obscuring everything, you could only feel, and you were lost in the pleasure, your mind numb, your body floating.

Elijah withdrew as Klaus tensed, he pulled you off his lap, forcing you to your knees, his cock in his hand, stroking himself. He groaned loudly as he came, ropes of white spurting out and landing on your face and chest. Elijah was right behind him, and he pulled your hair, his cock throbbing, his cum coating your tongue and lips, his groans reverberating through you. 

He released his grip, his hand running through your hair, his thumb running over your cheek, collecting their cum, and pushing it into your mouth, and you sucked it clean.

"That's our good girl," Klaus murmured, his finger caressing your jaw, as he admired his handiwork.

The boat drifted along, the waves crashing against the hull, and the sun was setting, painting the sky and ocean in a warm orange glow.

You laid on the floor, covered in cum, sweat, and champagne, surrounded by the three naked brothers, your body sore and aching.

You smiled and let out a contented sigh, you were sated and happy, and there was nothing that could ruin this perfect day.

"So, who's hungry?" Kol asked, his head propped on his hand, a mischievous grin on his face.

The other brothers chuckled, and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head, and laughing at the insatiable man.

"Well, we should probably shower, get cleaned up, then we can figure out food," you suggested, looking around the mess that was once a pristine yacht. There were towels and champagne bottles strewn everywhere, the smell of sex and alcohol filling the air.

"What a wonderful idea," Elijah replied,  helping you to your feet, you fell over a bit, still wobbly from the rough treatment, and he caught you. He pulled you close and scooped you up, carrying you towards the jacuzzi. The three men climbed in, and Kol turned on the jets, the water bubbling, and the steam rose up.

The four of you were relaxed, the warm water soothing your aching muscles, Elijah pulled you into his lap, and you rested your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

Kol and Klaus sat next to you, the two brothers leaning on the edge, their arms crossed over the side, their eyes closed. You looked around the tub, admiring the view of the ocean, the golden sunset reflecting on the water.

You thought about the events of the day, and the memories made, and it was clear, this was the most magnificent, decadent, and debaucherous spring break you would ever have.

And the best part was, it wasn't even over yet, this was only the first day.

You let out a contented sigh, snuggling closer to Elijah.

This was going to be the best week ever.

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[amornoire]

@wholoveseggs what have you done to me!?? I love when you feed into my delusions and naughtiness 🤭 First and foremost, I fucking love you. You’ve absolutely opened the floodgates for all the dirty thoughts in my head…better be ready for my next dozen more requests 😌 Let’s begin with my analysis, yeah?

You turned your head slightly to lick and nip Klaus's cock, all while pumping your hands up and down their lengths. They were groaning, pulling you closer, pressing against your face, leaking for you….You hummed, eagerly taking him in your mouth, sucking him hard. You took Elijah and Kol in your hands, and stroked them simultaneously, the sounds of their moans made your pussy throb.

I have no words for this, I just fucking enjoyed it. The image of alternating between each brother’s cock? Chef’s kiss 💋

"Press your tits around it," he ordered, slowing his thrusts down. You pressed your tits around his cock, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting his precum. His head rolled back and he let out a deep groan, slowly fucking the valley of your breasts.

I knew it was a fabulous idea to bring Kol!

"Do you like having our cocks in your mouth?" He whispered, dark eyes looking deep into yours.

Elijah, my love, why do you like asking me such silly questions?

"I can do whatever I want to your pretty little mouth and I will have you worshiping me just the way I like," he said as he slowly pulled his length out. You were gasping for air, blinking away the tears that had formed in your eyes and desperately trying to catch your breath.

Once again, no comment…just me admiring your work & ofc Eli.

"God, I love seeing you like this," he breathed, his hips jerking. He grabbed your hair and pressed you against his groin, holding you there, your nose buried in the coarse, dark hair around the base of his cock.

"Mmmmm" you moaned, choking, the vibrations of your moan caused Elijah to release a deep, guttural sound and his hips to buck involuntarily. You could feel the muscles in his thighs tighten and he held your head in place as he emptied himself into your throat. You swallowed eagerly, milking him, taking everything he had to offer.

Not me inhaling his pubes 😂 @wholoveseggs you’ve fucking ruined me now. ‘Milking’? 🥵

"What a sight, sweetheart, such a slut," Elijah praised, brushing his thumb over your clit. You jolted and whined, "so sensitive, aren't we? Poor little whore, you've been fucked so many times, your body is just aching to be used."

Yes, yes it is so put it to use. Like Nik said somewhere in this wonderful artwork, ‘make yourself useful’

"You're ours, all ours, aren't you? You love this, being filled and stretched, being used by all three of us, don't you?" Kol's words had you clenching around Elijah's cock, your whole body was trembling, so close to your climax.

I now will be including Kol in a lot of my requests bc shit, his words alone could make me cum.

"I want to see her ass stretched wide and gaping for us," Kol hummed, his hands roaming down your sides, his fingers digging into your flesh, as Elijah continued to pound into you.

He pulled out slowly, and Kol watched, entranced, watching how your ass gaped, and the cum leaking from you.

There’s a certain scene playing in my head when I read this and the way I clenched my legs!? The sight of being so full that it leaks…? I know I’m sounding repetitive as hell but fuck! 🥵

"Good girl, such a good slut," he praised, thrusting his hips, fucking your face, and you closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of being used and filled by the three men.

Dp with Klaus and Kol while Eli chokes me with his cock? What the fuck does a girl, i.e me, need to do to get this!??

[sweetproclivity-deactivated2025]

rafe making it fit ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

“rafe, it’s not going to fit,” your eyes wide, your heart pounding against the confinement of your rib cage.

“don’t be stupid,” he laughs maniacally, his deep laughter booming and radiating your bones. his eyes are trained on his large cock in his hands, pumping the length as it lines up with your entrance.

“rafe!” you squeak out, scared. your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped indents. he wasn’t even inside you, but your guts were already hurting just from the look of his size.

“would you relax?” he breathes out, his eyes flitting up to yours. “it will fit, just breathe,” his eyes focus back on his cock in his hand, the tip nearing your entrance.

you attempt to obey him, breathing erratically as his warm tip reaches your burning pussy. your body suddenly becomes more rigid than it was before, if that was even possible.

rafe sighs condescendingly, his eyes locked on your bare core. “y/n,” he breathes out, his eyes looking up at you, hooded. “just relax. i can’t fit if you don’t relax,” his voice is low and impatient. he sees your anxiousness and just how innocent and scared you look, “it will feel good, baby, i promise,” he assures, his voice barely a whisper.

you nod your head, attempting to relax your achy and rigid muscles. clutching onto rafe’s broad shoulders as you feel his tip slipping into your folds.

your muscles freeze up again, your breathing catching in your throat. you didn’t mean to, he was just so thick and long and… you were terrified he was going permanently rearrange your guts.

rafe groans, feeling your pussy clenching tightly around him. he leans in, bringing his mouth to your neck as his tongue darts out, nipping and licking at your most sensitive spots.

this helped you to relax more, sinking into the bliss and rafe takes his opportunity, sliding the rest of his length into you in one swift movement.

“oh, fuck,” he growls lowly, the sound eliciting something erotic in you.

your eyes grow wide and you clutch onto rafe’s torso like your life depended on it. you were so full, and in one moment, you wondered if it was even normal to feel this fucking full.

“rafe,” you whimper out, his cock dragging out of your bumpy walls before he slides back in with ease. his mouth continues to attack your neck, leaving purple bruises and trying to keep you tame as he fucks the living shit out of you.

haunting adeline has seriously awoken something in me.

[amornoire]

You’ll make me feral bc now I need more of this but like a continuation? I just- idk I have a certain kink in mind that’ll elevate this if there was a continuation. 🤭 I love this though!!

[wholoveseggs]

Hey :) How about an idea like this: Elijah and Reader have been close friends. Almost like a couple minus the sex. Elijah opens up about his fear of being physically intimate with anyone because of his past history with women and his fear of falling in love and losing control. Reader shows him that there's nothing to be afraid of. Sweet, smutty, potentially biting ;)

Touch

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

After a dinner party with the Mikaelson family, you try to get Elijah to open up his heart to you.

♡♡ Thanks for the request darling @originals23, I love soft and sweet Elijah ♡♡

5.8k words - Warnings: angst, smut, oral sex, blowjob, biting, romantic as fuck, Elijah being so self-loathing...

Your friend Elijah was the whole package. Smart, witty, handsome, well-read, well-educated, and he dressed in clothes that could pay your rent. He was always so composed and dignified. You had no trouble understanding why a woman would fall for him; he was the quintessential tall, dark, and handsome.

But there was a deep sadness to him lurking underneath, accompanied by guilt and shame. You suspected that Elijah had been through something traumatic in his past, something that he couldn't bring himself to discuss. The most you ever got from him was that he had betrayed someone he had loved.

The two of you spent a lot of time together, taking walks through the city or going to plays. You loved hearing him talk about art, literature, philosophy. His deep, soothing voice made even the dullest subject come alive. You could spend hours with him, listening to him speak.

You wanted to be more than friends and you were putting out very clear signals for a while. He certainly wasn't a stupid man, so you didn't know what was holding him back. You figured he was either not interested in sex or he was scared to take things further.

He was always the perfect gentleman, even though you were pretty sure he was attracted to you. You had caught him glancing at you a few times, particularly when you were wearing something a bit revealing, and you saw his pupils dilate when he looked at your lips. There was always a tension between the two of you, which he was always careful to maintain at a friendly level.

It was getting a bit frustrating. He clearly liked you, so why didn't he just act on it? 

Elijah couldn't stop thinking about you. He had completely fallen for you, it was a rare and overwhelming feeling for him, and he was terrified of screwing things up. He had spent most of his life avoiding emotional attachment. He had his family, but no one outside of them. Until you came along.

You had managed to penetrate the cold walls that he had built around himself, and now he was in too deep. He couldn't stand the thought of losing you, so he tried to keep things at a platonic level. He was always careful not to let his hands linger on you, or his eyes stray. But sometimes it was so difficult to keep his desire in check.

But there you were, at a quiet dinner party with his family, wearing a red silk dress that clung to every curve of your body, looking like an angel, or a seductress, depending on your perspective. The neckline was low, showing off the top of your cleavage, and the hem was short, revealing the length of your legs. And it was tied in the back by these little strings, making it tight across your breasts. He couldn't stop thinking about undoing the strings and letting your breasts fall free.

The whole night he struggled to keep his eyes from wandering to you, his imagination from running wild. He couldn't stop thinking about how the silk would feel beneath his fingertips, the way your skin would feel, warm and soft against his hands, the sounds you would make as he took you apart, bit by bit.

But he had to ignore it all, you were a beautiful butterfly, and he didn't want to pluck your wings. He was determined to remain your friend and nothing more.

"Elijah darling, will you hand me that bottle of margaux?" Rebekah asked, nodding towards the wine rack.

Her words snapped him out of his daydream, and he reached for the bottle in question. He was pouring the wine into a glass for his sister when you spoke up.

"Can I have a glass too?" You asked, smiling at him.

He had been avoiding even looking at you all night and it hurt your feelings. You dressed up just for him, hoping that he would finally take the hint and realize that you were interested in him. He was always so composed, so restrained, but you had caught him looking at you several times and his gaze had been so intense, so heated, that it left you breathless. You were determined to take any opportunity to interact with him.

"Of course." He murmured, pouring the wine into a glass and handing it to you.

His fingers brushed against yours as he handed you the glass, sending a spark through your body. Your eyes locked for a moment and the air between you was charged with tension. His lips parted slightly and his eyes darted to your mouth, a flash of heat passing over his face. You felt your pulse quicken and your breathing become shallow. It all happened so fast, but it made you hopeful that he might actually reciprocate your feelings.

"Thank you," you whispered, bringing the glass to your lips and taking a sip.

The wine was rich and sweet, and the liquid slipped down your throat easily. You closed your eyes, savoring the taste, before opening them again and meeting Elijah's gaze.

"How have you been? We haven't talked in a while." You asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

"I've been fine, just busy with work," he replied, his eyes drifting over to where his brother Klaus was seated next to Rebekah.

You felt a little bold from the wine and you placed your hand on his knee. "You seem a little tense. Are you sure everything is okay?"

He froze, his eyes darting down to your hand and back up to your face. You smiled reassuringly and squeezed his knee. Elijah hated when you did this, he didn't like to feel afraid, and the sensation of fear, of his body tensing up and his heart racing, it all brought back memories that he had spent years burying.

He cleared his throat, "Yes, I'm fine, I just have a lot on my mind."

You nodded, sensing his discomfort. You were used to his aloofness, but it had never bothered you before. You knew he was a reserved man and that he had a lot going on in his head. But now, with you, it felt different. Like he was pushing you away, keeping you at a distance.

You turned to talk to Freya, trying not to let your disappointment show. You knew it was ridiculous to think that he would want you like you wanted him. He was your best friend and he probably didn't even think of you like that.

You looked around the table at everyone, you were the only one there that wasn't a Mikaelson or their partner. You were always welcomed like you were a part of the family, but tonight, it felt different. Everyone else was so happy, so in love, and you were alone.

After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room, the lights were dim and there was a roaring fire going in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room.

You sat on the sofa, next to Klaus, who was engrossed in a conversation with his brother Kol. You took another sip of wine and glanced around the room, watching as couples cuddled and kissed, enjoying the atmosphere.

Elijah walked in with some wood to add to the fire, he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, showing off his strong, muscular arms. You could see the outline of his biceps through his shirt and you bit your lip, trying not to imagine how they would feel wrapped around you.

He leaned down to place a log on the fire, there was something so primally attractive about watching a man build a fire, and you found yourself imagining Elijah naked, his body covered in sweat, his muscles rippling as he worked.

Your heart began to race and your breathing quickened. You shifted on the couch, pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that was building there.

Klaus got up and put a record on, the soft sultry tones of Nina Simone filed the room. You watched Klaus take Cami's hand and lead her to the middle of the room. He placed his hand on her hip, pulling her close to him, and they began to sway together, their bodies moving in perfect harmony.

The other couples followed suit, and soon the room was filled with music and laughter and the soft murmur of whispered words.

Your eyes wandered to Elijah, the only other one not dancing, and he was looking back at you. The firelight reflected in his eyes, making them look like pools of molten chocolate. You stood and crossed the room, offering your hand to him.

He hesitated, glancing at his siblings, all so lost in their own lovers, then back at you. "Will you dance with me, Elijah?"

He looked nervous and uncomfortable, but he nodded and took your hand. You led him to the middle of the room and placed your hand on his shoulder, interlacing the fingers of your other hand with his.

Elijah's heart was in his throat, the feeling of your body so close to his was overwhelming, and his mind was racing, trying to figure out what he should do next. You started swaying slowly, following the rhythm of the music. He felt stiff and awkward, not sure where to put his hands.

"You can touch me 'lijah," you whispered, placing his hand on the small of your back.

Your words sent a jolt of desire through him, his skin tingling where it made contact with yours. He swallowed hard, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions. You were looking at him with your beautiful eyes, filled with trust and affection.

The air between you was heavy with tension, and he knew if he didn't put some distance between the two of you, he would do something he would regret. But he couldn't tear himself away from you, the magnetic pull between you was too strong.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, and you leaned in closer, your lips almost touching his. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his body firm and warm beneath your touch.

"Tell me what's wrong," you asked softly, looking into his eyes.

He shook his head, his voice barely a whisper, "I can't."

"Yes, you can," you reassured him, stroking his cheek, "Just tell me, I won't judge."

He let out a long sigh and looked around at the others, each lost in their own little world. He couldn't do it, not here, not now.

Your heart broke at his unwillingness to open up to you and you could no longer stand to have him so close. You pulled away from him, and a flash of pain and confusion crossed his face.

"I need some air," you said, turning and walking out of the room.

Elijah watched you go, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. He was frustrated and confused and he didn't know what to do. He knew he should follow you, talk to you, try to explain himself. But he was frozen in place, paralyzed by his own fear and indecision. In that moment he realized he had no choice, he could either wallow in his own misery and lose you or he could face his fears and hope you still wanted him.

He went outside, finding you standing under the stars, your arms wrapped around yourself, staring out into the night.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "I didn't mean to upset you."

You turned to him, your eyes shining with tears, "I just want you to be honest with me, Elijah."

He stepped closer to you, reaching out and gently brushing a tear from your cheek. "I am afraid, Y/N."

"Of what?"

"I'm afraid that if we take our relationship further, I'll lose control. That I'll hurt you," he admitted.

You chuckled softly and shook your head, "You could never hurt me, Elijah."

He gave you a sad smile, his voice barely above a whisper, "I wish that were true."

You could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he was struggling to find the words. You took his hand and looked up into his dark brown eyes.

"Talk to me," you said softly.

He let out a long breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say.

"Before I was turned, I met this woman, he name was Tatia," he began, his voice shaky, "she was my first love, and I would have made her my wife,"

"But you were turned vampire," you said softly, touching his arm.

"Yes," he sighed, his expression pained, "only a few days after I was reborn did I take her life,"

"Oh my god," you breathed, not able to imagine such a tragedy, "it wasn't your fault, Elijah, you had no control,"

"It is not so simple," he replied, looking away from you, "I..."

"It is that simple, I know your heart Elijah, and I know you would never intentionally hurt anyone you love," You interjected, placing your hand over his heart, feeling it beat steadily, and he covered your hand with his.

"I'm not a good man," he whispered, "I've done horrible things, hurt people, killed people."

You placed your other hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes. You could see the pain, the shame, the guilt, the weight of his sins drowning him.

"If you weren't a good man you wouldn't feel any shame," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "You're not a monster."

"I am," he insisted, his eyes welling up with tears, "I have snuffed out precious life, I've picked the wings off every beautiful butterfly that has landed on my hand," his voice cracked, and he turned his face away, unable to look at you.

You took his chin in your hand, turning his head back to face you. You could see the anguish in his eyes, the pain that he had carried with him for so long. He let you pull him close, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"There is light in you, Elijah," you said softly, "I can see it."

He pulled back and looked at you, his eyes searching yours.

"I'm a monster," he repeated, shaking his head, "I'm not worthy of your friendship, much less your love."

"That's not your choice to make," you said firmly, "only I get to decide who's worthy of my heart," you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his stubble tickling your lips, "and I choose you."

He turned his head slightly, his lips grazing yours, and your breath caught in your throat. Your heart was racing, and your body was humming with anticipation.

He cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, and he leaned in, closing the gap between you. His lips were soft and warm, and you could feel the electricity flowing between you. You melted into his touch, his kiss igniting a fire within you.

Your hands traveled up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer, and he groaned against your mouth.

"My sweet Elijah," you murmured, tangling your fingers in his hair, "I've got you."

You felt his arms wrap around you, his fingers digging into your hips, and a thrill ran through you.

Elijah couldn't believe how good it felt to hold you like this, his body pressed against yours, your scent surrounding him, your lips against his. He was lost in the sensation, the pleasure of being so close to you, the way you made him feel, he had to have all of you.

"Come," he said softly, taking your hand and guiding you inside.

You followed him, your heart racing, the heat from his hand searing your skin. You didn't know what was going to happen, but you knew it was something special.

You climbed the stairs, your breathing ragged, anticipation coursing through your veins. He led you down the hallway and into his room.

The air was thick with tension, the energy between you palpable. You could see his shoulders were tense, his muscles coiled.

You could tell he was still conflicted, the war raging inside him. You wanted him to know that he was safe with you, that you could give him the love and affection he needed.

You undid the strings on your dress, letting the silk slip from your body, pooling at your feet. All you were left in was your panties, your breasts exposed to him.

He stared at you, his gaze roaming over your body, drinking in the sight of you. You reached out a hand to him, inviting him to touch you.

He slowly crossed the room, his eyes never leaving yours. He was drawn to you like a magnet, unable to resist the pull.

You placed your hands on his chest and slowly began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest. Your fingers traced his skin, reveling in the feeling of him. You tugged his shirt from his shoulders, tossing it to the floor, your fingers exploring the planes of his stomach and chest.

"You are so handsome," you murmured, looking into his eyes.

He kissed you again, his lips parting as your tongue met his, and the passion between you ignited. Your hands went to his belt buckle, and you undid his trousers, sliding them down his hips and letting them fall to the floor.

He smiled softly, his hands going to the small of your back and pulling you in closer. You moaned at the feeling of his hardness pressed against you, and you rubbed your body against his, reveling in the sensation.

Elijah broke the kiss, backing you up towards the bed. Your legs hit the mattress, and you fell onto it, your hair spilling out around you. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with lust. You bit your lip, the heat between your legs growing as you saw how much he wanted you.

He hummed in approval and bent over you, his lips traveling over the column of your throat. Your breath was coming in shallow pants as he nibbled and licked his way down your chest. He paused at your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth, and you gasped, arching your back.

You threaded your fingers through his hair as he worshiped your body with his mouth and hands. He worked his way lower, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles across your stomach. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties, slowly peeling them down your legs and discarding them on the floor.

You spread your legs for him, your pussy on display, he kissed his way up your thigh, nibbling and licking the skin. His lips found your clit, and sucked on it gently, drawing small circles with the tip of his tongue.

Elijah had dreamed of being with you like this, of being the one to bring you pleasure. He was lost in the taste and feel of you, the tiny moans you were making spurring him on.

He eased two fingers inside of you, and you let out a gasp of pleasure. He slowly moved his fingers in and out, the pleasure building inside of you, the sensation making your toes curl.

You had assumed he would be good in bed, but this was a whole other level. He was clearly an expert with his hands and mouth, and he was intent on making you come undone.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body humming with pleasure, your heart pounding in your chest. When he let out a groan of pleasure you came apart, your pussy clenching around his fingers, a wave of pleasure washing over you.

You fell back onto the bed, panting, your body limp and boneless. Elijah sat back, watching you as you recovered from your orgasm, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

You grinned at him, "You've been holding out on me."

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint," he said with a chuckle.

He lay down on the bed next to you and you got on your knees. He was looking up at you like he'd just won the lottery. You bent over him and began to trail kisses across his chest, your tongue tracing the lines of his muscles.

You took his cock in your hand, stroking his hard length slowly, and you looked up at him. He looked so beautiful and vulnerable like this, his face relaxed, his lips parted, his eyes full of trust and affection.

You slowly slid your lips around his head and began to gently suck and lick, you saw his hips jerk, a moan escaping his lips. His fingers found their way into your hair, lightly caressing you as you took him further into your mouth.

You let your saliva gather, coating your mouth, the sweet tang of precum coating your tongue as you lapped at his slit. You slid your tongue down the underside of his shaft, your tongue fluttering against the soft, sensitive skin there.

He felt so good, the weight and warmth of him in your mouth, his hands in your hair. You could tell he was getting close, his breathing heavy, his muscles tight. You could taste the salty pre cum spilling out of him, his hips starting to rock. Always so sweet and restrained, always so careful with you.

You moaned around him, the vibrations sending him over the edge. He let out a low groan of pleasure as he came in your mouth, his body tense as his release took him.

You gave little swallows, pulling all you could from him as he softened in your mouth. You looked up at him, your lips still toying with the head of his cock and he smiled softly, his hand coming up and wiping away a dribble of his cum.

Elijah could hardly believe you were in his bed, that he was with you like this, your mouth on his cock. You made him feel things he had never felt before, made him want to lose himself in you.

You placed a kiss on his lower abdomen and slowly moved up, straddling his hips. He sat up and kissed you, his tongue parting your lips as he explored your mouth. His hand trailed up your thigh to the curve of your ass and you pressed closer to him, your body flush against his.

Elijah was overjoyed that he was about to make love to you, his friend, the person he loved and trusted the most. You had been the only person he had ever opened up to about his past. The only one who had ever seen him so vulnerable. He never expected it would lead to this but he was glad it had.

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your nose brushing his skin. His hands explored the smooth curves of your body, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your hips. You kissed along the curve of his jaw, his stubble tickling your lips.

"This feels nice, I like touching you," you murmured, smiling up at him, your heart full of affection for him.

"It do too," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

His hand moved down the outside of your thigh to your knee, drawing circles on the soft skin there. He moved your legs slightly, letting him take control, your heart raced with anticipation. He spread your legs a little more, his fingers trailing up the inside of your thigh, teasing you, leaving you wanting.

You bit your lip as you watched his hand move further up your thigh. You could feel the heat of him as his hand got closer to where you wanted him the most. He kissed you as his fingers gently grazed over your clit, and you moaned softly.

Your fingers trailed over his chest, teasing him in turn, as he continued to stroke you. The softness of his touch combined with his strength was a heady combination. 

"Elijah," you gasped, his fingers slipping into you.

He hummed in response, a deep, pleased rumble as he moved his fingers in and out of you slowly. His cock was hard, throbbing as he pleasured you. The air around you was thick with desire as the two of you gave in to your desire.

"Please," you breathed, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.

He smiled and removed his fingers from your dripping cunt, wrapping your legs around him, pulling you in closer. You took his cock in your hand and guided him into you, his length filling you slowly.

Your eyes met as he sank into you, his eyes full of adoration, the intimacy between you intense. His hands went to your hips and he slowly rocked you against him, your breasts pressing into his chest.

Soft, wet sounds filled the air as you began to move together, his hips pressing up into yours as you rolled your hips against him. You kissed his chest, licking and nibbling, making your way up to his throat, his stubble tickling your cheek as you left small love bites.

Your clit was rubbing against the base of his cock and you were starting to feel that sweet ache deep inside you as your pleasure started to build. He felt so good, his hands gripping you tightly, pulling you close as you both rocked and grinded together.

His eyes were turning black, veins snaking under his skin and his fangs descended. Your blood was pounding through your veins and you were both breathing heavy. He was trying to fight it, not wanting you to see that side of him, he wanted to be gentle with you. He'd never let his guard down with anyone.

You were fascinated by it, the way he was starting to let go. The way you were getting to see him like this, so raw and vulnerable. You felt closer to him than you'd ever felt to anyone and it filled your heart with so much joy. You brought a hand up to trace the moving veins, feeling them throb under your fingers, the way the skin tightened around his eyes.

"It's okay, you don't have to hide," you said softly, cupping his face.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing. You felt his muscles relax and you felt a thrill go through you knowing that he was letting you in. You began to bounce slightly on his lap, taking his cock deep inside you.

He groaned as you tightened around him, the heat inside you growing. He held you close, his breathing ragged, your skin hot and slick as your bodies moved together. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he kissed and licked your throat.

Your head lolled back, baring your neck to him, the trust you felt for him made him feel a wave of affection for you. You could feel his fangs grazing your skin and you knew what he needed. You could feel the hunger coming from him.

You brought a hand to his head, holding him close, and you tilted your head further. You were offering yourself to him, offering to share in your most intimate moment with him, to feed him.

"It's okay baby, you can taste me," you murmured, stroking his hair.

He let out a growl as he sank his fangs into you, your sweet, coppery blood flooding his mouth. His grip on your hips tightened as he held you against him, your bodies flush against one another, as he drank.

He felt a rush go through him, your blood invigorating him like a drug, filling his body with warmth and pleasure. The sweetness of you, the softness of your skin, the scent of your arousal filling his nose was making him lose all control.

In one swift movement he flipped you over, his weight on top of you, his hips never leaving yours as he pinned you beneath him. He was taking control, taking what he wanted, the look of pure bliss on your face making him fall further.

You spread your legs wider, your hands digging into the muscles of his back, and you ground yourself against him, the new position letting you take him in deeper. You felt his tongue trace the wound in your neck, the pleasure of him drinking from you making you moan.

Elijah pulled away, looking down at you. Your skin was flushed, your hair fanning out around your head, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his long, long life. He wanted to share everything with you, the dark and light, the pleasure and the pain. You were the person he loved the most and he wanted you to feel just how much he adored you, needed you.

He kissed you with an intense passion, pouring all of his love into you. He was done holding back, done denying himself of you. He'd loved you from afar, his desire for you growing. You had shown him a new kind of affection, a different way to see the world.

He gently bit down on his lip, sharing his blood with you. You were eager as you licked it away, savoring his taste. You felt him deep in your soul, your blood singing with pleasure. The intimacy of it, of sharing something so deeply personal, had your heart full to bursting.

The room was filled with the sound of your panting and moans, the wet sounds of your bodies coming together, and your hearts were beating in sync. He moved in a deep, steady rhythm, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze full of tenderness.

His hands traced up the sides of your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps, before finding your wrists, he pinned them to the bed above your head, his weight pressing you into the mattress. You could feel how close he was, the muscles of his arms tight, his back tense as he tried to hold back his release.

He could feel it, the warmth deep in his core, the need to release building. He wanted you to come with him, to share in the pleasure with him. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him in closer, your hands gripping his as he pinned you to the bed.

"Let go baby," you gasped, the words falling from your lips, the heat between your legs building to a peak.

His pace quickened and you were right there with him, the pressure inside you building to a peak as you teetered on the edge, and you let out a low moan as your pleasure crested and crashed through you, the orgasm rolling over you like a wave. You were both coming together, the sensation of being inside you as you clenched and trembled around his cock pushing him over the edge.

You rode it out, clinging to one another, lost in the sensation as the wave of pleasure ebbed and flowed through your bodies, his warmth spreading deep inside you, your blood pounding in your ears.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck and he bit down again, sharing in your ecstasy, the sweetness of you flowing over his tongue, the way your body felt clenching and fluttering around his cock as he emptied himself inside of you, it was bliss.

He drank slowly, your hands tangled in his hair, your body pressed close to his, the warmth of your release coating his cock. You were limp, exhausted in the most satisfying way, his cock softening inside of you, his breathing coming in shallow pants.

He pulled away and kissed the wound tenderly, sealing it up with the warmth of his tongue as he slowly lapped away the blood. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, the feel of his skin on yours so intimate and right.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice soft.

You turned his face to yours and you smiled. You leaned in and kissed him, softly at first, but you found yourself deepening the kiss. Your body responded to him immediately, desire beginning to simmer once more.

"I love you," you said softly against his lips, your eyes searching his.

You had always been afraid to tell him how you felt. You knew it might ruin what you had but you couldn't hold back. Not after this. Not after what had just happened. You knew the feeling was mutual, he loved you, he always had, and it made you so happy you could cry.

"I love you," he breathed, his eyes full of affection, and it made you melt.

"Can we stay just like this?" You asked, feeling a blush creep up your face, and he smiled and nodded.

He gathered you into his arms and laid back on the bed, pulling the comforter over you as you curled up against him, your head on his chest, his arms holding you tight. You were content to lay there, the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath your head as you lay wrapped in one another's arms.

Elijah could feel you dozing off as the night grew later. You were exhausted but content, and you wanted to stay with him, just like this, for as long as you could.

He had made many mistakes in his long life, he had hurt people, he had done terrible things. He never thought he would be able to have anything good like this in his life, he didn't feel like he deserved it. 

But as you slept peacefully in his arms, he couldn't help but think that he must be doing something right.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[amornoire]

Elijah walked in with some wood to add to the fire, he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, showing off his strong, muscular arms. You could see the outline of his biceps through his shirt…He leaned down to place a log on the fire, there was something so primally attractive about watching a man build a fire, and you found yourself imagining Elijah naked, his body covered in sweat, his muscles rippling as he worked.

Don’t mind me. I’m just gonna be over here drooling and panting 🫠🥵

the soft sultry tones of Nina Simone filed the room

HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT I LOVE HER!?!?!?!! Literally my fave song is ‘Feeling Good’ + I love Bublé’s rendition

You could see the anguish in his eyes, the pain that he had carried with him for so long. He let you pull him close, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

My sweet baby Eli 🥺 He’s just a baby 👉🏽👈🏽

In one swift movement he flipped you over, his weight on top of you, his hips never leaving yours as he pinned you beneath him. He was taking control, taking what he wanted…

This is me giving my 100% consent to have Eli use me as a ragdoll or whatever he wishes 😌 I’ll just sit/stay there and take it 🤭

[devinedoll-deactivated20240510]

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

lets talk stepbro!johnb because i’ve never seen it done before!!

stepbro!johnb is so hard to imagine because that boy is parentless (#bigjohnisnotafatherfigure) but let me try my best!!

i’m thinking maybe big john got together with a woman before his disappearance, and you (her daughter) quickly became apart of the family. after the events of season 1 and his father going missing, you stuck around, you’re his little sister after all…

john b tried his best to take care of you throughout everything, soothing you while you mourn the loss of your step father, keeping the chateau afloat and making sure his absence wasn’t weighing too heavy on your environment.

he took on this parental role for you, tucking you into bed, cooking you meals, driving you around in the twinkie, he went full daddy mode.

it wasn’t long after this new dynamic went into place that he started helping you out with other things— your sticky panties when you wake up, your sore boobs before your period, or that place you can’t seem to hit just few inches inside your heat.

john b is a fixer.

he fixes you emotionally, physically, mentally. he puts the pieces together when no one else was around. you cherish him. you want to tell other people about how great he is. he fixes the ache between your legs, your headboard after you two break it, your hair after he messes it up. you want the world to know why he’s the best big brother.

it’s not your fault you don’t understand, and it’s not john b’s fault for not telling you this wasn’t normal, he liked the arrangement, and you didn’t have any complaints.

it’s started out accidentally. hearing you whining and crying behind your closed bedroom door, john b only wanted to make sure you were okay. how was he supposed to know that your breathy mewls and pouty whimpers were from the pillow you were humping, puffy lips dragging against the fabric desperately.

he didn’t say anything when he entered—standing frozen in the doorway, eyes glued to the mess you made on the fabric.

it was you who spoke first, a pained cry, “jombeee… need help”

he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing visibly as he nods at you, “yeah, okay sweets.”

he pads over to you, your grabby hands reaching out for him, latching onto his t-shirt. his strong arms slot underneath your own, lifting you up and depositing you in front of him on the bed, your back pushed against his firm chest.

he blinks away his initial shock, brain going into that soft helper mode you know so well, ignoring any pangs of guilt, “wanna tell me what’s going on bubba? what got you so worked up hmm?”

you slouch against him, throwing your head back into the junction between his shoulder and head—a unique combination of exhausted and frustrated, “just can’t make the feeling stop…” you pout, “mmsorry”

john b frowns, head shaking at your words, “no need to be sorry, just—lemme have a look yeah?” his voice is deep and raspy in your ear. you shiver. his gazes down at you, eyes catching on your pert nipples pushing against your thin tank top.

he swallows audibly, bringing his right hand towards the apex of your thighs.

he was really doing this.

you whine when he peels your panties away, your sensitive core meeting the cold air. he touches you hesitantly at first, just rubbing through your wetness like he’s trying to convince himself that it’s okay to want this.

your pathetic whines certainly help, desperate little cries for more pressure that have john b’s opposition melting away, “oh sweetie…” he whispers gently into the shell of your ear, “really needed this huh?”

“yeah” you pout, “can you fix it please?”

he nods, john b is a fixer.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

[amornoire]

Oooh this was interesting! I love it and now I need more 🥹