#I still feel like Twilight Sparkle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudtransprncy · 8 months

Text

"One Night Only"

Word count: 11210 Jennie x Male reader

Consequence – That word reverberates through my mind, echoing off the plush walls of this hotel suite. Each decision, every whisper of action, carries its own shadow, trailing behind it. I know this, deep in my bones. Yet, life, in its fleeting dance, seems to mock the very notion of permanence. The only certainty we hold is the silent, inexorable march towards an end we'd rather not face. We push it aside, cloak it in disbelief. Life, in its relentless stride, continues until reality, unbidden, jolts us awake. So, we find refuge in the fleeting – in the amber embrace of liquor, the smoky tendrils of a cigarette, the heady rush of desire. For a night, just this night, we silence the whispers of tomorrow.

Jennie's breath, a ragged symphony, plays against my lips. Our kiss, a dance of longing, tastes of sweet cherries laced our sharp kiss. Her fingers, entwined in my hair, pull us closer, our bodies becoming one in the moon's silver gaze.

Commitment – that once-venerated word now feels like a stranger's tongue. The thought of being tethered, bound by invisible threads of promises stretching across a lifetime, seemed more a prison than a haven. I've always been a creature of flight, a heart unmoored. Maybe that's why she drifted away – a preemptive strike against a future steeped in resentment. In protecting us from the chains of unfulfilled promises, did I sever the only tie that mattered?

Her skin, a canvas of warmth under my fingertips, ignites a trail of desire. As I explore the landscape of her body, each curve, each hidden valley, I lose myself to the moment. Her whisper, a confession in the dark, "I've missed this," binds me tighter than any vow.

Beyond the confines of this room, the city stretches out – a tapestry of steel and dreams under the night sky. Each light, a star in this man-made constellation, speaks of what could be. Once, as a child, I found solace in the stars, in the steady presence of Virgo among the celestial sea. Jennie, like that favored constellation, has always been the light I orbit, the gravity I cannot escape.

In the lunar glow, her face is a serene oasis, her breaths soft sonnets in the stillness. As I trace the lines of her neck, her back arches, a silent plea etched in moonlight. When our gazes lock, in that infinite moment, I see it – the reflection of myself, of us, in the depths of her eyes, a constellation not in the sky but right here, in this room.

She'll come. She always does.

In my mind's eye, I knew she was entwined with someone new, a high-profile actor whose name evades my memory. Insignificant, really, in the grand tapestry of our story. He's but one of many, a star in the vast firmament of an industry pulsing with life. His mark on the world may be noteworthy, but in her universe, he's merely a passing comet, fleeting and ephemeral.

We had drifted apart, yet fragments of our souls lingered, delicately preserved within the vases of our hearts. Months had passed since our last encounter, since our fingers last brushed, our eyes last locked. Though a year had unfolded since our parting, the invisible threads that bound us remained unsevered. When she called, I became all ears; when I reached out, she was always there. Our souls, entwined through seasons of love, could not fully disentangle. She may have sought refuge in another's arms, yet a piece of her essence, like a sacred relic, remained eternally mine, as mine did hers.

The revelation of her presence in New York unfurled as I was poised to board my flight from Chicago to Toronto, the next chapter in my tour's melody. A spare day, a gift of time, whispered the possibility of a detour – a rendezvous in the city that never sleeps.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing my suite in a golden haze, I reached out to her. The skyscrapers below sparkled like jewels under the twilight's caress as I dialed her number. She answered, a silence that spoke volumes, a canvas upon which our history was painted. Our conversations had become a dance, a playful chase of cat and mouse, with words unspoken yet understood.

"I'm in the city for one night," I murmured, the words hanging in the air like a promise, a temptation. Her silence lingered, a delicate pause on the other end, filled with the muted symphony of her world – the distant chatter of her entourage, the soft clicks of cameras capturing fleeting moments.

"I got a room for me and you," I continued, my voice a blend of hope and certainty. "This is for one night only." The details spilled out, coordinates to our secret haven, as the line hummed with the electricity of anticipation before falling silent. But my heart knew – she would be there, drawn to me as I to her, in this city of dreams and shadows.

A knock fractured the stillness of the midnight hour, a subtle intrusion into the suite where I stood, lost in thought. Above, the sky had donned its nightly regalia, stars scattered like diamonds on black velvet, while the moon – a coy dancer among the celestial array – cast a playful glow upon the city's silhouette. Clouds, thin as gossamer, shifted in the sky, their movements like silk curtains in a soft breeze, alternately veiling and revealing the moon's luminescence. The hour was ethereal, suspended between the remnants of the day and the possibilities of the night.

As I opened the door, she materialized before me – an enigmatic vision at the threshold. She stood there, robed in a chic, form-fitting black dress that gracefully embraced her figure, ending mid-thigh in a delicate declaration of allure. Encircling her legs were knee-high socks, culminating in a daring thigh garter – a subtle yet bold statement of her unique style. Her presence was a striking contrast to the muted opulence of the hotel suite.

Her hair, a cascade of dark, silken strands, framed her face in a perfect balance of elegance and wildness. It fell around her shoulders like the night itself had woven a mantle of shadows to adorn her. The dress clung to her form, outlining her slender arms and the gentle curves of her body, a testament to her poise and the understated power of her presence.

Her makeup was an artful composition, her eyes highlighted with a subtle precision that spoke of distant lands – a hint of an exotic narrative told in the language of beauty. It was understated yet impactful, enhancing her natural features with an artistry that suggested a story deeper than what the eye could see. Her lips, painted in a soft, natural hue, invited a second glance, a lingering focus.

As her gaze met mine, it was electric, a current of shared history and unspoken understanding passing between us. Her eyes, dark and inscrutable, held a depth that was both inviting and impenetrable. The air around her was perfumed with the rich scent of roses, intermingling with the sweet notes of her perfume, creating an aura that was at once intoxicating and comforting.

Her smile unfurled, a familiar softness that painted her features with an intimacy known only to those who had once shared everything. It was a grin that reached back through time, stirring a sea of memories within me.

"Hey," I found myself saying, my words emerging with a hint of a smirk, a reflex born of countless shared moments.

"Hey yourself," she echoed, her voice a melody laced with history. Her fingers, delicate yet assertive, found my chest, pressing gently, urging me backward into the realm we had once known so well. The sensation of her touch was like a key turning in a long-locked door, opening pathways to a past we had carefully navigated.

"It's been a while," her words floated through the air, a statement hanging between us, laden with unspoken narratives.

"Indeed it has," I replied, my voice a soft echo of our shared past. The click of the door sealing us within the suite marked a threshold crossed, a silent herald of a journey into realms both familiar and uncharted.

In that simple exchange, a current of anticipation began to build. The air between us became charged, a palpable tension that spoke of things unsaid, of paths once walked and now revisited. The weight of our history and the uncertainty of our present wove together, creating a tapestry rich with possibility and fraught with the complexity of our intertwined past.

In the soft, muted light of the suite, it didn't take long for our reunion to transform into an entwined embrace on the couch, a fusion of longing and familiarity. The kiss was a deluge of suppressed desires, a fervent torrent that left no room for ambiguity in our intentions. Her body against mine was a juxtaposition of the known and the novel, a comforting familiarity found on unfamiliar terrain. Our tongues, engaged in a private waltz, rediscovered a rhythm that pulsed with both nostalgia and excitement.

My hands roamed her form with an eager curiosity, tracing the familiar yet rediscovered contours of her body. The sensation of her skin under my fingertips was a tapestry of memories and new sensations, each touch reigniting a forgotten connection. The urgency in our movements was palpable, a frantic energy that surged against the sands of time since our last entwining. We were an orchestra of motion and sound, a harmonious blend of sighs and soft moans, a tempest of passion and need. The air around us was thick with the scent of our mingled perfumes, a heady aroma that enveloped us in a cocoon of intimacy.

She dug her fingers into my hair, pulling me closer with a forcefulness that stoked the flames of my arousal. The pressure of her lips on mine intensified, her tongue dancing with increasing urgency. A soft whimper escaped her throat, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. Our tongues fought for dominance, fueled by the heat of our desires.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Jennie as my hands found their way, cupping the curves of her ass with a gentle firmness. The motion drew her closer still, eliminating any space that lingered between us. Through the thin fabric of her dress, I could discern the outline of her response, her nipples hardening under my touch. A physical testament to the charged atmosphere that enveloped us. Her body’s reaction, tangible and immediate, sent a wave of anticipation coursing through me.

The texture of her dress under my palms was a subtle contrast to the warmth of her skin, a reminder of the thin veil that still separated us from total surrender. Each breath she took was a melody, harmonizing with the quiet symphony of the night around us.

Jennie's retreat from our kiss left a tangible, connecting strand, a fleeting bridge between us that shimmered in the dim light. Her eyes, dark and enigmatic, bore into me with an intensity that felt as if it could unravel the very fabric of my being. Those eyes were like portals to uncharted depths, brimming with unspoken tales of desire and yearning.

"I've missed this, Owen" she whispered, her voice a soft rumble, resonating with every fiber of my being. She grinds against me, her hips moving back and forth, a tangible expression of her yearning that seeped through the barriers of our clothing. Her fingers, entwined in my hair, drew me back into her orbit, our lips crashing together in a kiss that was as fierce as it was profound. The intensity of our connection, raw and unbridled, engulfed me.

Consumed by her presence, the taste of her lips, the feel of her pressed so close, my hands roamed with a mind of their own. They journeyed beneath the hem of her dress, venturing over the smooth, warm terrain of her skin, each inch revealed a revelation in itself. The sigh that escaped her, a breathless affirmation of the moment, reverberated in me like a symphony.

Our bodies moved in tandem, a harmony of action and reaction, each caress, each undulation building on the next. Slowly, inch by inch I pushed her dress upward, revealing the subtle, sensual landscape of her form. Jennie's breath quickened as her hips rolled, grinding with an increased fervor against me, her nipples stiff and pronounced, brushing against my shirt, an exquisite combination of restraint and liberation. Her arms stretched upwards into the air as I pulled the fabrics of her dress, away from her, lifting its grip from her form, and over her head, which she then tossed casually to one side.

As Jennie's dress slid away, her figure, a stunning tapestry of curves and lines, was unveiled in the lunar glow that seeped through the windows. The moonlight played upon her skin, casting it in an ethereal shimmer, transforming her into a vision of porcelain radiance. She stood there, an embodiment of confidence and sensuality, a modern-day deity framed in a chiaroscuro of shadows and light.

My gaze lingered on her breast, tracing the contours of her physique – the gentle slopes and the pronounced curves that defined her form. Each aspect of her body, from the graceful arc of her waist to the delicate structure of her shoulders, spoke of a silent grace, a beauty that was as natural as it was captivating. Her skin, smooth and luminous, seemed to capture the very essence of the moon's glow, reflecting it back in a soft luminescence that highlighted her every move. My hands, acting with a fervor born from deep within, eagerly explored the expanse of Jennie's skin, a landscape I had once known intimately. The sensation of her beneath my fingertips was exhilarating – a cascade of textures and warmth that set every nerve ending alight. Her skin was soft, yet firm, yielding under my touch with a gentle resilience that beckoned for more exploration.

As I traced the contours of her body, every curve and dip spoke volumes. The softness of her breasts contrasted with the smooth, firmer feel of her abdomen, each sensation a paragraph in the story of her body. The way her skin responded to my touch, with subtle shifts and sighs, was like conversing in a language of sensation, each caress a word, each touch a sentence.

As my hands continued their journey, Jennie's responses turned into a symphony of their own. Her moans, soft yet resonant, were like notes rising from a well-tuned instrument, each one a melody of pleasure and surrender. The sound of her voice, humming in contentment, filled the room with a music that was deeply personal, an intimate concert shared between two souls.

Her moans ebbed and flowed with the rhythm of my touch, crescendos of sound that matched the increasing intensity of our connection. They were not just expressions of pleasure; they were communications, telling me without words how each caress, each gentle stroke was received. Her hums, low and melodic, were the bassline to the higher notes of her moans, creating a harmonious blend that was as compelling as any melody.

After savoring the sensation of Jennie's skin beneath my hands, an innate longing surged within me to delve deeper, to explore her with the intimacy of my lips. I began at her collarbone, a spot often overlooked yet brimming with delicate sensitivity. My lips traced its subtle contours, each kiss eliciting a gentle sigh from Jennie, her skin warm and soft under the tender pressure.

As I journeyed to her shoulders, the texture of her skin subtly shifted, becoming smoother, more resilient. Her responses grew in intensity, her moans a testament to the changing sensations my lips invoked. The scent of roses from her perfume grew stronger here, mingling with her natural fragrance to create an intoxicating aura.

Gliding down her arm, I reveled in the silkiness of her skin, each kiss a discovery of her unique topography. But it was at her armpit where I lingered, captivated by the uniqueness of this hidden enclave. The texture here was more intimate, the skin softer and imbued with a deeper scent that was unmistakably Jennie - raw and personal. Her reaction was more pronounced; her moans louder and filled with a depth that spoke volumes of the pleasure she felt.

As my lips finally reached the crest of Jennie's chest, the change in texture was profound. Her breasts, tender and full of life, responded to each kiss with a symphony of sensation. The delicate softness beneath my lips felt like the most luxurious satin, each touch deepening our connection. The subtle firmness of her nipples, aroused and beckoning, contrasted with the yielding flesh around them.

Gently, I let my tongue dance over the stiffened peak, and Jennie's reaction was immediate. A shiver coursed through her, a physical echo of the pleasure that resonated within. Her breathing became a series of rapid, shallow waves, a delicate soundtrack to our intimate ballet.

Meanwhile, my hand ventured to its twin, mirroring the actions of my mouth. The sensation of rolling and lightly flicking her other nipple elicited from her a chorus of sensual sounds, each moan a note in our crescendoing duet.

When I enveloped her sensitive peak with my mouth, Jennie's moan - "Oh my god" - reverberated through the room. The meticulous circling of my tongue around her was a focused ritual, each motion deliberate and attuned to her responses. The flavor of her skin was a delicate blend of sweetness tinged with the saltiness of her arousal, a tantalizing taste that drew me deeper into the moment. Her chest pushed forward, eager to meet the onslaught of stimulation with an intuitive abandon.

"I forgot how good you feel," I murmured, my voice tinged with a deep arousal, the words escaping almost involuntarily.

"I want to feel you too," Jennie responded, her voice a breathless mixture of playfulness and desire, sending a jolt of longing straight through me. Her eyes, deep and enigmatic like the midnight sky, held mine with an intensity that spoke volumes. Her hand traced a path up my arm, gliding over the contours of my shoulder, then wrapping around to my back with an electrifying touch that felt like a firebrand on my skin.

With an urgency that mirrored our rising passions, she tugged at my shirt, a silent beckoning for me to shed the last barrier between us. In a swift, seamless motion, Jennie peeled my shirt away, her hands immediately finding the warmth of my bare chest. Her initial feather-light touch quickly intensified, her fingers becoming more assertive, tracing and exploring my skin with a growing fervor that matched the beat of our racing hearts.

As Jennie began to mirror the way I had cherished her body, the intensity of the experience magnified. Her lips traced a path down my neck, each kiss a delicate imprint that seemed to sear into my memory. The sensation of her mouth moving across my skin was both soft and fervent, a contradiction that sent waves of pleasure through me.

Her hands, emboldened by her desire, explored the landscape of my torso. The contrast of her delicate fingertips against the firmness of my muscles created an exhilarating dance of sensations. The pressure of her touch varied, sometimes feather-light, other times more assertive, mapping the contours of my body with an attentiveness that was almost reverent. Each caress seemed to speak volumes, communicating her appreciation and desire in a language beyond words.

As she reached my chest, her exploration became more intense. The sensation of her lips against my skin was like an electric current, each kiss a spark that ignited deeper, more primal feelings within me. Her breath, warm and uneven against my skin, her soft murmurs and occasional sharp expletives, added to the crescendo of sensations, making every moment feel more heightened, more vivid.

In the midst of this exchange, a thought flickered through my mind, unbidden yet insistent. I wondered if her nights with her boyfriend held the same intensity, the same unbridled passion that we were experiencing. Was there the same depth of connection, the same exploration of senses? The thought was a sharp contrast to the immediacy of our encounter, a jarring reminder of the reality beyond this room.

Yet, as quickly as the thought came, it was swept away by the tide of our passion. The here and now was all that mattered - the feeling of her hands on me, the taste of her lips, the sound of her soft exclamations. In this moment, nothing else existed but the intensity of our rekindled connection, a fervor that seemed to eclipse all else.

"Fuck! I need your dick in my mouth," Jennie's voice was thick with desire as she slid off my lap. Her hands, eager and insistent, found their way to the waistband of my sweatpants. With a swift, almost ravenous movement, she tugged them down, freeing my aching arousal. It stood, hard and throbbing, just inches from her face. Her eyes, alight with a fiery blend of lust and hunger, locked onto mine.

"You can have it tonight," I responded, my voice a deep rumble of desire, as her small, delicate hands encircled me. The contrast of her soft touch against my hardness only heightened the moment.

"All of it?" Her question was laced with a seductive confidence, her eyes burning with an intensity that spoke volumes of her desire. I could only nod, caught up in the moment's gravity.

Leaning forward, Jennie's lips parted slightly, and she drooled over a thick glob of saliva that landed precisely on the tip. The warm fluid began to trickle down, glistening in the dim light. She deftly used her fingers to spread it, coating me in a sheen that was both slick and inviting. My entire being was alight with sensation, every nerve ending attuned to her movements as she began to work her hand along my length. Her grip was firm, her movements measured, each stroke a deliberate act of provocation.

Jennie's movements became more intense as she tilted her head, sweeping her hair to one side with a free hand while maintaining her fervent stroke. Her gaze remained locked with mine, a fiery blend of intensity and curiosity as she leaned down. The first sensation was the heat of her breath, a hot, moist whisper against my skin. Then came the slow, deliberate touch of her tongue, tracing a circle around the tip. The electricity of her touch sent a tremor through my body, a visceral reminder of our past intimacy.

As Jennie's lips enveloped the crown, the sensation was both familiar and overwhelming. Her tongue skillfully danced and teased, each movement deliberate and laden with sensation. The warmth and wetness of her mouth enveloped me further, each motion a blissful exploration. Time seemed to stretch and warp, the world outside our bubble ceasing to exist in the wake of her expert ministrations.

Her soft moan, vibrating around me, amplified the sensation, sending shockwaves through my body. I was caught in a spellbinding haze of pleasure, each movement she made bringing me closer to the edge of surrender. The combination of her lips, tongue, and the soft vibrations of her moans created an indescribable tapestry of pleasure, leaving me utterly enraptured.

"Holy Shit!" I couldn't hold back the moan as I found support against the couch's frame, my arms stretched out for stability. The intensity of Jennie's movements sent waves of pleasure through me, causing my head to thrash back in ecstasy. My heart raced uncontrollably, every beat echoing the mounting need within me.

Jennie's hair, a dark cascade, framed her face as she moved with a precision that was nothing short of masterful. The sensation of her lips, sliding rhythmically along my length, was unparalleled. Her ability to take me fully, her breath steady through her nose, spoke of an expertise that was both awe-inspiring and deeply arousing. The way her cheeks hollowed, the hungry suction, the repeated swallowing of my length – it was a dance of intensity and passion.

She occasionally paused, deliberately choking on the tip to gather saliva, which she then used to lubricate my entire length, enhancing the ride with each slick, smooth movement. Every action, every technique of hers was a testament to her skill, her dedication to the act transforming it into something akin to fervent devotion. The pleasure she bestowed was not just physical; it was an experience that transcended the mere act, elevating it to a form of worship.

As I felt the tide of climax beginning to rise within me, I instinctively wanted to prolong this intense experience, to savor more of Jennie's body. Gently, I tried to guide her head away, signaling my intention to pause, but she was resolute. Her determination was clear; she was intent on bringing me to the edge right then and there.

My attempts to ease her off were met with a firm slap of her hand against mine, a silent but emphatic message that she wasn't done yet. "You're giving this to me now, and you're giving me more later," she declared with a commanding tone that brooked no argument. Her eyes, alight with a fierce desire, locked onto mine, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Jennie intensified her movements, her lips and hand working in perfect tandem. The sight of her, so engrossed in the act, her hair framing her focused expression, was utterly captivating. Each movement of her head, each stroke of her hand, was a masterful balance of pressure and rhythm, pushing me closer to the brink.

The sensory overload was overwhelming - the sight of her dedication, the feel of her mouth and hand, and the sounds of our shared pleasure filling the room. Jennie's technique was a perfect symphony of movements, each one bringing a higher crescendo of sensation, making it impossible to think of anything but the imminent and intense climax.

As the moment approached, a feeling akin to a tempestuous sea churned in my stomach, a wave of pleasure building, threatening to crest. Jennie, attuned to my nearing edge, let out a moan that mingled with the surge within me, intensifying the inevitable release. Overwhelmed, I succumbed to the climax, an eruption of sensation, met by Jennie's unwavering embrace. Her lips formed a perfect seal around me, her rhythmic strokes ensuring not a single moment was lost.

Her gaze remained locked with mine throughout, a mirror of pure satisfaction as she swallowed, taking in every part of the experience. In her eyes shone a prideful gleam, a recognition of her own prowess in guiding me to this point of surrender. Her delight was palpable, a silent celebration of the control she wielded, the pleasure she had drawn out.

As the waves subsided, leaving a trail of bliss in their wake, Jennie finally drew back, the connection gently severed, leaving us both in a state of breathless reprieve. She then picked up my shirt from the floor, using it to delicately wipe away the remnants of our encounter from her mouth and hands, her actions as deliberate and composed as they had been in the height of our passion.

Reeling from the intensity of my climax, I found myself being gently but firmly drawn back to the present by Jennie. Her lips met mine in a kiss that was soft yet charged, the taste of myself on her tongue adding a complex layer to our connection. This was more than just physical; it was an exchange of unspoken promises, a dance of intimacy and understanding.

"I'm not done with you. You brought me here, we're gonna make the most of it," she whispered against my lips, her tongue playfully darting out to trace my bottom lip. With a sudden shift, she grasped my hand and led me towards the bed, her movements fluid and purposeful.

As we moved through the suite, the sounds of the city outside filtered through the windows – the distant hum of traffic, the soft murmur of voices, the occasional siren. These were the symphonies of the night, the backdrop to our unfolding story. The room's lighting cast a soft, ambient glow, painting everything in a hue of warmth and intimacy.

As Jennie gracefully made her way onto the bed, her back presented a captivating sight. The arch of her spine flowed into the gentle swell of her hips, each movement accentuating the allure of her lower back and hips. Clad in a small black thong, her hips were teasingly framed, the fabric nestled seductively in the crevice, hinting at the hidden treasures yet to be revealed.

As she reached the center of the bed, Jennie slowly maneuvered herself into a captivating position. Her legs, long and elegantly toned, were raised and folded in a 'W' shape, an enticing display of both vulnerability and invitation. This pose accentuated the length of her legs, the curvature of her hips, and the delicate symmetry of her figure. The knee-high socks she wore added a contrasting element of innocence and playfulness to her otherwise exposed form.

Then, as if compelled by a force beyond her control, Jennie's hands embarked on a tantalizing exploration of her own body. They traced the contours of her breasts with a languorous care, each touch a study in self-adoration. The slow, deliberate movements of her fingers were hypnotic, accentuating her allure in the dimly lit room.

The transformation in Jennie's appearance since our earlier encounter was striking. Her makeup, now smudged and spread, lent her an air of wild abandon, while her hair, disheveled and untamed, framed her face in a chaotic halo. This raw, disordered state only heightened her appeal, lending her a captivating, almost intoxicating aura of realness.

Reclining gracefully, she ran a finger tantalizingly over her lips – lips that still bore the evidence of our previous passion. She continued her seductive journey, her finger tracing a path down her neck, over the gentle swell of her chest.

"come here..." she gestured over for me to join her on the bed, her tone both commanding and inviting. She turned to lay on her back, the sight of her body beckoning me forward.

Still covered by a black thong, her most intimate area was teasingly concealed, yet the way she moved hinted at what was to come. As I stepped closer, drawn in by the magnetic pull of her presence, Jennie reached down with a tantalizing slowness. Her fingers hooked onto the thin fabric of the thong, sliding it off in a motion that was nothing short of seductive. The removal of this final barrier revealed her in full, a breathtaking vision of desire laid bare before me.

In a move that was both deliberate and revealing, Jennie reached down, her hands delicately pulling at the skin on her inner thighs. This gesture was an open invitation, a welcome for my eyes to feast upon her most intimate self. As she gently parted her skin, the hidden beauty of her entrance was unveiled, a sight that was both intensely private and undeniably captivating. Her entrance glistened, its moist perfection a testament to the intensity of her arousal.

As I crawled forward onto the bed, the sensation of the soft, plush sheets against my hands was immediately noticeable. The fabric was smooth and fine, a stark contrast to the fervent energy that filled the room. Each movement I made caused the sheets to shift ever so slightly, creating a subtle but distinct sensation against my skin.

The bed itself was an island in the midst of our passion, its surface both yielding and supportive, a perfect backdrop for the intensity of the moment. As I found my place between Jennie's legs, the bed seemed to embrace us, its softness enveloping us in a cocoon of comfort and intimacy.

Jennie's body was a canvas of desire, painted with the colors of her own passion. Her skin, creamy and fair, glistened with sweat and moisture, reflecting the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table. Her hair framed her face in a halo of darkness, accentuating her delicate features. Her breasts, small and plump, rose and fell with each shallow breath she took, their nipples hard and erect beneath the thin sheet that covered her.

As I looked at her from my position between her legs, I couldn't help but marvel at the sight before me. She was naked and vulnerable, yet there was a strength in her that spoke volumes. It was as if she had shed all pretenses of modesty and embraced her true self - a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it.

Jennie's hands moved with purpose across her body, tracing lazy circles around her nipples before dipping down to explore the sensitive flesh between her legs. Her fingers were long and slender, each one ending in a sharp claw that seemed to dig into her skin with every movement. She moved with an intensity that was both mesmerizing and intimidating - a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't afraid to take it.

As I watched her touch herself, my own body began to respond to the sight before me. My heart raced in my chest as I felt my own erection begin to stir beneath my sweatpants. The thought of being with Jennie again - of feeling her body against mine - was enough to send waves of pleasure coursing through me.

I couldn't help but feel drawn to her entrance - that intimate place where she had given herself so completely to me before. As I crawled closer between her legs, I couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence for the sight before me. It was as if I were witnessing something sacred - something that belonged only to us two.

Jennie's entrance was like nothing I had ever seen before - a perfect blend of delicate petals and firm muscle. The pink flesh was soft yet firm beneath my fingertips as I traced them over the surface. The scent of wetness mingled with the aroma of sweat and lust as I explored every inch of this intimate place that belonged solely to Jennie.

As I teased her entrance with my fingers, Jennie moaned softly - a sound that sent shivers down my spine as it echoed through the room. Her body tensed beneath me as she reached out for me - drawing me closer until our bodies were pressed together in an intimate embrace that seemed to transcend time itself.

I couldn't help but marvel at the sight before me. Jennie's entrance was like nothing I had ever seen before - a perfect blend of delicate petals and firm muscle. The pink flesh was soft yet firm beneath my fingertips as I traced them over the surface. The scent of wetness mingled with the aroma of sweat and lust as I explored every inch of this intimate place that belonged solely to Jennie. As I teased her entrance with my fingers, Jennie moaned softly - a sound that sent shivers down my spine as it echoed through the room. Her body tensed beneath me as she reached out for me - drawing me closer until our bodies were pressed together in an intimate embrace that seemed to transcend time itself.

I closed my eyes and let out a low moan as I savored the scent of her pussy, allowing it to permeate my senses and fill me with a desire that was both insatiable and exhilarating. My tongue darted out, eager to explore the fleshy depths of her entrance, and I licked the outer folds with a gentle, exploratory motion. The taste was unlike anything I had ever experienced before - sweet and salty, with just a hint of tanginess that spoke of her natural chemistry. It was intoxicating, addictive, and I found myself wanting more and more with each passing moment.

As my fingers delved deeper into her fleshy thighs, I felt a surge of pleasure course through me. The sensation was electrifying, sending shivers down my spine with each lick and suck. Her body pulsed beneath me, her hips undulating in rhythm with my movements, as if we were two dancers in perfect harmony. The sound of her soft moans filled the air, adding to the sensory experience. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the texture of her flesh beneath my fingertips, and the taste of her juices on my lips. Every sensation was amplified, every detail was vivid, and I found myself completely immersed into her.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe for the view before me - it was as if I were witnessing something holy - something that belonged only to us two. With each flick of my tongue, a symphony of sensations unfolded, like a tapestry of flavors and textures. I navigated the labyrinthine depths of her crevices, discovering hidden chambers and secret alcoves that ignited my senses. The taste of her essence, both sweet and musky, mingled with the salty tang of her sweat, creating a heady elixir that intoxicated me. The warmth of her body radiated through my skin, enveloping me in a cocoon of desire. The taste intensified, the sweetness fading into something richer and more intricate - a taste that spoke of depth and complexity that mirrored our own bond.

As I delved deeper into her entrance with my flicking tongue, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in what we were doing together. The world outside faded away, leaving only the raw, unapologetic sensations that coursed through our veins. Our bodies were connected by desire and passion, and we explored each other's with a sense of freedom and abandon. The taste of her essence was intoxicating, and I couldn't get enough of it. The salty tang of her sweat mingled with the sweetness of her body, creating a heady elixir that left me dizzy with pleasure. The warmth of her body radiated through my skin, enveloping me in a cocoon of desire. It was a moment of pure sensory exploration - an exchange of pleasure that transcended words or actions. It didn't matter that she was with someone, all that mattered was what we both wanted - needed..

"Oh my God!" As her slender fingers delved into the silken strands of my hair, a guttural moan escaped her lips, echoing through the dimly lit room like a siren's call. Her touch was a symphony of sensations, each caress sending shivers down my spine. It was as if she was weaving a spell, ensnaring me in a web of desire with every delicate pull and tug. "You're so good at that, Owen" Her teeth sank into the softness of her lower lip, drawing a crimson bead of blood. The skin of her neck tightened, corded muscles standing out like delicate ridges beneath the surface. A low, guttural growl escaped her throat, a primal sound that reverberated through the room.

My tongue, a fervent explorer, ventured beyond the silken folds of her womanhood, tracing the contours of her hidden desires. Each delicate stroke ignited a symphony of sensations, a chorus of whispers reverberating through her core. Her body, a finely tuned instrument, responded with a tremor, a ripple of anticipation coursing through her limbs. She writhed in agony, her limbs trembling with the intensity of her pleasure. Her stomach twisted and churned, a maelstrom of emotions swirling within her core. Her head lolled back, her eyes rolling with ecstasy as her body surrendered to the sensations coursing through her veins.

Her head arched back, a gasp escaping her lips as my tongue ventured forth, seeking the epicenter of her desire. My lips moved in a circular motion, teasing and tormenting her sensitive nub, each revolution igniting a fiery burst of pleasure that rippled through her body. Her legs tightened around my head, her toes curling in ecstasy as her hips bucked involuntarily. One of my fingers slipped down between the silken folds of her entrance, circling and probing, adding an extra layer of stimulation. The combination of my tongue and finger was too much for her, sending her spiraling into the abyss of ecstasy.

The room filled with the symphony of her moans, a primal melody that echoed off the walls. Her body writhed beneath me, her curves undulating like waves crashing against the shore. I could feel her heat and her wetness, taste her desire and her passion. I was lost in the moment, consumed by the sensations that swirled around us like a maelstrom. My finger continued its relentless assault, tracing the contours of her entrance, teasing and probing at its delicate folds. My tongue flicked and danced across her clit, each touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She was a marionette in my hands, her body contorting and twisting at my every whim. Her fingernails dug into my back, leaving moon-shaped marks on my skin. I basked in the pain, a manifestation of her unyielding passion.

Diving deeper into Jennie's silken depths, I felt her body tremble beneath me, her breath hitching in ragged gasps. My tongue danced across her heated folds, swirling and teasing like a mischievous sprite. Each touch sent shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through her core, her moans escalating into a desperate symphony that filled the room. Her hips arched involuntarily, seeking more of my fervent ministrations.

With one hand buried between her legs, I reached up with the other, exploring the smooth expanse of her toned stomach. My fingers traced the contours of her abs, teasing and tormenting her sensitive navel. She arched her back, her hips bucking wildly as my tongue danced across her clit. I could feel her heat and her wetness, taste her desire and her passion. I was lost in the moment, consumed by the sensations that swirled around us like a maelstrom.

As I continued to lick and suck at her clit, I slipped a finger inside her. It slid in easily, coated in her wetness. I began to pump my finger in and out, matching the rhythm of my tongue on her clit. Jennie's moans grew louder, more frenzied, her body trembling with anticipation. I could feel her muscles clenching around my finger, a sign that she was close.

With my free hand, I reached up to cup her breast, squeezing gently as my tongue continued its relentless assault on her clit. Her nipple hardened in my hand, a dark, erect bud that begged for attention. I pinched it lightly between my fingers, eliciting a sharp gasp from Jennie. Her hips bucked wildly, her body writhing beneath me as I continued to finger and lick her.

I could feel her heat and her wetness increasing, a sign that she was on the brink. With each relentless thrust, I quickened the tempo of my finger, driving it deeper into her slick, welcoming depths. I could feel her body responding, her muscles clenching and unclenching around my eager digit, a symphony of anticipation and surrender. Her breath hitched in her throat, a soft gasp escaping her lips as I continued my relentless assault on her pleasure center. My tongue danced across her clit, teasing and tormenting her sensitive nub. Jennie's moans grew louder, more desperate, a symphony of pleasure that filled the room.

In the hallowed chamber of our love, anticipation hung heavy in the air, pregnant with the promise of ecstasy. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her whispered words barely audible above the fervent rhythm of our bodies. "Owen," she breathed, "I'm so close," and I could feel the trembling of her body, the clenching and unclenching of her muscles.

We were dancing on the precipice, so close to the edge, and I couldn't resist the urge to push her over. My fingers slid deeper into her slick, welcoming depths, the tempo of our love growing faster, more intense with each passing moment. The air was thick with the scent of passion, the taste of lust, and the sweetness of surrender.

As I continued my relentless assault on her pleasure center, I could feel the tension building, the anticipation growing. The air was thick with the scent of passion, the taste of lust, and the sweetness of surrender. My fingers slid deeper into her slick, welcoming depths, the tempo of our love growing faster, more intense with each passing moment. The rhythm of our bodies was in sync, our movements fluid and graceful, as we danced on the precipice of ecstasy.

I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the beat of her heart echoing in my ears. Her whispered words of desire were like music to my ears, fueling my desire to bring her to the edge. I could sense the trembling of her body, the clenching and unclenching of her muscles, as she surrendered to the pleasure.

As I felt her body convulse around me, I knew that I had pushed her to the edge, that I had brought her to the point of no return. The intensity of our lust was overwhelming, a whirlwind of emotions and sensations that left me breathless. I could feel the warmth of her skin against mine, the softness of her hair, the taste of her lips on mine.

Her body, a symphony of rapture, throbbed beneath me, her cries of ecstasy echoing through the room. I had taken her to the precipice, and now she was free-falling into the abyss of pleasure. Her face, a canvas of desire, contorted with delight as she surrendered to the sensations that consumed her. I watched, enraptured, as she arched her back, her body trembling with the intensity of her climax. It was a moment of pure bliss, a communion of souls that transcended the physical realm.

As she finally descended from the tempestuous heights of her orgasm, Jennie lay there panting, her body still trembling like a leaf caught in an autumn gale. The aftershocks of ecstasy rippled through her, her skin flushed and damp with the nectar of our lovemaking. I moved beside her, my heart thrumming in my chest like a war drum, its beat echoing in the silence of the room like a primal chant. As I gazed into her eyes, I felt a raw, primal energy crackling between us, an electric current that coursed through our veins and ignited our souls.

After a moment, Jennie gathered herself, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She looked at me with a mix of desire and longing, her eyes locked onto my erection. Without a word, she reached out and spit on it, her saliva glistening on the tip as she began to stroke me. I moaned softly, my body responding to her touch with a fierce intensity.

"Now, for the real thing," Her breath, a warm caress against my ear, whispered promises of forbidden pleasures, unspoken desires. In the hushed tones of a seductress, she confessed, "I've been thinking about this"

My heart raced as she climbed on top of me, her body pressing against mine with a force that was both

exhilarating and terrifying. As Jennie descended upon me, I was captivated by the sight of her pussy swallowing my length whole, her muscles contracting around me with a ferocity that left me breathless. The feeling was ineffable, a surge of ecstasy that coursed through me like a tempestuous storm, electrifying every fiber of my being. Her gaze bore into mine, a mixture of passion and rebellion, as she claimed my cock in her body.

Jennie's body was a sight to behold, her curves accentuated by the soft, ambient light that bathed the room in a moody, atmospheric glow. Her breasts, full and firm, swayed gently with each thrust, their dark, rosy nipples standing erect against the cool air. Her hips moved in a hypnotic rhythm, her muscles flexing with each deliberate motion as she rode me with a fervor that left me breathless.

The view was breathtaking, Jennie's face a picture of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her lips were parted, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she lost herself in the moment. Her eyes, dark and expressive, were filled with a raw, primal hunger that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

As we moved together, the room was filled with the symphony of our bodies slapping against each other, the wet, slick sounds of our flesh meeting in a frenzied dance of desire, like waves crashing against the shore. The air was thick with the scent of our arousal, a heady mix of sweat and sex that filled my senses and heightened my pleasure, intoxicating me with its primal allure. The rhythm of our lovemaking echoed through the room, a percussive symphony that pounded in my ears and set my heart racing with each thrust.

"Oh fuck, you're so tight," With a guttural moan, I plunged further into Jennie's depths, my body consumed by an insatiable hunger.

"And you're so big, you're stretching me out," Jennie moaned in response, her hips bucking wildly as she rode me with a fierce intensity.

"Do you like that? do you like my cock inside you? you've missed it dont you?" I asked, my voice thick with desire as I looked down at Jennie.

"yes! yes! Yes! Fuck!" Jennie cried out, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she lost herself in the moment.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still, and all that mattered was the intense sensory experience that was unfolding before me. Jennie's body was a symphony of pleasure, her every movement a testament to the raw, primal power of desire. And as I lost myself in the rhythm of our bodies, I knew that I was experiencing something truly transcendent, something that would stay with me long after the last echoes of our passion had faded away.

As she began to move, I felt myself being drawn into a world of pure sensation. Every thrust, every movement, was a symphony of pleasure that seemed to resonate deep within my soul. Jennie's eyes never left mine, her expression a mix of desire and determination as she rode me with a fierce intensity. I could feel her muscles clenching around me, a tight, wet heat that seemed to pull me deeper into her body with each passing second.

With a sudden surge of energy, I flipped her onto her back, guiding her legs apart as I positioned myself above her. Our eyes locked in a heated gaze as I plunged deeper into her, my body responding to her cries of desire with a feral intensity.

In this newfound position, I was able to control the depth and pace of our lovemaking, driving myself into her with an insatiable hunger. The headboard creaked against the wall in time with our frantic rhythm, the room filled with the wet sounds of our passionate union. Her hands gripped my back, nails digging into my skin as we moved together as one.

With each thrust, our bodies collided in a symphony of sensations – the slickness of our skin meeting in a primal dance, the soft moans escaping Jennie's lips as she arched her back to meet my every movement. Sweat glistened on both our bodies, beading on our skin like liquid diamonds under the dimmed lights. Her breasts bounced with each impact, nipples hardened and begging for attention. I reached down to tease them roughly, eliciting a gasp from Jennie that spurred me onward.

I could feel every ripple and fold of her wet heat enveloping me, clenching around my length like a vice. The scent of our arousal hung heavy in the air – musky and intoxicating – fueling the fire that burned between us. As I watched our reflection in the mirrored ceiling above us, I marveled at the sight: two bodies entwined in an age-old dance, seeking solace and release in each other's arms.

As I pushed into her further, I raised Jennie's elongated, slender limbs by their ankles, spreading them outward for my access. The visual before me was captivating - her toned thighs glistening with perspiration, her delicate toes curling and uncurling as I kissed and licked upon them. Her thin arms quivered with ecstasy. One hand clung tightly to the bedsheets, the other meandering down to manipulate her breasts, pinching and tugging at the firm nipples that stood upright against the cool atmosphere. Her eyelids were shut, her visage a blend of pleasure and agony as she yielded herself to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her entire body.

Jennie pulled me down to kiss her, her lips soft and warm against mine. Our tongues danced together in a frenzied rhythm, mirroring the movements of our bodies below. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, her breath hot and heavy in my ear as she urged me onward. My thrusts did not stop, my body driven by a primal need to claim her once more.

Her nails raked down my back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, fueling the flames of our passion even further. Our bodies collided with an intensity that belied the passage of time, as if we were two souls trapped in an endless loop of desire and need. The room was filled with the sound of our moans and gasps, a symphony of lust that echoed off the walls. The scent of our arousal hung heavy in the air – musky and intoxicating – as we raced towards that elusive peak together.

In this moment, there was only us – two people lost in a sea of passion, seeking solace and release in each other's arms. As I looked into her dark eyes, I saw the same longing and desire that burned within me.

Soon after we switched positions, Jennie was on all fours, presenting her luscious ass to me as I entered her from behind. I couldn't help but admire the view before me – her toned backside, the delicate dip of her spine, and the way her hair cascaded down her back in a waterfall of ebony silk. Her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, accentuating every curve and contour of her body.

As I positioned myself behind her, I marveled at the sight of my cock sliding into her wet heat once more. The sensation was indescribable – hot, tight, and wet; it felt like coming home. With each thrust, I could feel every ripple and fold of her inner walls clenching around me, as if she were trying to hold onto me forever. The sound of our bodies colliding filled the room, a primal symphony that echoed off the walls.

In this position, Jennie's body took on an even more alluring form – hips curved in invitation; and thighs spread apart in wanton display. Her back arched gracefully, accentuating the perfect curve of her spine and emphasizing the delicate line of her neck. It was a breathtaking sight, truly awe-inspiring - this beautiful creature beneath me, her body glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, her breath hitching with every thrust I made. Her moans, they were like sweet music to my ears, filling the room with an erotic symphony that echoed off the walls. They were desperate pleas for more, whispers of pleasure intermingling with the rhythmic crescendo of our bodies colliding. The sight and sounds of Jennie in the throes of ecstasy was intoxicating, pushing me further to the edge.

Every thrust was a desperate attempt to fuse our bodies together, to become one with this woman who held my heart captive. Our bodies collided with a force that belied the tenderness of our earlier lovemaking, a raw and primal display of unrestrained passion.

I reached down, my fingers tracing the delicate line of her spine, feeling the soft texture of her skin beneath my fingertips. Her body trembled beneath my touch, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. I leaned down and kissed her neck, my lips trailing a path of fire down to her collarbone. She moaned softly, her head tilting back to give me better access.

My hands slid down her body, cupping her firm buttocks. I squeezed gently, feeling the muscles tense beneath my touch. Her hips moved involuntarily against mine, a desperate plea for more. I responded by thrusting into her with renewed vigor, my body driven by a primal need to claim her.

Jennie's body trembled beneath me, her muscles tensing and relaxing in a rhythmic dance of ecstasy. Her moans grew louder, more urgent, as she neared the precipice of release. Her body was a canvas of pleasure, her skin glistening with sweat as she writhed beneath me.

I could feel it too, the heat and tightness building between us, the overwhelming need to explode in a symphony of pleasure. It was like a volcano ready to erupt, the pressure building and building.

"Owen," she whispered, her voice a desperate plea. "I'm so close."

Her hushed murmurs were barely perceptible over the symphony of our pounding hearts and the wet slap of our bodies colliding in a rhythm as old as time itself. The scent of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air, intoxicating me with every breath I took. I carefully parted the supple curves of her ass, my gaze transfixed on the provocative sight before me: myself buried deep within her slick, welcoming folds.

"I'm close too, fuck! I'm gonna cum" I surrendered to the primitive instinct within me, my hips driving against her with newfound urgency. The soft, supple curves of her back molded perfectly against the harsh angles of my chest and abdomen. Her skin was a living flame beneath my fingertips – hot, slick, and glistening with sweat that clung to her like a second skin. The intoxicating taste of salt and woman filled my mouth as I pressed kisses along the graceful arch of her neck, each one drawing a gasp or a moan from her lips in response.

Such sweet music she made – soft sighs and whimpers that danced in harmony with the symphony of our bodies colliding in rhythmic unison. They were notes on an erotic sonnet, each one resonating deep within me, igniting sparks that threatened to consume me whole.

As the intensity of our coupling began to overwhelm me, I felt my legs quivering, the pressure mounting and threatening to spill over. With a firm grip on her shoulders, I channeled all my strength into thrusting against her - plunging into Jennie with an urgency borne of pure desire and unbridled lust. Each thrust resonated deep within me, stirring up a tempest of emotions that swirled in harmony with the rhythm of our bodies colliding. The sweet friction generated by our union was as intoxicating as it was maddening.

The intensity of her orgasm was like a tidal wave, crashing over me and pulling me under. I could hear her screams of pleasure, echoing in my ears as she came undone beneath me. Her body trembled and quivered, every muscle taut and tense as she rode out the waves of ecstasy. Her nails dug into my back, leaving crescent moons etched into my skin as she held on for dear life. The sensation of her walls clenching around me, milking me for all I was worth, was almost too much to bear. I felt myself losing control, my own climax building rapidly as I thrust into her with abandon.

"Fuck, you're so tight," I groaned, my voice strained and desperate. "I'm gonna cum."

"Oh my God, Owen!" She cried out, her voice a desperate plea. "Fill me up!"

With a final, desperate thrust, I let go. The pleasure exploded outwards from my core, a blinding white light that consumed me whole. I felt myself spill into her, my release warm and thick as it filled her to the brim. Her body shook beneath me, her walls milking me for every last drop as she came undone once more. With a surge of desire, her inner walls gripped me tightly, milking every inch of my throbbing cock as she pressed herself against my groin. Her body trembled beneath me, the rhythmic motion causing her juices to mix with the heat of my own release, filling her to the brim with my essence. The sensation was overwhelming and intoxicating, a swirl of pleasure and wetness.

The culmination overwhelmed us, a torrent of delight that teetered on the edge of being unbearable. This peak, an oft-experienced sensation, was a mass consumption of joy that stemmed from my very essence. It was like a dazzling white glare, a flood tide crashing over me and pulling me under its swell. The impact nearly felt scary, but in the most positive way. It was as if each sensory neuron in me had been ignited, a harmonious symphony of sensations that left me breathless and quivering with fulfillment.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, I collapsed onto the bed beside her, my body spent and satisfied. I pulled her close, my arm wrapped around her waist as I pressed kisses to her neck and shoulder. Her body was still trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to catch her breath.

I looked into her eyes, and what I saw there was a mixture of pleasure and longing, a deep emotional and physical satisfaction that mirrored my own. I held her in my arms, her body still trembling from the force of our climax. Her hair was plastered to her face, sweat sticking to her skin in a way that only added to her allure. She was breathtaking – a sight that I knew I would never grow tired of. As she lay there in my arms, panting and heaving, I couldn't help but think about what could have been between us.

The intensity of our connection flooded my mind with memories and regrets. I thought back to our time together years ago, when things were different. When the possibilities between us seemed endless. Back then, I had felt the magnetic pull towards her – the urge to give myself to her fully, to commit everything I had. But the fear always held me back, gripping my heart like a vise. I was terrified of losing myself in her, of the vulnerability that comes with true intimacy. So I held back, keeping her at arm's length even as we shared our bodies and souls.

She had wanted more, I knew that even then. I could see it in her eyes whenever she looked at me – that simmering desire for the whole of my heart. But the fear was too strong, the habit of self-protection too ingrained. And so she eventually moved on, leaving me bereft and full of remorse.

Now here she was again, trembling in my arms like she belonged there. The old longings came flooding back, mingled with regret. If only I could go back and choose differently, give her the love she deserved. But it was too late for that. The best I could do was cherish these stolen moments together, even as I knew deep down that I would inevitably pull back again. She was my North Star, my guiding light – but one that I could never fully reach no matter how hard I tried. The thought filled me with equal parts bliss and anguish. I held her tighter as she drifted off to sleep, wishing I could freeze this moment forever. --

I draw an elongated, languid pull from my cigarette, allowing the nicotine to seep into my bloodstream as I linger on this balcony, my perch above the dazzling, pulsating cityscape of New York. The night air is sharp, a crisp contrast to the lingering warmth that still clings to my skin—a souvenir from our passionate interlude.

Inside, Jennie is nestled in the land of dreams, her petite frame delicately cocooned in the luxurious hotel sheets that still bear the scent of our shared desire. I ought to join her, to envelop her in my arms and surrender to the beckoning call of sleep. However, a restless energy pervades my being, my mind a volatile whirlpool in the aftermath of our tempestuous coupling.

Jennie, a beautiful enigma, belongs to another now—Yet, tonight, we merged in a wild conflagration of raw desire, our bodies entwining in a dance as old as time itself, lost in a sea of ecstasy. I staked my claim on every inch of her, driven by a primal need to etch myself into her memory, an indelible mark she'd never be able to erase. Her nails etched a path of fervor down my back, her cries a symphony spurring me forward as we hurtled towards the precipice of oblivion. And when that moment of release arrived, it was a cataclysm—a searing flash of divine perfection that shattered us, only to rebuild us anew.

Commitment has always been my Achilles heel, a specter I avoid with the agility of a seasoned matador. It terrifies me, this concept of vulnerability and surrender. The lessons life has imparted have taught me that nothing golden remains, so I seize my moments of joy with a fierce grip, refusing to hold too tightly lest they slip away. I prefer to exist in a world of beautiful fragments, a mosaic of fleeting moments, rather than be tethered to a monotonous eternity. These thoughts weave their way through my mind as I exhale the ashen smoke from my lips, the remnants of my vice liberated from the confines of my lungs.

I flick the cigarette over the edge, its glowing cherry tracing a fleeting arc in the obsidian night, a dying star lost in the city's neon abyss. Jennie, she is my Polaris, an immutable point of light guiding my aimless wanderings even when she's a universe away. The distance between us may stretch into miles, yet I find myself perpetually ensnared in her cosmic pull, tethered to the irresistible gravity of her radiance.

Perched high above the city, I cast my gaze downwards, drinking in the nocturnal theater below. A ceaseless ballet of headlights, the urban arteries throbbing with life—cars darting like metallic fish, blaring horns that sing a discordant symphony of the city's pulse. Amid the clamor, a melody tiptoes into my consciousness, a haunting siren's song birthed from the events of the night. My next creation, a symphony of sentiments woven into delicate prose, stands ready to unfurl. It's an intimate piece of my soul, a whisper of my essence, something to bare and share with the world. A tapestry of words dipped in the hues of my deepest longings, a lingering echo of my heartbeat, yearning to resonate in the hearts of those willing to lend an ear;

I'm in town for one night, one night only

I came around to put it down, for one night only

Just one night

Got a room for me and you, for one night only

You wanna ride for a lifetime, this is one night only

---------------------------------------------------------------------

My first fic, hope you guys like it.

#male reader #smut #jennie kim #blackpink #jennie #malereader #jennie x male reader #blackpink x male reader

860 notes · View notes

improbable-outset · 12 days

Text

📄 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ��𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Imagine Miguel, who’s usually so guarded with his emotions, finally feeling comfortable with you. Being with you feels like a fraction of his weight being lifted off of his shoulder.

Even if it isn’t a lot, it still has a huge impact on him especially since he’s grown accustomed to being alone all the time. But with you, he feels safe.

You’re the one person that makes him feel secure enough to let his steel walls down, and he finds himself naturally sharing the weight of being Spider-man— along with his constant fight to maintain the multiverse.

You’re always gentle, understanding, and there’s always no pressure— just offering acceptance. Something he never realised he’d been craving, not since he lost Gabriella’s dimension.

But as he becomes more emotionally attached to you, something starts to feel off. He couldn’t pinpoint it at first, but the nagging feeling refuses to leave him, gnawing at the back of his mind.

Eventually, the heartbreaking truth emerges: you’re not from his dimension. You’re an anomaly, someone who shouldn’t exist in this world.

He felt his whole world spinning and for a moment, he dissociated from his thoughts. He should’ve known it was too good to be true…

How did he not see the signs from the start? Why didn’t he notice the subtle glitches? Was he so blinded by his own emotions that it overshadowed his logic?

He feels utterly betrayed, not by you, but by fate. How could the universe be so cruel as to give him someone who sees him for who he is, only to take it away?

Miguel knows had to send you away, back to your own dimension. It was too dangerous for you to stay here.

The whole process was unbearable to watch, even worse that he had to put on a facade in front of the rest of the Society as you get whisked away by the Go-Home machine.

Later, he stumbles upon you again— or rather, the version of you that does belong in his dimension. But it’s not what he expected.

This version of you is colder, distant. You don’t carry the same warmth that made him feel safe. Every interaction with his version of you was a painful reminder of what he lost.

Whenever he tries to reach out, you only pull away, seemingly uninterested in him. It’s like staring at the face of someone you love, knowing they’ll never see you the same way.

The version he fell for is unreachable, like catching smoke with his bare hands. And he’ll never experience that connection with you again.

Ok this is gonna sound weird but I was inspired by My Little Pony: The Legend Of Everfree after Flash Sentry realises that the Twilight Sparkle he fell for was from another world, not from Equestria High. And the version from his world isn’t the same 🥲🥲

#★— ayrus writes #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #spiderman miguel #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x you #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse

189 notes · View notes

vaile-elenya · 4 months

Text

listen... i have been thinking a lot about this post:

i don't know what it is exactly, but something about a frustrated Elrond almost yelling out, still gently, that he'd live for his love instead of dying for it, is very very touching for me.

last night i might have gotten a bit carried away, and i wrote a little something about that. it's my very first shot at writing a fanfic of my own so please bear with me!

it's under the break and on AO3 if anyone wants to read 🫶🏻

In the twilight of Imladris, as the stars began their nightly vigil, you stood on the balcony of Elrond’s chamber, your heart heavy with frustration and hurt. The air was cool and fragrant with the scent of evening blooms, but tonight, the beauty of the valley seemed distant, overshadowed by the turmoil within.

Elrond stood a few paces away, his serene demeanor a stark contrast to the storm that brewed in your soul. The gentle sound of the Bruinen river, usually a source of comfort, now seemed to mock the tension between you.

“Do you truly hold me in such low regard?” you challenged, your voice trembling with emotion. “Am I of such little consequence to you that you can remain unmoved as I bare my soul?”

Elrond’s eyes widened, a flicker of pain crossing his usually composed features. “You misunderstand me,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with sorrow.

“No, I understand all too well,” you interrupted, your words cutting like a sharpened blade. “You, with your timeless wisdom and boundless patience, have already revealed your true feelings. I ask again: would you be willing to lay down your life for me, for all of us, or does fear restrain you?”

For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with the weight of unspoken truths. Then, as if a dam had broken, Elrond’s composure shattered. His eyes filled with unshed tears, his voice rising in desperation. How could you not see? How could you not know that every moment with you was etched into his very soul? He could no longer hold back the torrent of emotions.

“To die for love is simple!” he nearly screamed, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of longing and regret. “A brief surrender of mortal coil to the embrace of eternity,” he added while the soft moonlight cast shadows upon his features, accentuating the lines of sorrow etched upon his noble visage.

“But to live, to truly live, is so much greater! For you, I would live instead of die,” he looked at you, his gaze piercing through your soul, laying bare his raw emotions. You felt the depth of his admission, each syllable heavy with the burden of his unspoken devotion, and the stars above seemed to shine brighter, as if bearing witness to his words.

“Do you not see the love, as brilliant as the leaves of Laurelin, that shines forth from my eyes each time I cast them upon you?” he asked desperately, on the edge of weeping. Elrond’s voice cracked, his eyes brimming with sorrow. “Are you blinded to it?”

Not awaiting your response, Elrond turned his gaze towards the lofty trees, their branches murmuring in the gentle breeze. As the night deepened, Imladris lay shrouded in a serene glow, its gardens veiled in shadows that swayed gently in the flickering dance of firelight and the soft embrace of starlight. The fading remnants of daylight whispered their farewell, surrendering to the celestial canvas unfurling above, adorned with the sparkling jewels of the heavens. The tranquility of the valley belied the weight of its history, a history that Elrond bore witness to through the ages. Memories of battles fought, kingdoms risen and fallen, and the relentless march of time haunted his thoughts.

Torches blazed brightly, casting dancing shadows upon the ancient stone, their fiery tongues licking at the velvety darkness with a fierce determination as Elrond’s mind drifted back to the tumultuous events of the Second Age, a time of great upheaval and sorrow.

“I have seen the glory of Númenor crumble beneath the weight of its own pride. Powerless I have stood as the Last Alliance marched to the very gates of Mordor, and I have borne witness to evils so immense that even the stoutest of our warriors could not withstand them,” he said, desperation building in his voice; his silvery eyes now shone with something you could not decipher. “I have gazed into the eyes of death countless times, her blades twisting within the depths of my wounded heart. So many of my kin have I lost to the ravages of war, their lives laid to rest in pursuit of a noble yet hopeless cause,” he took a step closer, his face now inches away from your own. “It is not the fear of death that prevents me from yielding to its embrace for you, meleth nîn.”

“You awaken within me the very spirit of endurance that Eru bestowed upon his children,” he paused, his gaze turning towards the fire illuminating the terrace. “A spirit that has waned over the long ages of my dwelling, and yet... your mere existence rekindles it.

“In your presence, I find a light that guides me, a reason to embrace each new dawn. My heart, though burdened with the weight of ages, finds solace and renewal in your faintest smile. To live for you is not a burden but a blessing, a path I would tread willingly, every day anew.”

Elrond’s hands delicately encompassed your face, and you felt the gentle pressure of his fingertips, each point of contact a deliberate caress. There was a steadiness to his touch, a silent reassurance as if he sought to convey a message that words alone could not express.

“For you I would find joy in the simple pleasures that weave the intricate tapestry of our days. Through the darkest of hours, I shall cling onto hope, tending to each seedling of kindness as a gardener tends to his beloved blossoms. For you, I would dive willingly into that terrifying inkwell known as existence, with all its uncertainties and fears.”

“I would live for you.”

#elrond x reader #elrond peredhel x reader #elrond x female reader #elrond peredhel x female reader #elrond #elrond peredhel #elrond peredhel imagine #elrond imagine #elrond peredhel fanfic #elrond fanfic #rings of power #tolkien #trop #young elrond #vaile-elenya

320 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 9 months

Note

Can u plz do something with Stevie x shy!reader and the reader obsessed with birds? I've never seen it done yet 🥲

i know very very little about birds so i tried my best haha hope u like it! — steve tells you he loves you for the very first time at six in the morning on his back porch swing (shy!r, fluff, 0.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Steve didn’t know being your boyfriend meant going on dates that preceded sunrise. He was only ever a morning person when the paycheck called for it, in truth. But he sits with you still, as warm and close as the bundle of fresh laundry he left in the drier, while the sky turns slowly pink.

There’s no one else he’d want to be awake at 6 a.m. with.

He can’t tell if you’re sleeping or not, but you’re leaning heavy on his shoulder like you are. Maybe it’s the porch swing forcing this proximity, or the way you’ve got yourself curled on it. Either way, the weight of you is a comforting one. It makes the twilight between times feel much less bitter.

Then, the late late night gives way to an early early morning. The buzzing of nocturnal nightlife turns into the sudden chirping of faraway birds.

“What’s that one?” Steve asks with his cheek smushed into your hair.

“Mourning Dove,” you answer immediately, though he thought you half-asleep. He hadn’t had to ask you which one it was, either. It’s a deeper coo compared to the high-pitched chirping, slower and more sorrowful.

“How can you tell?”

“‘Cause the three part-call. With the highest in the middle,” you explain distantly, more focused on getting comfortable next to the warm body beside you. You worm both arms around one of Steve’s and bury your nose into his sweatshirt-clad bicep, sinking further into the shared blanket draped over you. “I think it’s a male looking for a mate.”

Steve pushes you back and forth on the swing with one foot. “I hope he knows you’re taken,” he jokes.

Your tired eyes peek open to shoot him a heavy-lidded, monotoned stare.

He licks his lips. “Not my best, huh?”

“You’ve had better,” you tease and settle back into him again.

“Also, I was, like, one hundred percent sure that was an owl, by the way.”

“I think all the owls are asleep now.”

“Ah,” Steve hums with a slow nod, golden hands curled around the warming mug of coffee between them. “That’s why they call ‘em night owls, huh?”

You smile wide to yourself, not bothering to hide it because he can’t see how big you’re beaming from this angle. “Nothing gets past you, does it, Harrington?”

He scoffs. “Alright, smartmouth— tell me which bird that one is?” It’s louder than all the rest of them, probably coming from somewhere close. It’s a prettier sound, too. A lot higher than the one before it — a harsh humming, then rapid little chirps, followed by a high-pitched trilling.

“A Lark. Maybe a Lark Sparrow, ‘cause of the buzzing.”

Steve huffs.

You amaze him, sometimes, with how smart you are. Other times, he’s jealous because he doesn’t have a whole filing cabinet of knowledge in his brain about a very particular topic of interest. Not about birds. Not about anything.

If he had to give an on-the-spot presentation about anything in the whole wide world, he’d only be able to come up with the time he won the basketball championship his sophomore year of high school. Which not only makes him sound like a complete meathead, but also makes him sound totally lame.

“The amount of information in your head is alarming, you know that?”

He feels your cheek squish against his arm when you smile. “I thought you liked that about me?”

“I do like that about you,” he laughs. “I love that about you.”

You lift your head to blink over at him, eyes still glassy with leftover sleep. Your gaze is wide and filled with something glittering — hope, maybe. “You love me?” you murmur after a few moments.

Steve bounces a shoulder and tries to be cool about the sparkling in his chest. “‘Course I do,” he answers like it’s obvious. He flashes you a crooked smile and two eyes more honied than the early morning sunrise. “Why else would I be out here at 6 a.m.?”

“’Cause you really like birds?” you joke in a tiny voice.

The boy nods, meeting your quiet smile with a more obvious grin. “I’m crazy about ‘em, actually,” he confesses, scrunching the bridge of his chiseled nose.

He’s not talking about birds this time.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: bug turns one

463 notes · View notes

empty-vessel-of-a-person · 2 months

Text

I appreciate Rafayel more Sparkling Traces Review

This guy is sensitive to emotion just like how he is sensitive to arts. He can easily tell whether M/C is feeling down causing him act on it and make her happy right away.

Though he may not seem like it, this guy has patience as deep and as wide (if not more) as the ocean itself. We know how he waited so long and given up so much for her even though she do not remember anything.

In his most recent card (Omnipotent Perception) They visited the town he lived before. We got a glimpse of what his life was like without her. His life was empty. He seem so sad back then so different from the Rafayel who already found M/C.

I don't really go for a happy go lucky guys, but now I see why girls (before Sylus) was very attracted to Rafayel. No matter what mood M/C is in, he can easily match up with her. If she is mad, he ease her up. If she's bratty, he calms her down. Just like how Bella's mom (in twilight) describe her and Edward. They are like magnets, She moves, he moves. Also how ocean respond to the wind.

He may not seem to openly admit, maybe because M/C forgot, but he loves her. Their relationship still don't feel like an official thing for me in the stories, but their feelings are there. I think the developers wanted to give us different kinds of love.

And lastly, what I appreciate the most with Rafayel is his consistency and dedication to M/C. It's not easy to wait for a long time and only to find out that she has forgotten about him.

#rafayel #love and deepspace #homura #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel l&ds

184 notes · View notes

tinytennisskirt · 1 month

Note

I keep thinking about halloween and I know it's far away but my mind keeps wandering to boyfriend vampire art headcanons or a small blurb about you wanting him sucking your blood for the first time after you begged him to do it (you want to see what it was like) and he was so soft about it "Idk if it's a good idea, I don't wanna hurt you :(" if you wanna write something about that it would be sweet don't feel forced to

vampire boyfriend! art donaldson headcanons with a plot. mostly plot. 🧛🏻

this idea is so cute i did not do it justice but i liked it a lottt

warnings: all over the place, i wrote this while running errands teehee. mentions of blood, scratching, teeth!!! cute vampire boyfriend but a lot of nonsensical vampire stuff idk. SMUT.

MDNI 18+

- he’s so cute he’s so cute! and it’s not sooo bad the age difference. he wasn’t bitten until recently so now your favourite stanford tennis player to watch between classes when you’re bored is just a little bit paler…

- with all my love for twilight i really want to let this boy sparkle because he deserves it, but i’m going to say he’s a day-walking vampire with no sparkle just to keep appearances up.

- vampire art who can hear your heart beat just a little harder than usual when you first walk up to him. you’re pretty, he notes, too pretty. if his heart could still beat the way it used to, it would have been pounding. it’s not an off chance the two of you are finally meeting, but it feels meetcute. nervous laughter at your immediate mutual attraction fills the air. he leans against the wall behind him and you get to talking, really talking.

you start walking down the path behind the courts together. “i’m not a tennis person, but i come here between classes.”

“that’s fair. what are you in?” art asks. he wants to know everything about you.

“media stuff, boring.” you tell him. but he tells you it’s not and he has a lot to ask you about it. you get into other things. movies, music, things he likes, things you like in common. there’s so much.

- you make him forget what he is. for the most part, he hates what he is now. hates how tired it makes him look. he hates having to hide his extra strength in tennis. and now he’s met you, this delicate girl who wouldn’t be so delicate if he wasn’t who he was now. you’re gorgeous and you’re funny and he’s laughing and it slips his mind that touching you is dangerous. you have that same blood running through your veins that he is so hungry for at the end of a day.

- you ask if he wants to get coffee. he’ll be sick if he eats food like yours, but he agrees. he doesn’t know why he can’t say no to you. suddenly your number is in his phone and you have plans to meet tomorrow afternoon.

- vampire art drinks the blood of animals. he hates himself for it. he hates all of it but it’s the only way to get by now without hurting anyone. he tries to be ethical about it, tries to make it so he doesn’t feel like an animal himself, but it’s hard and it’s messy and the bathroom in his dorm is not a good place for it.

- he sits on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands just thinking about you. it’s not a vampire brood but it’s his own version, thinking about you and your conversation from earlier. he’s so into you. it’s bad. how is he going to date someone so human now? he can be friends with any human, he was one not too long ago, but to date you? fuck, it’s going to be rough. and hard to do. that is, if you let him date you. part of him hopes that after coffee, you’ll lose interest and he won’t have to worry about it.

- he orders a coffee and thank god it has a lid, he can pretend to drink it. it feels silly. you’re sitting across from him and your perfume is all you are. it’s all he can smell. it’s beautiful, smells expensive but he knows it’s just his senses making it smell stronger. you get to talking and he’s a good listener. he’s honed in on hearing you and only you, your words and your heartbeat.

you’re swirling the ice around in your drink. your heart is beating hard in your chest. it’s cute. “i actually texted the wrong number.” art admit to you. “i used a four instead of eight.”

“oh no,” you cover your smile when you laugh. he hates that. you’re too pretty to be doing that.

he smiles sheepishly, “so i said hi to some guy named mark. friendly guy, just… not you.”

“poor guy.” you grin. “missing out. should have invited him anyway.”

“should i have?” he laughs. “you’d be okay with third-wheeling?”

he makes you smile. it’s one of his great accomplishments. “i think i’d be okay.”

- he’s thinking about how he could ever kiss you, his mouth so close to you. it’s not like he had fangs or anything- he got away with slightly pointy canine teeth, nothing out of the regular, but how could he… he’s a little scared of it. and how badly he wants to.

- he takes in and remembers all of your interests, often making callbacks and you like how much he remembers the little things.

- you end up spending the afternoon with him. without anything to eat all day he’s getting hungry and it’s not a good thing. it starts making people feel like good options- an uncontrollable thought to his mind that wants absolutely nothing to do with what the machine that is vampirism tells him he wants. you two walk through the park and dusk and he’s trying not to smell you so much anymore because you just smell good. and it’s disgusting how he feels about doing something so vile to someone who doesn’t know anything.

- nothing scares you away. he walks you back to your dorm. he puts away his thoughts of blood to say goodnight properly- you deserved that. you thank him for paying for coffee and for the afternoon spent with you and you’d think he’d see it coming with the acceleration of your heart, but you kissed him goodnight. a firm, few second-long kiss. and it’s fucking perfect. and it’s sweet. and he finds himself not so worried about it- it wasn’t bad. maybe he could date you if he could kiss you. put the fact you’d become food out of his mind…

- so you do date. or go on more dates. getting friendlier, laughing over stupid things, watching him play tennis, you’re around and you’re this perfect beam of light. he really likes you. like really likes you.

- he kisses you again. this time it’s his doing, he’s practiced being gentle. he used to be gentle. he pulls you in with soft, almost perfect skin, and he’s cold. not ice cold, but cold like a person who had spent too much time in a basement, just a little chilled. but his hands barely touch your skin, he’s maybe too gentle, but the kiss is perfect.

- thing is, you ask him what you are. where this is going and if his mouth could go dry, his would. he’s shy about it. he doesn’t want to get into this but he doesn’t want out. he wants you. and after all he’s been through so far, he deserves to be happy and have something good and he’s sure that’s you. so he asks you what you want.

“i would like it if we… continued to date. i don’t know how you feel about dating, but me, personally… i would want a label.” you say, shy, like you’re afraid he’s going to reject you after all this. he’s not a player, he can’t afford to be.

“i want that too.” he smiles. “i’m not a casual… person.”

“me neither.” you smile back. you’re blushing and you’re so pretty. so it’s decided. you don’t even know you have yourself a vampire boyfriend!!!

- tennis player boyfriend is already one thing. he’s in your dorm room before games realizing he has to go, he has to go, he’s late for practice. he’s fast, so he’s not so worried, but you are. you’re worried for him. you’re kissing him all the way to the door and he’s grinning as you practically kick him out. he stays just an extra second to kiss you more. he’s getting better and better at being gentle. it’s easier when he’s well-fed.

- art is still art so he’s needy. he’s addicted to the way you smell, he’s addicted to how warm you are. he comes right back over after practice, still feeling chilled like he’s straight out of a walk-in fridge and he’s immediately on top of you, head laying on your chest while you stroke his hair. he wishes more than anything for the peace of falling asleep in your arms, it’s his favourite place to be. but he’s not so lucky.

- not eating gets harder to hide from you. you’re his girlfriend, you want dinner and how is he just going to sit with you and not eat? it’s a girls worst nightmare to eat alone. he knows that, you tell him that and you’re kissing his face and he’s apologizing for not eating with you, big grin on his face because it’s hard not to when you’re kissing his cheeks and eyes and nose and lips. it’s the first time he debates telling you what he is. but he won’t. not yet. you’re too busy complaining sweetly about him not eating with you.

“art, please, come on. i hate this.”

“im not judging you,” he laughs. “eat your food.”

“alone? so mean.”

“i’m not-“ you kiss him, “-mean. i just had food before you came over, that’s not-“ you kiss him again and he pushes you away gently, “-mean.”

“it’s so mean,” you tell him. he just laughs.

- when he kisses you, it’s almost like he’s both afraid to let go and afraid to keep you close, so it ends up a little more desperate and needy than a regular kiss would be. you’re a fan of it though, it makes your heart pound in your chest when he pulls you in by your waist, cold hands on your skin. you swear he needs his circulation checked. he kisses you, hand trailing up from your waist to the side of your jaw, gently holding you in place. his kiss over time becomes less gentle and for the sake of what his diet was, i won’t say he kissed hungrily. you kissed him back just the same, hands in his perfect blonde curls, pulling him from the entryway of your dorm room and over to your bed, the door shutting behind him. he crawls over your body and suddenly the kiss is deeper. more. and he’s been in this situation before but never like this. you’re kissing and you start kissing down his jaw, his neck. and in obscure vampire logic, he’s able to reproduce- let’s not get into the details, even stephanie meyer couldn’t explain it right- but he’s hard and he hates it because he can’t fuck you. he’d probably hurt you. it already took some effort to kiss you, fucking you was different. how did he know that what he needed now to get off wouldn’t hurt you? you’re hot, your skin is hot, and you tell him you want him and he wants you just as badly, just as desperately, but he tells you not today, but does ask if you’d take off your shorts for him. cold fingers do their work and he’s so fast… his fingers move so fast it’s almost unreal.

- you’re on the phone with your girlfriend talking about how good he is with his hands, saying you had to call her to ask if she got home from a concert okay. he doesn’t mind the lie- you’re excited about him and he loves it. he’s a little bit proud of himself if he’s honest. he’s glad he can please you without doing it all. it’s cute you called your friend. he chuckles to himself.

- like mentioned before, he almost forgets he’s not who he used to be. you don’t mind that he’s cold or that he never eats with you, you hold him just the same. you fall asleep and he wishes with all his might that he could sleep too. but he’s awake without rest, eyes closed, hands gently tracing over the skin of your upper arm. when you’re asleep is when he gets to think critically about this- about how he’s not going to age as you do. if you choose to stay with him past college, that is. he’s a needy little romantic and he doesn’t want anything else but that. he’s committed.

- he’s debating telling you around halloween. cliche, fucking perfect, but he can’t hide it forever. you’ve been together four months. doesn’t seem like much, but you’re so skeptical sometimes he swears you see through him.

- he’s sweet, pays for things, takes you places, treats you so well. but there’s something he’s keeping from you and you can feel it.

- it goes on. he’s still your perfect boyfriend it’s october 24th, his head is in your lap, your fingers in his hair and he says it straight up. tells you. what and who he is.

“for halloween?” you smile. he shakes his head no. “you have the perfect teeth for it, you wouldn’t even need to buy them.”

“y/n…” he trails, eyes meeting yours, looking up at you.

“i could be one too.” you’re still smiling. “could be hot. let you bite me.” as if he hasn’t thought about that. potentials. but you don’t mean it.

he doesn’t know how to say it. so he just looks at you. soft eyes, begging you to believe him. but so scared that you’ll think he’s crazy or worse, be scared if you do believe him.

- for the sake of writing and for my ease let’s just say it’s believable. so you’re a little taken aback. lose the logic here, it’s an AU. your breath catches just a little. he’s afraid you’re going to run or scream or something, the way your heart picks up. he sits up from your lap, he’s looking at you, you’re breathing a little weirdly.

“i’m sorry.” he says. he’s sorry. he’s really sorry. you’re shrinking away from him and if his heart could, it would feel like it just tightened as if it was vacuum sealed. “i’m sorry, i should have told you.”

“it’s okay,” you nod. your heart is pounding, he deducts it’s not so okay. “are you- how do you- why- how?”

“bitten. late after a game. stupid, changed my life, i don’t even- it’s hard.”

“you don’t look like you’re-“

“it’s not like the movies, i’m me just… different diet and… pale.” he’s trying to be straightforward with you but it’s hard when all he wants is for this to pass over. and it’s not easy. it won’t just pass over. you have a million questions about everything and he confesses the entire truth. he hates it. he hates every second of admitting who he is. you’ve asked the same question about four times over and your heart hasn’t stopped pounding.

- art isn’t a bad guy. he’s not going to sit there and expect you to just go with it. he looks at you with his eyes soft and understanding, “i know it’s not what you wanted. or expected. i want you to know that if you leave, i understand. i like you, i really fucking like you and i want you to have what’s best and if that’s not me, that’s the easiest thing in the world to understand.” and you blink. you like him a lot. he makes you laugh, he makes you smile, but he’s something else. something potentially dangerous. you smile at him and it’s bittersweet. you tell him you need time. and he understands. he doesn’t ask you to stay, he grabs your bag and your sweater for you and you say you’ll talk to him soon. it’s with a heavy heart that he says goodbye to you. he knows the chances of you coming back are slim. you didn’t run from his dorm, but your pace wasn’t slow.

- he wished he could sleep this off. this feeling. he wished he hadn’t said anything but on the other hand, it wasn’t fair to you to pretend he was something he wasn’t so you’d stay. he wanted good things for you. and it was completely fair that you walked away. he thinks about you day in, day out, during tennis, during classes. but he’s got forever to find someone else, he just has to let this pass over him.

- you text him, say you’re coming over. and he’s at the door before you even knock, he heard you coming. “i’m sorry- i just-“ he’s excited but he’s afraid. too excited to see you back here- why are you there? “hi.” he’s so cute, standing in his doorway. he’s wondering if it’s wrong to think of you the way he did two weeks ago. he wasn’t clear on if you’d broken up with him or not.

“hi,” you reply. “can i come in?”

he’s nodding, moving out of the way for you to come in. you sit on his bed. “i didn’t expect you to-“

“come back? neither did i…” you replied. “but i was so… empty, i just- i miss you more than i seem to care about what- who you are. and it’s been killing me.” you admit, almost a little whiny and he’s glad to hear it. “i missed you.”

“i missed you too,” he says, shutting his door behind him. “a lot.”

you tuck your hair behind your ears, “i know everything, i just… how much does this affect everything?”

“only as much as you let it,” he says candidly. “i don’t eat regular food and i can’t have children.”

“what about garlic?” you almost smiled. he missed that. god, he missed you. so fucking much.

“i can have garlic.” he chuckled, stepping closer to where you were sitting. you pat the space beside you and he sat down next to you, thigh to thigh. “i don’t want to scare you.” he says. “i don’t want to hurt you. and i don’t want to leave you.”

“i don’t want that either,” you nod, eyebrows furrowed. “if i stay- am i in danger?”

“i wouldn’t ever hurt you.” he nods back. “it’s animals only. only. strictly. and i brush my teeth fourteen times after.”

“okay.” you reply. “art, i want you. you.”

“i’m not going anywhere.”

“i’m sorry about the two weeks-“

“don’t be.”

“i really am, i just needed-“

“it’s okay.”

“i was trying to wrap my head around-“ he kissed you to shut you up. he was so glad for it. so glad you kissed him back, it was all he thought about when the nights were empty and quiet. you, how warm you were, how good you smelled.

- vampire boyfriend!!!! it’s almost ignorable. you have a reason why he doesn’t eat with you, you know why he’s cold, it’s more reason to keep your arms around him. you can’t brag about it, but it’s a fun little secret so it’s sooo worth it. and it’s hot. you don’t want to admit it, but it’s hot. you’d always admired how sharp his teeth were, it was cute, like a cat. but he had a reason for it and you were finding it hot. your search history was

biting kink

blood kink

vampire smut

that isn’t you!!! but you were curious that’s all. And you like his teeth a lot.

- he’s so pretty and he’s so skilled in making you feel good. he won’t let you do anything to him, swears to god the best thing for him is what he can do for you. you’re making out and his hand slips between your legs, down your underwear, they’re cold but they don’t feel that way after a while. he’s fast, it feels like some sort of toy, it’s too good. you are forever glad you didn’t walk away and never return. you’d miss the proud smile on his face when he makes you finish three times in a night.

- it takes a while for art to do the simple task of kissing your neck. it’s not so simple, it scares him still. but the thing is, the moment his lips are on your jaw, your whole body has goosebumps and you don’t expect it to feel as good as it does. maybe you spent too much time on the internet, maybe you were developing some sort of feeling about it. he kissed gently, close-mouthed down your neck, feeling your body tense and your heart beat hard and fast in your chest. he hasn’t done anything else, he’s only kissing your neck, but what you’re into is a major turn on for him, so he continues. he likes nothing more than it as he continues.

- it gets worse. you’re together almost a year now and it’s going so well but if art touches your neck whatsoever, you’re making out against some wall in some cupboard and you’re begging him to fuck you.

“please, please, please,” you’re on top of him in your dorm room and he’s saying no, but he doesn’t want to. it’s not like your begging is a pressure on him, believe it, he wants you so fucking badly.

“i want you so badly, i can’t- i could hurt you.”

“what if i like it?” you whisper between kisses. your hand down the front of his pants, he’s groaning into your mouth, he doesn’t usually let you do what you want but it’s getting harder and harder to not.

“like it?”

“i want it.” you tell him. “please.”

“i can’t-“ he’s raising his hips to meet your hand as you move it up and down his length. “i want to, i really fucking want to, more than anything, but i can’t. i don’t- i haven’t-“

“we can go slow. i’ll go slow, let me do the work, please?”

he wants it. the imagery in his mind is already killing him. “i promised to be gentle, i could grab you too hard or i could bite, i don’t know what i’ll do, i don’t trust myself.”

“you bite?” you giggled a little, as if the idea wasn’t a little intriguing. as if it wasn’t hot.

he grinned back, kissing you again, “i’m not sure.”

“you don’t… touch… yourself?”

“no, i do, believe me, i do, but it’s different, i can’t hurt myself- fuck-“ he’s trying to get his words out but your hand is good. your hand is perfect. “i could hurt you.”

“what if i want that?”

“me to hurt you?”

“what if i don’t mind it? i don’t mind bruises, art, just don’t break my bones.”

“i wouldn’t- i don’t know if i would or not, that’s what i’m afraid of.”

“and everything you’ve been afraid of,” you pick up the pace of which you stroke him. “has it turned out okay?”

he groans into your open mouth, nodding slightly, soft eyes meeting yours. “mhm.”

“mhm.” you nod back. “you can hurt me, art.” he moans louder. loudest. “i can take it.”

- another few months go by without. he’s taken to letting you grind on him. it’s practice, he says, but really he just finds it hot. you, your little skirts, making it fun for him. but you can’t stop thinking about you fucking him and frankly neither can he. the romance continues.

- he brings you roses on a whim. it’s cute. he knows you like them. he gets the dark red ones for you.

- he’s fast, he can be to McDonalds and back in only a few minutes depending on the speed they make their food. you call him, you mention it once and he brings it to you. and every time, sweet boy, he apologizes for not being able to eat with you.

- he’s so into you. this is it for him, he’s sure. you’re the perfect mix of everything and you share so many interests. you’re kind and sweet and funny and you get him. and understand him entirely. he could not care less when other girls talk to him. usually the first words he says to anyone is something casual about his girlfriend. ‘sorry i’m late, i was at my girlfriend’s debate’, and other things of the sort. he’s cute like that, but annoying to a few other people.

- loses his mind if you hold his face in any way, it’s actually one of the things that makes him think fucking you might be something he could do. you cup his face and he looks at you with those puppy eyes and your thumb grazes over his lower lip and he’s kissing you like he’s not scared. you’re in his arms, he picks you up, crawls over you on the bed. his first instinct is to kiss your neck to drive you as crazy as he is and it’s only a matter of time before you’re begging him again.

“please, art.”

“i want you so fucking badly,” he mumbles, cold hands desperate over the skin of your waist. “i do, i’m sorry.”

“don’t be sorry. fuck me.”

“i can’t. you know i can’t-“ but your hand down his pants is wearing him down already.

“it’s been more than a year. art, it’s okay. it’s no different than grinding.”

“it’s different,” he tells you, he’d be blushing if he could. “come on.”

“come on what?” you grin, stroking him harder. his breath catches for a moment, but he grins back at you. “art. it’s okay. you don’t need to be so afraid, i promise i can take it.”

“and what if you can’t?”

“then we tried.”

“you won’t say that if i hurt you.”

“if you hurt me it’ll be my own fault.” you tell him sternly. “i’ll be in control, i’ll go my own pace, you just lay back, it’ll be good. i promise, you don’t need to be afraid.”

“baby…” his hands on your waist.

“let me.” you say. “with your consent.”

“i said i wouldn’t hurt you… there’s no guarantee-“

“it’s no different than the grinding. i promise.” you begin to slide your shorts off, eyes locking with his. “if not, that’s okay, but i just- i know you won’t hurt me.”

“if i do?”

“i’ll take it.” you tell him. he’s consumed by his own lust. his worries slowly fading out. “let me fuck you, mhm?”

his pants at his ankles, he’s turning slowly onto his back. you climb over him, kissing him hard. the sharp of his tooth grazes your lip and the violence begins. he groans as your hand slides over his own neck, kissing him.

“slow,” he says. and you nod, slowing the way you’re kissing, your hand moving to cup his face in a kiss. you’re everything, how can he resist what he wants so badly? you’re perfect and you smell good and you’re kissing him sickeningly slow and it’s almost sweet. “please.”

“you’re saying yes?”

“yes.” he swallows hard.

“i didn’t pressure you?”

“no, i want it so fucking badly, you have no idea,” he smiles, kissing you again. there’s no escape. “i want you. just… slowly.” he pushes your hair behind his ear. “you’ll tell me if i’m hurting you.”

“maybe,” you grin.

“hey-“

“i will.” you nod. “can i?”

“slowly.”

you looked at him, nodding slowly again, reaching down under him. he was trusting you, he was holding you to this. the tip of his dick slipping against your entrance. it was unreal, it was real, it was cold but it wouldn’t be for long. he inhaled sharply and you kissed you. he was a little pathetic, the way he acted as you slowly, extremely slowly, sank down on him. it was ends meeting, it was waited for. the sound he made was one he didn’t think he’d make, but you were all he’d been wanting. he could have finished right there and then, just at the feeling of you. warm, tight.

- vampire art, with vampiric tendencies, digs his fingers so hard into you that you were sure it would bruise. it hurt in the best way. you moved slowly, up and down, a pace that didn’t scare him. he felt so good, so perfect.

- he’s surprisingly melting under your touch as you slowly ride him. it’s how he is. somewhere towing the line between himself a little bit submissive. he’s letting you, he’s trying to be unafraid, letting himself get lost in how you feel. you’re close, neck kissing distance. his hand slips around the back of your neck and he kissed the exposed skin. you moaned, going slightly faster and he braced your hips, wary. too wary. but he let you continue to rock.

- he controls your hips, rocking you back and forth a little more as he gets a little less scared. and he’s kissing your neck, moaning against it. open mouth, sharp teeth grazing your neck and he isn’t even aware of it. it hurts, its natural, he’s hurting you but it’s not as bad as you thought. his lips send goosebumps over your skin, he’s not aware, he’s lost in the way you’re fucking him. he’s letting you go faster, harder, you’re both moaning. he’s close already. you don’t mind that at all.

- vampire art, poor boy, he’s coming undone already. it’s a little pathetic but in the best way. hes being fucked so good, the way he’s imagined the past year- he’s not aware of his teeth and the reality that he could bite you is too real, when it was only half a joke. he could bite you, he could, he wants to, you want him to, it hurts.

- “please,” you mumble, and he’s suddenly too aware of what he’s been doing and he’s suddenly terrified. he doesn’t want to hurt you, he’s been doing it unconsciously.

“oh fuck-“ he tries to pull away, but it’s his downfall, he finishes hard, too fucking hard and he’s pathetic, melting under you, moaning and grabbing you so hard it hurts and you’re close to follow suit, your hand down between the two of you working your clit. your hand moves at his squirming and you forfeit your orgasm as he finishes so pretty. he makes the prettiest sounds, loud and the people in the dorm next to yours must fucking hate you. he was breathing hard, his lips pink, still in a state of desperation. “no- nonononono,”

you slowed to an immediate stop for him. “hey, what’s wrong?”

“your neck, my teeth, fuck- i’m sorry,” his chest still rose and fell, his cum leaking from between you both. “i’m so sorry-i-“ nervous boy. nervous vampire boyfriend!!!

- he takes to your comfort the moment you grab his face and tell him it’s fine. you like it. you want it. his scared eyes soften out again. if that was all the damage done, no blood drawn, it was successful. you liked it. it was more than good. so fucking good.

- you take care of him until he calms down entirely. you soothe him by holding him close, a wet cloth against the scratches on your neck. he’s the kind to apologize softly. he’s always apologetic, he’s good at it. you kiss his temple, stroke through his curls. you can go without finishing. the ratio of his orgasms to yours were uncountably inbalanced.

- after that you end up practicing more. calling it ‘practice’, it’s just sex. it’s good sex. he worships you like you’re the immortal being. he learns to be gentle. doesn’t help that don’t want him to be. it’s another year of being together and you throw it at him. “bite me.”

“hm?” he looks up from tying his laces, his hat on backwards, all cute.

“bite me.” you stand above him, he rises to his feet, arms wrapping gently around your waist. “it’s been two years and i’m not going anywhere. i want you to do it.”

“you don’t want it.” he tells you, swaying into the hug. “i promise.”

“i know. but it’s my choice.”

“it is your choice but it’s also mine if i choose to bite you. i want you and i know you’re not going anywhere, i dont need to make you the way i am just to say that.”

you shake your head, “bite me. or no sex.”

he just grins and shakes his head, “nice try.”

“think about it.”

he nods again, “okay. i will. i promise.”

- it’s another year before it happens. vampire boyfriend is scared of doing it, what if something goes wrong? what if you hate him for it? what if, what if… you make him nervous. you want him, he knows it. more ways than one it would be nice to not have to worry about biting you when you fuck.

- he works up the courage to take the risk and he comes to yours around 11:30pm. you’re up, you were just finishing an assignment. you greet him with a kiss and a long hug. he needs it. he’s never not in need of it. he wants to cry, he wishes he still could. he feels like it because he knows what you want isn’t good but you want it and he wants you do some part of it feels right. and okay. he tells you what he’s thinking and you take all of it in. but you nod.

“i don’t want to hurt you.” he says.

“it’s going to hurt. i’ve told you before i can take it.”

he shakes his head, “and what if i can’t?”

“i’ll heal.”

“baby… “ he almost sits at your feet the way he’s talking to you.

“it’ll be okay. you can hurt me. it’ll be worth it when you’re stuck with me forever.” you smile and he smiles back.

- he can do it. and you kiss him. which is the first step. the second is triggering his weakness, cupping his face. and suddenly he’s on you. and you’re undressing and it’s messy and it’s harsh and it’s sloppy.

- art is usually very sexually calculated he knows what is needed and he does it and he’s fucking perfect at it, but this is messy and desperate and hot and not even he wants to have any sort of control. he just knows what’s going to happen is going to happen. you’ve never been more turned on with anticipation. for the first time- even though it sounds bad, art is on top. he doesn’t need you in control at the moment, he’s fucking into you and it’s hard but not too hard that it could cause harm- it’s good. and it’s got, and you’re kissing him through harsh, sharp breaths and there’s no time to be wasted. he’s ramming into you with a force you didn’t know he possessed that is also so contained. you wished it wasn’t. And his lips graze your neck. you moan, that familiar shiver of pleasure rippling over your body. his body, thrusting, the movement making for perfect friction. he kisses your neck gently, and you feel his teeth graze your neck.

- he’s fucking you but his emotions are strong and he’s rethinking but this is it. he said he would. his hand reaches down to play with your clit as he fucks you, his attention to three places at once is enough to drive you crazy. you’re waiting, skin hot against his, and you don’t expect to like the way it hurts so fucking badly when he sinks his teeth in. pain mixes with pleasure, sharp teeth in your skin. his lips catch any blood, taking it in. it’s good, it’s too good. he keeps his teeth in long enough for him to feel whatever it is that would change you seep into your bloodstream. you’re moaning when he expected a scream and it’s hot. it’s too hot for him. his teeth slowly come out and the wound heals over near-immediately, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing your neck again a million times, new scars instantly formed. you kiss him harder than you ever had, feeling your skin start to burn pleasantly, warm like the feel of being close to an oven on a cold day. and his hand working, his dick sliding in and out, you finish simultaneously, almost.

- he rides out the high. and before cleaning anything he’s checking if you’re okay. you’re blissed out. gone. and he’s watching as you grow paler the next few hours in his arms. you’re telling him he did such a good job. so good. and you fall asleep for the last time. changed.

#challengers #art donaldson #challengers x reader #tinytennisskirt #art donaldson x reader #challengers fic #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson smut #art donaldson au #vampireboyfriend!art donaldson #vampire!au #art donaldson fic

176 notes · View notes

zapreportsblog · 11 months

Text

❝HUSBAND❞

✭ PAIRING : Edward Cullen x Reader

✭ FANDOM : Twilight

✭ SUMMARY : When Edward proposed to Bella he expected her to accept after all they were mates? Right? Wrong! Bella rejected edwards proposal breaking his undead heart in the process, not being able to withstand the aftermath Edward leaves home; only to return 2 years later but this time he’s married?!

✭ AUTHORS NOTE : I already know there is a story on here called the same story with the same cover (on quotev at least) mines had been edited to a clearer form, (again on quotev) that was my old account, (marveluserlovesmarbel again on quotev was my old and very first account) one of my first actually. If I can remember the login information from it I’d log back in and post my stories from their over here but for now enjoy the remake of said story :)

✭ QUOTEV VERSION

✭ HUSBAND MASTERLIST

✭ CHAPTER TWO : A Surprise Homecoming

Inside the Cullen home, a sense of curiosity and anticipation hung in the air. The family gathered at the entrance, drawn by Alice's sudden vision and the excitement radiating from her. Her golden eyes sparkled as she clapped her hands together.

"I just had a vision," Alice announced, "Edward is coming back, and he should be arriving any minute now."

Everyone exchanged glances, surprised and eager to see Edward again. Moments later, the sound of an approaching car could be heard, and they watched as Edward pulled into the driveway. As he stepped out of the car, they were taken aback by the presence of a woman in the passenger seat. Edward opened her door, and they exited the vehicle, both smiling warmly at the Cullen family.

Edward greeted his siblings with hugs and was bombarded with questions about his trip. Carlisle suggested they continue the conversation inside, and they all moved into the house.

Once inside, Edward introduced the woman beside him. "Everyone, this is (Y/n). We got married."

The room fell into stunned silence. Carlisle was the first to break it, his face a mixture of surprise and happiness. "Edward, this is wonderful news, but since when did you get married?"

Edward explained, "We got married a year ago."

Alice gasped, fake outrage coloring her tone. "And you didn't let me plan your wedding? Unacceptable!"

Laughter rippled through the room as they realized Alice was teasing. Edward smiled, "Honestly, after Bella, I didn't expect to find love again."

Esme stepped forward, her motherly warmth enveloping them. "Well, I'm happy you did, son." She turned to (Y/n) and asked, "Now, how did you two come to be?"

(Y/n) laughed, her eyes sparkling. "I tried to kill him."

Bewildered looks crossed the faces of the Cullen family. Jasper scoffed and nodded. "That explains it."

”I’m sorry what?!”

”What can I say, it’s in my blood to hunt creatures like Edward,” (y/n) says with a laugh.

“Hunt? Are you a hunter?” Esme asked with slight hesitation.

”Yeah. My last name was Winchester but i guess it’s now (Y/n) Winchester Cullen, decided to keep my last name you know.”

Jasper can’t help but scoff, “Figures.”

Everyone was still puzzled, and Jasper elaborated, "The Winchesters are a hot-blooded family of hunters."

Edward added, "We're also mates."

Rosalie, never one to hide her feelings about Bella, couldn't help but ask, "Wait, aren't you and Bella mates?"

Edward explained, "When I met Bella, it was her blood that called out to me. She was my blood singer, which is why I felt such a strong connection to her. I deluded myself into thinking I loved her for her. But when I met (Y/n), I instantly felt the mate bond."

The family began to understand, and the room filled with smiles and warm welcomes for (Y/n). It was a surprising turn of events, and everyone felt a sense of joy and acceptance as they welcomed Edward and his new love back into their immortal lives.

┉

As the Cullen family settled into their cozy living room, the girls - Alice, Esme, Rosalie, and (Y/n) - conspired to have some girl talk out on the balcony. They silently made their way outside, leaving the boys to their own devices.

On the balcony, a sense of camaraderie and curiosity enveloped the girls. Esme leaned against the railing, looking at (Y/n) with a warm smile. "So, (Y/n), how did you find out that Edward was a vampire?"

(Y/n) leaned against the balcony and looked out at the starry night sky. "He did a good job hiding it at first, but after a few weeks, I noticed something unusual. One day, he reached out for something, and his hand caught the sunlight, causing it to sparkle like diamonds. I couldn't ignore that."

Rosalie's eyebrows arched in interest. "And what did you do next?"

(Y/n) chuckled. "I did what any person would do in this situation—I did some research. I found out about the myth of vampires sparkling in the sunlight, and it all started to make sense."

Esme nodded, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "You were pretty observant."

(Y/n) shrugged. "I guess I've always had a knack for details."

Rosalie, intrigued by the prospect of conversation, leaned in closer. "Have you encountered more of our kind?"

(Y/n) thought for a moment before responding. "I've hunted vampires, but they're of different vampiric natures. Some of them don't sparkle, instead, they burn in the sunlight. Others have special jewelry that allows them to go into the sunlight without a problem."

Alice leaned forward, her golden eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Tell us more about the supernatural creatures you've encountered."

(Y/n) began to share stories of her encounters with various supernatural beings, including werewolves, shape-shifters, and even ancient mythical creatures. The girls listened with rapt attention, enjoying the opportunity to learn about (Y/n)'s adventurous life.

Back in the living room, the boys decided to go on a hunt, giving the girls some privacy. Edward proposed the idea, and Emmett, Carlisle, and Jasper readily agreed. With their departure, the girls had their opportunity to get to know (y/n) better.

In the heart of the dark woods, the Cullen brothers and father continued their hunt. Jasper, after a moment of contemplation, decided to address the questions that had been gnawing at him. He turned to Edward and said, "You look well."

Edward chuckled, his voice a wry whisper. "What's with the small talk, Jasper? You know I can hear your thoughts going a million miles a minute."

Jasper sighed, his concern evident. "Why a hunter, Edward? I know she's your mate, but you could've pulled away."

Edward's eyes, glinting like polished onyx in the moonlight, met Jasper's. "You know I wouldn't have been able to pull away if I felt the pull."

Jasper persisted, his voice tinged with worry. "She's a hunter, Edward. She's dangerous."

Edward countered, "And I'm a vampire. I can be dangerous too."

Emmett, who had been silently listening, finally chimed in. "I mean, they both can kill each other at the end of the day. Can't we move on from this topic?"

Jasper was unrelenting. "No, he's putting us all in danger. Aside from her being the very thing that kills us, she's also a human."

Edward's brow furrowed, and he asked, "What's your problem, Jasper?"

Jasper's voice grew more serious. "Listen, you've never faced a Winchester before. I have. Trust me, you don't want to cross their path."

Before the argument could escalate any further, Carlisle intervened. "Gentlemen, I suggest we drop this argument for now. I see something." He pointed toward a deer approaching through the trees, reminding them of the primary purpose of their venture. The brothers refocused their attention on the hunt, leaving their concerns and debates for another time.

The Cullen brothers and father, fresh from their successful hunt, made their way back to the house. Emmett carried the lifeless deer, a triumph in his strong arms. As they approached the house, their senses picked up the unmistakable scent of a familiar visitor. Bella Swan had arrived, her red beat-up pickup truck parked near the house.

Bella hesitated by the truck, her posture awkward and uncertain. She called out to Edward, "Hey, Edward. It's been a while."

Edward's face remained a mask of emotionless grace, but he kindly greeted her with a simple, "Hello, Bella."

Bella continued, "I didn't believe Charlie when he said he saw you passing through Forks. He said he saw you with someone. I take it you've brought a friend?"

Before Edward could answer, (Y/n) appeared, coming outside with a warm smile to greet him and the others. She rushed into Edward's arms, showering him with affectionate kisses on the face.

"My love," (Y/n) said, her voice filled with both relief and happiness. "You've been gone for so long, I got worried."

Edward's stoic facade softened as he held (Y/n) close, returning her affection with a warm embrace. Bella watched their reunion with a mix of emotions, perhaps sensing that the connection between Edward and (Y/n) was deeper and more profound than she had ever experienced with him.

489 notes · View notes

echoesofwisdomcountdown · 26 days

Text

ONCE AGAIN 27 DAYS LEFT. Here is the new Trailer.

youtube

My thoughts in order:

Rip Zelda loosing her dad to the rift too

Into the rift we go and OMG SHADOW LYNEL

The Still World looks so cool. It gives me Twilight Princess vibes because of the petrified people.

Rude I wanted to see Zelda open up the chest

Setting the tree on fire and moving it was creative. I like the little taste of puzzles they are showing us.

Did Zelda… did she take a nap during the boss fight?? LMAO. I wonder if it heals you like when you sit in Skyward Sword. Zelda sleeping in the middle of battle and Link eating a three course meal in the middle of battle. I love them. (edit: It is for healing. Someone has informed me that you can hear the healing noise happen then and her hearts go up.)

All the environments look so fun. Still World regions that possibly reflect the overworked regions. I want to discover their secrets.

Boss Key chest spotted!!

A moving platform echo? How interesting.

Oh what was that spiral wind enemy? Not sure I recognized that one.

Not the angler fish out of water oof. If it works it works

Zelda you almost dipped ur toes in lava

Was that a jelly fish echo?? When she went up the water spout thing?

SWORD FIGHTER FORM (cough For everyone complaining about Zelda not having a sword, I bet you’re feeling foolish now huh cough)

Zelda in Link’s clothes and she’s holding the sword in her left hand and even does the little hyah

The hyah sounds like an echo, like I can hear Link's voice too. It’s like Zelda is channeling the spirit of Link. I freaking love it. 10/10 decision Nintendo

Hmm energy collection. It’s like the magic gauge. Also I wonder what the Lv 1 is for. Does that mean you can upgrade the size of the bar??

DAMPE IS BACK. Oh he’s making robots now? Good for him. Wonder how much they’ll cost tho.

What the heck was that slime monster thing?

Acorn guy… not as bad as tingle

Dojo Master (ah he’s back again). Wait why is the katana in the back sparkling? Can you use echo on it?

Parachute?? Oo do we get one?

GERUDO!! GORONS!! CATS!! GREAT FAIRIES!!

SHE CAN HIDE IN A POT

Did that water slime thing get bigger in the rain? Wonder what kinda puzzle that’s for

Yes fairy in a bottle

Oh shit they brought Volga back. Nice

PUPPET LINK!! WHAT HAVE I BEEN SAYING. LITERALLY JUST REBLOGGED THAT ANIMATION LESS THAN A WEEK AGO AND BEEN HOPING FOR THIS. WE CALLED IT GUYS.

In conclusion, I need this game right now.

#IM SO FUCKING HYPED #eow #loz #legend of zelda #echoes of wisdom #loz eow #eow trailer #eow zelda #youtube #loz video #eow link #eow tri

90 notes · View notes

starsandhughes · 1 year

Text

Didn't Know What Love Was— Quinn Hughes

summary: you were somewhat of a cynic when it came to love. you didn't believe in it, and if it was real, you didn't want it. that is, until your best friend sets you up with a certain hockey player named quinn.

warnings: swearing, fade to black smut (like extremely fade to black), fluff

word count: 3.9k+

MASTERLIST

this is inspired by the song 'didn't know what love was' by kane brown!

You weren’t expecting to feel this way.

You didn’t think this feeling was real.

Love.

You’ve said it, you’ve been told it, but all of those instances weren’t real to you. You get to a certain point in a relationship and someone says it first and you think, yeah, I guess that’s what this is. It was nothing like how it was portrayed in the movies, because they were just movies. Movies are fake, so you thought love was, too. It always ended. It always included drama. And then you’d find someone new.

You’ve never been more wrong.

February 20, 2021

“Mack, have you ever thought of the fact that I’m just not meant for a relationship? It’s all bullshit anyways,” you grumbled. You were laying on your back horizontally on bed with your feet hanging off the edge, settled on the floor. Your best friend, Mackenzie, was once again setting you up on a date. “You’re single now! Find yourself a date!”

Mackenzie rolled her eyes and sat next to you, “I’m not ready to get back out there! It’s only been two weeks since Jason and I broke up and we dated for seven months. You, however, have been single for almost a year!”

“You’re only proving my point, Mack!” you said, sitting up. “Relationships end. They’re messy and leave us heartbroken. And maybe the magic blinds you for a while and you get married, but I’ve met more people with divorced parents than married ones. And I’ve seen so many loveless marriages that the couple only sticks together because they wouldn’t know what else to do. I’ve seen couples break up in restaurants. I’ve seen couples fight and scream at a public park. Love isn’t real. And if it is, I can live without it.”

Mackenzie looked at you with the most pity filled expression you’ve ever seen. She believes in love. She believes in the shitty romance novels and shitty movies. But you’ve picked up her pieces too many times to even contemplate believing in it.

“Love is real!” she exclaimed. “How else could people have written sonnets and movies and books and songs about it?”

“People write stuff about monsters, too, but you don’t see any people bursting into flames in the sunlight,” you said.

“In Twilight they sparkled!”

“I don’t give a shit what they did, they’re still made up,” you laughed. “It’s called fiction for a reason.”

“You can’t make up a feeling. You can’t make up being so enamored by someone that you miss them so bad it hurts when they’re not with you!”

“You’re just repeating things you’ve heard in movies about love!” you argued. “You haven’t even been in love. Not truly. You told me so when you broke up with Jason.”

“So go on this date, and if it all works out, you can tell me what love is. They even call oxytocin the love chemical! You believe in science! And I believe that this guy is the perfect match for you,” your best friend continued to beg. “Think of it as a science experiment.”

You ended up caving, more so to get Mackenzie to stop begging. It’s not like you were against dating, you’ve had plenty of relationships, but after so many failed ones you stop seeing the point. You could get your needs met without being tied down and risking becoming attached. That’s all that “love” really was. Attachment. Sure, it’s nice to have one person that’s somewhat of a best friend to spend your life with. But adding all of that “girlfriend and boyfriend” stuff to it is destined for failure. And you were done with it.

When you found him at the restaurant, you were taken back. You’d seen pictures of him so that you’d know who to look for, but he looked so much better in person. His hair looked unbelievably soft, and he somehow made the locks seemingly out of place look perfect. His soft eyes were to die for, and the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up made the veins in his arm visible. All you wanted to do was trace them.

“Y/N?” the boy asked when he noticed you staring. He stood up to greet you, helping you slip off your jacket to hang on the back of the chair as he pulled it out for you. He waited for you to sit down before taking a seat himself. “I’m Quinn.”

“So I’ve heard,” you chuckled. “I’ve been told that you’re the sweetest guy Mackenzie knows and are bound to change my mind about my stance on relationships.”

“I’ve heard you don’t believe in love,” Quinn countered.

Your eyes widened, and if you were taking a drink, you would’ve choked on it.

“Wow,” you said amused. “Mack jumped to the nitty gritty then? I take it this means that you do believe in love?”

“I do,” Quinn confirmed.

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Not yet. But I’ve seen it. My parents have the purest love I’ve ever seen. They spread it to everyone they know and everyone my brothers and I know. They make it hard to not believe in it.”

You couldn’t help but feel soft at his statement. You’ve never heard anyone tell you that they believe in love because of their parents. Hell, you haven’t really had a guy firmly tell you that he believes in love. It was always your girl friends swearing up and down that “the one” is out there.

“Are you going to teach me how to love, Quinn Hughes?” you said flirtily, placing your hand under your chin.

Quinn reached across the table and grabbed your other hand, “I’m going to show you what a romantic date is supposed to be like. And if you like it, I’ll take you on another. And another. And if we get there, I’ll show you how a real man acts as a boyfriend. And hopefully, along the way, we’ll fall in love. And I won’t say it until I know it’s there.”

“How will you know it’s love?” you asked. He already had you melting at his advances.

“I’ll know when it’s a feeling I’ve never felt before. I’ll know when it’s a feeling that can’t be described as anything but love. Are you in?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Quinn was serious. He didn’t want a fling. He wasn’t here to get sex at the end of the night. He was here to see if he can find the real thing with you. He was here for a challenge.

“I’m in.”

Over dinner you two did the usual small chat about yourselves, but that quickly developed into telling full out stories. It wasn’t awkward with him like it had been on some other first dates. You were strangely very comfortable with him.

He told you about his summer at his lake house with his family and friends, you told him about your trip to London with your cousins. He told you about how he first met Mack when she was drunk off her ass at a party back when she was still dating Brock, the only ex she ended on good terms with and is still friends with, and you told him about how she was not her drunkest at that party, and that one time you two snuck out of a party to have a lightsaber fight but didn’t have lightsabers so you used traffic cones.

“You did not!” Quinn laughed.

“We did!” you shouted over your laughs. You were definitely getting stares, but you didn’t care. “I beat her ass, too.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow.

“Oh yeah. I totally had the high ground.”

Quinn walked you to your car at the end of the night. You two shut down the restaurant, neither one of you desired to leave. You boldly grabbed his hand as you started walking and were relieved when he looped your fingers together in response.

“Did you have a good time?” Quinn asked you when you arrived at your car.

“I really did. I’m not sure I want it to end,” you admitted.

You wanted so badly to ask him to come over. But he told you that he wanted to give you a romantic date, not a pre-sex affair. He’s looking for something real. Something that isn’t just sex.

“Me either,” he smiled.

As you two looked at each other, your eyes started flickering from his to his lips. He noticed, but you knew that he was doing the same.

Your hunger ended when Quinn finally leaned in. His hands slid down your waist and settled on your hips, pulling you closer to him. Yours went up and around his neck, happily content feeling the ends of his hair.

Quinn kissed you in a way that you’ve never been kissed before. It was soft. Sensual. It had you aching for more. The feeling that people describe as “sparks flying?” You were pretty sure this was it.

The kiss wasn’t rough; it wasn’t filled with primal need.

It left you breathless. Lightheaded. Warm.

It was the type of kiss that told you there was more to him. And all you wanted to do was learn.

“That was—“

“Don’t describe it,” Quinn cut you off in a whisper. He reached his hand out to cup your face, “Just feel it.”

All you could do was nod your head. You felt your entire body quivering at his touch.

Quinn smiled and opened up your car door for you, “Tell me when you get home?”

“Y-yeah. I will,” you stammered. You couldn’t stop looking at him.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Drive safe!”

“Goodnight, Quinn,” you smiled.

You watched him walk away in your rear view mirror, smiling madly. Quinn left you feeling like a giddy little girl. It was something that no one else has ever done.

March 16, 2021

You were going on your fifth date with Quinn tonight, and Mack was swearing up and down that Quinn was going to make things official.

“Y/N/N, trust me!” she said while dramatically shaking you by the shoulders.

“I want to!” you laughed, shoving her off of you. “I just don’t want to get any hopes up. We’re going out to have a good time and that’s it!”

“Hopes up you say?” Mack asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. “Does that mean you want Quinn to ask you? Do you, Y/N Y/L/N, WANT a boyfriend just mere weeks after saying you were done with dating forever?”

“I didn’t say forever!”

“Alright!” she surrendered. “I’m keeping my mouth shut because I don’t want to jinx anything, but just know that I am a very happy girl right now!”

You shook your head at your best friend’s nonsense. Okay, maybe you were hoping what she was saying will turn out to be true tonight, and maybe you were liking the goodnight calls and good morning texts and mid day updates. And maybe you relish in the smile Quinn gives you when you stand at the glass during warm ups at his games while you wear his jersey. And maybe you’ve never felt like this before, and it was making you the happiest you’ve ever been. But you weren’t sure if it was love. Love was still a weary and scary concept for you at this point. But maybe… maybe this is pre-love? Maybe this is the build up. Maybe this is the jump before the fall.

You weren’t scared of jumping.

Whatever it is, you’re pretty positive it’s too early for love. You’re just now open to the idea of love because of Quinn, so you certainly were skeptical at the notion of “love at first sight.” Although, it’s been a little too long to count as “first sight.” Love at fifth date? Love at hundredth facetime? Call it what you want, but it still felt way too soon.

You were still doing your makeup when there was a knock at the door, signaling that Quinn was here.

“Mack, could you—“

“I’m already on it!” she cut you off, rushing down the stairs to open the door.

You tried to finish up your mascara really quickly, but that only resulted in your dropping it and smearing some across your cheek.

“Shit!”

“Shit?” you heard Quinn ask. You gasped in surprise, and he just laughed as he approached you. He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed the top of your head before taking a look at you, “Ahh. I see the source of the shit.”

“It’ll wipe off, it’s fine,” you shrugged. “I’ll just need five more minutes?”

Quinn smiled, “Take all the time you need to feel happy.”

If you were alone and that was a text, you’d probably be kicking your feet at Quinn’s comment. He didn’t say anything teasing that you take forever, he didn’t use the cliché “you look pretty without makeup” or whatever, he said that he wants you to feel happy with your appearance. You didn’t know why that felt more romantic than a compliment; it just did. He was focusing on your emotions and confidence. He was validating you. Validation and understanding feels a lot more intimate than a compliment about your appearance.

“I’m ready!” you sing-songed as you climbed down the stairs.

Quinn was standing at the bottom of the stairs with his hands behind his back and a soft smile on his face.

You jumped from the fourth step down to the second step. You reached out gently to tilt Quinn’s face towards yours and leaned down to crash your lips against his. You stepped down to the final step to become level with when he deepened the kiss. He released one of his hands to place it at the small of your back in order to draw you in, but the other remained.

“Whatcha hidin’, handsome?” you asked cheekily.

Quinn’s other hand quickly whipped around in front of his center and revealed a bouquet of daisies and lavender. You gasped and kissed him quick, taking the bouquet from him and inhaling its sweet scent with a smile after your lips parted.

“They’re beautiful,” you told him.

“They’re not the only thing,” he whispered.

“You flirt,” you blushed.

You both bid your goodbyes to Mackenzie and walked out the door. Quinn rushed slightly ahead of you to open up the passenger door for you before making his way to the driver's seat. It was a quick drive to the mini golf place, and it was filled with you two goofily singing along to the radio.

When you got there, you were surprised at how many people and families there were. It was a Saturday night, but still. You didn’t know this many people went mini golfing at any given moment.

You picked out a pink club, and Quinn grabbed a green one. He held out his hand for you to take, and for once, you didn’t feel weird holding somebody’s hand in public. It was a small act, but it was still a big deal for you. You used to do it with previous boyfriends, but that was because you felt like you had to in order to try and feel like you were in a normal relationship. You want to hold Quinn’s hand. You love the way your hand fits in his and how warm his hands are. You love how rough they feel compared to your soft ones. Just this simple action made you feel safe and less overwhelmed by the amount of people. It made you feel like it was just you and him.

“Ready to lose, Y/L/N?” Quinn taunted you.

“Don’t be so cocky,” you teased back. “I’m a pro at this.”

“You said you haven’t been mini golfing in years!” he pointed out with a laugh.

“I’m trying to speak me winning into the universe, Quintin!”

Needless to say, you were terrible, but Quinn gave you two extra puts each round to try and get you more points. It didn’t make much of a difference for how badly he was beating you, but it made you feel good.

“What ever happened to letting the girl win?” you groaned. “Some gentleman you are.”

Quinn softly smiled and walked over to you. Placing his hands on the small of your back, he kissed you gently, “I’m sorry, baby. I just can’t fake sucking.”

You dramatically threw your head back, groaned, then gave him a pout when you looked back at him. Quinn laughed and kissed you again, effectively wiping the pout off your face.

This was also something big for you– kissing in public. PDA. You’ve never done that. You always pulled away or forced the kiss to be a quick peck instead. You were worried about people staring and judging. But not with Quinn. You didn’t care who was around, you wanted them to know that you were happy.

Unsurprisingly, Quinn won. He cheered with his club in both hands being held above his head, sending you into a fit of giggles.

“Stop parading around like you just won the Stanley Cup!” you shouted.

Quinn whipped his head towards you in mock offense. He walked towards you and kissed you again, much more firmly this time, “I’m sorry you sucked.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckled.

“I do believe me winning deserves a prize!”

“Oh yeah? And what did you have in mind?” you smirked.

You were expecting his answer to be something along the lines of another kiss or going out for ice cream, but what he said proved your best friend to be correct.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked you softly. He was confident in his question. He had the biggest smile on his face that was filled with so much hope and admiration.

“I’d love to,” you answered.

Now Quinn really looked like he won the Stanley Cup. His eyes lit up brighter than you’ve ever seen them, and his smile looked like it hurt. You should know, because your smile was so big that it did hurt. Quinn hugged you so tightly that your feet kicked off the ground and he spun you in a circle. When he put you back down, he kissed you passionately. It was different than every other kiss you two have shared, given that is a small number since this was only your fifth date. This one meant more. This one said more.

When he walked you to your door and kissed you goodbye, you reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned around slowly, and you knew that the look in your eyes said all that you wanted to say.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Positive.”

Mackenzie was already in her room for the night, much to your relief. You and Quinn kissed all the way up the stairs and into your bedroom. The second your bedroom door closed; clothes began to be thrown off. He threw you on your back onto your bed like it was nothing, then he climbed on top of you and began to pepper kissed up your stomach, through your neck, across your jaw, until he finally reached your lips again.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he said low.

“Don’t stop,” you panted. “Please don’t stop.”

April 14, 2021

You were pretty sure you were feeling it. No, you knew you were feeling it.

Love.

You were feeling just like the movies and love songs and poems said– you were enamored by Quinn. You missed him so bad that it hurt when you weren’t with him, especially when he was on roadies during the season (you were selfishly glad that it’s over for the time being). You felt like the best version of yourself when he was around. But you were also learning that your definition of love was so much more than that.

“OH MY GOD! I KNEW IT WOULD HAPPEN! I KNEW IT!” Mackenzie screamed when you told her.

“Alright!” you giggled. “You knew it, you did it, congratulations! Now how do I tell him? Do I wait for him to tell me? What if it goes away and I don’t–”

“Are you sure it’s love?” she cut you off.

“I am. It’s new, and it’s freeing, and it’s–agh! It’s perfect. It has to be,” you said, covering your hands over your face so that she couldn’t see how wildly you were blushing and grinning.

Mack grabbed your wrists and yanked your hands off your face, “I don’t think that’s going away, babe! Now tell me! The deal was that you’d tell me what love is! Spill it! And don’t quote the movies!”

“I think love is different for everybody. I’m feeling the stuff that they say in the movies and the sonnets and the songs, but it’s so much more than that. Love is… wild. Love is like a never-ending joy ride with the windows down and your favorite songs blaring on the stereo. Love is like that feeling you get in your body when you hear a new song, and it absolutely consumes you to where you heat up and feel like you're vibrating. Love is feeling like you could do the impossible as long as your person is right there beside you. Love can feel like you’re flying.

“But love can also make you feel safe. Love is feeling at home with your person, no matter where you are. You could be in the backseat of a car, but if you were with your person? That could be home for the time being. Love is like that feeling of pride and relief when you deep clean your house for the first time in forever. Love is like sitting by the ocean and watching the waves crash against the sand, and none of the sand ends up in your shoes.

“Loving Quinn feels like a breath of fresh air. Loving Quinn makes me feel like I finally know who I am and who I could be. Loving Quinn makes me feel alive for the very first time. It’s everything.”

Mack looked like she could burst into tears then and there. You were about to hug her when an all too familiar voice ceased your movements.

“Did you mean that?”

You turned around so quickly that your head spun. There, standing at the edge of your living room, was Quinn.

“Yeah,” you whispered with a nod. “Every word.”

Quinn rushed towards you and cupped your face, slamming his lips onto yours. You heard Mack clap with glee, but you didn’t care. She was slipping away, and only you and Quinn existed in the world at this very moment.

“I love you,” you breathed when you two had to come up for air.

“I love you,” Quinn echoed. “You described it perfectly. I felt every word. I am helplessly, irrevocably, completely, and utterly in love with you. I’ll never stop saying it. Not now that I know what it means.”

“I didn’t believe in love before you. I didn’t know what love was. It’s you, Quinn. My love is yours, and only yours.”

The smile on Quinn’s face was contagious, but your face was already painted with one. You didn’t expect to fall in love, and you certainly didn’t expect to say it first. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was a god, maybe it was the stars aligning. You didn’t know why, but you did know that you were made to love Quinn Hughes alongside all of the other things you were made for.

Love was real. And you can’t live without it. And you’re so glad that you learned that.

———

reblogs appreciated! it helps spread the fic <3

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #vancouver canucks #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #quinn hughes reader insert #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fanfiction

634 notes · View notes

ofmermaidstories · 7 months

Text

Katsuki’s been dreaming about you.

At first, it’s in fragments. Stuff he doesn’t remember after waking up, or can otherwise shrug off as a product of his brain, cartwheeling around with the day’s information. It’s your face, frowning in concentration, or you saying something disjointed from the rest of the conversation (No, you tell him, faintly annoyed. Of course I bought it.). It’s you squinting into the sun, the broad daylight. It’s your leg, hot and wet and sparkling with pool water, as Katsuki palms your calf. A dozen tiny moments of you, slipped between Izuku grinning with All Might’s face, his eyes glowing green, or Iida clopping through the landscape, half horse.

It’s—whatever, Katsuki thinks. Maybe he just saw your dumbass face somewhere—wide-eyed, moony, watching him warily—and his brain latched on to it, desperate for some normalcy among Best Jeanist with long golden hair like a cape, or Katsuki’s mother, crying over him, his heart in a box.

But most of the shitty extras in his dreams don’t repeat. Not like you. Katsuki wakes up in the coolness of the twilight world before dawn, breathing hard as his heart thumps in fear, the last thing he can remember from his dream being you, whispering his name and prickling his skin like he can feel your breath on his shoulder and—

It’s just him, in his wide bed. Him in the blue world before his alarm.

Katsuki shudders, eyes squeezed tight, and has to admit to himself: maybe shit was weirder than he thought.

For a while, things don’t change. The heat of his nightmares (the smoke, the ground underneath his feet tilting as UA poises precariously in the air, over the country) stays the same. His stupider dreams stay the same. The ones that feed his guilt (Izuku, four years old, chubby hand held out; Edgeshot, his eyes crinkling above his mask as he balanced his tea against his leg, the group being debriefed before battle) stay the same. You slip in like a comma, a pause, the back of your head haloed by the latelight as you’re passing by a civilian begging for Dynamight to save them. You, your lips parted around the words you can’t say before Kirishima is there, throwing his arm around Katsuki’s shoulder and talking about how they’ll be late for a school dance that never happened.

Maybe it’s a fucking Quirk, Katsuki thinks, gritting his teeth at the idea of some bastard getting a hit in, unchecked. But when the doctor shrugs at him, Katsuki slouching in the stiff chair, and says, “you’re all clear, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, sir. There’s nothing in your system—”

Well, the blond thinks, mouth tightening. Then there was a fucking problem.

Maybe he’s been givin’ it too much damn attention. Katsuki resolves to ignore it, throwing himself into the investigation at hand—some bastard, turning people into living mannequins—and for a while, it works. His dreams are filled with nonsense from work, from patrol, from the insecurities he left behind at seventeen—and then you return, the breath between words, the hyphen between thoughts.

You’re walking ahead of him, Katsuki too aware of his hands balled into his pockets, your jacket long and bright against the city night, the glitter of Tokyo Tower ahead of you both. You’re laughing at something Denki is saying, ugly and breathless and on the verge of tears, Katsuki’s chest tight with it. You’re hesitating, your legs curling against his sheets as you stare up at him, his heart thumping with the pulse he sees jump in your throat.

It’s making him more vicious. He spars with Denki and nearly burns a idiot-shaped hole into the concrete floor of the training room. Out on the scene with Deku, Katsuki jumps into the fight first, causing the nerd to shout after him, startled at the deviation of the plan.

“You’re scaring everyone,” Shouto tells him, breaking the silence as they strip from their Hero gear. Katsuki stills, coiled and deadly but Shouto is unperturbed, buttoning his shirt. “Izuku’s worried. Denki’s been threatening to make a formal request to Support for a panic button. What’s happened?”

“Nothin’s fucking happened, Icyhot,” Katsuki says, scowling. But his hand tightens on his hoodie as he says it, and for all the moron’s obliviousness, Shouto is eagle-eyed when it comes to the tremor in his friends.

“What’s happened?” He repeats, the faint steel of insistence in his voice and Katsuki tsks, before conceding.

“Been having shit dreams is all,” he says, frowning unhappily.

Shouto frowns in answer, pulling a sweatshirt over his head. “Nightmares?” He asks, reasonably.

Nightmares. Katsuki’s jaw tightens, thinking of the latest dream—you, damp and flushed underneath him, gasping against his mouth as you share the same hot breath, his hand curling against your neck, so, so afraid.

“Yeah,” he says, quieter. “Something like that.”

#prompts and drabbles and other things #i just wanna—i just wanna know #if you’re gonna—if you’re gonna stay #i just gotta—i just gotta know #i can’t have it—i can’t have it any other way

246 notes · View notes

coughloop · 1 year

Text

Twilight: she likes to think of herself as the most sophisticated stoner and she loved to smoke before reading a long letter or writing analytic prose about the migration patterns of different seabirds. I think she would smoke a long pipe, hand crafted made of wood that Celestia gave tk her as a parting gift when she moved to ponyville. It kinda sucks and it's basically just a spoon pipe but long and made of crystal wood that doesn't do anything but when you smoke through it it sparkles and shines so she loves and takes good care of it only buys top shelf premium ounces to smoke through it cause she thinks that what Celestia had in mind when she gave it to her

Pinkie pie: do to her insane tolerance after years of edible usage pinkie basically starts every day by eating 10 or so 20ng edibles and she doesn't even feel it but it's like a delicious treat and she basically just macro doses edibles all day long and it tastes so good she loves the taste of weed she loves it

Rarity: she is always changing up with whatever she's smoking out of. she has a room where she predicts the current trend of whats hot to use and whats not and is always following the latest designer smoking fashions but secretly her favourite is gravity bong but she would never admit and she hides it away behind like a million aromas and perfumes but believe me she has one terrible homemade gravity bong she loves more than anything in the world

Fluttershy: her animal friends use their more dexterous paws and prehensile tails to roll little joints for her and she smokes them like cigarettes she never litters the filters though she is very careful to never ash anywhere but directly into her tray and smokes on the roof outside so the smoke cant harm anything she lets Angel take a hit thoough cause he can handle it but he always hogs cause hes a jerk and im getting mad thinking about it

applejack: as grassroots as possible, simple ground herb smoked out oof whatevers available. granny taught her how to pack a bowl with apple seeds mixed in to give it an extra kick and she and big mac chill the fuck ouot every night with a rustic bong made of aluminum with lead paint on the outside but those dont have negative affects for horses so its fine and she lives a long and healthy life like all smokas should

rainbow dash: shes been buying straight oregano for years and still has no idea. she doesnt listen when anyone tries to tell her

545 notes · View notes

dawn-moths · 1 year

Text

“Show Me You Love Me With the Shape of Your Bite”

Noe Archiviste x Female Reader

word count: 4300+

(celebrating two years of this blog, i’m back with a lil one shot for noe because the first fic i ever posted was for him. // A human’s strength is nothing compared to a vampire’s— a fact that’s always concerned Noe when it comes to being with you in such an intimate way. But, unlike how most of your own kind would warn you of, you’ve never had a reason to doubt or fear his intentions with you. Besides, as if letting him bite you on a normal basis wasn’t proof enough, even in the worst case scenario, you’ve already made it clear to Noe that you don’t necessarily mind a little pain if he’s the one causing it.)

content warning/disclaimer: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, vampires, biting/marking, blood/readers blood is drunk, reader is a bit of a masochist while Noe is apprehensive about hurting her too much, rough sex at times, size difference, dickriding, aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

Ribbons of broken, silver moonlight streamed in through the gaps of the curtains, the shadows of dusk dancing across the floors, starbursts of amber and coral shimmering on the polished hardwood from the crackling fire burning low and sultry in its stoney hearth.

In the night, Paris came alive, the city lights sparkling like a sea of stars across the horizon, the constant murmur and buzz of the after-dark crowds humming through the air in a stream of noise and energy, muffled and distant from where you now lay, yet you could still imagine the intensity of it all after growing so used to being a part of the pack yourself.

Ever since meeting Noe, you’d traded rising in the early morning and twilight wind-downs for long, late nights and views of the dawn breaking on the horizon, the first muted shades of lilac and gold signaling your time to rest rather than the plum and navy of night blanketing itself across the sky like most others of your kind followed the consistent rhythm of.

You should’ve guessed after the first few times he’d suggested you meet by moonlight rather than daylight that he was afflicted with the forbidden curse— that he was a vampire— but even back then you wouldn’t have cared.

Because Noe Archiviste was as captivating and handsome as he was charming and sweet, he was gentle and kind and compassionate and everything you’d grown up being told those of his kind were not. Because, to everyone else, vampires were monsters. They were cold and cruel, ruthless and ravenous, and among the worst of them were the wolves in sheep’s clothing, using pretty words and entrancing appearances to lure in their prey before sinking their teeth in deep.

Your Noe was the sun after a summer’s rain, warm and inviting. He was a home to return to after a long day, safe and familiar. He was the first face you looked for in a crowd, his name ready to fall from your lips as those two, lilting phantom syllables rested on your tongue.

Some days, you still found yourself reluctant to call what you two shared love, only for the fact that you’d both been keeping it a secret from everyone outside yourselves. But with all the feelings you held for him on a consistent basis in mind, how could what you felt for him be anything else?

You two were far more bonded than any human couple was. Noe knew the taste of your blood after all, had committed the flavor to memory, could distinguish it by a single drop alone. And you knew the imprint of his teeth just as well, craved the way his sharp incisors found a home in your supple flesh night after night, addicted to the ivory’s sharp and satisfying sting.

“Harder—” you breathed, gently writhing under Noe’s hold on you, though with no real means of escaping him. “Harder, Noe, please—!” You gasped as his bite sunk in a fraction deeper, drawing more rivulets of ruby red from the tender spot on your shoulder, sending a quick shudder down your spine, the sensation creeping vertebrae by vertebrae until it welled into the sticky, fluttering warmth of arousal pooling in your lower belly.

As his tongue lapped at the welling beads of red, slow and gentle to savor the taste of you, you let out a broken moan, body arching to follow the heat of his mouth. Noe was always so afraid to go too far, to lose control and end up hurting you, no matter how many times you assured him you wouldn’t ask for the pain if you didn’t want it. But he also couldn’t help but give in to your requests, even if sometimes it made his stomach twist with guilt.

The moment you started making those succulent, saccharine mewling sounds of pleasure though, it was as if all of his ice-dipped remorse melted away. He could drink down your whines and moans just as easily as he could your blood, meeting your mouth for a languid, tongue-entwined kiss, letting you taste your own blood as you parted your lips to let him in.

You’d asked him before what blood tasted like to vampires, said all you could make out from the coppery flavor was the wince-inducing bitterness that had you resisting the urge to screw up your features and spit it from your mouth. So it was hard to believe him when he described it as sweet— sometimes even sickly so— with a hint of pleasant salt and the lingering undertones of something that could only be compared to addiction.

But your part of this exchange didn’t require you to enjoy the taste. For you, it was the feeling— the completely embodied sensation— of what having your blood drunk by him felt like that urged you to keep seeking out his teeth.

It was heavenly. Pure ecstasy. It made you forget why humans had spent so many centuries fearing vampires, if only for the fact that, if it weren’t for you and Noe’s special bond, he probably could’ve drained you dry and left you for dead like the legends of old warned about.

There were still plenty of vampires lurking the streets and hiding in the shadows whose hunger had gone insatiable, morphing them into greedy, voracious monsters who couldn’t see any innocent life past all that gushing red. But your Noe was different. He’d held onto his morality longer than most of his kind would ever have the will to consider, let alone succeed at, and you guessed you could consider yourself pretty lucky that you’d run into him on that first fateful night rather than someone else more sinister and selfish.

“You ok…?” Noe asked in between shallow, panting breaths, his hands splayed on either side of your head as he gazed down at you, lips stained red and shining with your shared saliva, the tip of his tongue darting out to catch the fading crimson that remained. The next thing you felt was his palm, warm, now that his energy had been replenished from your blood, cradling your cheek. You lay underneath him, back sinking into the mattress and eyes closed as his shadow blanketed over your bare form, allowing yourself to drift off into the serenity that often followed Noe’s feedings.

You felt safe. Held. Comforted by his presence and by the fact that, during this act, you were two becoming one in a way few would ever know or understand.

Letting him drink from you often came after sex. It allowed a euphoric extension on the galaxy of pleasure that Noe’s body could coax from yours. It also ensured that he didn’t have too much strength to unleash upon your fragile human form, his pace slow and sensual as he buried himself deeper and deeper into you. But sometimes, like tonight, when he indulged in a feeding beforehand, well…

You knew you were going to be in for one hell of a ride.

“Maybe I took too much this time…” Noe muttered to himself in a low, worried tone as you felt the bed shift around you, your eyes fluttering open to watch as he changed position, carefully lifting your limp figure up to drape and rest against his chest before leaning back against the barrier of pillows that lined the headboard. He was carding his long fingers through your lightly tousled hair, mumbling sporadic thoughts under his breath under the false pretense that you’d drifted off to sleep. You thought you heard him say something about stopping there for the night, not wanting to push you past your limits.

That was enough to jolt you back to consciousness, just enough to stir in his grasp and breathe out a weak and airy, “Noe…” on account of still recovering from your recent blood loss. You lifted your head slightly to meet his eyes, which had now been leeched of their glowing, crimson color and turned back to calming lavender on account of his appetite being satisfied. You gave him a feeble, tired smile and said, “It’s ok… I’m ok. I can keep going…”

The vampire considered you for a moment. He knew you had a habit of pushing yourself, but before he could think on it too long, you were taking his face in your hands and luring him back to you with one of those adorable, delicate little giggles. “Noe, come on…” you reassured him with a smile, devotion sparkling in your eyes, “You know I trust you more than anyone else. Plus, even if you do hurt me a little bit…” You paused, feeling your cheeks heat before admitting what you were about to next, despite having done it several times to him already. “Even if you do hurt me, I don’t mind. I… like the pain, remember?”

Beckoning him closer to you now, letting him lay his head against your chest and cradling your arms around him like he was the delicate one, like he was the one worth worrying about and protecting, you carded your little fingers through his snowy locks of hair and softly spoke to him, telling him again that you trusted him, how you loved him, and as the words left your mouth you knew them to be true, no hesitation in the confession you’d been so afraid to acknowledge prior.

Noe could’ve sunk so far into the comfort you gave him he would’ve drowned in it, finding he was never as soft and sentimental with anyone else as when he was with you. He never allowed himself to let his guard down to such a level, for a moment forgetting that, outside of this room, you two were widely considered to be enemies— hunter and prey, a monster and a girl.

He sometimes used to wonder if he’d ever find someone he could love who would also love him in return, before meeting you. And what was a luckier, more divine thing than to have your own angel to hold? To have someone who thought and cared about you as much as you thought and cared about them?

“Alright…” Noe mumbled, his cheek pressed to your chest, listening to your beating heart, counting out each gentle drum of the steady rhythm. As he lifted his head to meet your tired, half-lidded gaze, he said, “But I need you to promise me one thing…” Rising further to sit up, the two of you across from one another, bodies bare and on display for each other to see, to have, to hold, Noe’s words dripped with earnesty as he said, “If things start to go too far, I need you to tell me.”

“Noe, I—”

But he cut you off, cupping your cheek in his palm. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but I also know you haven’t always been completely honest with me about it.” You resisted the urge to swallow down the lump of guilt that had curled up in your throat, unable to deny his concerned accusation. Softly stroking his thumb along your jaw, so feathery light you could barely feel it, he set his lilac gaze on your neck where his bite had already begun to bruise and scab over, now a deep shade of wine. He said, “It’s been a while since I— since we’ve done this after a feeding…”

He didn’t need to explain any further. You knew exactly what he was so worried about now— the fact that, last time he drank beforehand and not after, it had resulted in you with tears streaming down your face and several more bites and bruises to paint your skin while he’d been blinded by the carnality of it all. You’d barely been able to walk the next day, feeling like something inside of you had been broken beyond repair, and even though you’d tried to assure him you would be ok, deep down there had been some fear sparked in you.

The pain he’d caused you that night had surpassed the fine line of the sugar-coated, thorny pleasure that you craved and ended up as injury instead.

Noe had said he’d never allow himself to partake in your blood before sex again, though, after months of trying to convince him not every time had to be like that first one and that, while you couldn’t necessarily erase the memory, you could help fix it by replacing it with something better, you’d gotten him to come around.

“I promise,” you told him, reaching forward to take his hand. He laced his fingers with yours, careful even in that act, as if each new touch he bestowed upon you from now until morning held the risk of breaking his own vow. “If it gets to be too much, I’ll tell you.”

You felt relief when his lips twitched into a soft, dreamy grin, the expression there and then gone in an instant, becoming entranced with the way your little hand fit together with his, palms pressed together and creating more shared warmth, Noe able to feel your pulse through your skin and noting the way it was picking up speed a little as he placed his other hand on your knee and gave a gentle squeeze.

It was you who leaned in to kiss him then, catching him off guard for a moment until he followed your cue and allowed himself to melt back into you, the hand on your knee sliding up to rest on your bare thigh, kneading the plush flesh there, slow and savoring, as you combed your fingers through his hair and sighed into his mouth, your core already coiling again in tiny, tight little pulses as his fingers grew closer to brushing up against where you were already slick and waiting.

A tender, broken moan spilled from your mouth as his first finger slipped inside, testing your tightness and comfort before adding in a second and curling at his knuckles, causing you to arch your back and slide further down to lay flat for him, spreading your legs wider as he slowly scissored his digits inside of you, biting back his own moan when he felt your hole clenching around what was inside harder the more he stretched you.

He caught his bottom lip on one of his fangs, vehemently reminding himself to stay in control, don’t go too far, don’t hurt her as his own arousal pulsed thick and eager through his veins, that familiar sharp pang of adrenaline already beginning to surge.

He was starting to remember now— how hard it had been to stop once he’d started— and the thought made his stomach churn for a whole other reason. But you were right. This time didn’t have to be like the last. It wouldn’t be. He’d make sure of it.

Once he’d prepped you enough to take him, Noe began to line himself up with your entrance, feeling his own cock twitch in his hand as he caught sight of the glistening beads that drooled from your cunt, asking you if you were ok before nudging in the tip, pausing when you momentarily winced, only continuing when you nodded at him to signal it was alright for him to keep going.

And, god, you loved how you could feel every single vein and ridge of him as he carved out a home inside of you, the velvety flesh of his cock massaging every part of your insides like it had been designed to do so, both your bodies devoted and destined to learn each other in this way long before you’d even met. The sweet sting of him splitting you in two made your tummy tighten and flutter, your pussy squeezing around the length of him just enough to give a teasing taste of what he already expected was to come.

His breathing was soon beginning to pick up speed, Noe hoping to hide just how much you were affecting him already as he forced out even, shuddering huffs, hunching over you while he tried not to let himself go completely, no matter how badly he wanted to right now.

It made him remember something else he’d almost forgotten about that last time— just how much better you felt when he was inside you after he’d been replenished by your blood, all his senses alive, every nerve alight with the heightened vitality that he gained from a recent feeding. It’s what made this all so dangerous in the first place.

“It’s ok…” you assured him, your own chest moving with the shallow, panting breaths of anticipation as you remedied your prior words with, “I’m ok. I trust you…”

Noe wanted to believe he could trust himself too. And as he felt the animalistic urgency within him simmer a little, he figured it was alright to start moving.

As much as it killed him to go so slow, he forced himself to hold out, gradually rolling his hips to meet yours, your voices moaning in tandem, creating a lilting melody of pleasure with each inch he drove deeper into you and every constricting squeeze of your cunt around his cock.

“Harder—” you were telling him again, the request cracking with a breathy whine as you felt him brush against your cervix, sharp jolts sparking through your abdomen followed by the slow, syrupy drip of pleasure that ran thick through your blood. You felt Noe hesitate for a moment, but when you twisted your fingers through his silky white hair and gave a tug, he snapped his hips forward hard enough to shove you a few inches up the bed. A small yelp emitted from you, clipped with a satisfied mewl, and you loosened your fist in his hair, tenderly stroking the back of his neck, playing with the wispy tufts at the base of his skull as you whispered out, “That’s it… Just like that…”

Noe had to pin your wrists down then, find some way to keep you anchored as he prepared to pound into you harder, though not yet with the rigorous speed you both knew he was capable of. And when you asked him to bite you again, well…

That time, Noe just couldn’t tell you no.

Sinking his teeth into your unmarked shoulder and feeling the skin break, more of your warm, sticky blood flooding into his mouth, Noe drank down gulp after gulp in rapid succession. This made him forget to mind his strength for a moment, and as you fell more slack under his hold, lulled by the euphoria of having your blood drunk by him for the second time that night, he nearly lost you.

He came back to his senses just in time, his saliva filled mouth pulling away from the new bite with a glittering strand of diluted reddish-pink bowing and snapping back onto the crook between your neck and shoulder.

He was partially horrified with himself, and for a moment wondered if he’d finally gone too far, past the point of no return, but was able to exhale a sigh of relief when you fluttered open your tired, bleary eyes and your shallow breathing registered to his sensitive hearing.

“I don’t think I can do this…” the vampire admitted under his breath, sounding disappointed in himself as he pulled out of you and used the pad of his thumb to swipe up a drop of red that was slowly dripping down towards your collar bones, shamelessly licking it away before casting you a quick, guilty glance. “I’m going to hurt you again. I know I am. I—”

Trying to prop yourself up onto your elbows in a way that was less than graceful, to say the least, you blinked the blood loss from your vision until Noe came back into focus. After a few minutes the swaying sensation of lightheadedness abated and you were able to roll yourself over, laying on your stomach as you stared at him sitting on the edge of the bed and looking stressed and conflicted.

You might’ve been able to call it a night, if not for the fact that you were still burning up inside with the need to release all this pent up arousal, so you decided to try approaching things from a different angle.

“Hey…” You lightly ran your fingertips along his spine, watching his back muscles flex as he turned partially to glance over his shoulder at you. “Lay down.”

Noe was already beginning to apologize, though for what exactly, you weren’t sure— as far as you were concerned, he’d done nothing wrong other than stop before letting you come— but you pressed a finger to his lips before he could finish his spoken atonement.

You had him right where you wanted him— right where you needed him now. “Stop talking,” you said, climbing atop him once he was laying flat on his back, straddling him as you took his face in both your palms, his hands quickly reaching for your hips to help steady you when you began to sway slightly, still not fully recovered from the blood loss.

You were staring at him, desperately searching all that alluring lavender for any sign that he understood, and he was staring back at you as if he were being touched by god, completely enraptured by the gentle light in your eyes alone. “Let me take care of you,” you murmured, the moment of revelation drifting away. “You always do such a good job at taking care of me…” Taking his still hard cock in your hand, a small smirk curving on your lips when you felt him slightly tense beneath you, his stomach flinching, you lined it up with your entrance once more. “It’s my turn now.”

Noe let out a stuttering breath of ecstasy as you sunk down on him, both of you needing less time to catch your breath now but no less urgent in your need for each other. And as you began to grind your hips down on him, your clit rubbing hard against his pelvic bone every time you rolled forward and making your eyes tip to the back of your head, Noe kept a firm grip on your hips, helping to pull you down further onto his cock every time you lifted off again.

The glowing illumination of the midnight moon drenched your silhouette as you rode him, Noe admiring the way the light shone on your dewy skin, pretty tits bouncing as you began to pick up speed, your head thrown back, neck exposed and mouth hanging open with silent ecstasy as you approached closer and closer to the edge.

Noe was close too, beginning to buck his hips up into you to match your rhythm towards the end, still so strong even when he wasn’t trying that hard, making your toes curl as you twisted the bed sheets tight in your fists, hunching over him as your trembling legs felt like they were about to give out, thighs burning from the exertion and sweat gathering in the crooks of your folded knees, a new, high-pitched moan tumbling from your throat with each thrust.

And, god, when you both came at the same time, you swore you saw spots of heaven blinking in your vision, falling forward to drape yourself over him completely, squeezing every last drop from him as his cock spurt thick ropes of cum inside of you, enough to ooze out of your abused little hole and drip in thick, creamy dollops back onto him where you two remained connected until Noe mustered up enough strength to take your limp form in his arms and carefully sit up just enough to pull out of you, keeping you cradled against his warm chest until you actually did doze off.

Gently setting you aside, pulling a sheet across your naked body to shield you from the chill while he went to fetch a damp, warm washcloth to clean you up with, Noe was haunted by the fact that, for as many times as you two had been together before, it had never been quite as good as that.

Haunted, only for the fact that it had still been a dangerous risk to take. Yet still, a risk he had a feeling he’d be unable to talk you out of taking again.

He noted the various bruises speckled about your body as he cleaned you, dark blotches in the shape of his fingertips where they’d dug into your hips, more scattered across your thighs, your wrists, around the bites on both sides of your shoulders and along your neck where he’d branded you with hickies he hadn’t even remembered deciding to mark you with.

After leaving to fix himself up and returning again, Noe checked your pulse, two fingers pressed softly to the side of your neck, just to make sure his worst fear hadn’t come to pass. He flinched minutely when your little hand reached up to cup his, a sated smile spread across your lips, eyes still closed as you muttered out, “See… told you I’d be ok…”

Noe’s grin was a little more incredulous than anything, but as he gently stroked the side of your head, smoothing back some strands of tousled hair from your sweet face he adored gazing upon so much, he was just glad that you were alright this time around.

Curling up beside you, pressing a chaste peck to your forehead, Noe told you he loved you through a tired, dreamy sigh. Only then did you open your eyes, pupils dilated to swallow the color of your irises in the dark, and whispered back to him, like a promise, like a prayer, “I love you too…” After that, all you could remember was the darkness of encroaching unconsciousness and the familiar, comforting heat of his body entangled with yours, asleep and safe in each other’s arms at the end of another unforgettable night.

***

(Hello and thank you so much for reading! I really can’t believe it’s already been two years since I made this blog and started writing/posting fanfiction. Time really flies huh?

Anway, I’d like to take this time to give a big thank you to everyone who follows me, reads my work, and takes the time to leave likes or nice comments. It really makes my day :)

I look forward to being able to share the fics I have in the works going forward with you all. Hope you have a wonderful day and remember to be kind to yourself <3)

#noe archiviste #noe archiviste x reader #noe archiviste x you #noe archiviste x y/n #the case study of vanitas x y/n #the case study of vanitas fanfiction #the case study of vanitas x reader #the case study of vanitas #the case study of vanitas x you #vanitas no carte fanfiction #vanitas no carte x you #vanitas no carte x y/n #vanitas no carte x reader #vanitas no carte #noe archiviste smut #the case study of vanitas smut #noe archiviste fanfic #noe archiviste fanfiction

510 notes · View notes