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thevillainswhore · 10 months

Text

New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular.

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

New Tricks Masterlist

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door.

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time, when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck.

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again.

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level. “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.”

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck. Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?”

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind.

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.”

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes.

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.”

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation.

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic.

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?”

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–”

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning.

“What the shit–“

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?”

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!”

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.”

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all.

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?”

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids.

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed.

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.”

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone.

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?”

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over.

Had he been listening that whole time?

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky may have made was a burden you did not want to bear, and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.”

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump.

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose. “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off.

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips.

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door.

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?”

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.”

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf.

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?”

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom.

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you.

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence.

Though, it is short lived.

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand.

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works.

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off.

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before…

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious.

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you.

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats.

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?”

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet.

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company.

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence.

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone.

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content.

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets.

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself.

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?”

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV.

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.”

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.”

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.”

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.”

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it.

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!”

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?”

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night.

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus.

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing.

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.”

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face.

Okay, you think privately, so what?

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt.

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard.

Bucky… is a virgin?

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match.

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression.

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind.

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts.

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully.

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him.

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession.

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands, and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty.

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer.

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past. And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket.��

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs.

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees.

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical.

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.”

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting.

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through.

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek.

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance.

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap.

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth.

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves.

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face.

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek.

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes.

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session.

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension.

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time.

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close.

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard.

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly.

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before.

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another.

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you.

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–”

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries.

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss.

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move.

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous.

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.”

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin.

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet.

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn.

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it.

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release.

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle.

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck.

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently.

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him.

You can’t have that, though.

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go.

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in.

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?”

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.”

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.”

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him.

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure.

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop.

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!”

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed.

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat.

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness.

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material.

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries.

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces.

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands.

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair.

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.”

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only–

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala.

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?”

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes.

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away.

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky.

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

��Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall. “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive.

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.”

That meant only one person was responsible.

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night.

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake.

Love ya squirt,

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again.

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain.

Part Two, Part Three

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requiemforthepoets · 29 days

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overcooked 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: play overcooked they said, it’ll be fun they said.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i just can’t help write about the idea lando playing overcooked, so i did. hope you’ll enjoy this! :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1k

WARNINGS: typos and ferrari strategy meme

Lando’s twitch stream was in full swing, and the chat was buzzing as you settled beside him, controller in hand.

“Alright, babe, let’s see how well we work together,” Lando teased, flashing you that signature grin. You rolled your eyes, already sensing that this game of overcooked might be more than what you bargained for.

You both dove into the first level, the kitchen chaos unfolding on the screen as you both tried to chop, cook, and serve orders with as much coordination as two people shared a life, but perhaps not a kitchen.

“Lando, the onions! You missed the onions!” You shouted, pointing at the screen as the virtual kitchen teetered on the brink of disaster.

“Relax, I’ve got this!” Lando replied, but his character was already running into walls, the pot burning on the stove. You could feel the frustration bubbling up, your competitive nature kicking into high gear.

You took charge of the kitchen, barking orders like a seasoned chef, while Lando scrambled to keep up. “Chop the onions faster, Lando!” You yelled as the kitchen timer ticked down. Lando, flustered, accidentally tossed the onions into the trash instead of the pot.

“Oops,” he said, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Oops?” You shot back, incredulous. “Lando, we’re running a restaurant, not a garbage disposal service!” The twitch chat exploded with laughter, and Lando couldn’t help but chuckle as well.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trying to manage orders, avoid fires, and stop Lando from accidentally throwing perfectly good ingredients into the trash, you both managed to complete the level. The result? Two stars. You stared at the screen, eyes narrowing.

“Unacceptable.” You muttered, “this is unacceptable!” You declared, your voice suddenly dropping into a perfect Gordon Ramsay impression.

“Oh look, baby we got two stars! That’s not bad!” Lando said excitedly as he pointed on the screen.

“Not that bad? Are you kidding me, Lando?” You snapped, fully embodying the spirit of Gordon Ramsay. “We were all over the place! No communcation, no strategy. Honestly, what was that—your best effort? Do you want to serve that to people? Do you?!”

Your sudden intensity caught Lando off guard, but before he could say anything, you were now pacing back and forth in front of him. But before he could say anything, you were off on a tirade, launching into an elaborate explanation of your strategy. You gestured wildly, pointing at the screen, completely absorbed in your monologue.

“Okay, listen. First, you need to stay on your side of the kitchen. I’ll handle the chopping and the prep work—because clearly, you’re incapable of doing both without setting something on fire. We need to streamline the workflow. I’ll chop, you’ll cook, and we both plate. But!” You pointed at him, your expression deadly serious, “no more improvisation. We need to stick to the plan. No more running around like a headless chicken.“

Lando blinked and nodded at you, clearly taken aback by your sudden switch into full-on chef mode. He opened his mouth to respond but then quickly shut it, his eyes darting between you and the camera that was still live streaming every second of your tirade. The chat was exploding with messages, his fans throughly entertained by your unintentional transformation into a culinary dictator, and Lando knows better than to interrupt you when you’re in the zone.

“And another thing,” you continued, pointing to the screen like you were delivering the world’s most important TED talk. “Timing and synchronization is crucial. We need to strategize and work like a well-oiled machine, not a circus act, okay? I handle the chopping, you’ll cook, and we both plate. We’ll divide and conquer!”

The chat exploded, the fans losing it as she continued, hands flying everywhere in wild gestures. Meanwhile, Lando was trying his hardest not to crack up, the corners of his mouth twitching as he watched her go on.

“Babe…baby,” Lando finally managed to interject, struggling to keep a straight face. “You realize we’re live, right?”

You froze, eyes widening as you remembered the twitch stream, the hundred of his fans who had just witnessed your unhinged rant. Slowly, you turned to the camera, a sheepish grin spreading across your face.

“Oh…hi, chat,” you said, your voice suddenly much softer, the intensity draining from your expression. “I’m sorry for that. That was not very demure, very cutesy, and very mindful of me.”

Lando burst out laughing, nearly doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “I think you’ve been watching too much Hell’s Kitchen, love. Gordon Ramsay has become your new personality,” he teased, pulling you back down and sat you on his lap. You groaned, burying your face on his neck, as he put an arm around your waist, but even you couldn’t help laugh at yourself.

“Come on, let’s get you that three stars.” Lando said as he chuckled again. You settled down beside him and gave you a kiss on your temple.

The rest of the stream was just as chaotic as when you both started playing the game, filled with rage, frustration, and hilarious uncoordination. Orders were still missed, pots were still burning, and Lando’s character even managed to fall off the kitchen at one point, but you were both too busy laughing to care. By the end of the game, you hadn’t earned a single three-star rating that you had intentionally wanted, but the stream had been a massive hit, and the chat was flooded with memes of your intense strategy session.

As Lando ended the stream, he leaned over and kissed you on the lips, still chuckling. “We may not be the best team in overcooked, but I think we’re the most entertaining,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips as you rested your head ok his shoulder. “Yeah, well, next time we’re getting three stars. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“Deal.” lando replied, wrapping an arm around you as you both relaxed, your own competitive sprit finally at peace—for now. “And can I say, it really turned me on when you started yapping.” His eyes wiggling, suggesting something that you knew fully well as you slapped him playfully on the chest.

“Oh shut up you.” You both laughed.

The kitchen might have been a disaster, but at least your relationship had survived the heat—well, barely.

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kala-ya-aan · 1 year

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I am not responsible for anyone else but me I'd rather you do it find out and learn from it than you rather live never not doing it and never finding out. Only one you'll ever know. That's through it. Good luck and well wishes! 🙏🏽☯️

#free will #use it wisely but always remember no outcomes only eternal unfolding #!!!!

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ldrfanatic · 3 months

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i miss you

theodore nott x reader

yeah this is gonna be angsty.

synopsis - a mini-series where reader and theo break up after a three year relationship and struggle without each other. eventual hea. this is more like excerpts and moments between the two of them than a full story. part two coming soon.

one

1.2k words

song - i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrahams

slytherin boys works

"i think we should break up."

you and theo spoke at the same time. both with tears in your eyes. after a three year relationship, neither of you really wanted it to end, both still harboring feelings for each other but after not speaking practically all summer, it seemed like the best option.

"i don't want to make things awkward with our friend group. but outside of group events, i think it's best we don't talk."

the boy in front of you nodded his head silently in agreeance. sobs wracked your body as theodore nott, your now ex-boyfriend pulled you into a strong hug. it felt like your heart was splitting in two. for the past three years, you'd known nothing but theo.

after an eternity, you both stepped apart and you shared a deep kiss. your last kiss. it was salty with the taste of both of your tears.

---

in the weeks that followed, you were the most miserable you'd ever been in your time at hogwarts. keeping your distance from the person who'd not only been your lover, but had become your best friend as well, was the most difficult thing you'd ever had to do.

everything reminded you of him. every path you took seemed to take you to theo. it was like the universe wanted you to suffer.

no less than four weeks after your breakup, word spread quick that marcus flint was planning on asking you out. before, no boy at hogwarts even dared to look in your direction in fear of what theo might do to them. but you supposed that didn't matter now.

you were eating breakfast next to luna. she was a little odd but she'd become an unlikely friend in the aftermath of theo. a dark brown owl that you recognized at the nott family owl dropped a note on the table in front of you. your name was scrawled across the front in handwriting you recognized.

luna placed an encouraging hand on your shoulder as you picked up the note with a shaking grasp. unfolding it, a message had been hastily scribbled.

"i miss you. i know you said that we're not talking, but can i see you? please?"

you looked up and met the intense stare of theo.

a single nod confirmed his request.

---

"how are you?"

you almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the question. given your matching eye bags and teary eyes, neither of you were handling the split well.

"it's not hard to tell, nott. just ask me what you want to know."

theo kicked bitterly at the pebbles beneath his feet.

"i hear flint is planning on asking you to hogsmeade." he spit the words out like he couldn't believe someone was asking you out. the girl who wasn't his anymore.

"you don't have to worry, nott. i still love you. i promise."

"look, i'm not happy with this either, y/n. nothing happened in the way i wanted. but do you have to call me that? I hate it when you call me nott. like i haven't been the guy wiping your tears for three years."

you felt your eyes swelling. not even trying to stop the tears, you cocked your head sideways and pinned theo with a single heartbroken look.

"yes. i do. because i'm scared that if i call you theo, act like we're friends, smile at you and watch you smile at me, that i might never stop crying."

---

two months after your breakup with theo and you still hadn't stopped crying. you knew it would hurt. but this was inexplainable.

after your meeting in the astronomy tower, theo stopped showing up to meals. and classes. in fact, you hadn't seen him leave his dorm since. three weeks passed like a blur and before you knew it, snow was falling.

with christmas around the corner, you began handing out presents to your friends. one in particular sat in the corner of your room. the dark green wrapping paper had stood out noticeably from the silver snowflake wrapping paper you'd used on all the other gifts you'd given this holiday.

you stood across from mattheo, theo's roommate, and held out a folded piece of paper to the boy. mattheo took it, albeit confused.

"what's this?"

"for theo. just... give it to him. please."

mattheo nodded, gave you a quick hug and then scurried off in the direction of the boys' dorms.

---

"i got your note."

the deep voice of theodore nott startled you.

you placed a hand over your heart, having nearly jumped out of your skin. the sight that greeted you was nothing less than gut wrenching. the sweet hopeful boy you once dated was gone. in his place was the hollow shell that he'd been when you first met him, before you started dating.

he was thin and pale, noting to the fact that he'd barely eaten in the past few weeks. where you'd finally started to sleep a little easier at night, theo looked like he hadn't sleep in weeks. years even. if it hadn't been for the familiarity of the warmth of his gaze, you would've sworn this was not theo.

an involuntary gasp escaped you.

"theodore!"

you resisted the inherent urge to begin fussing over him. he watched you with a guarded stare. after a few beats of tense silence, you held the gift out to him.

he eyed it with apprehension.

"i bought it before..."

you didn't finish your sentence. you didn't have to. theo's head tilted back in realization and after a couple pensive breaths, he took the present.

he toyed with it in his hands for a few moments, as if deciding whether or not to open it. he seemed to have made a decision when he undid the white bow you'd carefully tied atop the small box.

inside was a silver chain. it was thick with a small delicate looking circle on the end.

"what is it?"

you chuckled slightly at his bluntness. he'd never been one to beat around the bush.

"it's a muggle thing, i think. my cousin was telling me about it. anyhow, you shine a light through it and, well," you spoke a soft lumos and shined your wand towards the circle. on the wall behind you, a picture appeared.

a young isabella nott was laughing with a young theo at a beach on a beautifully clear day. her smile was bright and contagious even through a picture. it was honestly the happiest you'd ever seen theo in your years of knowing him.

the moment theo saw the picture, he broke down. you really hadn't meant to make him cry.

"i'm sorry. i just wanted you to have it."

you knelt down next to him, and he immediately latched onto you.

"i can't- i can't do this without you. please."

this was the second time that theodore nott had begged you. the look in his eyes was all it took for your resolve to break.

"we fucked up bad, theo." you cooed softly to him as you rocked him through his sobs. "this breakup has tested... everything i thought i knew about myself. but i miss you. so we can talk about it."

---

7.8.2024

@moonlightreader649 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess @nighttimemoonlover @blobsblobician

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #slytherin #theo nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys x reader

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regressionschool · 23 days

Text

Maturity Test Part 1

The waiting room buzzed with a nervous energy, a mix of anticipation and dread that hung thick in the air. Rebecca fidgeted with the hem of her dress, her fingers tracing the lace pattern absentmindedly. Beside her, Olaf was tapping his foot, his face a careful mask of indifference, though the slight tremor in his leg betrayed his unease. Anna, the calmest of the trio, sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture straight, and her expression serene.

At twenty years old, they had all reached the first critical milestone in their lives—the Maturity Test. Every person was required to take it at twenty, and then every five years after that. The test was designed to determine their place in society, not just in terms of their roles and responsibilities, but their very lifestyle. No one knew exactly how the test worked; it was a closely guarded secret, passed down through generations, the results shaping the course of every citizen’s life.

A door at the far end of the room opened with a quiet hiss, and a woman in a crisp white lab coat stepped out. “Rebecca Green,” she called, her voice soft but commanding.

Rebecca stood up, smoothing her dress one last time before following the woman through the door. Olaf and Anna exchanged a glance, but neither said anything. What was there to say? They had all grown up together, gone through school together, and now this test would decide their futures.

The door closed behind Rebecca, sealing her into a small, sterile room. A single chair sat in the center, facing a large screen. The woman gestured for her to sit.

“Relax, Rebecca,” the woman said, her tone soothing. “This will only take a few minutes.”

Rebecca nodded, though her heart was pounding in her chest. She sat down, the chair surprisingly comfortable. The screen in front of her flickered to life, displaying a series of images, words, and scenarios. Rebecca tried to focus, answering the questions as they appeared, making decisions, reacting to scenarios, all while trying to keep calm.

After what felt like both an eternity and only a few seconds, the screen went black. The room was silent, save for the soft hum of machinery. Rebecca’s hands gripped the armrests of the chair, her knuckles white.

Finally, the screen lit up again, displaying a single word in bold letters.

TODDLER

Rebecca stared at the word, her mind reeling. Toddler? What did that mean? But before she could process it, the door behind her opened again, and the woman in the lab coat re-entered, this time accompanied by a man in a similar uniform. He held a small bundle in his hands.

“Rebecca, your classification is toddler,” the woman said, her voice still calm. “This means that, from now on, your lifestyle will be adjusted to fit your new status. This includes, but is not limited to, the wearing of diapers, a supervised environment, and the cessation of adult responsibilities.”

The man stepped forward, handing her the bundle. It was soft, wrapped in pastel-colored fabric. Rebecca’s hands trembled as she took it, unfolding it to reveal a thick, padded diaper. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Your new caretaker will meet you shortly to explain everything,” the woman continued. “Please follow the attendant, and they will guide you to your new quarters.”

Rebecca could barely move, her mind swirling with confusion, embarrassment, and a strange sense of resignation. She was led out of the room, clutching the diaper to her chest like a lifeline.

As she passed by the waiting room, she caught Olaf’s eye. He gave her a tight, sympathetic smile, but there was nothing he could say. Anna, still composed, offered a small nod, acknowledging Rebecca’s fate.

The door closed behind her, leaving Olaf and Anna in silence once more.

“Olaf Lindstrom,” the same woman called, and Olaf rose to his feet. He walked through the door, his heart pounding in his ears.

The process was much the same. The questions, the scenarios, the flashing images on the screen. But Olaf’s mind kept wandering back to Rebecca, to the diaper in her hands, to the word TODDLER that had flashed on the screen. Was that really her future now? What would his be?

When the screen finally settled on his classification, Olaf felt his heart skip a beat.

PRESCHOOLER

The woman re-entered the room, but this time she held something different—a package of pull-ups, adorned with cartoon characters and bright colors.

“Olaf, your classification is preschooler,” she said. “This means that while you have some independence, you will still require supervision and assistance with certain tasks. You will wear these pull-ups, and your activities will be limited to those appropriate for your status.”

Olaf stared at the pull-ups, a strange mix of relief and disappointment washing over him. He wasn’t a toddler like Rebecca, but he wasn’t classified as an adult either. He was stuck in some in-between stage, not quite a baby, but not fully independent.

He was led out of the room, clutching the pull-ups. When he passed the waiting area, Anna’s eyes met his, her expression unreadable. She offered him a small, reassuring smile, but Olaf could see the concern behind it. They had all known that their futures would be decided today, but none of them had expected it to be so drastic.

Finally, it was Anna’s turn. She walked into the room with her head held high, her steps confident. The test followed the same pattern—questions, images, scenarios—but Anna’s mind was calm, focused. She had always been the responsible one, the one who took care of her friends, who excelled in school, who made the right decisions.

When the screen displayed her classification, Anna felt a sense of vindication.

ADULT

The woman in the lab coat entered, holding nothing this time. She simply smiled at Anna, a warm, approving smile.

“Anna, your classification is adult,” she said. “You will continue to live as you have, with full responsibilities and privileges. You have passed your Maturity Test.”

Anna nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. But as she left the room, her thoughts drifted back to Rebecca and Olaf, to the diaper and the pull-ups, to the new lives they were about to lead.

As Anna walked out of the room, she glanced back at the door where Rebecca and Olaf had exited. Her heart ached for her friends, especially for Rebecca, who had been reduced to a toddler by the system. But she knew there was nothing she could do. The classifications were final, and everyone had to live by them.

As she continued down the street, Anna silently vowed to check in on Rebecca and Olaf, to be there for them despite the gulf that had just opened between their lives. Because while the system had classified them differently, they were still her friends, and she wouldn’t let that change.

Anna walked up to the familiar house, the one she had visited so many times before, yet it felt different now. It had been two years since the Maturity Test, and so much had changed. She had just finished her BSc, an accomplishment she was proud of, but now that she was back home, she felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation about reconnecting with her old friends, especially Olaf.

As she approached the front door, Anna could hear muffled laughter from inside. She knocked gently, and within moments, the door swung open to reveal a beaming Olaf. He looked almost the same as she remembered, but there was something different about his demeanor—something softer, less assured.

"Anna!" Olaf exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he pulled her into a warm hug. "It’s so good to see you!"

"You too, Olaf!" Anna replied, hugging him back tightly. "It’s been way too long."

Olaf stepped aside to let her in, and as Anna entered the house, she noticed the subtle changes. The living room had a more childlike vibe now, with toys neatly arranged in one corner and colorful educational posters on the walls. A large stuffed animal sat on the couch, and there was a faint scent of baby powder in the air.

Olaf looked a little different too. His clothes were casual, a bit more childlike than she remembered—loose overalls and a bright, playful t-shirt. And there was a visible outline beneath his overalls that hinted at something... padded.

Lilly appeared from the kitchen, wearing a soft smile and holding a tray of snacks. She looked every bit the doting caregiver, dressed in comfortable clothes that belied her new role in Olaf’s life.

"Anna, it’s so great to see you again," Lilly said warmly, setting the tray down on the coffee table. "I’ve heard so much about how well you’ve been doing."

"Thanks, Lilly," Anna replied, returning the smile. "It’s good to be back home, even if just for a bit."

Olaf began chatting animatedly about his life, clearly eager to share.

“So, I’m in preschool now,” Olaf said, his voice carrying a mix of pride and something else—a hint of embarrassment, maybe? “It’s... well, it’s different from what I thought I’d be doing, but I’ve made some really good friends there.”

Anna nodded, listening intently. “That’s great, Olaf. What kind of stuff do you do in preschool?”

“Oh, you know, we have story time, arts and crafts, and lots of outdoor play,” Olaf said, his eyes lighting up as he talked about the games they played. “It’s really fun, actually. And we have nap time after lunch, which is... kind of nice.”

Lilly chuckled softly, ruffling Olaf’s hair. “He’s the star of the class, aren’t you, sweetie?”

Olaf blushed deeper, looking down at his juice box. “I guess...”

Anna smiled, sensing the comfort yet slight awkwardness Olaf felt in this dynamic. “Sounds like you’re doing great, Olaf. It’s good to see you so happy.”

But then Lilly’s expression turned slightly mischievous. “Olaf, why don’t you tell Anna about that big milestone you hit last year?”

"And, uh," Olaf continued, his tone shifting slightly as he glanced at Lilly, "I also... well, I passed 'Unpotty Training I' last year."

Anna blinked, taking in the information. She had heard of Unpotty Training classes but hadn’t really considered what that meant for someone like Olaf. The idea of Olaf, her old friend who used to be so independent, having accidents like a toddler was hard to wrap her mind around.

Lilly, however, looked absolutely delighted. "He did so well in that class," she said proudly, as if discussing an academic achievement. "He’s such a good boy. He was one of the first in his class to have real accidents."

Olaf squirmed in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "I-I guess..."

Anna glanced at Lilly, noticing the way she gently but firmly guided Olaf’s behavior. There was a subtle push and pull in their dynamic—Olaf trying to hold on to his independence and maturity, while Lilly seemed eager to encourage his regression. It was an intriguing contrast.

“That’s... really interesting,” Anna said, trying to be supportive while still processing the situation.

Lilly smiled, sensing Anna’s curiosity. “Olaf’s doing great in his preschool class, and he’s learning to embrace this new phase of his life. But, of course, I’m here to help him with whatever he needs.”

Olaf looked at Anna, his expression somewhere between pride and a plea for understanding. “It’s been... different, but Lilly’s been really supportive. She... she helps me a lot.”

Anna watched the interaction, noting how Lilly’s influence seemed to be gently guiding Olaf further away from the maturity he was trying to cling to. It was clear that Lilly enjoyed her role as a caregiver—no, as Mommy.

"So, what happens after these five years?" Anna asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Lilly’s eyes gleamed slightly as she looked at Olaf. "Well, after five years, we all take the Maturity Test again. Depending on how things go, Olaf might stay a preschooler, or... maybe he’ll move on to the next smaller stage."

Olaf’s blush deepened as he looked down at his hands. "I don’t want to move backward, Anna. I want to stay a preschooler... or maybe even move up, if I can."

Lilly chuckled softly, clearly amused by his determination. "We’ll see, sweetie. There’s no rush. For now, let’s just focus on enjoying where you are."

Olaf looked up at her, his expression a mix of resignation and affection. "Yeah... I guess you’re right."

Anna walked through the bright, cheerfully decorated halls of the regression school nursery, a place she never imagined visiting until now. She hadn’t seen Rebecca since before her classification, and she wasn't sure what to expect. The walls were lined with colorful murals, depicting scenes of playful animals and idyllic nature, clearly designed to be soothing and engaging for the residents. The soft hum of lullabies played in the background, adding to the nursery’s serene atmosphere.

Finally, she reached the room number she had been given and knocked gently on the door. A moment later, it swung open, and Anna was greeted by a young woman with a warm smile, dressed in a uniform that marked her as one of the caregivers.

“Hello, you must be Anna,” the caregiver said kindly. “Rebecca’s been talking about your visit all week. She’s just inside, playing with her toys.”

Anna smiled back, feeling a mix of emotions—anticipation, curiosity, and a twinge of sadness as she stepped into the room. It was spacious, filled with soft, pastel-colored furniture, and various toys scattered across the floor. In the middle of it all sat Rebecca, her back to the door, completely absorbed in stacking brightly colored blocks into a wobbly tower.

Rebecca was dressed in a simple shirt with a cartoon character printed on the front, and Anna’s eyes were immediately drawn to the diaper peeking out from beneath it. The thick padding crinkled softly as Rebecca shifted.

“Becky,” Anna called softly, using the childhood nickname that felt oddly appropriate now.

Rebecca turned around, her face lighting up with a broad, innocent smile that made her look younger than her twenty-two years. “Anna!” she squealed, dropping the blocks and crawling over to her friend. When she reached Anna, she wrapped her arms around her legs in an enthusiastic hug, her diaper crinkling loudly with the movement.

“Hi, Becky,” Anna said, crouching down to return the hug. She was struck by how different Rebecca seemed. The way she moved, the way she looked up at Anna with wide, expectant eyes—it was as if Rebecca had truly turned into the toddler she had been classified as.

“Wanna play blocks with me?” Rebecca asked, her voice slightly lisped, whether naturally or from the regression, Anna wasn’t sure. “I’m makin’ a big tower!”

Anna smiled gently. “Sure, I’d love to.” She sat down on the plush rug next to Rebecca, who immediately returned to her task of stacking blocks, her small tongue poking out in concentration.

As they played, Anna observed her friend closely. Rebecca’s mannerisms were so childlike—the way she clapped her hands in delight when the tower didn’t fall over, the way she babbled excitedly about the different colors and shapes of the blocks. It was clear that Rebecca had regressed quite a bit since her classification.

“So, Becky,” Anna started, picking up a block and turning it over in her hands, “how have you been? Do you like it here?”

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically, her pigtails bouncing with the movement. “Yeah! It’s so fun! I get to play all day, an’ the caregivers are really nice. They give me cookies when I’m good!”

Anna smiled, though there was a hint of sadness behind it. “That sounds nice. And you’re happy?”

“Uh-huh!” Rebecca chirped, not a care in the world as she continued stacking her blocks. “I don’t hafta worry ‘bout big girl stuff anymore.”

Anna nodded, watching Rebecca with a mix of concern and curiosity. The girl in front of her was so different from the Rebecca she once knew—carefree, unburdened, but also entirely dependent on the nursery and its routines. It was a stark contrast to Anna’s own life, where responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders every day.

As they continued to play, Anna couldn’t help but notice something strange—Rebecca’s diaper, which had been dry when she arrived, was still dry. She had been there for nearly three hours, and Rebecca hadn’t shown any signs of needing a change. It struck Anna as odd, considering everything she’d heard about regression schools and their “residents.”

But as the hours passed, Anna started to see small signs. Rebecca would squirm a little more, shift her weight from side to side, and occasionally pause in the middle of talking or playing, as if she was distracted by something. Anna noticed but didn’t say anything, not wanting to embarrass her friend.

Finally, after about three hours, Rebecca paused mid-sentence, her eyes going wide for a moment. She looked down at her diaper, then back up at Anna, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. “Uh-oh...” she mumbled softly, her voice tinged with both embarrassment and a hint of relief.

Anna watched as the colorful designs on Rebecca’s diaper began to fade, the telltale sign of it absorbing wetness. There was a faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and then Rebecca sighed softly, a look of contentment spreading across her face.

“I did a pee-pee,” Rebecca said quietly, almost to herself, as she absentmindedly patted the front of her now-soggy diaper. There was no shame in her voice, just a simple acknowledgment of what had happened.

Anna reached out, gently rubbing Rebecca’s back. “It’s okay, Becky. Do you want me to get someone to change you?”

Rebecca shook her head, leaning into Anna’s touch. “No, it’s okay. I’m comfy.”

Anna continued to rub her back, noticing how Rebecca seemed completely at ease with her situation. "You really seem to enjoy it here," Anna said softly.

Rebecca’s smile faltered for a moment as she looked down at her soggy diaper, then back up at Anna. "Well... I heard that if I'm a good little girl and don't put up a fuss, they might let me grow back up before the next... matur... matuwity... test," she said, struggling with the word.

Anna’s eyes widened slightly. “Maturity test?”

Rebecca nodded, a proud smile spreading across her face. “Uh-huh! If I’m a good girl and don’t make a fuss, maybe when it’s time for the test again, I can grow back up!”

Anna’s heart ached a little as she listened. It was clear that Rebecca had latched onto the idea, hoping that by being the perfect little toddler, she might get a chance to return to her previous life. Anna wasn’t sure if that was really how it worked, but she didn’t want to burst Rebecca’s bubble.

“That’s a good plan, Becky,” Anna said softly, pulling her friend into a gentle hug. “You’re doing great.”

Rebecca beamed up at her, the simple praise enough to make her day.

#ab/dl diaper #diaper stories #diaper captions #ab/dl stories #regression school #ab/dl girl #wetting diaper #diaper bulge #ab/dl

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jmliebert · 1 month

Text

♡ halsin teaching you how to kiss ♡

little scenario (but you're shy and unexperienced)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You were inexperienced and incredibly shy, but the intensity of Halsin’s attention was intoxicating. It sent shivers of anticipation through your body. His gaze, unwavering and bold, left you breathless. His fascination with you, all the probing questions and sincere compliments, made you feel not just noticed but deeply desired.

Halsin yearned for you, for your presence, and the high walls you had built around yourself started to crumble. Despite the fear rooted in your shyness and your painfully limited experience, you wanted Halsin to discover more of you. Over time, his hand would accidentally brush against yours as you walked side by side. Sparks seemed to ignite through your body, and you were almost certain that Halsin felt it too. You could see it in his eyes, but in a moment of panic, you’d look away.

One night, as you sat together on the soft grass under the crescent moon, his thigh touched yours, and you lost your breath. Even though you longed for his attention and touch, you were terrified. Halsin was a legendary lover, his exploits well-known, and you found yourself blushing, unsure of how to react when he took your hand in his, gently stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

With his face dangerously close to yours, your heart pounded, threatening to burst from your chest, your face aflame with heat. His gaze held yours, searching, and you found yourself speechless, unable to move, despite your longing to do so.

Those few seconds stretched into an eternity, each moment filled with tension and expectation, your own personal ordeal, until a gentle movement from Halsin towards you became your salvation. His lips met yours in a soft, innocent (or perhaps not so innocent) peck. Had your eyes been open, Halsin would have seen your pupils widen in surprise.

Every lingering glance, every small smile, every warm word, and every gentle touch saturated with hopeful anticipation culminated in this simple, tender, yet deeply affectionate, little kiss. It relaxed your body, filled your heart with a warm, pleasant sensation, and brought an involuntary smile to your lips. There was no possessive grasp on your hips, no intrusive tongue seeking entry into your mouth. Perhaps Halsin understood you more than you gave him credit for?

You quickly grew to cherish your little pecks. Halsin never denied them to you, which was both reassuring and... thrilling. You started to feel more confident in the druid’s presence, surprising even yourself. Halsin was patient, open, and charming, and you began to bloom.

The rainy night when Halsin slipped unnoticed into your tent marked a turning point in what was between you. Raindrops trickled down Halsin’s shoulders and hair, and you could swear his skin steamed, a light mist hovering over the imposing man, so awkwardly large within your modest tent, yet so perfectly fitting, so eagerly anticipated. As always, the druid greeted you with one of his most endearing smiles.

“It’s good to see you again, my heart,” he said.

As the night unfolded, you found yourself in his arms. Your head rested on his chest, and your hand roamed hesitantly over his torso, tracing the curves of his beautiful body, while his own hand lay on your back, caressing it leisurely. The rain continued to drum against the tent’s walls, the night enveloping everything in darkness, with only a few solitary candles on the tent’s floor casting a soft glow around you.

Was it the atmosphere and the sudden clenching of your heart that emboldened you? Perhaps it was the calmness radiating from Halsin, the warmth of his body? Maybe you just felt it was the right moment to take the next step, to express your feelings more openly than your shyness usually allowed? You weren’t sure, but you couldn’t help but lift yourself slightly on your elbows to look at his face, partially hidden in the candlelight’s shadow. His eyes gleamed; he looked mesmerising, seductive even. Before you knew it, you began to pepper his face with sweet little kisses. From his forehead to his nose, cheeks to his chin, and Halsin allowed you to do so with a smile on his lips and an occasional chuckle.

“What have I done to deserve this?”

“I don’t know,” you lied, “but I really wanted to do it,” you added (this time) honestly, and gifted him a few more pecks on the lips, which he gladly accepted.

You had been thinking for the longest time, feverishly contemplating how to approach this, how to articulate this embarrassing truth. What words to use to make this truth bearable? You considered writing it down, but you were too afraid it might fall into the wrong hands (like Astarion’s), so you planned everything meticulously in your head. But life isn’t linear. And when you began to speak, the words came out differently than you had intended. You decided Halsin deserved honesty; the words flowed out of you naturally, not at all according to the plan.

“You know... I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Silence. And then his voice.

“Do you want me to teach you?”

Oh.

Your heart swelled. That was so undeniably Halsin.

You nodded, your eyes shining brightly. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain pattering against the tent.

Halsin’s smile was warm and reassuring. He cupped your face gently with his hand, his thumb softly stroking your cheek. “The key to a good kiss,” he began, his voice a soothing murmur, “is to let it flow naturally, to follow the rhythm of your own heart.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips. “Just relax and follow my lead.”

He pressed his lips against yours, tenderly, patiently. There was no rush, no urgency, just the gentle exploration of a shared moment. His lips moved softly, encouraging you to respond. You felt his hand move from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer in a slow, deliberate motion. His kiss was a revelation of how intimacy could be both powerful and gentle. And then he smiled, the expression of someone who had just tasted the sweetest honey.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The other night Halsin got more possessive towards you.

“Let me show you more,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low and resonant. He tilted your head slightly to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out to tease your lips apart. The sensation was thrilling, and you parted your lips willingly, inviting him in.

His tongue explored your mouth, gentle yet insistent, as if savouring every moment. You could feel the heat building between you, and you responded in kind, meeting his movements with growing boldness. Halsin’s hand slipped into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he held you close, his lips moving against yours with a hunger.

“You’re doing beautifully,” he murmured a praise, his words a soft caress that ignited a spark of confidence within you. Encouraged, you allowed yourself to lean into the kiss, matching his passion with your own.

Halsin broke the kiss momentarily, only to press a series of soft, teasing bites along your lower lip. The gentle nips sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp. His lips curled into a smile at your reaction, and he gazed into your eyes, his own filled with a fiery intensity.

“I love the sounds you make,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. The words and the way he looked at you, so full of desire and affection, made your heart race. You felt his lips trail down your neck, planting tender kisses that gradually grew more fervent.

Unable to contain the pleasure building within you, a moan escaped your lips, soft but unmistakable. Halsin froze for a moment, his lips still against your skin. You felt the slight tension in his body as he processed the sound, and when he lifted his gaze to meet yours, his eyes had darkened, his pupils wide with unrestrained desire.

“Do that again,” he growled softly, his voice thick with a feral edge. There was a possessiveness in his tone that made your pulse quicken. You moaned again, more deliberately this time, and it was as if you had unleashed something within him.

Halsin’s hands cupped your face, his grip firm but tender, as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. This time, his tongue delved deeper, more demanding, coaxing out every ounce of pleasure from you. You could feel the shift in his demeanour, the primal urge to claim you, to make you his. His kisses were no longer gentle; they were fervent, leaving you breathless and yearning for more…

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡

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redheadspark · 11 months

Text

Bliss

Summary - Druig knows how to bring you bliss

*Got the idea for this one shot from this Gif*

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! This is 18+, NO MINORS ALLOWED FROM HERE ON OUT!

A/N - I am no SMUT writer by trade, so bear with me :D

You fell back into the bed, your breath barely on your lips as your thighs were trembling and your orgasm was now dwindling to a small simmer. Sweat itched along your skin, thanks to the solid body on top of you that was holding you close and still buried deep inside of you, watching your body shake from your post orgasm. His eyes were wide, nearly black with no evidence of the sapphire blue they naturally were, his lisp plump to almost crimson in the moonlight, and his skin with its sheen of sweat along his porcelain skin.

"That was…..I can't even talk" You tried to say, but your voice was nearly gone with a small smile on your lips as the man above you merely chuckled and ruffled his own brown hair from his eyes.

"Don't say a single word, darlin'." He hummed, leaning back down to have his arms on the mattress below you, digging his forehead against your shoulder as he rolled his hips deeply and slowly. You mewled, arching into him as you clung onto his shoulders, knowing fully well that he was not done with you.

Neither you were done, not with what you went through.

This was not the first time you two were in bed together, nor would it be the last. But it felt like your first time, not with the intensity and the lust that was seeping under your skin as you both were gasping for air and pouring your love to one another, but with the intense love you both had for one another for centuries and centuries on end.

Being together on the Domo for some time as friends before realizing your feelings for one another brought your paths together as lovers, then as a married couple. You never thought in your wildest dreams that the Mind Controlling Eternal, the very one who was aloof to outsiders and sarcastic by nature, would fall head over heels in love with someone like you. He was wrapped around your heart so naturally and organically that before you knew it, you realized that your heart was taken by him and there was no way to be without him.

You both went along with the evolution of humans, seeing the good, the bad, and the ugly. Even within your own family of Eternals and how straining it was getting with one another, you both stayed side by side. Druig's heart was beyond massive for the sake of the humans, for wishing them peace and tranquility on that small and fragile planet. So when he decided to walk away after seeing a genocide unfold in front of his eyes, you joined him. How could you stay behind and let the love of your life walk away? He was part of your soul, half of your heart, and neither one of you wished to be parted.

"Uggh….Oh fuck Druig," you moaned against his head as his hips were staying consistent, rolling sleep and slow as you felt his cock slide in and out of you. You were feeling that tension again, the burning in your thigh muscles since your legs were bracketing Druig's hips with ease, your arms shaking while you clung onto his muscular shoulders, and your core finding that flicker of pleasure again while he kissed your skin over and over. One of his hands moved from under the pillow where you were, bracing your jawline to have your head stay in one spot while he was still fucking you deeply. You loved when he did this, his actions were both filthy and intimate at the same time. Holding you close as you fucked, perhaps thinking that you two could blend into one as he made you cum multiple times.

This was how he loved you: showing you with his actions along with his words how he loved you and would never stop loving you.

You moved your head to kiss his palm that was against your jawline, feeling him thrust again to have you moan silently and feel his thumb trace your lower lip. Without you thinking about it and merely thinking about the pleasure that was now etched within you, you slide his thumb into your mouth. He moaned against your neck.

"Fuck," he growled, his thrust never slowing as your hand moved down to grasp at his ass through the thin sheet that was covering it. He huffed and moved his head to gaze at you with heavy eyes, seeing his thumb in your mouth as you locked eyes with him with a blissed-out face, "You want me to make you cum again, don't ya?"

Releasing his thumb with a pop, you grinned as he gave a particularly hard thrust, you moaned out, "Do it,"

His eyes narrowed: challenged accepted.

Having this kind of love with Druig was nothing short of amazing. Built on the solid foundation of friendship and devotion, you both could take on the world if you wanted to. Yet you and Druig didn't wish for that, you both instead settled for your little village in the Amazon. A slice of paradise amongst the soldiers that followed Druig, underneath the massive trees, and hidden from the rest of the world. The love that was blossoming over time between you and Druig was now thriving and evolving, spending mornings in bed together and long walks amongst the trees. Druig never strayed from you, and he proved it again and again.

Druig loved running the village and caring for the families that were growing as the years went by, and you saw the new side of Druig that was hidden for so long because of his inability to step in and help humans. It made you proud to see him care for his villagers, to see the brightness in his eyes and within his tone, and you wished that would never go away.

Even after 500 years when your Eternals family came back to find you two to stop the ending of the world with them, nothing seemed to slow the pair of you down.

Moans were filling the room for the pair of you now as Druig was now determined to make you cum again, you letting him as his hips were now snapping and his eyes never leaving your face as you were melting with the sensation. You felt that drive in his hold along your body, in his whimpers along his lips, and in his eyes as he was watching you get closer and closer to teetering over the edge. He knew just how to make you cum: his rough fingers along your body or inside of you, his sweet and yet filthy words in your ear, and even his cock that was perfect in length and girth that seemed to be created to only fit inside of you. Inwardly, you thanked your lucky stars that you both were Eternals with extended energy, being able to fuck all night without a single need for a break.

This led to your record: 14 straight hours back in the Amazon when you two went off together on your anniversary back in 1869.

This time, this was more than a simple act of love or fuck session. The world almost ended, and you all almost lost everything you knew thanks to Arishem and his need to bring Tiamut to life and a new balance to the universe. Yet you all stopped it, not wishing to let this planet go to waste since you grew to love it over the centuries. It was a relief that there was no more danger for any of you to worry about, and to think that you were so close to losing Druig at the hands of Ikaris, you thought of the worst.

Seeing him walk up to you with a few cuts and bruises, yet alive and well, you had to hold him close and engrain him in your mind.

He must have felt the same, whisking you away from the rest of your group. Which then brought you to your current predicament.

"I'm close…I'm close Druig…" You moaned against his head as he was not slowing down with his hips and his open-mouth kisses against your jawline. He hummed, his spare hand moving down to rub his thumb against your clit as he was thrusting deeper and deeper. You moan hotly from the touch, your legs sprawling out at this point as he keeps the adrenaline going.

"You don't have to tell me, I can feel ya flutterin' against my cock," he growled as you were feeling that sensation in your toes moving up to be along your spine, "I know your body and what makes ya tick, right? I know where to touch, where to lick, where to….where to fuck,"

He rubbed your clit hard, making you moan with no abandon as he chuckled to pause and sit up a bit. He looked down at your body, seeing him undone you were yet at the same time tight wound. Your hair askew, your breast etched in hickies and exposed for him to savor, even the gorgeous sight of where you two were connected along your hips.

But what got him was your eyes, the same eyes that he fell for when he first saw you on the Domo. The same eyes that saw his painful and tear-jerking moments throughout the years but never repeated. The same eyes that poured love into his own when he felt he was undeserving. He swore a long time ago when he first kissed you at sunset, he would do anything and everything in his power to keep you in his life.

Centuries later, he held onto that promise.

"I love you," He hummed, the tone of lust simmered as you gazed up at him with lust in your own eyes. You felt that love seep under your skin, even in the heat of fucking you both would find a way to have another layer of intimacy with each other. Perhaps you were thinking that he was going to die because of Ikaris, or that was world was so close to ending, but you two looked at one another as if nothing else existed in the world, or in that little room.

You leaned up, moaning as you did since he was involuntarily thrusting in you to make you tremble. Druig moaned too, though it was silenced by you kissing him softly. He kissed you back, feeling that gentleness along your lips as you framed his face in your hands. Although you knew of it being a distraction, moving one hand to be placed in his chest to give him a push.

Within a second, he was sprawled on his back as you were now riding him. He grinned as you gently grasped his throat, feeling him gulp as you too locked eyes with that intensity again.

"Love you more," You replied, then giving one hard roll. Druig moaned loudly as his eyes rolled back in bliss.

The End

tagging - @a-lumos-in-the-nox @heliosphere8 @virtueassassin @pemberlyy @botanicalbarnes @reader6898 @eternalslover

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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

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riki-dazed · 6 months

Text

Best friends can kiss, right? -- PART 2

go to part 1 · fluff, kissing · wc: 1205

Your eyes search Riki's for any hint of jest or sincerity, a knot forms within your stomach as you try to make sense of the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Did I hear that correctly?

He must be joking. Right?

The question continues to hang in the air as you stay cuddled into his side, mere inches away from his face. The warmth in which you felt radiate off his hoodie moments prior has now doubled in temperature.

You wait patiently for Riki to crack a smile, expecting him to mention that he's joking around, as his unserious self always does. But instead, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as you watch his seated figure begin to lean closer into you, your eyes instinctively close shut as you brace yourself for whatever is about to unfold.

It's finally happening..

Your mouth emits a barely audible gasp as Riki's pillowy lips come into contact with your forehead, his hand finding its way to the back of your head, gently keeping you in place for him. His lips linger on you for what feels like an eternity, the warmth of his breath against your skin causes a sense of calmness to flush over your stiff body. Nerves in which had settled upon you moments prior were nowhere to be found anymore.

You open your eyes to find him pulling away from your face, and you can't help but almost feel a tinge of disappointment; a sense of longing for his lips to be moving against other places, and not just your forehead.

Your cheeks flush at the racing thoughts within your mind as one of your hands finds its way up his torso, clinging onto the fabric of his hoodie that covers his chest. Your touch leaves Riki slightly surprised, prompting him to conceal his emotions behind a composed facade.

You pout, your gaze set on his, "Nishimura Riki, is that all you've got..?"

Just tell me how we can make this work

Your best friend returns a small smile, the both of you listening to the quiet melody in the background fade into a comfortable silence. Riki's heart rate picks up with every passing second as you continue to search his eyes, he wonders if you can tell just how much your puppy-eyed gaze is taking an effect upon him.

"Y/n," He reluctantly begins, his voice even more hushed now that there's nothing playing through his speakers. His tall body shifts to find a comfier position on the small sofa, his hand simultaneously pulls you back into his side, "...I don't want to rush you."

You furrow your eyebrows at the sweet boy, giving him a look that screams playful annoyance. A shy smile creeps onto your lips also, your heart warming at how considerate he always is with you.

"I've waited for this since the day we first met, Riki,"

His gaze burns into yours as he tries to process the words he's just heard you say. A part of him knew this, though, he's always loved you too much to put your friendship at risk. In this moment, and with the help of your confession, Riki realizes that some people are just worth taking these sort of risks for.

His eyes shy away, "Me too,"

Riki's calm reply leaves you feeling each and every butterfly within your body flutter its wings, without restraint. Finding a sudden boost of confidence within yourself, you take the opportunity to shift your position. Both of your hands are now situated atop Riki's chest as your knees rest on either side of his hips, the pace of his breathing quickening beneath your touch is dangerously noticeable to you.

This is so unlike him

The realization that you're straddling him feels surreal to Riki, like a scenario he could have only ever dreamed of actually happening. He's looking up at you with an expression akin to a lost puppy, his arms resting on either side of him. He's uncertain of what to do with his hands.

"Then don't make me wait any longer," Your voice is laced with anticipation and longing, your gaze falling to his mouth in which hangs slightly open.

And just like that, the look in Riki's eyes changes entirely, like your words had just flipped a switch within him; you realize that you've just added fuel to a long running fire.

Riki doesn't dare to make you wait another second longer. He lifts his back off the sofa, closing the distance between your bodies. The boundaries set between your friendship begin to blur as Riki's lips finally start to move against yours fervently, causing you to melt against him into a tender reciprocation. You'd be lying if you were to say that you've never kissed him in your past daydreams, though, you never expected it to be this good in real life.

The silent world around you fades into insignificance as you tug at Riki's hoodie, his hands finally settling on the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him; as if he's afraid to let you go.

The kiss you share with him is needy, both of you hungry to taste one another for the first time. Sounds of want and desperation wash throughout the small studio, creating an intimate symphony in which completely envelopes the both of you. Your mind is completely blank, the only thing being present within it being the thought of how good Riki's lips feel against yours currently. The biting, the sucking.. You start to wonder where he learnt to kiss like this.

Your hands trail up Riki's chest, they rest on his shoulders as you gently push his back against the plush sofa. The both of you take a moment to catch your breaths when your lips detach from one another's, your chests rising and falling in synchrony. You struggle to make sense of what has just happened.

"Is that all you've got?" The almost panting boy mockingly teases, refering to your previous question from minutes ago.

A menacing smile washes over his face as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his hands settling on your hips. You scoff in reply, leaning back into him to leave one final, wet kiss against his now slightly swollen, and pink lips.

He tastes so good.

"Mm, this is nice. I like this," Riki sighs contently as his long arms wrap around you, squishing your figure against his. A chuckle escapes you as you proceed to lay your head against his chest. "We should do this more often."

"So, is this where I ask what are we..?" You tease with a smile as you gaze up into his face.

Riki's eyes shut as he chuckles away, hugging you tighter in the process. The feeling of his chest moving against your body with his laughter causes your eyes to ever so slightly tear up, out of pure love, and adoration. His happiness radiates a different kind of warmth throughout your body.

This is where I belong.

Three AM soon turns into the early hours of the morning as you continue to sleep peacefully, your limbs intertwined, the both of you embracing one another closely on the cramped studio sofa.

...

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justporo · 8 months

Text

Bedroom Hymns

If you thought Astarion was done with you with how you look wearing nothing but his shirt, you are very much wrong. In fact, Astarion is only just starting to enjoy himself as he finally has you where he wants you - on his lap, writhing desperately.

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: I don't even know what to tell you anymore. This is roughly 6k of just smut and me losing my shame writing said smut. I hope you enjoy - and someone take me out back for overwriting this. Apparently it needed to be let out.

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, blood kink, nipple play, slight edging light dom/sub dynamic, light predator/prey dynamic Wordcount: 6k ~~~

You gazed upon your lover and soulmate beneath you, how he was kneeling under you, some of his curls twined around your fingers. Breath and a feeling for reality were still blissfully eluding you. If you had thought that he’d been a heavenly body descended from the skies eternal to bless you with his presence it now seemed you had switched places.

His crimson eyes were bright in the low light, almost glowing and the way he smiled at you - tips of his fangs visible and the corners of his mouth curled up so far - showed this kind of wild joy one really only felt when indulging in some of the most carnal pleasures. And there was awe in the way he looked at you, like somehow he couldn’t believe his own personal goddess had come and stretched out her hand to him, ever so benevolent.

You felt ethereal, eternal.

And thankfully Astarion was fully devoted to you, a firm believer and frequent worshipper at the temple that was your body. Ready to offer you plenty more pleasure. He’d see that prophecy fulfilled - for his own sake and yours of course. You couldn’t wait to see it all unfold.

If you could have stayed forever in this perfect moment, you would have. But a few things kept dragging you back to a less sleek and paradisiacal vision.

Astarion’s fingertips still digging into your backside, the burn of his handprint there and the dizzy feeling swirling through your head were the testament that he had indulged you plentily. The visible bulge in the thin sheets that were precariously draped around your lover’s waist and its occasional throbs in the meantime were the prophecy for a night long not over.

When you dragged on some strands of the vampire’s hair he answered you with a low growl, eyes darkening. And the kisses he had been trailing along your thigh turned into letting his teeth scrape - he was a predator after all, only allowing you to play with him as long as he deigned it satisfactory. The tables could be turned onto you quickly and the thought made your whole lower body clench.

Maybe you liked this rougher, realer version better than any possible divine vision. Maybe you craved the broken perfection that allowed for your continuous fall into corruption.

Neither of you were saints. But he’d given you so much of him already. But In turn he demanded the same devotion now. More than just a humble offering to show your dedication to him now.

Thankfully, you were more than prepared to offer him everything.

You let him caress your thighs a bit more while his fingers kept kneading your behind, but then you tugged on his hair harder than before, dragging him from his source of enjoyment which he commented with another growl.

“Stop playing with your food and fucking take me, Astarion”, you demanded, voice only slightly shaky, making your own heart race anxiously with the bold words and your core throb in desperate need.

It earned you another slap onto your ass right on the same spot where another had landed before. That and delight reflecting on Astarion’s face for you so openly stating what you desired. Meanwhile your butt stung deliciously and had you bite your lip.

“If you want me inside of you, my heart, then be a good girl and sit”, he replied in a low, almost rumbly tone, practically barking the last word, and with his hands on your behind nudged until your still wobbly legs gave in by themselves.

You saw the open challenge in his narrowed ruby eyes and you weren’t fully decided if it was more threat or promise, but you were enticed anyway as you let yourself obey to his barked command.

The muscles in Astarion’s arms flexed as he let your body slide down along his torso slowly. His hands wandered up from your butt, to your hips, gradually wandering up over the sides of your body while you were coming down on him.Your thighs spread apart on their own while you felt your own heated skin brush against the smooth and cool body of the vampire.

It just felt natural like this: letting your legs open for him, straddling him and feeling how much he craved you immediately as you sank down with a blissful, lewd sigh spilling from your lips. Astarion’s eyebrow and cock twitched in delight as he heard that.

Meanwhile your eyes didn’t stray from his for even a single moment. Nothing in the world could have ripped you from this view: Astarion’s pupils dilating while you sank onto his lap until the black almost blotted out the vibrant red of his irises.

Your limbs still felt weak from the forceful orgasm just moments ago but your body was completely and utterly helpless when it came to Astarion. You already felt lust coil in your abdomen again, when you settled down onto him, legs splayed as far as possible. Your hands had wandered from his hair to his shoulders, holding onto him with a soft trembling.

When you sat comfortably on his lap only the sheets were between his eagerly twitching erection and your obscenely wet and swollen core. His dick strained against your folds and his arms around you tensed at the sensation of finally getting to experience some friction. Immediately it made you grind your hips into him, desperate to feel more than just a taste.

The mixture of your wetness and his hardened length already starting to leak in anticipation of what he was about to unleash onto you quickly had the thin fabric between you drenched and cling to his cock as you already began losing control over your movements and the last of your humility.

Your head lolled back and your hands clenched onto his shoulders with a noiseless moan leaving your throat. The first time he’d made you come tonight had already nearly made you burst into a million pieces. You weren’t completely sure how you’d survive another one.

But gods, you were so eager to feel him.

And even more than that you wanted to please him. Wanted to give him what you had experienced just a few moments ago: pleasure so intense it made you forget anything but your own desire and the body of your lover pressed against you. You wanted to make him feel that again and again until he would have forgotten everything that had come before you. You wanted to be his path to salvation if possible.

You were positive you could do it. And you would devote your whole self - body, heart and soul - to make up for all the pain he was made to suffer.

His shirt in the meantime had ridden up on your upper body while you had slid down against him. It was bunched between the two of you now. Your breasts pressed against him, your nipples already pleasantly peaked, but still covered by the linen.

While you kept slowly grinding against him, Astarion’s hands slid up from your hips over your back and then slid around your torso to cup your tits from below: perking them up by pushing them up and together with his palms. You hummed contentedly as you enjoyed the view of your own daunting cleavage through the loose lacing of Astarion’s old camp shirt as you looked down. Something about seeing yourself like this was adding majorly to your already heightened senses and lust.

When the vampire noticed that he wasted no time pushing further while lifting up his hips a little so you could more tension down there too. He pushed you so far, your breasts squished so hard it stung pleasantly, that it made you squeal in delight.

And you heard a very similar noise coming from Astarion, almost purring for you, as he began playing around with your boobs more. He let them jig down then squeezed them again, letting his thumbs wander to rub lazy circles over their peaks until they were even more clearly outlined, the fabric spanning over them when he tugged the shirt tightly over them.

Your hands sank down to grab onto his arms, fingertips indenting on his biceps and feeling the muscles move slowly under your splayed fingers.

A violent twitch of him between your legs - that your own body quickly responded to - and a breathy moan spilling from his lips had you snap your gaze back from your tits to Astarion’s face. It was filled with admiration as he kept toying and gazing at your boobs that felt deliciously heavy with lust.

Your senses were so heightened, your whole body so tense you were acutely aware of everything you felt: his fingers on your boobs, his cock pressing against your feverishly hot core that couldn’t wait to finally take him, how his own skin started to warm up to your own body that was almost radiating heat from the intense lust you felt.

“I love how your tits look in my shirt, darling,” Astarion whispered breathlessly, mesmerised by the very thing he spoke about. He didn’t seem like he ever wanted to stop

You laughed softly at that. The way he said it sounded almost too innocent for what you were engaging in.

Then his eyes wandered to you, open and wide. As if he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“I love how you look in my shirt, Tav,” he mumbled softly, his face full of desire and yearning for you - and love. And somehow his honest, genuine words combined with how your name rolled off his tongue instead of one of his usual pet names, made you way more flushed and flustered than the fact that you were currently indulging in your most animalistic pleasures without restraint or shame like you’d never done before tonight.

Your own love for him was overflowing inside your chest as you watched him gaze at you with love and admiration in his red eyes. You moved to cup his face softly and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his mouth.

Astarion welcomed you with open lips and a pleased sigh. You kissed him slowly and lovingly, letting your fingertips wander over his cheeks and then over his sensitive pointy ears. He sighed once more and deepened the kiss, letting go of your breasts for the time being to wrap his arms around you and pull you closer against him.

The kiss didn’t stay slow and innocent for long. Once his tongue slipped into your mouth and you were aware how your already teased boobs squished against his upper body, you bucked your hips once more with a moan, grinding against his cock again.

That seemed to remind Astarion of the unfinished business. The vampire hissed when he felt you shift against him again. There might not be much longer before the teasing would make him lose the rest of his sanity.

The mood had shifted again to something simmering and burning hot and bright. But you knew his honest love for you was burning just as hot as your desire for you.

“This shit has to fucking go”, the vampire growled as he tore away from the intense kiss. There he was again, the predator that existed under the thin veil of civility. And you loved how at times you saw it slip, experiencing Astarion letting go a bit off his own reins.

You trusted him fully that he knew exactly how far he could go.

Without further notice he wrapped one of his arms around you beneath your buttocks to lift you up. With his other arm he awkwardly tried to rid himself of the now pretty drenched sheets that were still partially covering him. His impatience made him lose some of his usual dexterity and he cursed under his breath when he couldn’t get rid of the godsdamned thing clinging wetly to his lower body.

You tried to help to kick it away with your feet and you both had to chuckle at your desperate and awkward tries to finally get it away from him in a small moment of hysteria caused by both of your emotions running high and the tension being as taught as a bow string between you.

This wasn’t one of the performances Astarion would have acted out months ago when you had started sleeping with and slowly falling for each other. This was nothing but honest, desperate need for each other and the just as desperate clambering to finally get there.

You threw each other an amused look, your face flustered from the stupid situation and Astarion shaking his head at his own uncommon clumsiness with a small grin.

Then he finally set you down again, his dick now firmly pressed between your bodies, finally free of restraints.

You moaned when you felt him hard against your naked stomach. With your one hand on Astarion’s arm again you let your other hand immediately wander to his hardness, the tip already glistening with wetness. You wrapped your hand around him as tightly as possible with your bodies so tightly pressed against each other already and gave his cock a few tentative strokes. Your thumb stroked over his soft tip and over the wet beads there, pressing down firmly and then spreading some of the slickness around, making the vampire almost whimper from how you handled this sensitive part of his body. His reaction was so visceral that even his balls tightened in response to your confident caress.

Astarion in the meantime pulled up his shirt on your body until he had bared your breasts, the cold air hitting them and their sensitive buds at their peaks making you gasp and shiver. His thumbs went to your nipples again, started teasing them, twisting them, similarly to how he had done before but now with newly found vigour. And the fact that there was full skin-on-skin contact now only amplified the rush you got from his playful caresses tenfold.

You arched your back for him, whispering his name like a psalm, zealously wanting to offer yourself up for him even more, wanting him to indulge in you. Your head rolled back in pleasure as you also rolled your hips and tried to grind against his hard cock, helping with your other hand to make it slide along your clit and your core. The tip diving into some of the wet heat, receiving a taste of what it could be like if only he finally sank into you.

You heard Astarion growl deep in his throat at the sight of you losing all shame for him, desperate to feel him and to be appreciated by him - his own personal succubus. His length kept jerking while you worked for every tiny piece of delicious friction you could get.

The vampire observed how you writhed on his lap, like you were his own personal siren. Every sweet moan that spilled from your lips another part of your irresistible siren song that beckoned him farther and farther still, wanting him to give and take everything. He watched as you flipped your hair back to ground against him even more eagerly, biting your lip, your hand not currently teasing his cock gripping his shoulder for more hold.

Astarion’s eyes glazed over from the pleasure becoming almost too much already, his lips curling up in a senseless smile of pure bliss as he was positively aching. He’d been so patient and enduring and his whole being yearned to be inside of you, to finally have you clench around him while he earned his well deserved release. But he was still urging you on, wondering if he could make you reach another peak before he did.

“Darling, hold my shirt up for me, would you?”, he pressed out breathlessly while you were still grinding yourself against him. You obeyed without even thinking about it, slowly letting go of Astarion’s hardness to do as he asked.

“Good girl,” he purred and praised you with a smirk and one eyebrow jumping up, while his hands slid over your spine: one stayed on the small of your back, the other wandered up further, over your neck until he could curl his fingers in your hair to get some good grip. And then the next time you rolled your hips up against him, he pulled your head back by your hair and with his hand on your back pulled you even closer so he had you arching your back almost painfully. Now your breasts were perfectly presented for him and were held immobile against his torso. You kept tugging his shirt up further.

“Do you want me to take your shirt off?”, you asked breathlessly and felt your whole body flush just from the way your lover held you - fully at his mercy now. Your legs were already shivering from the impossible pose: held and hovering, falling but somehow secure.

“Gods, no,” Astarion groaned with an edge of desperation in his tone and loosened the hold on your hair a little so you could look into his eyes. “I want to smell you on it after I’m done fucking you”, he explained, his voice breathy from lust, eyes half-lidded.

And then without further warning he tugged on your hair again, hard, and went down on one of your offered up breasts. He sucked on its peak, his sharp teeth grazing the delicate skin around it. You whimpered helplessly, your hand on his shoulder gripping even harder, probably leaving marks by now.

While he was sucking and now even biting, drawing just enough blood so he could taste you, he lifted you up enough until his dick could slide along your wet folds and easily slid to your entrance. Your legs were trembling as you felt the tip of him teasingly sink into you just the barest bit.

The pain of Astarion dragging on your hair and biting and sucking on your tits while you felt the head of his cock agonisingly slowly sink into you, finally, had your eyes roll into the back of your skull. A moan of yours slowly became something between a plea and a scream while ever so slowly he let you sink down onto him until he was buried to the hilt within you.

You bit your lip in a desperate attempt to keep some control over your body but after the long and slow buildup just the feeling of Astarion finally inside of you made your core clench around him forcefully.

The vampire kept suckling on your breasts and the dribble of blood he had going there, just a few drops already being enough to make his cock inside you twitch from how exquisite you tasted on his tongue. It only made you clench harder around him.

You whimpered in desperation and let go of the fabric you had still been holding up to have both of your hands claw at Astarion’s back now. In response your lover lifted his face from where he had been latched onto your sensitive skin to laugh softly and haughtily. You felt it lightly but deeply shake through his and your own body.

“I have barely done anything, my love, and you’re almost already coming for me again,” Astarion whispered and clicked his tongue - the fucking bastard.

Then he licked up a single drop of blood from your breasts. It made his cock twitch again in response to that while Astarion hummed in arrogant satisfaction. It made you think of something.

While his hands had you almost immobile you couldn’t resist spurring him on a little more. He had you captive, his prey. But you felt you could tease out the hunter, the predator a little more.

“Well, how about you do some more then, love?”, you asked with an edge of passive-aggressiveness, knowing that your tone already would get the better of him.

You both knew that he was a massive tease and that he delighted way too much in riling you up whenever and wherever possible, no matter the circumstances. Only when it was the most appropriate time to get going did he take his precious time to get to the point. So you would just try and coax him until his already dwindling patience would snap.

Already, Astarion was grumbling at you and he yanked on your hair harder again - how pleasant.

But you also had an ace up your sleeve. Using the little space you had for moving, you willingly clenched down around his cock again while you lifted your hips just a little before letting them slam down again. That earned you a disgruntled groan but you felt how he instinctively had started moving his hips with yours when you did it again. He couldn’t resist you anymore - not with how desperately he was craving you.

And now for your trump card. You moved your head just a little, bringing his attention to your neck that was already conveniently bared and ready for him, just like the rest of your body. And then there was your thundering pulse that had been making you feel dizzy for a while now but sped up even more as you anticipated what was about to happen.

You heard him grunt, obviously immediately understanding what you offered him. He wouldn’t let the opportunity pass, of course he wouldn’t. Not if the pretty morsel was presenting itself so beautifully and enchantingly on a silver platter.

With your hair still in his grip he leaned closer. He deeply inhaled your intoxicating scent that was intensified by the blood pumping through you amplified by your desire. His other hand moved to your butt now and began to squeeze, giving you more room to move and helping you lift up your hips a little with every roll of your body as you began riding him slowly.

Just a moment later you felt his lips on your throat, kissing it open-mouthed, caressing it with his tongue pressing flatly against it, directly over where your pulse was fluttering even faster now, knowing what was about to happen. Merely an instance later you felt the sharp sting of his fangs breaking your skin and then the cold, but titillating sensation of Astarion taking your blood. His hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck, holding it steady for him while the whole sensation brought newly known waves of lust over your body.

You heard his pleased and feral groans as he drank your blood in generous gulps while he gripped your ass harder and you slowly sped up the pace of you grinding onto him.

And then you felt another pleasant sensation while you slowly lost your breath and mind moving on your lover: you could feel his dick inside you physically grow harder as he drank from you and jerk viciously in rhythm with every gulp he took. Your blood giving the vampire a surprising amount of vigour while it also made him noticeably more feral.

The sounds that spilled from your lips became lewder by the second as you felt all of it once: him hitting deep and hard inside of you, his hands gripping you, your breasts jigging with every slam of your hips and the dizzying cold slowly and pleasantly spreading from your neck through your body while your fingers dug into the vampire’s shoulders until you almost felt like you were drifting out of your own body from the pleasure.

With a jerk and some obvious internal struggle Astarion ripped himself away from your neck, his fingers at its back digging into your skin. He slowly released their grip on you, joining his other hand on your butt, so you could take a look at his face. His gaze on you was intense, a few curls had fallen onto his forehead.

All while he kept fucking you relentlessly: now with both hands on your behind it was him dictating the pace, lifting your hips up again while slamming into you with rolling of his own hips.

His eyes were impossibly wide, pupils dilated as much as possible. Some of your blood was dripping down his chin but he didn’t even care, he had only eyes for you and how you almost had lost all your senses already, being taken by him like this and with newly found energy and vitality from your delicious, nurturing blood. And he realised your ploy.

“And here I thought you were only offering out of the goodness of your heart, you little vixen,” Astarion mumbled while he watched your eyes roll back again as he picked up the pace. You were in no state to even answer anymore, the only things leaving your lips were heavy breaths and senseless moans.

But Astarion wasn’t having it. He slowed down until he was thrusting frustratingly slowly.

“Tell me what you want, love,” the vampire demanded, slowly lifting your hips up until he had almost fully withdrawn from you. You only whimpered in desperation in response. Astarion stilled fully, holding you there, in suspense, his gaze boring into you.

“Darling, speak to me,” he said, his voice teasing as he smirked at you. How he was even capable of doing that while he could have just been buried deep down inside of you was fully beyond you. You only groaned in frustration at him, clawed at his back as if mad, needing him to just keep going.

He snorted, still letting you hover right above his cock now - and didn’t move an inch: “Don’t make this harder on you than it has to be, sweetheart.”

That made you break. “As if that was even a possibility, Astarion,” you chuckled breathlessly, feeling hysteria bubbling up inside you

The vampire just answered with a chuckle and then let you pounce down on his dick again, immediately having you claw at him and moan again from the sensation of being filled completely by him within an inch of your life from one moment to the next.

“So she does speak after all,” he teased you with a low laugh vibrating through both of your bodies. Thankfully he kept up a steady rhythm now.

“Now, - tell me - what you - want!”, the vampire pressed out between each thrust. Obviously he massively overestimated your ability to form even simple sentences when he fucked you like that.

“Harder,” you simply uttered breathlessly. Astarion hummed in approval while a grin split his lips, baring his fangs to you once more.

“So it obviously is a possibility,” he replied smugly. You groaned angrily and bucked your hips while clenching around him, making him moan in return. As much as you loved to hear him talk, you would have liked for him to pour that energy into how he was thrusting into you.

But you quickly regretted your insolent behaviour when he suddenly grabbed you and threw you onto the mattress, shortly being withdrawn from you. You gasped and caught yourself with your elbows, but the bedding was soft enough anyway.

Astarion prowled closer to you, his gaze that of a predator closing in on his prey once more. Then as he moved your legs up with his hands he eyed your throbbing core that was desperate to welcome him again. He positioned his hips and his glistening hard length between your legs.

You thought he was just about to make your wish happen with how he pressed up your thighs to spread you for him. But as you looked at his face you found him gazing at you, his messy white curls falling into his face, crimson eyes glinting in awe at the sight of you while his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your legs.

“Look at you, my darling,” he whispered as if to himself. But when he continued his eyes locked with yours: “Look how beautiful you are.” He emphasised his words by squeezing your thighs with his splayed fingers.

He practically moaned the words as he pushed your thighs a little further and finally began to sink into you again.

His mouth was agape as he leaned forward over you, making your legs bend towards your head as far as your exquisite body allowed. His eyes were glazing over with lust and a sound you could only describe as a purr rumbled through his chest as he slowly buried himself into you again until he had bottomed out.

“Look how well you take me, love. My good, good girl.”

You gasped at his praise, eyes wide as he spelled out exactly his thoughts for you. He leaned further over you and grabbed your wrists to pin them down beside each side of your head. Instinctively your legs wrapped around his hips then, your ankles crossed, trying to hold him deep inside you.

It earned you a loving smile, an approving hum. But then Astarion withdrew from you slowly again.

“You’re so good for me,” he mumbled and then slammed into you so hard again it made you yelp. “And so ready.”

“My beautiful darling”, Astarion continued, eyes fixed on you while he thrust again, making your breath almost catch in your throat as you kept staring at him with eyes wide, mouth open as he kept telling you just how much he adored you.

His eyes were soft as he slammed into you unyieldingly, nothing but praise leaving his full lips while he sped up the pace and you felt it wouldn’t take long anymore. Not with how he had kept teasing you, how he had made you work for every inch gained.

You lost all ability to do anything but let your body arch towards his more and clenching around him in eager desperation while he kept going: both with the praise and the thrusts.

“You’re so perfect, Tav, my darling.”

“Can you take me a little harder still?”

“Yes, my good little pup.”

“Look how eager you are, you little fox.”

“You’re a goddess, my love. My goddess.”

You felt yourself lose yourself, your legs already starting to tremble with how tense they were as you felt the orgasm creep up onto you. Meanwhile Astarion’s eyes didn’t leave yours for a second while he hovered above you. Every detail of his perfect face imprinted permanently into your memory: the soft laugh lines and around his eyes and crinkles around his crimson eyes, the perfect aristocratic nose, the soft, full lips he occasionally bit down on as he too kept losing himself in you, showing his pronounced canines. You could have gone forever with tiny details you would never forget in this lifetime - or the next.

All while he kept fucking you unrelentingly and unapologetically.

And neither would you forget how it felt, how with every deep hit within you you partially lost yourself and how you let yourself be taken willingly.

Then he let go of one of your wrists to let a hand wander between your bodies, the pad of his thumb easily finding your clit despite how closely your bodies were pressed together already. And it gave you the opportunity to lift one of your hands to his face and cup it - while he kept going. His head fell a little lower and some of his soft, white curls were tickling your face lightly.

The way he fucked you so hard while he looked at you with those loving eyes was such a stark contrast but it just felt right like that. It made for the perfect mixture. It assured you that now matter how deep and long you’d fall, he’d make sure you find your way back again. And that you’d do the same for him.

Then, when he sloppily started to swipe over the tender bud between your legs, you knew this was about to become your end.

Just for a few moments his gaze strayed from yours, looking at how you were still in his shirt, a sign of how you belonged to him. How you were his and his alone. He’d never forget this image: you coming undone beneath him while his old, dusty shirt was bunched up over your bared breasts, being drenched with the sheen of sweat that by now covered your whole body.

There was nothing on his mind but you and how you made him feel. Becoming almost too much, it was almost as if he could feel his undead heart start beating again.

And he didn’t stop, locking eyes with you again. His words became more incoherent slowly and you noticed from how his pace became a little unsteady that he was about to lose himself completely as well. The muscles in your legs and lower body were tensed so much that it started to hurt but just added to the tension building up inside you. You were ready to snap at a moment’s notice.

“I love you, Tav,” were his lasts words of praise as he slammed into you a final time and you felt his cock twitch violently inside of you announcing his savage orgasm.

“I love you,” you moaned back as - in time with him - you felt how you lost the last of yourself as well. A long wailing moan, exclaiming his name once more towards the heavens left your lips as you felt yourself dissipate into the aether.

He kept fucking you through waves of pleasure making both of you shake while he spilled himself inside of you, his head falling to the crook of your neck where he moaned your name again and again - a continued credo of his devotion to you and only you.

And when nothing of it was left but shaking, trembling bodies and heavy, gasping breathing Astarion slowly lifted his head from your neck and withdrew from you. With a groan he rolled off you and he sighed deeply. One of his hands reassuringly remaining on your body at all times.

None of you were able to formulate a complete sentence again but with still softly shaking hands he pulled down his shirt over your trembling body and then pulled you to his naked chest.

You were thankful for the opportunity to snuggle up against him, legs already tangling with his. Pleasant exhaustion and deep, unyielding love was all you felt as you were lying in his arms. And Astarion felt very much the same as he began to slowly stroke your back.

A whole eternity later it felt like, he spoke again: “I guess you should wear my clothes more often, my love. What comes of it has proven beneficial for the both of us, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

You simply hummed in approval, still way too worn out from how “beneficial” this all had been for you.

“You’re forgetting to use your words again, darling. You should try it sometime, it gets you far in life,” Astarion replied sassily when you offered nothing more in response.

You growled in annoyance and grabbed a nearby pillow. When Astarion was about to keep teasing you, you whacked him straight in the face with the plush thing, causing him to hiss and curse at you.

“I love you, Astarion. And now shut up, you noisy vampire!” you scolded him and tiredly let the pillow drop off the side of the mattress.

Astarion huffed at you.

But then he pulled you in closer to him, pressing his cheek to the top of your head as he closed his eyes.

“I love you too, my little rascal.”

The smile on your lips stayed there when you slowly drifted off to your dreams - and even until you woke up again.

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#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3

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