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cloudtransprncy · 4 months

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"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

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My first fic, hope you guys like it.

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

784 notes · View notes

azullumi · 3 days

Text

TO HOLD, TO FEEL, TO LOVE !!

premise — the intimate act of handholding, wishing to feel one another at the tip of the fingers; what are hands made for if not to hold one another? content tags — various characters with gender-neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, hands are mentioned multiple times, my small headcanons of their hands, not proofread, 0.7k words ; headcanons

note from me — something small and simple for me because i have 3 lengthy fic series (or events) in my drafts for all of you <33 also i dont have wifi here and just relying on data so im barely surviving

SUNDAY, he held the sun once; he held your hand. His hands are slender and bony, delicate and gentle yet his hold on yours is firm and tight—as if he doesn’t want you to let go nor does he want to let go of you. For him, it’s a way of protection, a grounding reassurance that you’re there with him, not an illusion, not a dream. He’ll always take his glove off when holding your hand, insisting that it’s much better to feel the warmth of your palms and the way your fingers fit in his.

AVENTURINE, has hands that are soft, slim, and slender with clean, trimmed nails. He uses his fingers to draw the stars and the universe on your skin, tracing the lines of your palm, kissing your knuckles so sweetly, so gently. Whenever he holds your hand, he often finds himself fidgeting and playing with your fingers—it’s a small habit that he does, one that eases and soothes the tremble of his own. The simple act of holding your hand grounds him and stables himself at times when everything feels so messy and suffocating.

VERITAS RATIO, is not one to ask for such things, at least verbally. He’ll show himself more through his acts, fragments and pieces of himself found in the subtle gestures that he does—such as the pinky of his hand finding its way on to yours, hooking itself, and letting it linger until you let him hold the entirety of your palm in his. It’s subtle, simple, delicate yet rough and sharp on the edges just like his hands. One thing is that when you squeeze his hand, accidentally or intentionally, he’ll squeeze yours back.

LUOCHA, how could his hands be more feminine and delicate than a woman’s while also looking like a man’s? His hands are pretty, fingers delicately thin and long with intricate lines on his palms that looked like it was carefully drawn by an artist. The way it looks when he’s holding yours is just mesmerizing, it’s like two missing puzzle pieces that finally found and fit into each other—he is never complete without you. Perhaps he has told you or perhaps he hasn't yet but the reason why he gets quiet when you hold his hand is because he’s relishing in this moment and burning its print into his memory so he’ll never forget how soft your hands feel.

GALLAGHER, touchy, needy hands that seek for the warmth and smoothness of your skin underneath his touch—he’s simply an affectionate man who adores seeing your hand in his. He’ll always find ways to lace his fingers in yours, always wanting to hold your hand; on the note of his hands, it’s rough and bigger than yours will ever be—years of his life honing and carving the shapes of his fingers into ones that you’ve known and always held in your sleep.

ARGENTI, an epitome of beauty and so are his hands, are the definition of it too. It’s slender, long, and pretty, a perfect pale shade that seems to glow underneath the sun, and his fingers have this naturally pink shine on them. He’ll sing praises of how beautiful your hands look, especially when he’s holding it in his—would adore it more under the light, as the shadows cast itself on your skin and everything around him feels so surreal. It's mesmerizing, wonderful, breathtaking, to think that you could be more beautiful in his eyes, even if it’s just something small and simple.

JING YUAN, has rough, big, calloused hands that never want to let go of you. To think that he had gone through a life where he never felt your skin, where he never got to hold your hand. He’s a clingy man, affectionate with adventurous hands that is always on you—whenever you’re near him, his hands are either holding yours or just on you, resting on your waist, wrapped around your figure, or just anywhere as long as he gets to feel you under his hands. It’s like your skin and his palms are magnets of opposite poles.

GEPARD, a little shy and hesitant in the aspects of affection, even if it’s just the small act of holding your hand. His face is flustered, cheeks covered with a shade of pink that is easily discernible underneath the light, and his lips are curled into a smile that beams only affection the same way he looks at you and your hands intertwined with his. His grasp on you is firm and strong but would easily loosen when you ask him to; he does get anxious though, thinking if his grip was too tight or too much.

special mentions to the wonderful and beautiful @toorurs !! i know i have already said this before but you’re a pleasant surprise in my life, and you have become someone special and dear to me. you’re an amazing friend, kind and sweet, as well as, talented <33 i aspire to have your strength and courage in situations that would have me just running away and just completely avoiding it, you’re a strong person and you’re doing amazing, and you’ll keep on doing amazing things. i’ll always be here for you no matter what happens, hoping and wishing that you’ll get everything you have ever wanted and wished for, and anyone who is a hindrance to your happiness will get a watermelon or anything thrown at their face (just point me to them)

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peachesofteal · 3 months

Text

Prologue: The Moirai

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 1.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: modern setting retelling of Hades and Persephone A strange dream, a strange visit.

For months, you’ve had the same dream.

You’re wandering a valley, your valley, a lush, green collection of rolling peaks, sweet grass and clover nearly velvet beneath your bare feet. The sun, high in the sky, does not moisten your brow, or cause you distress. You do not thirst. You do not tire.

You only meander, feeding the earth snippets of power, growing flowers and vines, a plethora of life, amusing yourself, as you do every night.

You roam this meadow, until your eyes open at dawn, bullfrogs and crickets and the raw chirp of birds tapping against the windowpane, brightening you to the morning better than any alarm clock ever could.

But tonight, the dream is different.

You’ve never seen so much Narcissus. It paints an idyllic picture, bright petals sparkling far and wide, blanketing the hills until they swoop low in the soft belly of the dream. They draw you in, pulling you down until you’re seated amongst a mass of blooms, Asphodelus scattered throughout, honeysuckle vine curling through the grasses, more fragrant than sea spray, filling the air with an intoxicating sweetness that you can taste, crystal like dew dripping with jasmine and vanilla.

It's beautiful.

A creek babbles nearby, crooning in its own language, rushing trickle drowning out your thoughts and feelings, twisting and tugging until it’s hard to remember you’re in a dream at all.

Is this not your meadow?

Is this not your own?

The Asphodelus shivers, rocking back and forth in a cool wind, the kind that chills your skin, whips around your shoulders and tousles the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Hello.” The greeting startles you, twists your torso in the waist deep flora. Rise. Instinct booms, like your mother’s chide ringing a shrill bell for you to obey.

A figure stands in the meadow behind you, tall beside the sun, rays of golden light casting long shadow across their features. You squint, but it’s of no use. You cannot make them out.

“Hello.” You mirror, palms forward, heels digging into the grass. There’s a sharp prick, a sting that bleeds, and you curse, lifting your hand for inspection. “Acantha.” You hiss at the goddess, as if she has anything to do with your dreams.

Gold runs from the wound like the creek, slicking your palm, coating your skin in ichor, your own lifeblood.

The lifeblood of the Golden ones.

Lest you forget.

The figure kneels in the grass before you, their head bowed, black gloved hands reaching, tugging your palm upwards, dragging a thumb through the mess of ethereal life.

“I’m fine, just a prick.” You assure in the silence. There is so much light, and yet none, nothing to illuminate the face or the features of whomever it is that occupies your dream.

A fragment of your mind, perhaps. A trick of your mother’s.

Or an interloper.

“You’re hurt.” The dark pitch of the figure’s voice is startling. It’s fathomless, beautiful like the coast of the Aegean, guttural like the shout of death. Raw ruby, not quite plucked from its sanctuary, not quite finished or ready to be seen, a secret gem, only for you. The meadow rustles, thousands of faces in the little flowers leering, scowling, blue sky dimming into grey. Thunder shatters the tranquility, clapping in the distance, a garish boom sending electric shocks through the clouds, all manner of rumbles rolling over the hill.

Rot. It fills your soul in a flood, current wrapping around your ankles and tugging, like a thousand Oceanids lay at your feet, crying. Screaming.

But your hand is warm. Your hand is warm and it is held, for a moment, a moment in which you feel dramatically unlike yourself, unlike the fledging goddess you claim to be, unlike the unloved one you’re known as, and then-

it is cold. Your hand. Your heart. You. The being, the figure, is gone.

And you are alone.

The Greenhouse is quiet. An easy peace, so easily disturbed by comings and goings, friends and patrons, all manner of beings and others, stopping in and out.

They say hello. They ask for help, advice, favor. Some things you cannot give, even to some visitors who you hold close. Dearly.

These moments alone, moments of solitude in the Greenhouse, and some that you love the most. Moments when you're alone with yourself, your power, your connection to the earth. When you can feel it the most, the worms in the dirt, the roots desperate for water, the blooms aching to flourish. You are all these things, when you're alone. A power unto yourself. A goddess of life, of fertility, of Spring. The essential reawakening. The circle of seasons.

The secret weighs heavily.

But a goddess of Spring, is no mere goddess of Spring, your mother's voice echoes. A goddess of life, may as well wear a target on her back.

This morning, when the dew still refracts the light of the sun and birds are singing, no one comes. You sit alone, pruning, detangling, taming a pothos, encouraging its lovely green vine to live on its own. It protests, and you huff at it, conjuring slivers of magic, feeding it kernels as if you care for a child, trying to encourage it to eat.

“You must try, you know.” It curls around the back of your hand, lovely silver-white speckled leaves shimmering in the morning’s light. “You’re not staying here. The Greenhouse is full. I don’t have any more room.” The overcrowded shelves and carts agree, saplings and ivy and atropa belladonna all singing in unison, quivering voices rising in protest of the pothos’ weak effort. “See? You’ll make everyone unhappy.”

“You have a habit of talking to all your plants?” A musical voice chimes from the front door, and you jump from the stool, a book on your right clattering to the concrete.

“No, I…” Your voice fails, the woman in the doorway steps closer, allowing her mortal appearance to fall away, removing her Cloak and revealing her true identity.

The Moirai.

The Three who are One.

She turns her head to the east, a flash of the Maiden surveying your workbench, and then the Crone shines through, all faces eventually melding into one.

The Mother.

“Daughter of Demeter.” She inclines her head in greeting, and you blink rapidly.

“You...” What are they… is she, doing here? “You shouldn’t be here.” You swallow the fear that races in a cold rush under your skin. A frozen river runs in your bones, frigid rapids roaring, trapped beneath a thin sheet of ice, churning your power into a weapon of terror, an uncontrollable force that tries to build beneath the swell.

“Your mother is preoccupied.” She waves her hand; unease props the hair up on the back of your neck.

“What do you want?”

“To see you.” She strolls, careful, casual steps echoing off glass. “Finally, in the flesh.” The sh sound hisses, and your power pulses, pushing forward in preparation. “You are truly as lovely as they say, little Spring Goddess.”

“I’m not the Goddess of Spring.” You rebuke, and the resounding chuckle is dry wine, a tatter of bubbles that on her tongue that sours your stomach.

“You are not.” She nods. “No. You’re so much more now. You will be.” She steps closer, red lips perfectly lined and plump, pursed as she stares you down. “I’m satisfied.” She murmurs, and even though she looks right at you, it’s as if you’re not in the room.

Rain drops patter on glass panels.

“Pity.” She frowns, and then winks as a young woman, as an old one too, vanishing from sight with each step she takes to the door.

The clock ticks too loudly, and it feels like doom. Like a shattered mirror, shattered reflection, shattered life.

The Moirai have never visited you.

Why now?

Outside, a screech owl hoots, startling you backwards, a hand rocking down to the work bench in an effort to steady your trembling legs.

“Ouch!” you shriek, flipping your palm over, a pair of pruning shears dug into your skin, golden blood leaking out around their cool metallic points. “Fuck.” Your lips cover the puncture, tongue flicking against the rivulet of ichor.

The screech owl screams.

The throne room is silent. Darkness ebbs, inky webs slithering across the floor, shadowing the blood red stone that spills from the mouth of the dais, two identical, straight back chairs sitting proudly in the middle of the hall, dwarfed by columns stretching so tall Johnny swears they surpass the boundary of this realm. Their onyx marble shrouds Simon, who stands maskless, his hands clasped behind his back, peering into the pitch-black pool of liquid vibrating inside a silver bowl.

“Who is she?” There is a woman in the seeing glass. Beautiful, bright, an overflowing bouquet of narcissus, an endless melody of spring, the promise of early death. The greenhouse breathes in her presence, all nature of blooms and blossoms straining closer, desperate to be within fingertips reach. “A goddess?” He looks closer, and Simon’s amber laden eyes affix his, broad palm tenderly cupping Johnny’s cheek. His answer is a whisper, something unearthly and severe as they are: two Kings of the Underworld, two souls twisted together, two macabre fates made one. His words are a looming promise, a vow so ruinous Johnny knows the Moirai howl and the Lethe trembles.

“Our wife.”

#peaches writes #AIV(OFK)#ghoap x reader #hades ghoap #persephone reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #Simon Riley #john soap mactavish

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wineauntie · 2 months

Note

Hughes!sister where maybe she’s the youngest, and gets her first boyfriend?

Angst twist he cheats on her 😨

LOOK AFTER YOU – Hughes brothers x hughes sister!reader

summary: break ups are the worst, but your brothers are there to make things better.

note: angst and the boys being absolute angels (kind of!). Titled after the song "Look after You" by the Fray!!

warnings: cheating, swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n and y/n/n, implying of sexual acts, angst, friend betrayal,

word count: 2.3k+

You couldn't tell if the wetness on your cheeks were tears or apart of the pouring rain that surrounded you. You also couldn't tell how long you'd been walking in the rain with your arms cradled to your chest as your heart broke.

Your boyfriend of ten months had cheated on you...with your best friend, of all people.

You'd taken the bus over to her house to drop off some ice cream because she'd cancelled plans claiming she was "sick". The door was unlocked and having known your best friend since you were four, and knowing that you were basically family, you had walked right in.

You had called out her name, but when you'd listened closely you could only hear loud bangs coming from upstairs. Startled, you grabbed a rolling pin from the countertop and ventured upstairs.

"Oh come on baby, you know you like it,"

You had paused in your steps, your heart pounding painfully as the voice echoed. You knew that voice. You knew that tone.

"Oh, yeah?"

Your friend's voice teased from the room down the hall. Your eyebrows furrowed as a pang of trepidation rang through your body, you took a few more steps down the hall, avoiding all the obvious creaks.

Your mind was screaming at you to leave, but your gut encouraged you to continue.

"Does she take you like this? Does she feel as good as I do?!" Your friend's moaning made you inwardly cringe. Her high-pitched voice was awkwardly timed and trying hard husky in a way you knew to be fake.

"y/n? Never...you know that,"

Your eyes widened at the voice as blood rushed into your ears. In an impulsive move, you bound forward and shoved open the door to the room. You heard joined gasps and clattering as your best friend and boyfriend separated as much as they could.

He had, had her bent over her childhood bed, both stark naked with their hands up almost comically.

You had let out a stiff laugh, a sob bubbling in your throat as you dropped the rolling pin.

"Wait, y/n, it's not what it looks like!" Your best friend had cried out, her widened eyes full of tears.

"So you're not sleeping with him?" You had scoffed, trying to keep your tears at bay as you glanced between the two. Your friend had gone to speak again before you'd raised a hand silencing her. "Y'know what? I don't care. I'm done with you...both of you!"

You had let out a breath before you rushed out of the house, ignoring all of the yelling for you to come back and to stay and to talk this out. Your bottom lip had trembled as you half-ran, half-walked down the street, knowing that you'd taken the last bus to visit your friend.

As you had walked home, you replayed the moments of your relationship in your mind, searching for clues, for signs that you had missed. But the memories were like shards of glass, sharp and fragmented, cutting through the fragile fabric of your hope.

By the time you reached the familiar street where you lived, the rain had soaked through your clothes, seeping into your skin like the cold tendrils of betrayal. You quickened your pace, your heart racing with a mixture of fear and anticipation. The warm glow of light spilt from the windows, casting long shadows on the rain-slick pavement below.

With a deep breath, you gathered the shattered pieces of your resolve and stepped forward, your freezing hands shaking as you unlocked the door. Stepping into the home had you fighting your vicious sobs, as your hand covered your mouth.

"Y/n? Honey? Is that you?"

You let more tears spill over onto the flesh of your cheeks at your mom's soothing tone. Crap! You glanced down at your watch with a groan. You'd missed family dinner.

This wasn't good.

"Yeah, Mom," you called back, your voice cracking slightly as more tears escaped the corners of your eyes. Your head tilted upwards as you silently begged to not be beckoned into the room. "I'm just going to go dry off!"

"Y/n/n? Come here!"

You choked on a sob as Jack's usual teasing voice joined your mom's. The sound of chatter and eating paused and you knew there was no avoiding your family at this rate. You sucked in a breath before you entered the dining room, drops of rain dripping across the floor as you went.

As you stepped into the dining room, the warmth enveloped you, contrasting sharply with the chill that had settled deep within your bones. All eyes turned toward you, concern etched on your family's faces as they took in your dishevelled appearance.

"Y/n, what happened? Why are you all wet?" your mom asked, dropping her fork with a voice laced with worry.

"Oh, it's...uh, nothing," You forced a weak smile, trying to mask the turmoil swirling inside you. "Just got caught in the rain, that's all." You watched as Luke and Jack furrowed their brows, yet continued to chew through their food as you trembled from the cold outside.

But Quinn didn't seem to be buying it.

He studied you, with a penetrating gaze. "Are you sure? You look upset." He pushed, leaning back in his seat.

"Yeah, I'm fine, really," You averted your eyes, unable to meet his gaze as your lips shook. "I'm going to...I'm going to go dry off."

"Is something bothering you, sweetheart?" Your dad spoke up, his tone gentle yet probing.

"N-no," you croaked in response. Without another word, you fled. You could feel the weight of their concern bearing down on you like an oppressive blanket. With shaky steps, you ran from the echoes of their worried voices as they followed you like ghosts haunting the corridors of your mind.

Each step felt heavier than the last as you ascended the stairs, the creaking of the wooden boards beneath your feet a sombre melody accompanying the turmoil within you. The tears threatened to spill over again, blurring your vision as you reached the sanctuary of your room.

Collapsing onto your bed, you buried your face in the pillow, muffling the anguished sobs that wracked your body. The betrayal gnawed at your insides, a relentless beast tearing apart the remnants of trust and love you had held dear.

Your best friend was practically your sister, the two of you had been joined at the hip since meeting in pre-school and the fact she'd slept with...been sleeping with your boyfriend.

That betrayal hurt more than your actual boyfriend's betrayal.

You'd trusted her. You'd told her every single detail of your relationship with him, including your insecurities about not being enough for him or not having enough experience to be with him, with him being your first-ever boyfriend.

Despite going out with your boyfriend for ten months, you'd never told your brothers. Your mom and dad knew you were in a relationship but whenever you organised for him to meet your parents, he always found something to come up so that he couldn't. You weren't sure he'd even told his family that the two of you were together but you dismissed all those red flags because you had loved him and he had said he loved you back.

A soft knock on the door drew you out of your misery as you lifted your head from your now wet pillow.

"I'll be down in a minute," you called out in a shaky voice that was half-muffled by the pillow. You heard the door creak open and you buried yourself further into the comfort of your bed. "Please don't...just leave..." You felt someone settle on the side of your bed.

"Y/n/n? We're not leaving,"

You rolled over, exposing your puffed face and reddened eyes. Quinn sat beside you whilst Jack and Luke lingered by your door, both awkwardly standing with their hands in their hoodie pockets.

"Please just go," you mumbled with a sniffle. Quinn lightly shook his head, his hand brushing your mussed hair out of your face.

"What about 'we're not leaving' wasn't understood?" Quinn tutted, resting his hand on the side of your head. "You're upset."

"Great observation," you choked, shifting out of his comforting grasp. You were hit with a twinge of guilt as you shuffled away from your eldest brother. More tears escaped your eyes as you spoke again. "I just want to be left alone."

Quinn sighed softly, his gaze filled with understanding as he reached out to gently wipe away your tears. "I don't know why you're hurting, y/n," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to your wounded soul. "But pushing us away won't make it any easier. Let us be here for you."

His words cut through the walls you had built around yourself, chipping away at the barriers you had erected to keep the pain at bay. With a heavy sigh, you relented, allowing yourself to lean into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his presence.

Jack and Luke exchanged a silent glance before slowly making their way into the room, their footsteps hesitant as they approached your bed. Jack cleared his throat awkwardly, his usually confident demeanour faltering in the face of your distress.

"We're not going anywhere, y/n," he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity as he sat on the end of your bed. "We're your brothers, and that means we get to beat up people who make you sad... let us help?"

Luke nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring the concern etched on Jack's face. "Yeah, y/n/n," he added as he cleared his throat. "We're here for you."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were not tears of despair, but tears of gratitude. With a shaky breath, you reached out and squeezed Luke's hand that had outstretched towards you.

"I had a boyfriend," you sucked in a breath as the three around you stiffened and straightened up, exchanging glances as you spoke.

"Boyfriend? You've got a boyfriend?!" Luke burst, breaking the silence of the room.

"Not the time," Jack scowled, smacking him across the head.

"Had?" Quinn softly prompted, his eyebrows furrowing as you nodded.

"For ten months," you confirmed with a gulp, hot tears trailing down your cheeks.

"Ten?!" Luke exclaimed once more, but this time both, Jack and Quinn, reached out to hit him. "Okay, okay, sorry!" You let a small and amused smile at your brother's typical antics as you furrowed deeper into your bed.

"We dated for ten months and..." you pushed as your voice broke. "I found him in bed with my best friend."

Quinn's expression softened, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "I'm so sorry, y/n," he said softly, his voice tinged with empathy. "That's a lot to deal with."

Jack's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at the thought of someone hurting you in such a way. "Those two are dead meat," he muttered under his breath, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive.

Luke's eyes widened in shock, his mouth hanging open as he struggled to find the right words. "I can't believe they would do that to you," he finally managed to say, his voice filled with disbelief. "And you've known her since you were younger!"

You nodded, tears still streaming down your face as you recounted the painful betrayal. "I trusted them," you whispered, the weight of the betrayal heavy on your heart. "And I...I thought they cared about me, but guess I was wrong, wasn't I?" You let out a terse laugh, that became engulfed by another sob.

Upon the change, Quinn wrapped his arm around you, pulling you up into a comforting embrace. "They don't deserve you," he said firmly, his voice laced with conviction. "You're better off without them."

Jack nodded in agreement, his expression fierce as he clenched his jaw. "We've got your back, y/n," he declared, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Say the word and they're both dead."

Luke reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your knee. "I can egg their houses?" he suggested softly, his eyes reflecting the unwavering support of his words.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of their support lift some of the burden from your shoulders. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Quinn pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his embrace offering warmth and solace amid your pain. "I'm glad you told us...you don't have to do anything alone," he assured you, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet of the room. "None of us want to see you hurt and alone, what kind of brothers would we be if we let that happen?"

Jack and Luke nodded in agreement, their expressions determined as they echoed Quinn's sentiment. "We've got you," Jack reiterated, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

"Now, why don't you get up and get changed," Quinn suggested, his nose shrivelling as he thumbed the fabric of your soaking T-shirt. "You're shivering and your lips are blue." Your fingers reached up and brushed your lips which were freezing to the touch. "We saved you some dinner, so go shower and change."

"We can have a movie night or something, " Luke threw in, his eyes wide in realisation. "We haven't had one in a while...not since last summer at least."

"I'm with him on that," Jack agreed, pointing to Luke with his thumb. "We can make a quick trip to the store and grab snacks while you get ready." You bit your lip to stifle a fond smile as you slowly pushed yourself to put your feet on the ground.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with gratitude. With a shaky breath, you wiped away the last traces of tears from your cheeks, steeling yourself against the lingering ache of betrayal.

With newfound resolve, you straightened your shoulders and met your brothers' gaze with a small yet genuine smile. "Let's have that movie night," you said, determination lacing your words. "I could really use a distraction right now."

Quinn returned your smile, his eyes reflecting pride and admiration. "That's the spirit," he smiled, his voice filled with warmth. His hand squeezed your shoulder reassuringly as you passed him.

As you made your way to the bathroom to wash away the remnants of your tears, a sense of gratitude washed over you. Despite the pain of betrayal, you knew that you were not alone. With your brothers by your side, you would weather this storm and emerge stronger than before.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl x reader #hughes brothers x reader #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes x reader #wineauntie #quinn hughes fluff #hughes!sister #quinn hughes x y/n #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes fanfiction #hughes brothers fanfiction

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sytoran · 5 months

Text

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟕 — 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘

kinktober day 007 | bimbo!wanda x ghostface!reader

for years on end you've chased sweet revenge. from being your high school bully to the fount of your desires, wanda maximoff is your esteemed salvation and utter demise. today, you plan on taking it all back.

rating ♤ contains explicit smut, 18+

warnings ♤ mentions of violence, self-harm, homophobia, suicide. elements of non-con. read with caution. heterosexual sex (🤢) (it'll be worth it tho i swear)

word count ♤ 2543

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

It’s an eerily quiet night in Woodsboro.

Perhaps the odds are falling in your favour, for once. Your black robe gets dragged along the concrete pavement of Elm Street as you silently make your way towards the desired location. The metal handle of the scythe is cool in your hand, and you twirl it around in anticipation.

In the third house on the street, the light in one of the bedrooms is still switched on, and faint noises are emitted from that vicinity.

You approach the window of that bedroom, lurking in the shadows. The sight that greets you is sickeningly fantastic.

In the dimly lit bedroom, a male figure is bent over a female one. He’s entirely undressed, emitting low grunts of pleasure while chasing his own high.

“Shit, Wanda, you feel so good,” the male voice gasps, driving his hips into the young woman with shallow thrusts that could hardly elicit pleasure for her.

A sadistic smirk crawls up on your face behind the mask.

Wanda Maximoff.

She was your high school crush, your unrequited love, your hate-filled vengeance, and now your esteemed salvation.

Ultimately, Wanda was the fount of your desires.

Then, she had been unreachable, completely out of your league, condescending and sadistic towards you. The bratty cheerleader dubbed as ‘Queen Bee’, perched atop the school’s social hierarchy for her parents’ connections and wealth, being waited on hand and foot by just about everyone.

Now, she was lying under that miserable excuse of a high school quarterback, suffering through less-than-mediocre sex.

Who’s the one winning now, sweetheart?

You watch in unbridled glee as Wanda’s disinterested eyes flit across the room. She’s still half-clothed — you don’t take that for granted, a cool gaze gliding over the fragments of her exposed skin, a gaze with an underlying quivering rage to mark the pretty skin up — and she has a blank look adorning her half-illuminated features.

Wanda’s body moves with each of Vision’s thrusts but you can see it in her eyes that she’s not feeling any pleasure, and you grip your scythe a little tighter.

Look at me, pretty girl.

Almost as if Wanda could hear your thoughts, her gaze finally floats towards the window where you’re standing and her entire body stills.

You look back emotionlessly, your ghastly mask facing in her direction, the light of the streetlamps reflecting off your blade. You stare at Vision, then, and your heart rate rises, as it always does, in some kind of sick excitement at the prospect of taking a life.

None the wiser, the blonde man continues to fuck into her, oblivious of the looming danger that is your presence. Wanda’s mouth opens, terror draining the blood in her face, but you merely raise a gloved finger to your lips.

The threat goes unsaid. Wanda squirms under Vision with widened eyes, but she slowly closes her mouth.

Good girl.

It’s second nature for you to pry open the window. You almost scoff at the fact that it’s unlocked. The wind from outside rushes in, and it creates enough noise for Vision to get distracted from what he’s currently preoccupied with.

You look back at Wanda, raising your scythe, and she swallows harshly.

Wanda tugs Vision’s turning head back to her breasts, dragging her fingers over his scalp. “It’s nothing, baby,” she chokes out and looks back at you pleadingly. “Just fuck me.”

You imagine those three words are directed to you, and you can barely conceal your sadistic excitement. It’s lecherous, the way desire swells within your otherwise blase self at Wanda’s breathy little gasps.

You’re now standing tall in the confines of Wanda and Vision’s room. You reside in the corner, and Wanda’s eyes never leave you. Her eyes are wide and dancing with fear, but you swear you’re not imagining the hidden layer of sexual excitement beneath them.

You tilt your head to the side in expectancy, and Wanda looks frightened and confused, devout of understanding.

Stupid little girl.

Using the tip of your blade, you point towards Vision’s desperate form, his back facing you. You can see the embarrassment flush Wanda’s features once she understands your request.

You make an open gesture with your free gloved hand. Go ahead, it reads.

Albeit warily, Wanda wraps her legs around Vision, hands shakily combing through his blonde hair. “You- you can continue, Vis,” she murmurs, locks of hair falling into place. Heartbreakingly gorgeous was what she was.

“Oh- okay,” Vision sounds slightly winded already, stupidly enough. That man should either be on his knees in reverent worship of the threshold between her legs, or substantially rougher to draw out those pathetic little noises. There was no in-between, not with Wanda Maximoff.

Though you much rather preferred the latter, wishing to see Wanda relinquishing all control, Vision instead opts to continue those shallow thrusts as if he’s doing something. You tilt your head in slight boredom as Wanda’s body moves meaninglessly on the bed.

If you were Vision instead…..

To kill or not to kill. Was it really a question, in this situation? Did you have to consider your options, weigh the possibilities, and contemplate using your moral compass, when the answer was so blatantly clear right in front of you?

You’d never felt so alive.

Your heart raced beneath the confines of your earth-bound ribcage, pulsing with the sole need to chase that dopamine rush and adrenaline high. Wanda seems to acknowledge the change in the atmosphere of the room, looking up at you with fearful eyes as you approach the bed.

One step. Two steps.

You could always turn back, and navigate your way back to calmer times with the guidance of the angel on your right shoulder.

That was boring, though.

Three steps. Four steps.

Wanda lets out a choked scream as you raise your scythe. You can smell her fear, taste it, palpable and unyielding and the most delicious kind of terror you’d chanced upon. Her mouth was contorted, probably trying to plead but not being able to find her voice.

In for the kill.

The last thing Vision sees is the stricken look on Wanda’s face, frozen into submission, frantic and desperate, before your glimmering blade strikes.

You plunge your scythe into Vision’s back. The pieces fall into place like a demented symphony: the blade enters right from the centre of his back, and emerges from the front of his chest. Crimson blood spills freely from the wound like a faulty fire hydrant, spraying onto Wanda’s front.

His body falls limp in slow motion, rolling off to the side, leaving you to stare blankly at a completely vulnerable Wanda Maximoff.

“Who-who are— what are you?” Wanda trembles, her voice shaky.

Deathly satisfaction slugs inside of you as you watch her vulnerable form. It was everything you craved, finally getting back at your high school bully.

You remember locking yourself into a dismal bathroom stall, curling up into a ball, tears streaking your face. The jeering taunts of the girls outside had you shaking, but only one voice rings in your head.

“Come out, we wanna have some fun!” Wanda calls out in mock playfulness, and her stupid little giggles has your fury vibrating beneath the surface of your skin. “Coming out for the second time can’t be harder, right?”

That was just one of the many times Wanda had made your life a living hell.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” you answer, the mechanical voice changer inside your mask giving you a robotic tone that was humanly unrecognizable.

Wanda doesn’t seem at all eased by your dismissive response, and opens her mouth to retaliate, but she freezes when you raise the scythe again.

This time, you’re not seeking bloodshed. Instead, you let the sharp tip of the blade run across her bare skin, not hard enough to draw blood but firm enough to raise goosebumps.

Wanda swallows as she realizes she’s still completely naked in a room with her dead boyfriend and a cold-blooded murderer.

“Stop, please,” Wanda breathes shakily, her heart rate rising even further as your blade runs over her stomach. The cold metal sends tingles throughout her body, all the way south to between her legs.

“Oh, you want me to stop?” You ask with faux sympathy, the scythe stilling right above her cunt. A smirk washes over your face behind the mask as Wanda clenches her thighs shut.

No, a tiny voice in the back of her mind says. But that would be completely absurd and immoral, so Wanda nods hesitantly. “Stop, please.”

You pause, seemingly entertaining the idea of actually stopping. You can see from Wanda’s eyes that she’s been lulled into a false sense of security, as your blade relaxes against her skin.

But then your free gloved hand forces its way into the threshold between her legs, and Wanda lets out the most pathetic squeal.

“If you want me to stop then why’re you so fucking wet?” you growl heatedly, right next to her ear, two fingers easily sliding past her damp folds and sinking inside.

Wanda mewls at the intrusion, eyes going wide as your thick fingers stretch out her cunt. She’s embarrassingly wet, coating your fingers with slick, staring up into emotionless eyes.

Then it hits her that she shouldn’t be liking this, and Vision’s dead body was on the floor, and the stench of blood was invading her nostrils.

Tears prick at her eyes as she claws at your wrist, mouth wanting to voice out her disdain but only moans fall out. Your fingers are deliciously thick as they plunge into her sodden cunt, the fabric of your gloves adding to her simulation.

Yet, you’re unnerved by Wanda’s sharp nails digging into your skin, and then the cold metal of your scythe is taut against her neck.

“Try anything like that again and I’ll slice your pretty little neck off.”

Wanda gasps, and she feels so dirty because your filthy words cause another gush of arousal to flood her pussy. You, of course, notice it, and you press the blade a little harder.

Wanda chokes out a breath, because if her neck moved even a millimeter further you would draw blood. It’s so sick, but she’s so wet, and you’re the devil reincarnate.

You remember the blood on your arm as you held an army swiss knife in the other hand. You were shaking, shuddering, as Wanda stared at you with a crazed look in her eyes.

“I didn’t ask you to cut yourself, stupid litle bitch,” she barks out, staring at the blood dripping down your arm. You’d do it again for her. “You’re insane, fuck.”

“Fucking little slut, yeah?” you grunt, curling your fingers harshly inside her tight walls. Wanda’s teeth sinks into her lower lip to prevent more embarrassing sounds from escaping, but you don’t seem to like this.

You use the blade to tilt her chin up so her eyes are level with yours. “Asked you a question,” you say dangerously. “So you fucking answer.”

Wanda shouldn’t like this, she knows, but there’s something so alluring about your mask and your commandeering demeanor.

“Yes,” she responds tentatively with teary doe-eyes that are oh so pitiful. “Y-yes, I’m a… slut.”

“Mhm. Good girl,” you approve, and then your hands finally start moving again. Wanda keens at the praise with a helpless buck of her hips.

As if sensing her inner turmoil, you greedily push another finger against the opening of her dripping cunt. Wanda’s high-pitched moan turns into a breathy gasp.

“I- I can’t—”

“You will.”

Wanda sobs, three thick and gloved fingers stretching out her pussy. You’re merciless in the way you explore her sodden pussy, finding her sweet spots all too easily.

“Better than your asshole of a boyfriend?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Each of your calculated thrusts fills her up perfectly, and her velvet walls clench around you so tight.

“Y-yes! Please, more—”

Like you’ve flicked a switch, your gloved hand jackhammers into her sodden pussy so fast and so hard that Wanda can only let out the wettest, filthiest, little ‘uh’ sounds with every thrust.

“Oh, God, I’mna come,” Wanda mewls, rutting her hips against your palm in a devoted search of her ever-closening high. Sensations are flying all over her body, and Wanda’s head helplessly loll to the side.

“I know,” you respond smugly. Seeing your fated enemy unravelling before your very eyes brought a different kind of satisfaction, something so toxic and poisonous but so rewarding.

“Come like the little fucking slut you are,” You spit in the most degoratory tone known to mankind. You move the smooth metal part of your scythe to press against Wanda’s hardened bud, and that last sensation has her coming undone.

Wanda arches up against you with a broken cry escaping her throat, pebbled nipples pressing against the cold metal of your scythe.

Her hands twist into the fabric of the bed she once laid in with her boyfriend, but now her heated cunt was chasing your thick and talented fingers.

“Oh, fuck! Please, please, please, oh God, please—”

You drown in the filthy moans Wanda lets out, eyes burning in glorious victory. You grip her hips like it’s a forsaken altar, forcing her to choke on that pleasure and go to hell with it.

The pleasure, in question, is overwhelming, nothing like Wanda had ever experienced, lighting up every one of her nerves. Her body was alight, whipping flames tearing at the cruel night sky.

You bask in Wanda’s shaky breathing as she comes down from her high. You want to keep her vulnerability and lock it in a jar, hang it on your bedroom wall like a prized possession.

As Wanda regains her senses, you decide it’s time for the final piece of your grand plan to fall into place.

Slowly, you take off the mask that gave you the identity as Ghostface. You shake the hair out of your face, and Wanda’s breath constricts in her throat.

“Y-Y/N?” she chokes out, and you can see the million little things that flit through her mind.

The bullying. The boyfriend. The blood. All her fault.

You remember standing at the ledge of a very tall building, cold wind whipping in your hair. You remember thinking about Wanda’s poisonously breathtaking face, wondering whether she was worth it. You remember thinking that falling would be easier than seeing her again.

“My beloved,” you whisper with a deathly smile. “I hate you. Every cell of my being screams with burning rage for you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

You may have lost the battle, but you won the war.

No one could ever know your identity. How you had been spending the past years running around Woodsboro as Ghostface, killing all traceable contacts to Wanda Maximoff. Clawing back your dignity back piece by piece.

And it had all led up to this very moment.

Wanda can’t even tear the petrified scream out of her throat in time, before you raise your scythe again, for the last time.

“Goodbye, my beloved.”

A shining blade and crazed eyes are the last thing she sees before her final demise.

Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

GUYS I THINK THIS MIGHT BE IN MY TOP 3 FAV KINKTOBER FICS I'VE WRITTEN..... reblog? pretty please? ☹️

fun fact: i've never watched any of the scream movies HAHA i'm just writing based off what i have in my head. (let me know how i did!)

@33-mrvl i know u were looking forward to this one, hope i did good 😉

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

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