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on-these-scorched-pages · 2 months ago

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𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 [ 2 ]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Friends to Lovers. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky just not getting enough of you, fingering, cunnilingus, Oral [M&F], unprotected piv, creampie. Just PURE making love, no kinks. Summary: It's only been a few hours since you've become official and Bucky want to show you just how much you mean to him. A/N: 2 of 2. And I must say. . . JAYSUS. BON APETITIDDIES.

Part One

You were stiff. You were sore. Your arm was asleep. And you felt fucking fantastic.

Maybe in the movies people woke up entwined in each other's arms after a night of spirited lovemaking, but for you, reality was much more awkward. Your head had somehow become wedged behind Bucky’s shoulder, and both his legs were about to slide off the couch altogether. You untangled yourself as best you could, looking down at him as you moved his limbs out of the way.

Bucky was sleeping peacefully, his dark lashes lying flat against the skin beneath his eyes. They fluttered slightly as you pulled free of him, and he stirred.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, and turned over so he was facing the back of the couch, still caught in mid-slide towards the floor.

You tried not to laugh. God, he was adorable.

You sat up, arching your back to stretch out the sore muscles. Then your breath caught. What time was it? Holy hell, I’m going to be late.

You stood up quickly, and was seized by an ache between your legs so unfamiliar that you nearly sat back down again. Holy crap. It had been way too long. You almost felt like a virgin again. You rose again shakily, noticing that your whole groin felt sore, and so did your hips—probably from throwing your legs up around his waist. God, what a wanton hussy you were, you thought happily.

You went quietly towards the bathroom, checking the clock on the stove as you walked by. It was nearly eight-thirty. Crap. You were supposed to be at work by nine, or nine-thirty at the latest. you'd have to make the shower a quick one.

You stood under the hot water, letting it pour over your sore muscles. You washed out your hair, lathered up your body and massaged your sore hips as random images from last night invaded your thoughts. Even now you weren't entirely convinced it hadn't all been a dream. Has it really happened? The soreness was real enough. And so were the images flashing through your mind.

Bucky’s body on yours, looming over you, holding your wrists, kissing you with abandon. Taking each breast in his mouth, teasing you with his fingers. Sliding into you, tilting your back and thrusting deeper, faster, harder.

Suddenly a blurry figure appeared on the other side of the glass door. The door slid open and he stood there, looking disheveled from sleep but adorably sexy. And naked, too.

"Hi," he said, a seductive smile curving his lips. His eyes traveled down your naked body, pausing at your breasts and then sliding down to the between your legs where rivulets of water coursed and ran together.

You flushed at the frank inspection but willed yourself not to try to hide from him. You shifted your weight, jutting your hip out provocatively and smiled.

His eyes returned to yours, desire glinting in them. "May I join you?"

You pushed the door back and invited him in. Bucky stepped in and crowded you, not unpleasantly, until your back was up against the tiles. He braced his hands on the wall behind you, and let the water flow over him as he leaned down and kissed you.

You opened to him and kissed him back, winding your hands around his waist and sliding them down his ass, squeezing appreciatively. He smiled into the kiss, enjoying your wandering hands, then pushed forward so your bodies were pressed together, the water slick and warm between you.

"So," he murmured in your ear, his voice barely a whisper above the sound of the water. "So much for that idea."

"What idea was that?" you whispered back, kissing his ear.

"The idea that we could ever be just friends," he said, catching your jaw with his lips as you turned your head. He covered your neck with slow, lingering kisses, trailing his mouth down your and cupping your breast with his hand.

"Oh, I don't know, I think it's a great idea so far," you said coquettishly. "Besides," you joked. "I do this with all my male friends."

He mocked a scowl at you, and gave you that smile that had always melted you. "Well, that's going to have to stop. You're mine now."

He kissed you slowly, his tongue tangling with yours as he teased and tasted, enjoying your mouth.

You kissed him back, licking and tasting and enjoying him until you felt rather than heard a hum of desire, of pure carnal lust, vibrating through him. He was growing hard against your belly, his cock pressing against you urgently.

He lowered his head further and took your nipple into his mouth, licking the soft nub until it grew hard beneath his tongue. Pleasure shot through you, and he turned to lavish the same attention on your other breast. You writhed against the cold tiles at your back, arching into him and sinking your fingers into his hair to hold him to you. He smiled as you moaned with pleasure, and laughed softly when he took your nipple between his teeth and made you suck in a sharp breath.

His cock was as hard as it had been a few hours ago, and it surged in your hand as he took your breasts. You gathered some suds into your palm and grasped him again, feeling the iron-hardness of him beneath the silky skin. You began to stroke, gliding fast and smooth, and he groaned from the pleasure of it, collapsing against you and kissing you between his soft, low sounds of pleasure and need.

You kept stroking and teasing, gliding over him in a steady rhythm, and felt yourself growing warm and slick at how hard he was beneath your fingers. You loved that you were doing that to him, making him want you so much. He groaned, his breath jagged and shallow. He tried to kiss you through his mounting pleasure but he had to break off to breathe, to lose himself in the sensation.

"God, baby," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "So good."

You tried not to focus on him calling you baby, knowing it was only his arousal talking. You focused instead on the intense pleasure that was making him say it. You continued stroking him, changing your hand position so that you pulled up with each stroke, teasingly pulling his skin up over the head each time and sinking down to the base, pleasuring every inch of him. Your other hand cupped his balls and caressed him, gently rolling him around in your fingers as he tensed and surged and seemed to fight against you, against the unbearable pleasure you were causing him.

After a few torturous moments he stopped your hand, his breathing so fast and ragged that he could hardly speak.

“You—don't want—this to end too soon, do you?” he warned, kissing you in between breaths. “Because, my God, you could make me come in seconds if you wanted to.”

“That might be fun,” you said, kissing the edges of his mouth, licking at his lips and his tongue when he opened his mouth to you again.

“For me, yes,” he breathed, breaking away from you. “But I'm not nearly finished with you yet.”

He slipped his hand into your hair and held your head, kissing you with such raw passion, such naked need that you felt a surge of warmth flood between your legs in spite of the cooling effects of the water. He had wrung a soul-shattering orgasm out of you just a few hours ago and yet here you were again, eager for him again. Wanton hussy indeed.

"Do you remember that night, two years ago?" he asked, his voice low and deep. "At the party, when I played that song on the guitar for you, and you asked whether it hurt my fingers to play the steel strings?"

He was watching his own fingers trail over your breasts, over your tightened nipple, down past your navel, as the water trickled over you both.

"Mmm hmmm," you murmured, your eyes closed, lost in the sensation of the water coursing down your body and his hand moving over you.

“And you touched my fingertips…”

Of course you remembered; you'd run your fingers over the roughened pads of his fingertips, and had watched in delight as he'd twitched a little, and then trembled, just a little, at your touch. You'd kept your touch feather-light and soft, drifting over his fingertips and down his fingers a little, feeling the shiver of heightened awareness in your own hands.

Maybe you'd been a little too suggestive, a little too lingering, whispering-touching those parts of him that were supposedly hardened against such sensations—but you'd been unable to stop yourself. His hands had been warm and strong and eminently male, and when he'd stiffened and held his breath, as if willing himself not to react to your seductive touch, you'd felt that shiver of awareness deepen into an intense desire.

Such a seemingly innocent touch, just a friend examining the time-worn calluses of a guitar player's fingertips. . .and yet in that moment, even amongst their friends, even with the music playing loud and the laughter soaring above it, you'd felt like it had been just the two of you in that room, touching each other intentionally for the very first time, your hand tentatively reaching out for his, and his reaching to meet your half way.

“You drove me wild.” he said, leaning to kiss your neck. “I got so hard, I was afraid to move. And after that, I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to do to you with these fingers.” He slipped his hand between your legs and caressed your folds, parting them gently and sliding inside you. “Like this, for instance.”

You moaned and leaned your head against his shoulder, letting him touch you wherever he wanted. His fingers explored you, caressed you, possessed you, expertly as though they, too, knew you were his.

“I just had to touch you,” you breathed against him. “And believe me, this is what I was thinking about too.”

“You stopped me last night,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along your neck. “I wanted to feel you come for me. To finish what you started that night.”

You groaned at the sound of his voice, so low and sexual, so heated with his own desire.

“Let me feel you come for me, baby,” he whispered into your ear, licking your earlobe. “Please.”

He gripped your hip and lifted you up against the wall slightly, positioning you so he could slide his fingers deep inside you. He held you firmly around the waist, bracing you against the wall, and thrust into you gently, with first one finger, then two, sliding deeper and deeper each time, stretching you, mimicking the size and power of his cock. His thumb played over your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you as he pressed his forehead to yours and gazed down into your eyes. You gasped and cried out from the overwhelming pleasure of it even as you squirmed beneath his fingers and ached for more.

He braced you against his thigh and pressed against you while his arm steadied you from behind, holding you completely in his grasp. Bucky had such a way of holding you, letting you know that you were going nowhere, making sure you had no desire to be anywhere but in his arms. You felt safe, and secure, and above all, worshiped.

Bucky bent down and kissed you, sliding his fingers into your with a wild, sensuous rhythm that matched the increasing speed of his thumb as it stroked and rubbed and swirled around your aching clit. His hand was so strong, his fingers curving inside you to caress you, to find that super-sensitive inner spot even as he plunged and drove and took. With his thumb circling your clit in a relentless rhythm and his fingers deep inside you, stretching you, claiming you, you felt completely owned by him, by the hand that possessed every inch of you.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers, swirling, tasting, mutely revealing that he had had another fantasy, too. The thought of his mouth on you, his tongue tasting you, torturing you, swirling over your clit as you writhed beneath it made you go weak in the knees.

Bucky broke away from the kiss and began trailing kisses down your neck, your breasts, lowering himself to his knees in front of you while bracing your hips against the tiles with his strong hands.

"Did I mention what it did to me the first time your tongue touched mine?" he whispered devilishly.

He looked up at you so intently, his beautiful blue eyes blazing as the water streamed over his shoulder and down the contours of his chest. You gazed down at him, and for the second time this morning questioned whether all this could actually be happening. This gorgeous, virile man gripping you, kneeling before you, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It couldn't be real, could it?

Then he lowered his lips to your and you knew it was.

Sensation tore through your touch, so delicately gentle at first, and you arched against the wall with a startled cry. You reached down and gripped his shoulder, steadying yourself on one foot as he brought you to your leg up slowly, gently and eased it over his shoulder. The sight of it alone nearly made you come. He moved so languidly, so sensuously, positioning you better so he could enjoy your all the more.

He closed his mouth over your clit and kissed it luxuriously, his lips moving as though he were kissing your mouth. His tongue swirled over you in large, sensuous circles and he groaned against you, tightening his grip on your hip as you moaned against the sudden overwhelming pleasure of it. The tip of his tongue darted out to flick against your rapidly as he looked up at you again, watching your pleasure, his eyes smiling at you as if he knew precisely how good he was making you feel. Then he fell on you again, his tongue roaming over you, tasting you, luxuriating in your folds and dipping to lap at your entrance.

“Oh my, g-god. Bucky—”

You bucked against him and cried out as his tongue slipped into your and pulsed there, gently, savouring you. Your hand sank into his wet hair and as you gripped his head, you were rewarded with a muted chuckle and a more intense forward surge of his tongue inside you. He liked the moans he wrought from you. He liked being able to make your cry out and seize him, your head thrown back in agonizing pleasure.

And fuck did you like it, too.

"Oh God," you breathed, your heart thundering in your chest. "My God, that feels so good..."

He withdrew from your and slid his tongue up to torture your aching clit, and just when you began to miss the feel of him inside your he gently pushed his fingers into your again and began to thrust.

Pleasure soared through you and you cried out even louder, and the leg draped over his shoulder began to tremble. His tongue circled your clit again, deliciously slowly, as his fingers slid into you over and over again, a sensual, primitive rhythm that made you want to grind your hips against the pleasure.

“I'm coming,” you whispered urgently. “You're going to make me come…”

His fingers thrust deeper and faster and he began to lick you so quickly, with such a throaty groan of pleasure that you felt your orgasm rise, terrifyingly fast and sharp, making you cry out in increasing, panting breaths until you shattered, coming violently around his fingers and that sensuous, irresistible tongue. You shuddered with an aching cry and trembled from the spasms he sent rippling through you. Your body curled forward as you gripped him tighter, your fingers pulling on his hair from the pressure.

He removed your leg from his shoulder gently as you continued to shudder, feeling aftershocks of pleasure shiver through you. He got to his feet and helped you stand, pressing himself against your and nuzzling your neck.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, your voice shaking. your whole body shaking. “That was incredible.”

“That...was just the prelude,” he whispered, kissing you. “I haven't even started pleasuring you yet.”

God, he was going to kill you. Death by orgasm, you thought happily. What a way to go.

He leaned to turn off the water, but he stilled his hand. He looked back at you with a questioning expression, and then understood. You pulled him back towards yourself and he went willingly, stepping back under the stream of water, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming greedily over your body.

You weren't done with him. He had made you feel like a goddess, worshiped, cherished, adored.

You broke off the kiss and began trailing your lips down his neck, his collarbone and chest, enjoying the warmth of the water trickling past your mouth. His chest muscles tensed as you kissed them, and as you moved your lips slowly down his abdomen you felt his whole body go rigid with anticipation. You sank to your knees in the tub and brushed kisses along his navel, his hip bones, and he put his hands on your shoulders to steady himself. Water coursed over both of you, and you delighted in it, closing your eyes against the spray.

“Baby,” Bucky said softly, barely audible above the water.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He was about to say something but you smiled and glanced away, focusing instead on the head of his cock, hard and urgent in front of you. He was thick and beautiful, and still as hard, maybe even harder, than he had been when you'd teased him with your hands.

“I want to taste you,” you said playfully. “All of you.”

You leaned forward and gently licked the swollen tip of his cock. He inhaled sharply, his whole body tensing, and you smiled up at him, letting him know this was for your pleasure as much as for his. You swirl your tongue around the head, taking it into your mouth and suckling gently, teasing it. The skin was soft and smooth, stretched deliciously tight from the hardness of his erection.

You let your tongue play over it, dipping into the opening, making him moan. You drifted your tongue along the ridge, and down to the sensitive skin just beneath the head, licking and tasting, nipping and kissing.

You looked up at him, and his dark eyes were wild with desire. You smiled, and ran your tongue up and down the length of him, ending at the head and flicking at it delicately, teasingly. He moaned softly, his breathing starting to grow rapid. You rose up slightly to take the whole length of him into your mouth and sucked him, long and hard.

He let out a gasp and braced himself against the wall with one hand, his other hand gripping your shoulder.

“Oh fuck—Baby...”

You slid your mouth over his shaft, deeper, deeper, and slid back up the length of him. Your hands came around and gripped his ass, pulling him towards you. He staggered forward slightly as you took him into your mouth again, luxuriously taking in his entire length, sucking, licking, tasting as you went. The sensation of him in your mouth was almost as overwhelming as his first entrance into your body had been, so unfamiliar but so right at the same time.

You caressed his balls with one hand as you played your tongue over his cock. He groaned, his breathing jagged now, his cock harder than ever. His hand moved from your shoulder to sink into your wet hair, and he gripped your head with barely restrained urgency. Gently he guided your head closer to him as you sucked. You lowered yourself onto him and slowly sucked your way back up, your mouth gripping him, your cheeks hollowing, as your tongue slid over him with each pass.

His hips began to move as he started to match your rhythm, thrusting into you, meeting your mouth. Bucky gripped your head more firmly and held your head still, driving into you gently.

You let your hand fall and you sat back on your haunches, enjoying the feeling of him sliding in and out of your mouth, controlling his own pleasure, taking what he wanted, and what you were so willing to give. Yet you could tell he was holding back, wanting to thrust harder and faster but restraining himself and settling for a smoother, slower pace.

For you. Bucky was holding back for your sake. This passionate, soulful, virile man was holding back his own pleasure because he wanted to be gentle with you.

The very thought of it excited you, and you increased your own rhythm, encouraging him, moaning with pleasure as he drove into you. You sucked harder, faster, turning your gaze up to him with an urgent plea in your eyes. Faster. Deeper. Now, my love.

And he understood.

Bucky groaned, and stepped forward. His hand clenched in your hair and he began to move, faster and harder, plunging deeper, holding your head as he thrust into your mouth with urgent, rhythmic strokes. He slid in and out of your mouth as if through warm honey, and you felt and heard his pleasure mounting with every ratcheted breath and every desperate moan that escaped his lips.

His eyes watched your with rapt adoration and abject lust, and you could tell that the sight of your taking him fully into your mouth, of your sucking him with pure, greedy abandon and complete acceptance, was pushing him closer to the edge as much as the intense pleasure of your tongue on his cock was. Or more.

He tensed as his rhythm grew faster, his breathing harder, until you felt him tighten and strain so much that you felt certain he was going to spill himself into your mouth. But at the last moment he cried out and pulled back, his cock slipping out of your mouth quickly. He stood still, breathless, his eyes closed as if willing his orgasm to retreat. Water sliced down his neck and chest, and finally he let out a slow, jagged moan of a breath and opened his eyes. He looked down at you wildly, and reached for you,helping you to your feet.

“Jesus,” he said breathlessly, staring at you as he tried to catch his breath. “I can't...I can't believe how goddamn good that felt. You brought me so close, so fast, I almost couldn't stop it.”

“Why did you?” you asked, running your finger along his jaw. “I wanted to feel you come for me.”

He groaned against you, his hands roaming over your body. “I told you, I'm not nearly done with you yet.”

He kissed you hungrily, his cock surging against your violently as your bodies met. you could feel him moving against you, his cock rubbing against you,and you knew how badly he wanted to be inside you again.

As badly as you wanted him inside you again.

He stepped back, his breath still ragged, and pressed his forehead to yours as he closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

“You're not done yet, huh?” you teased gently, letting your fingers sink into his wet hair as you kissed his neck.

“Not nearly.”

“But I have to go to work. Maybe if I'm lucky you'll be here when I get home?”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

He reached to turn off the water and stepped out of the shower, turning to help your step over the wall of the tub. You threw your robe on and cinched the belt as he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. You caught him grinning at you, and it was so clear what he was thinking that it made your laugh.

“What?” you demanded, squeezing the excess water out of your hair with a hand towel. “What are you smiling at?”

Bucky wetted his lips with his tongue, “Fuck it. You're just going to have to be late for work. Come here…”

“Hey!” your eyes widened playfully, jumping away from him. “Are you trying to kill me? Stop!”

Bucky untied your robe and you yelped, trying to slap his hands away. He just kept advancing on you, grinning devilishly. You turned and scampered away from him with a squeal of delight.

He followed behind, still grasping for the robe. You shrieked and laughed and ran towards the bedroom, and he followed, catching up to you and pushing you onto the bed with a resounding crack of the bed frame.

You laughed as he tumbled on top of you, but he silenced you with his mouth, kissing you hungrily as he impatiently pushed your robe aside. His breath was ragged as he nudged your legs apart with his knee, his need too great for the slow, sensual lovemaking of last night. He held his cock against your entrance and smoothly thrusts into you and moaned against your mouth, and you wrapped your legs around him to draw him deeper.

He plunged into you, covering your body and your mouth with the same hungry possession. You were still so warm and wet, so exquisitely ready for him that he filled you easily, driving you relentlessly as he tasted your tongue, your lips, your neck, and groaned from the pleasure your body was giving him.

You tensed around him and he moaned breathlessly, a throaty, male sound of pure ecstasy. He pounded into you, falling into a steady rhythm born of raw, primitive need. Your body tightened around him with every thrust, and waves of pleasure rippled through you, building in intensity up to an almost unbearable pressure, a delicious heat that made you moan into his mouth as he kissed you.

He rose up, his arms braced beside you, to look down as he stroked and withdrew and breathed out his pleasure while his eyes glowed pure heat. He grabbed your rear, tilting one hip up towards him, entering you on such an angle that a new kaleidoscope of pleasure bloomed throughout you. He gripped you possessively, driving you deeper and faster and harder. His eyes burned, glowing like obsidian, hot and wild and almost frenzied with desire.

“Baby,” he groaned, his eyes pinning you, claiming you, as though he were branding you with your heat.

You're mine...

Your first time together had only been hours ago, but it was as if you had been lovers for years...every fluid flexing of his hips against you hit just the right spot, every deep, powerful thrust of his cock stretched your pussy with a familiar, almost expected surge of pleasure.

“Yes—oh god yes, Bucky—fuck me,” you breathed.

Two simple words and suddenly he was on the edge...buried so deep inside you, thrusting, plunging, your breasts pressed against his chest, the pleasure roaring through his body.

Suddenly he wanted to take you, hard. He wanted to fuck you with abandon, the eyes-closed, head-back, moaning-out-loud kind of sexual abandon that he had so rarely experienced in his life, but which was crashing through his body and mind right now.

He wanted this woman...he wanted to own you, to take you, to claim your body as his....he wanted to fuck you until he'd emptied his balls into you, feeling your pussy clenching and spasming in orgasm around his cock as he came, as you came, as you came together.

He withdrew from you quickly, barely able to catch his breath, and, as if you could read his thoughts, you turned onto your stomach just as his trembling hands guided your hips over. Your hair spilled over your bare back and your ass curved out so seductively it was all he could do not to cum right there, all over your smooth skin. But his cock knew what it wanted, and he pulled you forward to slide into the heaven of your pussy, so wet and tight and swollen for him.

He cried out when he took your again, his cock parting your folds and filling you so completely. The feel of him stretching you, the crest of his head pressing against your from this new angle...you felt a tremor of pleasure ripple through you and knew you were close, as close as he was. When he leaned over you and began to kiss your shoulders you shuddered, and when he began to thrust you buried your face in the pillow and moaned.

Your moans of pleasure filled the room and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to last, begging his aching cock not to explode just yet. . .this pace, these quick short strokes as his hips slapped against your ass, your body moving with his every thrust. . .It was almost too much to bear. Bucky buried his faced in your sweet-smelling hair and let his cock plunge as it would, faster and faster, making him shake, making him breathless, making him feel like nothing but a desperate cock as he fucked you.

And fucked you. And fucked you, as you had begged him to...

You could only whimper now, lost to the pleasure of his man taking you like this, fucking you so wildly, almost savagely. The pleasure he was taking from your body, his moans and groans and the growls of pleasure you could feel against your back and in the warm breath at your ear. . . it was pure, primal lust.

You felt worshiped beneath him, as if every thrust of his hungry cock was a tribute to you, every growl and sharp breath an oath. He was fucking you, mindlessly, and yet every part of him was attuned to you, touching you, adoring you.

As his pace grew even faster, his thrusts shallower, you could sense he was about to come, and you felt your muscles tighten around him to heighten his pleasure and hers. His thrusts were so powerful that you felt the orgasm rising in you and you closed your eyes, lifting your head back so he could slide his hand into your hair, gently holding your neck and kissing your jaw with breathy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh, God Bucky...I'm coming,” you moaned. “I'm coming.”

“Yes...cum for me baby....cum on my cock.”

“Cum with me....please....I want you to cum inside me, please....please....”

And he could withstand it no more.

Pleasure detonated through him as his orgasm spasmed throughout his body, wracking him with wave after wave of euphoric release. He cried out your name as he thrust and bucked against your flesh, driving his cock deeper and deeper as he came and came and came. It felt like he would never stop cumming, and when he felt your orgasm tear through your pussy and clench his cock in waves, he thought he might black out from the sheer ecstasy of it.

You slammed back against him as the first spurts of cum began to fill you, and felt your ravaged pussy begin to spasm again and again, milking his cock, pulling his cum deeper into you, flooding you with ripples of pleasure. You moaned and writhed, riding the crest of one orgasm only to feel a second one begin to climb and then crash over you. Breathless, almost sobbing from the pleasure, you let him hold you as he continued to pound into you, draining his balls into you at his will, lost in the utter bliss of a man taking a woman in the most primal way.

When he could bear it no longer, when his exquisitely sensitive cock throbbed within you and the pleasure bordered on pain, he stilled, finally, and shuddered. Sharp spasms of pleasure shot through him as his cock surged one last time within you, his aching balls emptying every last ounce of come. Bucky was almost lightheaded, his chest heaving, sweat glazing his skin as he withdrew his hand from your hair and ran it down the center of your back, needing to touch you, needing to feel your heated skin. You were breathless too, your back moving beneath his hand as you lay your head down and tried to catch your breath.

You felt him withdraw from you, and your pussy rebelled, clenching to keep him there, as if pleading with him not to go. Bucky groaned softly against your ear as he pulled out and fell on the bed beside you, his arms surrounding you and pulling your back against him. You fit perfectly together, and every muscle in your body relaxed as you snuggled into him and breathed out a contented sigh. You felt his lips on the shell of your ear, kissing softly, felt his slowing breath against your skin as his soft sounds of contentment and pleasure hummed in his throat.

This is heaven, you thought. Pure heaven. your pussy twitched and tingled as you felt his warm come beginning to slip down your inner thighs. His strong arms surrounded you, his soft lips murmured and whispered and kissed, his spent cock nestled against the curve of your ass.

“There was something I wanted to tell you, remember?” he murmurs, his words brushing warmly against your skin as he kisses a path down to your shoulder. “Last night… something I wanted to say to you. Something I wanted you to know.”

You shift slightly, turning to look at him, your heart pounding as you search his eyes, barely able to breathe.

“Tell me,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea.

His gaze softens, an unmistakable warmth filling his expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

“I love you.”

The words settle between you, simple but perfect, like they were always meant to be there. Your heart feels like it’s soaring, every nerve in your body alive with the thrill of it, of finally hearing what you’d been aching to hear.

You break into a smile, biting your lip, feeling giddy and light, and without a second thought, you lean forward, kissing him softly, your hand finding his as you whisper back, “I love you too.”

And as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that feels like home, you realize that, for the first time, everything feels right.

tags: @cereal6666 @thatesqcrush @cl7ire @bighappypiels @mostlymarvelgirl

@winchestert101 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mcira @elvenrin

@xunquish-blog @meetmeattheapt

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on-these-scorched-pages · 3 months ago

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How new WIPs are born:

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on-these-scorched-pages · 5 months ago

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Servant of the Night

Hey y'all! This was a short story I entered for a writing contest; requirements were as follows:

1000 Words, setting: train, phrase: open your eyes, object: key.

I enjoyed writing this A LOT and wouldn't mind turning it into a larger project (mostly because I can never write anything short lmao).

That’s what Albert told me this morning before I was sent back to my cabin to prepare for the night shift where I will begin serving the Elysian Class. I smile at the few guests still lingering in the dining compartment before my gaze meets Albert’s.

Servant of The Night

“You’re the only one left that suits their… taste.”

This morning, he seemed annoyed at my promotion.

Now he looks concerned.

“Good evening, Scarlet.” He greets me, hand reaching for the doorknob that leads to the Elysian compartment. “Remember the rules I told you this morning. Their satisfaction is above all else.”

I nod as I wipe my hands on the apron of my uniform, suddenly finding them damp. “Thank you, Albert,” I reply softly, dropping my gaze back down to the cart before me, as if you could call fruit and cheese a meal. Not that the guests would eat it anyway – they’re notorious for not touching any food served to them.

He hesitates for a split second, drawing my gaze back up to him. He opens his mouth to say something, then changes his mind, a strange smile crawling onto his lips instead. “Good luck.” He murmurs, beginning to turn the knob, “While you’re in there, make sure you open your eyes. Serving in Elysian is a privilege, Scarlet. You’ll never see anything the same again.”

I smile at him as I step through the threshold into the dimly lit Elysian compartment, my dinner suddenly feeling like lead in my stomach. As the door clicks shut, conversation in the compartment ceases, and I feel as if I am a lone rabbit suddenly caught in the gaze of a den of silent, waiting wolves.

The carpet feels plush beneath my shoes as I slowly step farther into the compartment, Albert’s rules ring through my mind; “They prefer a more discreet service… speak only when spoken to.”

“Look, Cecilia, there’s a new one for you.” A man's playful voice cuts through the silence, laughter from the other guests accompanying it, causing me to lift my gaze to the guests of the Elysian Class.

Four. There are only four guests in a compartment meant for eight.

A white-haired woman sits closest to the door to the second compartment. Her presence alone is commanding; as if she’s a mother to the other passengers in the compartment. Her deep burgundy velvet dress cascades around her as she sits with her hands clasped in her lap. Her porcelain skin is striking against the dark fabric of her dress, the black lace trim along the neckline of the bodice dances across her skin, framing the antique key that hangs from a delicate silver chain resting at the hollow of her throat.

The key silently calls out to me to touch it.

My eyes flash up to meet the white-haired woman’s piercing emerald gaze and I feel my heart jump to my throat – “Avoid eye contact. They find it intrusive.”

I avert my gaze back to the trays of food in front of me, an apology readying to leave my lips as I set to work spreading the food before the guests.

“It’s all right, child.” Her soft voice says, the lilt of a French accent dripping on each word, drawing my eyes back to her. A gentle smile is on her lips as her eyes trickle down my body, lingering at the collar of my uniform. Did I spill something? “What’s your name?”

Her voice is barely audible over the sound of my heart drumming in my ears.

“S-Scarlet, ma’am.” My voice shakes.

“Scarlet,” She repeats, my name rolling off her tongue with an almost tangible caress as she reaches up to absently toy with the key around her neck. “What a lovely name.” Her gaze meets mine, and for a moment I feel as though I’m drowning in those piercing emerald eyes.

A sudden, warm chuckle erupts just behind me, sending a jolt of shock through my body. I whirl, eyes widening with surprise to find a chestnut-haired man mere inches from me. A wicked grin is painted across the man's sculptural features, a hint of mischief dancing behind his eyes. “It seems you have captured our dear Lady Cecilia’s interest.” His voice is rich and velvety, dripping with charm.

I glance back to the white-haired woman, Lady Cecilia, to see her smile widen, revealing her teeth – perfectly white and slightly elongated at the canines, sharper than any teeth I’ve seen before. “Indeed, Lucien. Our new server has a certain… charm.”

The man, Lucien, chuckles again, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “It’s all right, Scarlet,” Lucien murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “We won’t bite… Much.” I can’t tell if he’s joking or if there’s a dangerous truth to his words.

Lady Cecilia’s eyes never leave mine, her fingers still toying with the key at her throat. “You have nothing to fear from us, Scarlet,” she tells me, her voice calm and enticing. “So long as you follow the rules.”

I nod, my throat too dry to speak. I refocus on my task, setting out the fruit and cheese for the group, trying to keep my hands from trembling. I feel Lucien step even closer to me, his presence overwhelming. “Tell me, Scarlet,” He whispers, “have you ever wondered what it’s like to truly live?”

I glance back at Lady Cecilia, her smile never faltering, fingers still wrapped around that antique key. “Remember, serving in the Elysian Class is a privilege. Embrace it, and you may find yourself… transformed.”

Having finished arranging the food, I step back, my heartbeat roaring as I stand there. Surrounded by these sublime beings, I can’t help but wonder what lies ahead. It’s terrifying and exciting; I realize Albert was right – I will never see anything the same again.

#original writing #on-these-scorched-pages

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on-these-scorched-pages · 6 months ago

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Author Interview: Ashley Godschild [Vacancies in Time]

Authors note: I know this isn't something I would typically post, but due to my Professor being a literal joke, and the fact that I had the chance to interview a great local author AND the fact that people deserve the chance to read my interview with her, it's getting posted here.

Check out the Vacancies in Time trilogy here.

Follow her on Instagram and TikTok.

For the sake of some sort of timeline, the interview was conducted on February 20th, 2024 and the write-up was completed on March 20th, 2024.

Introductory Questions

Q: Tell me a bit about yourself and your background as an author (name, age, etc).

A: My name is Ashley Godschild, I turn 25 in a week (which I’m kind of looking forward to because with age comes grace). I started writing in grade 4, we had a writing assignment to write four pages, and I wrote 12. We had an author come to class and she explained to us that she wrote as a career, and I knew immediately that was what I wanted to do with my life. After that, I wrote for one hour every day until I finished my first book at age 12. I showed my mom, and she kindly pointed out there were no dialogue tags and so many, just so many run-on sentences. Looking back on it now I can see the perfectionism I had because after hearing that I deleted the whole thing. Cause it was easier to start from the beginning than to go through and edit it.

At 16 I did have an agent who had seen my manuscript and wanted to publish. But I still don’t know why I said no. I’m not sure if it was God saying “It’s not the right time” or if it was me if it was a gut feeling of discernment of “this person is not going to do it for you”. I also was not doing great mentally and I think the pressure I put on myself mixed with the pressure that would come from other people would have been bad. I think my biggest complaint was that they hadn’t had any problem with my manuscript, it was just “Wow this is so good, I’m so impressed someone as young as you could have something as good as this”. I’m not one for flattery, and I appreciate encouragement, and I’m not great with criticism, but having absolutely zero feedback, absolutely zero thought on something that could make it better, just sounds like you’re not someone who is going to look out for my best interest, you’re just gonna look out for money and for what you could make from me. I consider myself someone who prioritizes integrity, and there's the fact that everything can get better. There is no such thing as perfection. You can get close to it, you can kind of on it, but you can’t tell me that at 16 this book I had written was perfect and ready to publish – like no, absolutely not. I never want to have to compromise my own story and what I’m trying to tell people for the sake of sales for this big publisher.

Q: Who or what inspired you to become an author, and how did you start your journey?

A: I feel like it’s a lot of little different things, and I actually can't remember a time when I didn’t want to be an author. I know for a fact that the first person who ever said “Oh, so you’re an author” was my fourth-grade teacher. I’ve always been a storyteller. Even as a three-year-old, I used to go up to the cashiers at Superstore and tell them my real parents had died so I could get suckers. But I honestly can’t think of a time when I didn’t tell stories. It was a very natural progression, and having a lot of people help me along the way to say “This is how to better it, how to funnel it, this is how it should go”. My Oma was also a huge part of that because she used to come over and read with us, so books were always very important to her – she wasn’t born speaking English, and so language and the ability to learn and education to her was just such a huge deal to her. And she loved reading. Until her death, she was still reading and still looking for the next great story. I think she was the first one to print off one of my books and she brought my book around to all of my family members at a family reunion and told them to read it. She was very much a support and an inspiration for that. And I would say my mom, too. My eldest sister had tried writing, but it wasn’t her dream. My mom had tried writing – which I didn’t know – and my Oma tried writing, and it was like all these different things, I felt, were in accumulation to me. It was like it all built up to me trying to pursue it and do it right. Ms. Gordey was also a huge inspiration because, at 16-17, you’re trying to figure out “Okay, Lord. If this is what you truly called me to, what the heck am I supposed to do with this? Where am I supposed to go with this?” I was struggling with personal life, and mental health and all this other stuff and at the end of grade 12, Ms. Gordey had written all of us a letter. And in it, she had said “I’m not worried about telling you to always keep writing because you’re a writer. It's oxygen to your lungs. That is who you are. But I will say that you aren’t a teen author, you’re not a developing author, you’re not an aspiring novelist, you are an author, And I can't wait to see where you go from here and to follow your career from here.” And even just having that unshakeable belief in me was mind-boggling. It means so much from someone outside of your family to say “you’ve got this.” I still have that letter.

Book Related Questions

Q: Can you give a brief overview of Vacancies in Time and its central themes?

A: It’s based on a dream I had about my younger sister, it is… It’s hard to do anything with it and summarize it because I genuinely feel like there’s nothing like it. As I said, I try hard to be humble and say it how it is, but I’ve struggled marketing this because what do you even say? Who is the audience for this? It’s based on a dream, and that in and of itself is a challenge – it's something only you have seen, something only you have thought, and trying to turn it into something other people want to read, it’s hard.

I would honestly say it’s a story about an older sister's love and a journey into adulthood and figuring out what that means, and independence. Because, everyone has to get to the point where they, not leave their family, but spread their wings. I think Emma never wanted to be the burden, she never wanted to be the person that kind of stuck out or made her family's life harder. So she tried to be the responsible one, to be the person that her sibling needed. And then comes along this complete curve ball that she has never even thought about, and suddenly this person, this thing, is requiring her to choose between her family and herself. And that’s never been something Emma has had to think about.

Central Themes: Love conquers all, is huge throughout the entire trilogy. Fighting fate, which I find ironic because I don’t believe in fate, destiny or soulmates. I am very cut-and-dry with that sort of thing. And the irony does not leave me that I wrote a trilogy based on fate and time travel – which are two things I hate. I don’t like writing it, reading it, or watching it. But I think I did a pretty good job. Time and the value of it is another huge theme. And, again, just the irony of that alongside everything that happened throughout publishing, where it’s just all summed up in a quote from my second book: “Time is the commodity we cannot make more of”. And in the sense that, you can make more money and material things, but you can’t create more time. It’s a huge theme through it all to say, what will you do with the time you have? What are your priorities with it? Walk by faith, not by sight. That, again, was a huge thing with the publishing journey of this series. I almost threw up when I felt like God was telling me to drain my savings and publish this – and I went to my family and told them, and no one told me I was crazy. Everyone told me that now was the time to do it. There were a lot of ups and downs throughout the entire thing, and it's reflected from my personal life in the books. When you have a calling, or that gut feeling, or that thing, you just have to go and run with it. In my Oma’s words: you just gotta give’r!

Q: What was the timeline for writing and publishing Vacancies in Time?

A: I planned the entire trilogy in 3 hours, from start to finish. At first, I didn’t want to write it, but I was persuaded by the comments I got on my TikTok to go through with writing it. I wrote book 1 within a month (started in July and finished by the end of the month), and it was close to one month for each book. Finished 3rd book in 21 days. It took just over a year to decide to publish and go through with it. It was between August 2022 and June 2023 to publish all 3.

I’m not someone who regrets things; I refuse to regret the things I have done because I don’t think it's helpful. But, in the future, I know that I didn’t give it the time and the energy that it deserved. And I stand by the fact that it’s a good story, in fact, I would argue a great story. However, I don’t necessarily think the writing and the editing portrays that as well as it should. And, I know the first book is difficult to get into – basing a book on a dream, it’s hard to set up, and it takes a lot of time to get into. The first book is boring, let's be honest. It hasabout 27 filler chapters, with a few chapters with big action in them that make you want to keep reading. Books two and three are fast – like every page, you are on it and you’re rushing through it. I would almost argue that book one is a different genre than the other two. Book one is more romance, and books two and three are more sci-fi.

Q: How did this idea come to you? Was there any pop culture that inspired it?

A: I’ve always had very vivid dreams about my younger sister. The dream was only the first book, from start to finish. Some of the things that are in the book didn’t necessarily happen in the dream, but everything that did happen in the dream went into the book. I remember picking up my sister, bringing her to the condo, her sleeping, the massive (iconic) windows, the neon lights, hearing the bang, looking at the museum, seeing the people inside the museum dead, making eye contact, and feeling the sudden heart-stopping dread and thinking “there's no way he can see me”, seeing and hearing the door of the condo opening and watching them come in. I don’t remember a lot within the timeframe of them being in the condo, just a lot of questions and weirdly invasive eye contact. And I very clearly remember the feeling of “I’m never going to see you again”, and the feeling of Darcy’s hand on my face. The weirdest part was the shift from myself to Bingley in the car, and seeing from like a third POV, and watching the conversation and witnessing the switch from “No, we’re leaving” to “this is something I’m going to fight for”, and then realizing that I wasn’t there when they got back. Right to the moment of eye contact, running to each other, reaching for one another and then nothing.

I always kinda say that I write books for myself, but I am happy that I gave in to the peer pressure to write it. My goal is always to get it out of my head, otherwise it takes up space. And the quote I always refer back to is by Maya Angelou, and it is “there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you”.

Pop culture Influences: Pride and Prejudice had an inspiration on it, but I wouldn’t say that it’s a retelling of it. I do remember having those conversations about classical literature in my dream, and I really do love Pride and Prejudice, and I thought “If I’m going to write this book, then I might as well include some of the things I love”. I also would say, based on the time period, the TV series Loki and the TVA probably had some kind of bearing on the dream. Just knowing that I had watched it within 3 months before having the dream, it's very likely it was a subconscious inspiration.

Q: What were some of the challenges you faced while developing your characters?

A: This goes back to when I was saying that I wish I took more time. It's not that I don’t think the characters are well-rounded – I do think they are, and they’re very dimensional characters. But how am I, as a white woman who is 25 living in a northern, western country, supposed to properly represent all these different people, who have had these awful things happen to them? Like having someone who is black and was a slave, someone who is Chinese, someone who is Jewish. Writing these people who have these awful pieces of history they are representing and not being able to grasp that fully because I can’t. It doesn’t matter how much I try to put myself in their shoes, I can’t accurately and entirely represent their stories. Arguably, you can say that no one can because those things are so far removed, though we continue to see them crop up, and we see the effects of them. You don’t have people who have experienced it firsthand, anymore. But I do wish I had taken the time and will take the time in the future to look through and make sure that I am doing my best to tell stories that aren’t mine, that are humanity’s stories. So that was a big challenge – trying to make sure I didn’t whitewash my characters, and to make sure I respect the history that has been told as well as respecting the history that possibly hasn’t been told or represented.

Q: Family appears to be a key theme in the novel – how did or did not your family inspire some of Emma’s family in the book?

A: Avery was inspired/based on my 12-year-old sister, who is now 15 and it's very weird for me to think about that. She got to pick what Avery looked like, she insisted on the ferret, and she chose everything about Avery. So writing her and drawing inspiration from other events in life and trying to not give too much away but also at the same time share. Avery's journey with leukemia is not based on truth – I did have a sibling who almost died, and it definitely shook the family, there was a lot of fear and anxiety that comes with that, and there’s always the thought of trying to lower the amount of pressure on your family because this thing has happened. I wouldn’t say Mo is based on anyone – she is an archetype of a person, and I really just feel like I should put that on the record. I remember my Oma asking me if she was meant to be someone, and I was like “Nope, not at all.” It's funny because I wouldn’t say anyone else is heavily based on someone from my family, but all of them are an inspiration to it. Because no matter what you do, what you read, who you see, who you talk to, you're constantly drawing in that information. There were a couple of times reading back where I read something that I didn’t even remember putting into the book and it felt a little too revealing on my psyche and I decided to cut it out.

Q: How did your family react to A) the book being written and published, and B) to finding themselves written into the book (if they were)?

A: My family was very supportive, obviously they had been waiting for years for me to publish because I’d been doing it for ten years by this point. I had started a gofundme to cover bills and whatnot while I was in the process of publishing and they really showed up with that. Even that December they had given me a new laptop because mine had broken, and I had no idea about it and I was so heartbroken because that was the first Christmas I didn’t have gifts for anyone because I couldn’t afford it. They really showed up, time and time again. My mom and my roommate found out that I had published it a day early just to make sure everything was working, and they raced to see who could buy it first and then who would get it first. My roommate ended up reading it first, and that was super special to have people competing to read my work. My mom sent me a photo of a picture of my dad lying on our giant bean bag chair with his headphones on, reading on his Kindle. It was very sweet to see the way they showed up. There's so much doubt that happens when you’re writing and publishing, and having my Oma pass a month before the release date, it was super hard.

As for my sister, I don’t think she ever told me what she thought about Avery and if she liked the representation. I had gotten to surprise her because it’s partially dedicated to her, and I surprised her with that and she had no idea so she just started crying. She’s such a cute kid, she said she didn’t want anything else for Christmas except my book. So I got to surprise her with that and give her a signed copy. I’m very fortunate.

Q: What do you hope readers will take away from reading Vacancies in Time?

A: In context to the first book, I relate it to a verse in the bible that says to be open to inviting people into your home, because you will never know if you're feeding angels. It’s the idea of loving your neighbour the way they should be loved and never closing yourself off from showing the love of God, providing for your neighbour and inviting them to your table. I think that is something that Emma did very well, which is something I don’t always do super well. For Emma to just stop and relax in her faith and the certainty that she had that God would sort this out. She just let it happen and allowed the agents to make themselves at home in her apartment. It was very important to me that Agent Darcy never tried to placate her, never tried to comfort her or make up for her lack of social graces while he was talking about his history.

I think the biggest thing I want to be taken away from that is just to have compassion for people, to have a willingness to hear and be open to others' stories, and to be aware of how it impacts you. I think in terms of history and how people can argue so much about different historical events and what it means, I truly believe that history lies within the person telling it. That’s often the victors who want you to believe that they should be the victor, and to understand that sometimes not everything is what you see.

Always have an open mind and see people for more than what they appear to be. And also be willing to take a chance; I think that is a lot of what Emma was scared to do and Carter came in and told her “No, you have to take the chance”. I was fortunate enough to have people like that on this journey, and without them, I never would have taken this chance.

Q: Who is/was your favourite character to write, and why?

A: Carter. I really appreciate who he is, and I know that’s ironic because I wrote him. But I would say in so many ways he is everything I’m not. To just be so unapologetically himself – in the best and worst ways. He is a little off, thinking the moon landing was faked is… interesting. And I think people who are conspiracy theorists and question things get a bad rap. I have people in my life who think like that, and so it was interesting to explore that character and question “Who is he, what is he and why is he this way?” And I don’t think there's anything wrong with questioning, now I do sometimes think they can get a bit too intense over it, but to have a character who stood by his guns and is always willing to question everything and to seek the truth and not willing to take everything at face value. And on top of that all, he is an amazing friend to Emma. It shows more in the second and third books how smart and driven he is, even though he appears to be a dishevelled mess, he is who he is. And he's pretty great. And he’s got a special place in my heart because he’s such an amazing, supportive friend.

Q: Are there any particular scenes/moments that hold personal significance to you?

A: Chapter 19 You Make Me Feel So Young. It's this moment where Emma is really rushing to get things done. She’s watching everyone have a good time and dancing around her. But she’s also scared to join them; she needs to be responsible and it reminded me of a bible story. It’s the story of Mary and Martha – Martha is trying to be a good hostess while Jesus is speaking to his followers, and her sister Mary is just lying there just listening to Jesus. And the lesson from that is, you are always going to have the next job to do, and more people to take care of but you’re not always going to have this moment. I think even what Darcy was talking about when he said “I finally understand what it means to be young” and this idea of there is no responsibility, there's no deadline, and you just exist in your own world. And that’s not necessarily the best thing, but I think in a culture that emphasizes the hustle and the grind. And even myself, I place so many deadlines and expectations on myself and there's this constant need to do a full day of work and then come home and do more author stuff, because if I don’t do it now, then it’s not going to happen. To have those moments where you stop and just live in the moment without any of the distractions, it’s priceless.

So that chapter has a big significance to me. It’s not just because I love Frank Sinatra and I love that song - but because did Darcy recognized that Emma wanted to join them but wasn’t willing to. And also the fact that Darcy was willing to be vulnerable and share that part of himself and say “To me, youth has always been foolish. But with you, I feel young and I can be foolish with you.” And I think every girl has that dream of dancing around their apartment with someone, and I think having that moment and having that intimacy shown was nice. And just shows that you will find that person and that there is timeless love, and you can take a moment to breathe and absorb the moment and be with the people you love. I think it’s important to make space for those moments, otherwise life will pass you by.

Q: Discuss the significance of the title of Vacancies in Time and how it shaped the book.

A: I had gotten the book planned, and I sat there trying to figure out what to call it. Based on the dream and the contents of the first book, you can't really use the metric for a science fiction title. You don’t want to give too much away, but you also want to hint at what’s in it. I knew I wanted something to do with time, and it just hit me – Vacancies in Time. And it works, and it makes sense because there are vacancies in time.

Q: Book covers play an integral role in attracting readers – how involved were you in the design process, did you have any specific concepts or themes you wanted to convey on the cover of Vacancies in Time? (Read in acknowledgements you made it on your own, on Canva)

A: In three hours, the day before the release. Once again, I don’t suggest the way I’ve done this, it was so not a good idea. I didn’t do the art myself, necessarily. Canva has a lot of artists that it pulls from, and they have to put on it if it is AI-generated. I feel very strongly about AI-generated things, especially art. But I found an artist who had a lot of Sci-fi kind of things – and the cover is nothing like the idea that I had, and still have. I would love to, in the future, republish and include a pronunciation guide, the cover I wanted at the very beginning, and all these different things.

Q: What was your concept for the cover?

A: On the front of the book is Emma looking out, from the POV of her bed, almost, looking out onto the street with the neon lights and everything. On the back cover, you see the outside of her building with her looking onto the street, and at the bottom corner, you see a head (who would be Darcy) looking up at her. In like an animation style.

I had someone lined up to do this kind of cover that I wanted but the timeline just didn’t work, and unfortunately, when I had talked to them it was the day my Oma died. So obviously things were derailed. I didn’t touch anything for two or three weeks, and I just didn’t have the time to make that cover happen. I’m happy with the cover now, I don’t love it necessarily, but I love it for what it is. The big thing for me was that, it is a science fiction novel, and I wanted it to convey that. The neon was important, but every single one of my books has an element that hints at something that happens in the book.

I’m not sure if you noticed, but on the back cover the rain is going upside down. And that kind of thing continues throughout all of the books.

Writing Process Questions

Q: What does your writing process look like? Do you follow a routine or have any rituals for when you’re writing?

A: Getting a full-time job has ruined the process that I had. But what has remained the same is that I open my laptop, and bring up my characterization sheets, my cheat sheet. And I bring up the manuscript – I just use Word. I know other people use Scrivener and other things, but I’m not fancy. I was 10 or 12 when I started, and I don’t like new things, so Word is where it’s at. When I was 20 I started doing novel outlines – so by the time I actually started writing it I already had every single chapter planned. I have, from start to finish, everything that is supposed to happen, chapter by chapter. I taught myself to be a plotter because I found it so much easier. And I would say, by doing this, I don’t struggle with writer's block anymore. There is occasionally the moment where I realize what I am writing just doesn’t fit anymore, but other than that I am never out of inspiration because it’s all written down.

I send myself notes on Messenger all the time, so I often check that before I start writing and add it to my sheets. With work, however, I have been trying to use what’s called the “Momentum Method” – the idea is you go to work, come home and immediately start writing or editing, and use that inspiration and motivation to get going. It doesn’t always work for me, because sometimes I find that I need like half an hour to decompress after work and get my brain settled before writing. I also have a walking pad, and I try to walk while I’m writing and editing – I haven’t been super great with that lately, just because I’ve been putting a lot of effort into the newsletter and getting it finished.

Q: Can you share a memorable moment from your writing journey that had a significant impact on your development as an author?

A: I can’t pinpoint one specific moment, because this journey has been a lot of highs and lows, and even in the lows I have found something to keep me going. I would say for publishing specifically, I had come across this interview with Leigh Bardugo, and she said “Your job is to make art when no one cares, that’s the battle”. Because as soon as you get the recognition, and you get the readers, everyone wants to praise you. It’s when you’re in the trenches with no readers or money, that’s when it matters most. Continuing to go forward is a skill you have to learn. I’ve always had that thought in my head, and it meant a lot to me to see a very well-known author, at one point, felt the same way and had the same doubts as myself. It was enough to push me forward and to publish the third book.

Q: Are there any specific authors or literary figures who have influenced your writing style? If so, in what ways?

A: The answer always goes back to every little thing is an inspiration. I would say Jane Austen is definitely someone who I aspired to be like. I think she always had a very personal way of telling stories, I feel like you always saw her in her novels. And, it is my hope (because I am planning on writing so many books) that I’m never predictable, but I do hope there is always a moment in every book I write where the reader goes, “Oh, this is Ashley”. I think Jane Austen does that very well.

I also really love C.S. Lewis – he is a huge inspiration of mine, in just the way he wrote books, how he wrote them, and who he wrote them for. I also like J.R.R. Tolkien for how descriptive he is, even though he spent three pages just talking about a blade of grass – I think that’s excessive, but I appreciate the way he could just paint the world for you. Leigh Bardugo, also, I just love the way she makes her characters. She does “found family” really well, and it's interesting because I would say so many of her characters aren’t really likable. Which sounds crazy, but it's like almost every single one of her characters has these massive flaws that are staring you in the face, so you almost have to question why you like them so much. But at the same time, that’s what makes you human – it’s your flaws. You can’t love someone without loving their flaws.

Q: What role does research play in your writing process, especially when tackling subjects that may require in-depth knowledge or understanding?

A: I try and do research, but there is a bit of previous knowledge because I took Wester-European AP, and history has always been very interesting to me. I remember in grade five learning about Greece and Athens, and the birth of democracy, and that has always had a place in my heart – history in general has always had a place in my heart. Mostly because it’s our story; they call it his-tory, but when you’re looking at history, you’re looking at the story of the world, of humans, and you can see where we’ve been and if you look hard enough you can see, in my opinion, where we’re going. I would say I gained a lot of knowledge from my education and my love of history, but then there was also a lot of research.

One of my biggest things while developing characters was figuring out what dictators am I going to use, who was going to be connected to each of these people, and what is it going to eventually lead to. Now, admittedly, and I won’t give too much detail, but one of the dictators I chose is just because I like them and learning about them. Obviously, they’re a dictator so they’re not the best but I think if any dictator was “good”, it would be this person. There was a lot of research, and there were times when I had to stop writing to look something up.

Q: How do you handle writer’s block or challenges in the creative process, and what strategies do you find most effective in overcoming them?

A: More often than not, in my experience, writer's block happens because there’s something wrong in the story. Whether that means you’re trying to force something, or because this idea you had no longer works and you’re not sure how to fix it, or if there’s something you left behind that needs to be brought in. Most of the time when I would get writer's block I would just go back and read it and find what was wrong. There have been times when I’ve deleted entire chapters and started over because something from however long ago caused things to not work. And even with using a novel outline, there have been times when I realized I’ve shot myself in the foot and I need to do it over again. I can admit that sometimes you have off days, but I’ve learned that you sometimes just need to force yourself to write – discipline doesn’t grow out of nothing, it's something you have to practice. But I also believe in taking a break, and that having a bad day can affect your writing. So going back and reading what you wrote on that bad day is definitely worthwhile because your mood does impact your writing and you might be putting something in that you don’t necessarily mean to put in.

While I do believe that your book is you and you should be able to do whatever you want with it, at the same time you’re not honoring the story if you’re basing your characters off people you know and killing them off because that person hurt you. You’re not honouring the story, or yourself, or the reader. That person may have existed to you through this character, but to everyone else, they exist in the book, separate from you and your life. Once you have people reading your novels, you have to acknowledge their interpretation might not be the right interpretation. Don’t get me wrong, you can think whatever you want about something that’s been written, but that doesn’t mean your interpretation is right.

Personal/Fun Questions

Q: Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice seems to be an influence on Vacancies in Time, can you elaborate on any inspiration drawn from it?

A: I think for every romance, people need to have something in common. And how do you find something in common between a black slave from the eighteen hundreds and a mostly white woman from the 2050’s? I was trying to find a common thread, and I think in the argument of “timeless love” and the idea of history being a form of storytelling, and having a thread that connects all of us – I don’t believe in soulmates – but I do believe that sometimes people are cut from the same cloth. It wasn’t a process of “how do I bring these two together” – I knew it had to be a connection and a shared experience, and I thought about what brought Darcy and everyone else together and it was this idea of wanting adventure and having this craving for the unusual. I think every reader has that craving; you might not be the bravest person but you do want a taste of a new experience – and that is what brought both Emma and Darcy to reading.

Pride and Prejudice is my favourite book, and I think because stories were what always connected me to people, I wanted to play with that idea in the book and play with the idea of “What is going to bring you all together and keep you together?”, and that’s how it turned out in the book.

Q: Religion is openly present in Vacancies in Time, how has your faith or religious background influenced the theme and messages you explored in the novel?

A: It influenced my writing in so many ways because God is so integral to who I am. I know for a fact I would not be alive if it wasn’t for him, and I never would have written and published if it wasn’t for him. Sometimes I struggle with saying the right thing and being understood by people because I often am not presenting myself well, or people will misconstrue what I am saying – which makes me relate to Darcy, in a way. But my writing is where I get to shine. And I believe that I can use my writing to accurately give people an idea of who I am, but also who God is and what he has done for me.

Q: If you could travel through space and time and meet anyone (fictional or real) where would you go and who would you meet?

A: I would probably go to the UK and meet C.S. Lewis – and I would probably try to convince him to come back to our time so he wouldn’t have to deal with the bombs and the war. On a more personal note, I would probably meet my Opa Morris – my Oma was married to Opa Morris before my current Opa, and I hear so much about him and I live his legacy every day. I just think to see where it all comes from would be very special. On the other hand, I might choose one of my ancestors from the other side of my family. I was raised with the belief that half of my family was indigenous, and there have been questions raised in recent years about whether or not that is true, so I would probably want to meet an ancestor from the other side of our family to figure out if it's true. It was something I used to be so proud of, and now there’s so much that has happened surrounding my ancestry – so I would like to get some answers about that.

Q: What’s some advice you can give to emerging authors?

A: You need to genuinely understand that it’s not going to be easy, and it’s going to suck at times. Big time. There’s going to be times where you’re going to question yourself, you’re going to have other people question you. You’re going to have moments of shame and moments of excitement, and it’s a bit of a rollercoaster of questioning.

The other thing is that you should know what your reason is. I've said since I was 16 that I am writing because if my books change even just one person's life, that would be enough. If one person feels seen, if they identify with a character, if they get help because of something I write that would be enough for me. Reading was always an escape for me, so if I can create a safe space where someone can escape from the turmoil that is life – that’s enough for me. Just figure out what your reason is for writing, and stick by it – despite having bad reviews, or no reviews or when you’re having those moments of self-questioning.

Q: What’s next for you?

A: I have two possible books that I can publish next – both are the start of a trilogy. I’m leaving it up to people to vote on through Google Forms because I genuinely don’t know which one to do next. One is a Werewolf-Hunter paranormal romance, kind of like Shadowhunters meets Vampire Academy, meets Twilight. The other one is about a group of young adults who create this group called “The Outcasts”, loosely based on Robin Hood, and they steal from the rich and they learn that this treasure they’ve read about is real and it’s hidden in this castle – and the leader decides they're going to get it, but for her, it’s not just business, it’s personal. I’m not sure which one I want to publish more, and part of me wants to publish both at the same time, but I know that’s crazy. So one of those two will pop up within the next… who knows.

I’m editing another book right now, and reverse outlining another book and rewriting that. My goal for this year was to shift my focus to becoming a better author – so I’ve gotten books about being an author, I didn’t know that books were supposed to have a three-act structure. I didn’t know about story framing or the eight-beat story. So I’ve been learning a lot about that, and learning about how to better my craft and refine it. I learned about the Writers Helping Writers series. So I’m trying to slow down and learn more and to build on the basics and get better as a writer.

#on-these-scorched-pages #author interview #local authors #local #Vacancies in Time #Ashley Godschild #Before anyone asks YES this was an assignment for Uni #Words cannot describe how annoyed I am at my professor bc not only did he cheat his students out of a potentially great class #he also got the hopes up of SO many people involved #original-ish writing #interview

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on-these-scorched-pages · 11 months ago

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Someone Older

Disclaimer/Authors Note: This is meant to be between two adults (mid-twenties and mid-thirties). Enjoy, ya nasties. 💙

The sounds of your moans and sighs are muffled into the pillow. His hands gripping at the crevice of your hips as he thrusts into you from behind... and stops. You whine, looking back at him over your shoulder. "Baby, why'd you-"

You've known each other for over two years, this trip being your first time to meet in person. Two years of texting, snapping, and video chatting. All of which were poor attempts at telling each other what you'll do to one another once you finally meet. Two years of fantasizing about him, his hands on your body - caressing you, moulding your body into whatever position he wants. It all paled in comparison to what it's actually like to be near him, to actually have his hands on you.

"I just need a second, baby," he says softly, still balls deep inside you, his one hand slowly massaging your ass.

A smile toys at your lips, trying to settle the nervousness in your stomach. Did you do something wrong?

He leans down, planting a kiss on your shoulder and then your cheek. "I can definitely say this is a first for me." He murmurs.

Your brows furrow, "what?"

He chuckles. Oh god, the butterflies he sends into your stomach, simply by laughing. "I've been fucking you for barely ten minutes, and I'm already gonna cum."

Your cheeks flush, a full smile crawling onto your lips. You did that to him.

"It's okay, baby." You say softly, reaching for his hand. "I want you to cum inside me."

He shakes his head, still smiling. "It's too soon baby."

You giggle, wiggling your ass only to receive a sharp slap against it. "Don't worry." You say coyly, "obviously it just means I'm the best pussy you've ever fucked."

He chuckles again, slowly starting to thrust into you again. "Well, I don't think you're wrong on that, gatita."

You bite your lip, hearing his pet name for you. "Turn me over," you ask softly. "I wanna look at you when you cum."

After a quick readjustment, you're face to face with him, his cock quickly buried back inside you.

Right where it should be.

He leans down and kisses you, groaning as he thrusts into you. You smile, the feeling of your bodies so in sync with one another.

He groans, resting his forehead against yours as he pounds into you. Your hands grip at his shoulders and back, god he feels so good.

"God, you're so dirty." You murmur with a smile, gazing up at him; his pace falters slightly but he continues. "You like fucking a girl ten years younger than you so much you can barely keep it together."

His cheeks flush, half in ecstasy, half in embarrassment - you are right, after all. He lets out another moan, still chasing his release. "I'm barely even a woman," you say softly, stifiling back a moan.

He slows his pace, sitting back on his knees as he continues fucking you. One hand planted firmly on your chest, not quite choking you, just reminding you who's in charge here - the other gripping your waist.

He grins down at you, "you're so right, gatita. But what else am I supposed to do?" His voice is nonchalant, despite him being so close to finishing. "You've done this to me. It's not my fault that you feel so good." His thrusts become harder as he pounds into you, "you're the one who's disgusting here. Getting so wet for an older man. You should be off fucking someone your own age from campus. Yet here you are, needing an older mans cock to satisfy your depraved desires."

He drops his head and lets out a groan, his hand moving to clasp around your throat - squeezing as he reaches his climax.

A smile ghosts past your lips at the feeling of his hand squeezing your throat as he fills you with his cum. "Baby, look at me." You say softly, wrapping your legs around his waist.

His eyes meet yours as his thrusts slow, drawing out every last drop of himself. He leans down, placing a kiss to your lips as you both attempt to catch your breath.

He's not wrong either, you do need someone older.

#on-these-scorched-pages #original writing #age gap #lovers #guys please enjoy my writing :)

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on-these-scorched-pages · 1 year ago

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Gimme a vampire that's just... meh. Like this pale and confused androgynous being that's always confused. time has come to be such a strange concept that they low-key have no idea what's going on 97% of the time. Gimme a vampire that sneezes when being suddenly hit by sunlight and who gets really sleepy after being in the sun for more than two minutes, like, their thoughts literally melt. They are just like.... mmm warm... sleep... warm. And who are absolutely defeated bc they are SO sleepy they can't fight or even THINK. Gimme a vampire that doesn't know how to write, language has changed so much that they are ALWAYS making grammar mistakes no matter what. Gimme a vampire that's overstimulated by multitudes and noises and just doesn't like people that much bc AAAAAAH PLS NO I JUST WANNA BE ALONE. Gimme a vampire that Knows NOTHING, none of that "i've lived a seven hundred years, i know history beyond your comprehension, i was there when the laws of your civilization were written", nope, i want nothing if the sort. i want a vampire who's like "i knew a greg" and just some random facts that are just irrelevant and empty and I want people to either think they are a vampire skillfully pretending to be human, or just your regular anemic neurodivergent european roomate who doesn't like people.

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on-these-scorched-pages · 1 year ago

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Vampire Lovers: Lucille & Ragnar

His hand comes to rest against her cheek, his lips forming into a frown. 'She's so cold, already.' He thinks to himself.

Her body lay so still, her skin so pale in death. Devoid of any hint that would suggest just mere hours ago she was still breathing.

His eyes look over her face, the face he had come to love - he had allowed himself to love. Her dark auburn hair laid gently over her shoulders, her eyes closed as if she were sleeping. He had done the best he could to clean any blood from her; such a divine woman deserved to be taken care of, after all.

"Oh, my love," His voice is barely a whisper as he leans in to place a kiss to her temple. "My dearest Lucille."

He licks his lips, trying to find the words every fiber of his body has been yearning to tell her from the moment he first saw her in that pub.

"As I sit here with you, the moon casting its gentle glow upon your delicate form, I am filled with a love so profound, it transcends the very boundaries of my existence. My heart resonates with a passion that burns more fiercely than the fieriest of suns - for you. You, my beloved Lucille, you are the reason for my enduring existence, the only solace in my eternal night.

I remember the moment our paths first crossed clearer than any other day, the sweet scent of your blood, the vulnerability of your humanity. It was in that instant that my cold, undead heart thawed, and I was entranced by the warmth that radiated from your soul. In you, I have found a love so pure, it has eclipsed the centuries of darkness I had endured before you.

I have witnessed kingdoms rise and fall, seen the world change in ways unimaginable to most, but it is you, and only you, who has given my life meaning. You are the dawn after the longest of nights, the salvation to my damned existence. I would give up eternity, gladly embrace oblivion, just to see your smile, to hear your laughter, to hold you close for the rest of my eternal life.

I am aware of the path you now tread, the transition that binds us together, making you one of us. And yet, it breaks my heart, Lucille, to see you go through this. I would give anything to spare you the pain, but I cannot, for this is the price of my love, and the curse of my affection.

In this cruel twist of fate, my love, I am both your salvation and your tormentor. I love you more than life itself, but I cannot bear to see you suffer. I would trade my immortality to set you free, to let you live a normal life, bathed in the warmth of the sun, without the eternal thirst that will now consume you.

But I know, my love, that you have made your choice. You chose me, as I chose you, and together, we are bound by a love that defies the boundaries of time and death. I will stand by your side, even as the darkness within you grows. I will love you until the very end, my darling, and beyond. For you are everything holy to me, my eternal light in a world shrouded in shadows.

So, my dearest, know that my love for you is both a blessing and a curse, a gift and a burden, but it is the most profound truth of my existence. I love you with a passion that transcends the ages, and I will cherish every moment we have together, even as I dread the day when you will no longer be the light in my dark, immortal world."

#vampire lovers #original writing #original character #on-these-scorched-pages

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on-these-scorched-pages · 2 years ago

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You Look at Me Like a Man

KYLO REN X READER (NSFW)

Word Count: 5.5k

Prompt(s): "I know I'm a monster, but you look at me like I'm a man" + "Don't fucking touch what isn't yours"

Warnings: Multiple orgasms, choking, degradation... The usual for me.

Notes: BOY am I nervous posting this! I've worked on this on and off for a while, I feel really good about this so whoever this reaches, I hope you enjoy it! I know this version of Kylo might not be accepted by everyone, but that's why it's fiction, right?

You Look at Me Like a Man

You received word of his return in the late hours of the evening - the time where most who aren’t on shift have long since fallen asleep. You never enjoyed the unease that settled in your stomach every time he came back from one of his missions. It was always the same - in the night hours he beckons for you, you go and have your body absolutely ravished by the Commander, no questions asked.

When this first began, you tried. You tried asking questions, making sure he wasn’t injured and in need of medical attention -but it was a fruitless task that always ended with you being dismissed before you were barely out of his bed. Over the many nights spent in his quarters, you’ve learned the less said, the better.

This night, however, was in fact different. As you approached the entrance to his chambers, you noticed the trail of footprints leading to the doors - the mix of blood and dirt creating a vibrant contrast against the durasteel flooring. The knots in your stomach tightened as you approached the door - was it his blood? You paused before stepping in; questioning yourself if the sex was really worth whatever hell that was brought on with Kylo Ren. The doors clanged shut behind you as you stepped in; finding the answer to your question - yeah, it was.

The sound of running water was what hit you first. Ren had never showered while you were in his quarters. You slowly stepped down the hall towards the refresher and peeked around the corner into the immaculate room. That was what hit you second - the room was anything but immaculate. The bloodied footprints stopped under a pile of black fabric, with an appalling splatter of the same crimson fluid painted across the vanity and mirror. Your stomach clenched again, wondering if all the blood was from him after all.

The last thing that hit you was the Commander - standing in the shower, the water cascading down his back, his forehead resting against the tile. The pit in your belly shrunk as you realized his body was intact, completely void of any scratches or beginnings of bruises. Thank the stars. You took a step in, praying he felt your presence in the room so you wouldn’t have to announce yourself because honestly - you had no clue how to begin this conversation.

“Kylo?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. He turned his head ever so slightly to the side, his deep golden eyes peering at you through strands of dark wet hair. You could see the fury that was storming behind those dark eyes of his; the way his muscles were tensed as the water poured across his skin. But behind all the anger, you could see the exhaustion, too.

His eyes flickered down to drink in your body as you stepped closer to him, stopping just outside the shower. Understanding what he was searching for, you slowly began to remove your clothes piece by piece. Kylos eyes remained fixated on you, engraving the curves of your body into his memory as if this were the first time he was seeing you.

You paused, studying the Commander as you hooked your fingers into the fabric of your underwear and slowly slid it down your thighs. Without a word, you stepped into the refresher and stood behind Kylo. As your eyes scanned over the freckles that were painted across the expanse of his back like the stars across the galaxy, you picked up the slightest shadows of fresh bruises beginning to form underneath his skin - so he isn’t unscathed after all.

Kylo exhaled deeply as you carefully reached out, your fingertips ever so slightly brushing against his skin as they trailed across his shoulders. Not a word was exchanged as you gradually began to knead his muscles in an attempt to work out the frustration. Working every inch of tissue from his shoulders down to his hips.

Seeing the rage was beginning to dissipate, you stepped forward and delicately placed a feather of a kiss against his spine.

“Don’t.”

The Commander’s voice was firm but not quite as authoritative as normal, yet still strong enough to make every fiber of your being freeze in its place. His amber eyes peered at you over his shoulder, searching for something, though you couldn’t quite place your finger on it. After a moment you stepped back and, not being one to let Kylo’s distant temperament sway you, you set your hands back to work on his muscles.

“You know,” You started, pausing to really think this through. “You aren’t as bad as you think you are.”

Ren turned to face you, brows furrowed as he brushed wet strands of hair out of his eyes. “Is that so, Doctor?” He sneered. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Drawing your hands away from Kylo, you took a step back. Were you hurt by his words? “I was at the Academy for a rather long time, Commander, so yes I do think I know what I am talking about.” You paused, searching his golden eyes for some hint of understanding humanity in him.

“You’re forgetting it’s my job to put people back together. That includes you. And I know that you aren’t this emotionless droid who runs Snoke’s errands, Ren. You- you are a person. You have habits, you’re meticulous with everything in your life. From your training to the way you fall asleep at night, I’ve seen it. But you can’t tell me that I’m here just for a good fuck, because I know that it’s not just that. I’m here almost every night because you’re craving some form of… of..” you inhaled deeply, searching for the right word. “Companionship.”

Kylo stared at you for a long moment, the muscles in his jaw tensing and untensing as his eyes scanned over your face in search of some sort of reply. Finally, there it was.

His long fingers were wrapped around your throat in an instant, squeezing just enough to remind you of who you were dealing with - of the power this man holds over you. The feeling of the cold tile against your back only added to the sensations Ren sent blazing through your body, the heat beginning to pool between your thighs. Damn him.

“Kylo-”

Whack

Your head was suddenly sent reeling, tears stinging your eyes as you blinked up at the Commander, an all too familiar warmth spreading across your cheek.

“How many times do I have to remind you to watch that whore mouth of yours?” He growled, his face only inches away from your own, eyes piercing like a saber through you. “It seems during my time away you’ve forgotten your place in this arrangement.”

You opened your mouth to protest, only to be met with another slap across the cheek. You gasped, the sudden burn of his palm against the side of your face sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“You will only speak when you are told to, understand?” Kylos’s auburn eyes met yours, the slightest tug of a smirk playing on his lips as he watched the tears threaten to spill across your cheeks.

You were met with a satisfied sigh as you silently nodded, your eyes scouring over the contours of his face, only to settle on his lush pink lips.

He knew just how badly you craved them to be pressed against you. Against your lips, jaw, neck, chest, thighs… How badly you craved for him to leave countless marks across your body, claiming it all as his. You never enjoyed being desperate in front of him but stars the way he knew your body, how to bring you right to the edge of ecstasy only to rip it away for no reason other than his own pleasure.

Kylo pursed his lip, as if deep in thought as he let his hand travel down the length of your body from your throat to dip his fingers between your thighs.

“I’ve barely touched you and look at how wet you are for me.” He mused as his fingertips began to lazily draw circles around your clit. “You enjoy the things I do to you. Don’t fight it.”

A sliver of a moan escaped your lips as you tilted your head back, resting it against the tile of the shower. The Commander smirked, bringing his head down to the crook of your neck, wasting no time as his teeth sank into your flesh and his fingers pushed inside you. Your hands instinctively reached out for him, your fingers tangling themselves in his long dark hair as you arched your back to push against him.

He licked up the column of your throat to your ear, murmuring into it, “Good girl.” as his fingers began to pump in and out of you.

Your fingers clenched his hair, pulling a moan from his lips before they crashed against your own. His tongue pressed against yours urgently, pillow-soft lips sliding across yours in search of more. More flesh, more moans, more of everything.

You could feel your orgasm approaching, and so could Ren. Pulling his fingers out of your pussy, you found yourself reaching down to stop his hand in its place.

“Don’t worry,” He murmured your name between your lips as both hands found their way down the backside of your thighs to hoist you up. “I have every intention of making you cum tonight.”

Kylos hands gripped the soft skin of your ass as he stepped out of the shower, fingers slightly twitching as you suddenly felt a familiar presence - or force - playing against your clit.

Arching your back, pressing your bare breasts against his broad chest, you threw your head back. Allowing the pleasure to roll over you once again, Kylo set you down on the edge of the vanity.

He stepped back, allowing his fingers to trail along the length of your thighs. Your hands reached out for him, wanting to bring his warmth back between your legs. You watched him as his eyes danced over your body. Lips, breasts, thighs, finally they settled on your cunt.

You saw it in that moment. The fire ablaze in his eyes as he stepped forward, kneeling in front of you. Without wasting another second, he was on you. He licked up the length of your pussy, moaning into you as his hands gripped at your thighs pulling you to the edge of the counter.

Your hands returned to their place, tangled in his raven locks. Tugging at first, then yanking as he pushed his own finger inside of you once more. “Ky-” Your words were lost on your tongue as he pumped it into you.

The Commander hummed against your core, the vibrations causing you to let out a whimper. Adding another finger, Kylo ran his tongue up your slit, burying his nose against your sensitive button. You tugged again on his hair, coaxing another moan to escape his lips against you, begging for your climax.

His amber eyes flickered up to meet yours as he pulled away from you. You could see the smirk that spread across his lips - those damn lips - now glistening from your slick. Kylo pulled his finger out and ran it up your slit, rubbing circles around the sore bud, eliciting a whine from your lips.

“Tell me what you want.” He growled, his tongue running across his lips, tasting your essence. “You taste so good.” Kylo ran his fingers down to your entrance and pushed two fingers into you.

Your hand slid down to his broad shoulder, your nails digging into the muscles as he pushed into you. “I want to taste it.” You whispered, barely able to speak as Kylo began to pump his fingers in and out of your pussy searching for the spot that will make you sing.

“Louder.” He grunted as he leaned over you, Kylo set his other hand against the mirror behind you, his lips too far away from your own for your liking. His fingers rubbed against that sweet spot inside of you, coaxing you to the edge of bliss.

“I-I…” You moaned desperately, grinding your hips against his hand. “I want to taste it, Kylo.” You begged.

His smirk grew as he slowly began to pull his fingers out from your cunt. “Where are your manners, baby girl?” He muttered, bringing his lips close enough to barely brush against your own.

You could smell yourself on his lips - sweet, intoxicating. “Please, Kylo.” You whispered, “I want to taste it, ple-”

Kylo’s lips crashed against your own, his tongue eagerly diving into your mouth and tangling with your own. You tasted just as you smelled; sweet with hints of tanginess - like fruit. Adding a third digit, Kylo pushed his fingers back into your pussy, curling them inside you as he circled his thumb around your clit.

A crashing wave of pleasure washed over you; your fingers tugging ruthlessly at his hair, your legs trembling as your core tightened around the Commander's fingers. Moaning against your mouth, Kylo bit down on your bottom lip and tugged, adding to the sensations of your wave of release.

“That’s it,” Kylo muttered, setting his forehead against yours as you rode through the aftershocks of your climax against his hand. “Good girl.” Kylo pulled his fingers from inside you, silencing another whimper with a kiss to your swollen lips.

Kylo pushed his hips against your own, grinding his length against you. “Fuck.” He growled as he pulled away from you, his hands grasping your hips and pulling you off the counter, and turning you around.

He pulled your hips back against him as he pushed your shoulders down, bending you over the counter. You watched him in the mirror, his hand sliding down to stroke his length, positioning it at your entrance before pushing into you.

Moans escaped both your lips and Kylos, his head tilting back and he pushed his entirety into your pussy, stretching you out with his size. Kylo relished in your warmth, it had been too long - you could see from the furrowed eyebrows he had missed this as much as you had.

You let out another pathetic whimper as he pulled back and pushed slowly back into you. “Shh… You can take it.” His eyes met yours in the reflection of the mirror, “I know you can.”

You nodded, biting your lip as Kylo’s hands gripped at your hips to pull back against him as he pumped into you, setting into a slow rhythm. “You’re so tight.” He muttered.

You let out a moan as Kylo quickened his pace, his hips slapping against your own causing him to let out a moan of his own. You set your head down against the counter, the pleasure of his cock filling you nearly overwhelming.

“Don’t you dare.” He growled, his hand taking a fistful of your hair and yanking backward to force you to look at him in the mirror. “You’re going to watch me fuck that cunt of yours. Understand?”

His amber eyes were ablaze with predatory lust as they met your own in the mirror. His lips brushed against your ear before trailing down your neck to your shoulder where he at first placed a kiss before sinking his teeth into the skin, having every intention to leave his mark on you.

“Yes,” You moaned out, “yes, Commander.”

Kylo snapped harshly into your cunt, the sound of his skin against yours echoing inside the walls of the bathroom. He moaned against your shoulder, climbing back up your neck to your ear. “You’re such a filthy whore for your Commander.” He grunted, his fingers digging into your hips.

The ecstasy he filled your body with was too much to bear, you reached down between your thighs to rub your sore clit that was begging for attention, craving that sweet release once again.

Kylo grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your cunt. “Don’t fucking touch what isn’t yours.” He growled into your ear. “Keep your hands on the counter.”

You whined, “Kylo please.”

The grip Kylo had on your hair tightened, “What did I say?” The hand on your hip slid around to your backside. Kylo paused for a second, allowing you a brief moment to obey his command.

You felt the familiar stinging on your skin before you realized what had happened. His pace never slowed or faltered before his hand slapped your ass, the sound ringing within the room. You let out a moan, a mixture of pleasure and pain washing over you.

Your pussy clenched around him as he continued pounding into you. “Hands. On the counter.” He groaned into your ear.

Biting your lip to stifle another moan, you obeyed. You set both hands on the counter where they gripped the edge of the cool surface.

“Good girl,” Kylo whispered into your ear, his hand was rubbing the place he hit you - no doubt a red mark tattooed into your skin. “Fuck” he groaned, setting his head against your shoulder. “You’re so wet for me.”

His hand snaked around your hip and dipped between your legs, his fingers drawing circles around your sensitive nub. Moaning, you pushed back against him as he continued fucking you, that familiar tension building inside you.

“K-Kylo-” You moaned, tightening your grip on the edge of the counter. “I need to cum, please.”

He smirked, quickening his pace as he slammed into you. “Then cum.” Kylo murmured into your ear.

Just like that, your climax washed through your body, causing you to moan and grind against the Commander. Your walls clenched around Kylo’s cock, his pace relentless as you rode out your orgasm. His fingers dug into your hip, his other hand still drawing the delicious circles around your clit to extend your pleasure for as long as possible.

Kylo groaned, feeling your body spasm from your climax as he continued pounding into you, his pace slowing. “Fuck.” He growled before pulling out from you.

You whined, suddenly feeling completely empty without him. You opened your mouth to protest only to be cut off.

“Get to the bed,” Kylo ordered, stepping back from you.

You peered at him over your shoulder; the sight of him nearly as pleasurable as when he was fucking you. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, still wet from the shower. He was trying to catch his breath, pace himself so he could draw this out for as long as humanly possible.

You knew Kylo found the sight of you just as enjoyable. Your eyes met his for a split second before they traveled down your body, a smirk climbing onto his lips; he was surveying his handiwork left on you as you started out of the bathroom. Kylo let out a satisfied sigh as you walked past him, pleased with the marks he's left decorating your body. You’ll have to try and pay him back for those.

You stepped through the doorway of the bathroom into the hallway, Kylo trailing behind you. You could feel his eyes on you, watching the way your body moved, every curve engraving itself into his mind.

If it were anyone else you’d feel shame, self-conscious, naked - well, you were quite literally naked. Here. In front of the Commander. But it was Kylo. He was a mystery to everyone, but he sure knew how to make you feel special. Physically, he wasn’t a stranger to you anymore. Emotionally, well that was a different story entirely.

Before you realized what you were doing, you had turned, set your hands against Kylo’s chiseled abdomen, and gently pushed against him until his back was against the cool durasteel wall.

Kylo raised a brow as he looked down at you, his eyes dancing over your face as his hands reached for your hips to pull you closer to him as a smirk dared to climb into his lips. His hard length rested against your stomach.

Kylo leaned down to press his lips against yours, only to have you pull away from him.

“Kylo, please.” You begged, your hand sliding down his stomach to grip his cock, still slick from being inside you. “I want to taste you.”

A growl escaped Kylo’s lips as you peered up at him, your hand slowly stroking his length.

“Please?”

Kylo nodded, holding back another moan as he set his head against the cool metal wall behind him.

You dropped to your knees in front of the Commander. Your eyes flickered over the expanse of his chest, drinking in every last inch of it. Glistening from the mix of sweat from his exertion and water from the shower, he was nearly panting. Fuck, he looks like a God like this.

You gripped his cock and brought it to your lips, using your tongue to lick the sensitive tip, eliciting a moan in response. Smiling contently to yourself, you took his length entirely. You felt him throb in your throat, Kylo’s hands gripping at your hair as you fought back the urge to gag.

Your mouth slid back and forth on his cock, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled him out from past your lips. You licked up and down the length of his cock before taking him back between your lips.

You looked up at Kylo as his hand brushed your hair away from your face, gripping it as he forced your head back and forth on his cock. Your pussy clenched, the sight of how well you were able to unravel the mighty Kylo Ren much too enjoyable for you.

His chest heaved as he moaned, splotches of the softest red appearing on the tips of his ears and across his chest. His mouth hung half-open, his brows pinched together in pure bliss, unable to hide just how much he was enjoying this.

You could feel how close he was to his climax; he was getting desperate for you. You took him deeper, burying your nose in the patch of dark hair at the base of his cock. He bucked his hips against you, wanting, needing more.

You reached up and set your hand against his hips, pushing him back against the wall as you pulled away from him. You licked your lips, looking up at him - he looked nearly hurt that you kept him from pouring his seed down your throat; you both knew it was for the better this way.

“As much as I would like to finish you off right now, I’d rather you cum inside me tonight, Commander.” You said sweetly with a smirk, taking his cock in your hand again and slowly stroking as yet another delicious moan escaped his lips.

You climbed to your feet, Kylo’s cock still in your grip. Desperate for you, Kylo leaned forward and crashed his lips against your own. His tongue darted into your mouth tangling with yours.

Kylo’s hands traveled around your hips to your ass, his fingers digging into the soft skin there before moving farther down your legs to hoist you up.

You let go of his cock and wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. Kylo growled into your mouth, the feeling of your warmth pressed against him as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Your lips never parted from Kylo’s as he stepped from the hallway into his bedroom. The cool black silk sheets felt like ice against your back as he laid you down on the bed, grinding his hips against you as his hands traveled across your body.

Kylo pulled away, sitting back on his knees as he looked over your body, one hand coming to rest on your thigh as the other dipped down to your pussy. You bucked your hips against his hand as his fingers slid between your folds, lazily moving back and forth, teasing you.

“You’ve been so good for me.” He murmured, leaning down to place his lips on the soft skin of your breast. “I want you to cum one more time,” Kylo whispered before taking your nipple between his lips, sucking gently.

You arched your back against him, your fingers running over his shoulders onto his back. You dug your nails into his skin, causing Kylo to bite on the taught nub, a moan escaping his lips before he continued kissing his way across to your other breast.

He reached down and positioned his cock at your entrance, sliding the head back and forth between your slick folds before slowly pushing into you. Your fingers dug into the skin of his back as he sunk his length into your wet pussy, pulling a moan past your lips.

Feeling your warmth around him, Kylo hummed against your skin as he took your nipple back into his mouth, sucking harshly as he pulled his hips back, barely keeping the head of his cock inside you before pushing back in.

His lips traveled from your breast, up your neck to the line of your jaw, gently biting every so often before pressing his lips to yours. Kylo settled into a rhythm, snapping his hips into yours as his tongue pushed into your mouth to tangle with yours.

You pushed your hips against him as he pumped into you, eliciting a moan from him and he pulled away from you. You leaned forward, taking the opportunity to kiss across his neck, sinking your teeth into the soft skin to leave your own mark on him. You repeated this, leaving a trail of red splotches that will undoubtedly become bruises across his neck and down to his collarbone.

No one will see them anyway; it’ll be our secret.

You weren’t entirely sure what the next few words that came out of his mouth meant or what language they were in, but fuck did they sound good. You moaned against his skin as you felt the familiar sensation of the force beginning to draw circles around your clit.

“Fuck, Kylo.” You whined as you set your head back against the bed, looking up at him. His hair had fallen into his face, his golden eyes watching every expression you were making as he continued fucking you. Your hands traveled down his sides and came to rest on the small of his back, fingers digging into the skin to silently beg him to push deeper into you.

Feeling your nails dig into his skin, Kylo pumped harder into you, the sound of skin against skin echoing within his chambers. He growled your name, the sound of it sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The familiar feeling of your core tightening around his cock overwhelmed you as Kylo continued fucking you.

You reached up to brush the hair away from his face, wanting to watch his face as he chased his own release, only to have his fingers wrap around your wrists and push them against the bed above your head.

“Kylo,” you moaned, finding your restraint equally frustrating and pleasurable as your own climax grew, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

A smirk played on Kylo’s lips, “Cum for me,” he said as he brought his lips down against your neck, biting and sucking at the skin. You moaned, fighting against the hand pinning your wrists above your head.

He let out a moan as he continued pumping into you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he drew closer to his climax. His eyes were dark, brows furrowed as he focused on the way your body felt against his; muscles tensing as you grew closer to your release.

“That’s it,” He purred as he kissed up your neck to your ear. “Be a good slut and cum for me.” Seemingly at his command, or at his mercy, the familiar wave of ecstasy washed over you.

His breath had become harsh against your ear as Kylo pumped into you, right on the edge of his own ecstasy. His lips blindly found your own, his tongue pushing into your mouth as his hips slapped against you.

Inching closer to his release, Kylo’s grip tightened on your wrists as he let out a deep, nearly animalistic growl against your lips as he poured himself into you. This was the thing you loved about your rendezvous; he marked you as his - whether it was through the bruises on your thighs or neck, or from having him cum inside you. No one else had to know, but Kylo had chosen you.

You didn’t intend to end up here, night after night. Entangled in the dark silk sheets, as Kylo Ren pumped through the aftershocks of his climax. His hands firmly holding your own above your head as your legs found themselves wrapped around his waist - as they have so many times before.

You gazed up at him, taking in the now-familiar tracks of scars that decorate his skin. Some of the wounds you had stitched up, others were older - much older as if they were from another lifetime. Upon first seeing them, you almost pitied him - almost. You understood the risks of his job - being Snoke’s apprentice would not be without cuts and bruises, but Kylo knew that too. As your eyes examined his chest you saw the bruises that had formed along his side - nothing too serious, yet you still felt for him.

His grip on your wrists slackened as he pulled away from you, sitting upright and running a hand through his hair. You shifted, removing your legs from around him and propping yourself up on your elbows as your eyes met his for a split second.

You’d seen this look a thousand times before; he was trying to decide whether or not to keep you in his quarters for the night. His eyes traveled down your body, his hand coming to rest on your hip as his thumb rubbed absently against your skin.

“I’m not on shift tomorrow,” you said quietly, hoping that would persuade him to allow you to stay - after all, his bed was a lot more comfortable than yours.

Kylo sighed as he pulled his hand away, climbing off the bed. "I'm not done with you just yet." He replied as he turned his back to you. "Stay."

“Thank you, Commander.” You murmured, watching Kylo head back towards the bathroom. Seeing him disappear around the corner, you pulled yourself backward on the bed, sitting near the headboard to tuck your feet under the dark covers.

The lights above you dimmed, signaling the change to the night cycle inside Ren’s quarters. You heard the faint footsteps padding on the floor as Kylo re-entered the room, shifting slightly as Kylo climbed into bed with you. You could feel the space he kept between the two of you - most nights it felt like he was light-years away from you, tonight was no different.

You kept it a habit not to face him while in bed. Facing him would mean the possibility of human connection, conversation - Kylo never allowed himself that, despite the many times you’ve tried.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you settled into the Commander's bed; willing your mind to go blank to allow sleep to overcome you. You heard the comforter ruffle behind you and felt Kylo shift on his side of the bed. You felt yourself starting to drift off into the welcoming arms of slumber.

A set of fingertips brushed against your back, jolting you wide awake.

Without a word, you shuffled backward towards Kylo. To your surprise, he met you halfway, his arm snaking around your side to settle around your middle. You set your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers.

“Why do you do that?” Kylos voice was barely above a whisper.

“Do what?”

You felt Kylo inhale deeply, his chest pressing against your back. “Everyone here, they look at me like I’m a monster - and I know I’m a monster.” He paused, pulling you closer against him. “But you look at me like I’m a man.”

You sighed softly, absently running your thumb over his hand as you tried to come up with an explanation.

“With my job, I see a lot of the ugly sides of people - I see the effects of choices they make, both good and bad. I know that sometimes we get thrown into these impossible situations where we have to choose to do terrible things. But, Kylo, that doesn’t make you a monster.” You turned to look over your shoulder at him in the dark.

“It makes you human.”

#original writing #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #on-these-scorched-pages #nsfw writing

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