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inkdrinkerworld · 2 months ago

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Courting

Synopsis: Bucky is a man from a different time. It shows when you start ‘going steady’ and honestly, you love it. Alternatively; Bucky uses 40’s dating etiquette to woo you, and surprises you with a modern turn of phrase.

cw: it’s set in a vague timeline where it’s just before cabnw but also during fatws so no thunderbolts spoilers! Bucky is a FLIRT, reader is a little shy, anxiety representation, lots of casual getting to know you, going on a date flirting, Bucky’s serious about reader tho!

word count: 4.4k

Bucky Barnes prides himself on being able to court a woman. He really does. He knows all the rules, knows all the things to say, and it doesn’t hurt that he can flirt his way through any conversation.

You and Bucky met at the Smithsonian when Bucky was missing Steve a little too much and popped in just to get a glimpse of his best friend again.

You were by the Isaiah Bradley display, reading through before murmuring under your breath, “Those poor men.”

Bucky hadn’t meant to eavesdrop like that, but there was so much concern in your voice and he had to say something lest you think they all suffered — looking back, maybe he wasn’t the best person to break that news to you.

“We didn’t all suffer so bad.”

You had gasped when you noticed him, hand to your chest. “You’re Bucky Barnes,” you weigh your words before adding, “Steve’s best friend.”

That alone had won him over. You didn’t bring up the Winter Soldier, or that Bucky was as traumatised as super soldiers went. Just that he was Steve’s best friend.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “This your first time at the Smithsonian?”

You shake your head, a little heat flushing up your cheeks. “I come every couple of weeks, to see if they have any new stuff to add to your plaques. It’s kinda messed up what they did to all of you.”

Bucky smiles, shaking his head. It is messed up, he knows that. All the super soldiers besides John Walker know how messed up it was. “We came out alright, made it to the 21st century after all.”

You tilt your head to the side, “I guess that’s true.”

Bucky’s eyes light up. “Made it this far to meet pretty girls too.”

Your cheeks flame and Bucky chuckles, you chat a bit more before he gives you his number.

It takes you two days to text him. You’d been overthinking it, if you should or shouldn’t. In the end, if he ignored you at least you’d have tried.

It turns out Bucky didn’t give you his number just to be polite, because he answered your text immediately.

The first time he had used his courting experience was when he’d made it a point to establish the fact that he wanted to take you out every second Friday of the month.

He had it in his head that the effort had to be shown and then followed through the entire time and after two days, he was determined to show you that he was serious.

‘I’m free every other Friday, if that’s good with you doll.’

You had responded four minutes later after looking at your phone in shock and a little bit of bewilderment, when was the last time a man was so forward but not in a pushy way?

‘It’s perfect as long as work doesn’t bleed into my weekends’

From there Bucky had planned three of the dates meticulously, going over places and ideas in his head until he’d settled on the best three according to himself.

The first date was at a new diner near his apartment, one that Sam said did really good milkshakes and Bucky hadn’t been able to let the idea go.

“It’s nothing too fancy, but Sam said it’s a good spot.”

You’d worn a pretty skirt and blouse, and Bucky had worn a grey henley and jeans.

“You look gorgeous,” Bucky was full of compliments as you’d learn as the afternoon went on. He dished them out easily and most of the time you pretended not to hear him because he had a sort of pleased look on his face every time you stammered to keep the conversation going, and that in itself had in your stomach in knots.

He even brought you a bouquet of red tulips which had sat beside you on the sticky diner table all day.

“Oh they have milkshakes!” You say excitedly when you catch a server walking past.

Bucky’s heart sores. God bless the forties for making that a thing.

“Wanna try one?”

You look up at him, eyes brimming with hopefulness, “Will we do the cheesy sharing from the same cup?”

Bucky leans back in the booth seat, blue eyes boring into you. “And the same straw if you really want to, doll.”

He’s so fucking smooth, because you can’t do anything but nod now that his gaze is fixed on you.

Deciding what milkshake had taken nearly five minutes, back and forth between what was a classic flavor and why strawberry was definitely not good (Bucky was very offended) and then settling on a Shamrock Shake even though St. Patrick’s day had long passed.

Sharing the milkshake sitting across from each other was more intimate than you had expected it to be, (you hadn’t ended up using one straw but just the eye contact was enough to fluster you). Bucky walked you to your car after paying for dinner, very offended that you tried to pay half of the bill, and opened the door for you. When you had gotten in, he leant a little into your space, “Did you have a good time, doll?”

Your heart pounds. You had a great time, Bucky was easy to be around, even with your shyness.

“I did, thank you Bucky. Did you?”

He smiled, “Don’t see how I couldn’t with you as company.” In your sputtering for an answer Bucky’s heart beat a little faster, you were the cutest thing ever.

“Any opposition to a gala for our next date?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not the biggest fan of crowds but I don’t see why it couldn’t be fun. Is it for the new Captain America thing?”

Bucky smiles, “I’ll text you the details. Drive safe, doll.”

The gala was fun even if a little anxiety inducing when you note the number of people there.

Bucky’s good though, he doesn’t give you a moment alone to feel that anxiety or have anyone come up to you to ask you a million questions.

It’s a veteran gala and Bucky didn’t want to go through that alone because he was getting another medal post Thanos; not that he really wanted it.

That night, as you sat beside him at one of the tables, it was hard to ignore the feel of his hand grasping your ankle and stroking it.

His palm is warm against your skin but you can feel the twitch in his fingers.

“We can leave early if you really don’t want to get it, Bucky.”

He turns to you with a smile, his cheeks a little warm when you meet his eyes. “No, I can handle it, doll.”

You tut, shaking your head. “Yeah but you look like you’re gonna pass out waiting for them to call your name.”

He rolls his eyes, “I do not.” He can actually feel the acid churning in his stomach.

In the end, the ‘medal’ is Bucky partially funding a veteran support group in honor of his friend Sam Wilson, who’s the new Captain America, and Steve Rogers. He much prefers that sort of medal.

It was only after Bucky had gotten you home from the gala that you noticed the slip of paper in your clutch.

It had the name of the diner you and Bucky had gone to a week and a half ago, but on the backside of the paper was his semi messy scrawl.

You looked gorgeous tonight. Purple’s definitely your colour, doll. I know it’s only the second date, but you’re all I think about most days. I wanna see you again, but I know tonight was a lot with all those people. Sleep well, doll. Dream of me if you’d like.

Yours,

James.

That had made you smile so hard your cheeks ached. He signed it with his actual name, not the cute nickname he got so many years ago, his real, government name and that was not something that went unnoticed by you.

Immediately you changed his name in your phone to James with a little heart next to it.

You’re not really sure you’re sold on Bucky’s affections towards you, till the third date when Bucky pulls up to your apartment with another bouquet of flowers, peonies this time in pretty pinks and soft yellows.

“Bucky, these are gorgeous!” You had rushed back into your house to add them to the vase with the other flowers he had dropped off for you on your doorstep last week.

You can hear him chuckling in your doorway as you flit about.

“Was there any traffic?” you asked over the sound of your tap filling the vase.

“Not too much, but it is lunchtime on a Saturday.”

You had mentioned to Bucky a little bit ago that there was a perfect spot in the park near your house for a picnic now that New York had finally warmed up, and the next text you had received was Bucky asking if you had any nut allergies.

It wasn’t your usual date day, but Bucky had pleaded and begged just a little (although he really hadn’t had to), and had even sent you a photo of the most gorgeous picnic blanket and you were agreeing faster than anything.

“I’m ready to go now.” Seeing Bucky there leaning in the archway of your kitchen makes you feel so many things that you can’t help it when you lean up and kiss just under his jaw before walking towards your door after snagging your picnic basket from on the counter.

“Coming, Bucky?”

He only shakes his head, some of his hair falling into his eyes as he follows behind you. You swear you hear him mutter, “Not a shy thing at all,” but you don’t say anything because your nerve has worn off and you actually can’t believe you really kissed his cheek.

Bucky hadn’t spared an expense on your picnic. He had gotten peaches, plums, two different cheeses, apples, grapes (black ones; your favourite) and even a bottle of sparkling wine.

You had brought sandwiches and salt and vinegar potato chips (those became Bucky’s new favourites), a sketchbook and your camera.

“Were picnics something you did a lot?” you ask Bucky as he makes you a plate - crackers, cheese, some of the fruit and half the sandwich you packets.

Bucky squints at you as he slices a wedge of the plum free from the stone. “If it was, would you be jealous, doll?”

You shake your head, some of the peach juice dribbling down your wrist. Bucky’s quick but gentle as he thumbs it away and presses his thumb to his lips. You’re so grateful that his hands aren’t on you to feel how fast your pulse hammers.

“I’m just curious what the dating customs of the 40’s looked like.” It’s a miracle your voice remains even.

Bucky nods like he doesn’t really believe you. “I think I went on one, but there was never really a good time for more.”

You wince, you had forgotten that he’d gotten drafted.

Your reaction makes Bucky laugh, “I’m glad I get to find out if I really like them now though. There’s a lot more to enjoy about picnics now without all the smog.”

His teeth snap through the wedge of the plum before he continues, “I can see my date better, which feels like an incredible plus.”

Damn Bucky’s flirting.

You spend all evening at the park, and it’s so fun because Bucky poses for some of your pictures and then takes some of you and when you pose for a few together and Bucky stares at you there’s a sort of stillness that overcomes you.

His eyes bore into yours, the blue of them stopping you where your finger is poised over the button to snap the photo.

“Take the photo doll,” he whispers, his lips hovering near yours as he reaches up and presses your finger down just before leaning all the way in, pressing your lips together.

Bucky’s quick to take the camera from your hand after, setting it on the blanket and cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss.

It’s not too long, but it’s more than a peck and when he pulls away you can barely open your eyes.

“Was that okay?” Bucky whispers, the hand still cupping your face warm where it rests.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” his laugh rocks you as you press your forehead into his shoulder. “I don’t think you were really frozen in ice all that time, James Barnes.”

Bucky cups the back of your head as his laughs die down. “Whatever you want to believe, honey.”

Bucky gets to your house just after sunset, and you let him walk you to your front door. You don’t really want the date to end, but you’re tired and you have to imagine so is he.

“I had a really nice evening, Bucky.”

He smiles, a hand on your lower back as he stands in front of you. “So did I,” you turn to open the door but he stops you.

“I’ve gotta go out of town for a little bit, so we’re gonna have to rain check next Friday’s date.”

You hold onto the sleeve of his Henley before he can step back, “Is everything alright?”

Bucky nods, “Yeah just some stuff I have to deal with.”

“Winter soldier stuff?” You nearly whisper the words, not wanting to upset Bucky. He only nods with a soft smile. “Be careful okay?”

“You don’t want to be my nurse if I get hurt, doll? That’s harsh.”

You laugh, shaking your head at him. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Bucky’s chest aches at your care for him. It’s been a long while since he’s been given that kind of affection.

“I’ll be careful, doll.”

“Good.”

Bucky leans in and presses a kiss just at the corner of your mouth, “Goodnight doll, lock your doors.” He reminds you like you’re not a woman in New York City, but it still makes you smile and your chest goes a little gooey.

Bucky doesn’t move from your doorstep till he hears your locks click into place.

Bucky’s been gone for a week and a half already and you can’t help but miss him.

You’ve been chatting back and forth and you’ve even started sending him songs to listen to. He’s got a very limited list of favourites that you’ve made it your mission to resolve.

You find another note in your handbag when you decided against texting Bucky and cleaned your cupboards instead.

It was in your bag from the picnic date, and you smiled when you noticed his handwriting on another receipt from the grocery where he got the cheese.

I hope you find this when I’m gone and you’re missing me; I know you are, doll, it’s okay.

I miss you too and I haven’t left yet.

When I get back I’ll make it up to you, I swear. Maybe we’ll go somewhere quiet again? Or I saw they’re reopening one of those antique places with all those retro trinkets; I could show what I used to have at home. Show you what I prefer now.

Keep locking your doors, honey. I should send you new flowers, the old ones will be dead soon.

Yours,

James.

Bucky’s very good at these, these little notes that leave you smiling and giddy like a fool.

You pull out your phone, you have to text him now.

I got your note. What was your favourite ‘trinket’?

Bucky answers only three minutes later.

My sister used to have a silver jewellery box that I had the pleasure of filling every month.

You smile at that, he’s always been a provider it seems.

Another chime comes from your phone.

We also had a gramophone that played the clearest music I’ve ever heard.

You roll your eyes.

You’re such an old man.

I’m not offended, doll. A pretty girl I’m seeing told me recently I’m not old at all.

Even miles away he’s got you grinning like an idiot with a racing pulse.

You can’t say anything to that and your thoughts take you to what a perfect gentleman he’s been to you. Bucky opens your doors, drives you home and waits till you get into your house before driving off. You think you might be falling for him, and rapidly.

He’s still gone by Monday and you’re missing him hard, only for the girls you work with to giggle before coming to find you.

“These were dropped for you,” they hand you a huge bouquet of red and white tube roses and a card.

It’s not Bucky’s handwriting but it’s from him,

Sorry I’m still not back, doll. I should just be gone for another day. Don’t miss me too much, yeah? I need a few kisses when I get back to make up for all this time away. I listened to that song you recommended, it was good. How do I make a playlist?

Yours,

James.

The note had you blushing and extremely flustered. Your coworkers noticed it immediately.

“Are you two going steady?”

You regret telling them who you’d been going out with. When they leave, you’re stuck with the realisation of how different Bucky is to the men you’ve dated before.

It’s a small thing, but you hardly think any of them got you flowers as consistently as he does, and you don’t think you’ve ever received such thoughtful bouquets.

You called Bucky when you got home, happy to hear his voice.

“Thank you for the flowers, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome, doll.”

You have the bouquet from today on your bedside table and smile when you spot it after changing into your pajamas.

“You caused quite a scene when they got delivered.”

You can hear the amusement in his words. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, the girls I work with brought them to me. They were very impressed by the size of the bouquet, Barnes.”

“I’m just concerned about what you think of me.” Was his answer and after that you couldn’t get a full sentence out of you.

He’s so open with his feelings towards you it’s scary, it makes your heart race but you also know he’s not just saying it. He means it and that makes you fall just a little more for Bucky.

“You’re sweet.” Is all you can manage, your face heated with a blush.

“Sam and I are finishing this up tonight, so I should be able to see you when we get back.”

You don’t know if you’re reading into his words, but Bucky sounds relieved at the prospect of seeing you soon.

“Isn’t it going to be a day’s long flight?”

“And I can see you right after I land, honey. So long as it’s not midnight or while you’re gonna be sleeping.”

Bucky Barnes isn’t good for your heart with the way he just wholly shows you how much he wants to spend time with you.

“Do you still need help with your playlist?”

He huffs, “Sam showed me. He’s not a good teacher though, was snippy the whole time; you’d think he’d remember I was in ice.”

You laugh, “I’ll show you when you get back, babe.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything about the pet name, but for the rest of the phone call he doesn’t respond unless you use it.

It’s two days before he’s back and Bucky drives straight over to see you.

He’s at your door a few hours after you get home from work, and when you open the door to see him, he’s there with a single rose in his hand and a tired smile on his face.

“Is it possible you got prettier while I was gone?” He leans against your doorway.

“You look dead on your feet, Bucky. Come inside.” you lead him to your sofa, watching him move with heavy but careful steps all the way through your living room.

Bucky’s movements are measured, not a single action wasted as he takes off his boots and socks and detaches his metal arm.

“I really missed you,” he sighs as he lays on your sofa, eyes shut as he takes a long breath.

“I really missed you too,” you brush back some hair from his face. “You could’ve gone home to sleep first, you know?”

Bucky opens his eyes and it takes great effort to do so, the whites of his eyes shot through with streaks of intense red.

“I wanted to see you,” he yawns. “But you’ve trapped me into laying on your sofa.”

You laugh, your fingers still knotted in his hair. “You can take a nap Bucky, or you can sleep the night here. I’m not really excited by the idea of you driving back tired.”

“I won’t doll,” he shuts his eyes again, the feel of your fingers on his scalp lulling him into a peacefulness he’s missed. “Tell me what you got up to while I was gone. I know you weren’t just counting down the days till I got back.”

You roll your eyes as you recount the last two weeks of your life, Bucky’s not even awake to hear what you did on the second day of him being gone.

You cover him up with your throw blanket and dim the lights of your living room. You make the playlist for him while he sleeps, putting all the songs you’ve sent him on the memory stick so he can leave with it.

Bucky doesn’t spend the night, but as he’s leaving he holds your cheek, “I didn’t come with an ulterior motive, just to see you. If you want, we can go have dinner tomorrow. I have something I want to ask you, doll.”

“That’s ominous,” you’re a little nervous by that phrase. No one likes being told that someone has ‘something to ask them’ in a day. There’s anxiety crawling up your chest before Bucky kisses your lips.

“It’s a good question baby, don’t overthink it. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

You grab the memory stick off the table before you could forget, “Here, I put all the songs I’ve sent on here.” Bucky kisses you again.

“You’re an angel,” you steal a kiss before he pulls away. “Lock your doors.”

“Sir yes sir.”

You hear him laugh all the way to his car.

Despite Bucky’s well meaning, ‘Don’t overthink it.’ That’s all you did when you woke up and started sifting through dresses to wear.

You’re ready at six and that makes you even more anxious. There’s too much time to do nothing but sit and overthink it.

You’re working yourself up to outright calling Bucky when there’s a knock at your door.

A quick peek at the clock on your stove let’s you know you’ve been overthinking it for forty five minutes.

When you open the door, Bucky’s standing in front of you in a pretty blue shirt that makes his eyes pop, and black dress pants.

He’s not got flowers this time, but he is holding a box of what you think are chocolates.

“Oh my god,” he breathes as he takes you in. You’re in a pretty pale purple dress, white heels and your hair is down in loose curls. You hadn’t gone for heavy makeup but just enough where there’s purple glitter on your eyelids and your lips are a deep red.

“You look handsome.” You say as you fight the blush creeping up your chest at the way Bucky’ stares at you.

“You look,” he trails off like he really can’t find the right words. “Breathtaking.”

You feel as though the blush explodes in your chest and heats your entire face.

Bucky hands you the box of chocolates, “They’re all dark chocolate.” You smile as you take it; that’s another thing Bucky’s remembered you like.

“Do I get to know where we’re going?”

You ask as you slip the chocolates into your purse and shut your door.

Bucky smiles as he watches you lock your door before turning to him. Immediately he links his hand with yours.

“We’re going for dinner somewhere nice,” the entire ride to the car Bucky has you talking. About the last book you read, work, if you think about him every night before bed (the last one was just to make you laugh, but the truth is you do.)

“What about you Bucky? Do you think about me before bed?”

You ask as he parks and he turns to you.

“Oh yeah,” that’s all he says before coming out of the car to open your door. “Think about you more than I think about anything else, doll.”

You manage to hold back your question just before dessert, “Can you please ask me? I’m freaking out and I think my heart might explode from the anxiety.”

There’s a laugh that bubbles from you and Bucky tuts.

“Honey,” you press a hand to your chest. Your anxiety really is at an all time high. You have so many questions rattling around your head that Bucky could want to ask you and you may throw up the lovely pasta you just had if he doesn’t ask you soon.

He leans across the table and holds onto your wrist, feeling the erratic beat of your pulse.

“I’ve been torturing you, haven’t I doll?”

You nod as you try to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t mean to,” Bucky’s thumb strokes short lines across your wrist. “I had it all set up to come with dessert but I’ll put you out of your misery.”

“Thanks,” you mutter and he smiles.

“I know we’re only going steady,” that gets a smile out of you. He really is an old man, “but I wanted to ask you if I could be yours? Saying boyfriend makes me feel older so I won’t say it.”

You laugh, letting your head fall on his hand where it holds yours.

“Not the other way around?” You ask and Bucky huffs.

“You’re not property, honey.”

You look up with a smile and Bucky’s smile gets a little brighter. “Yeah you can be mine.”

“C’mere,” he tilts your chin a little higher and kisses you; slow and just long enough for it not to be a full make out. “You really missed out on the whole cheesecake with chocolate drizzle writing.”

He says as he pulls away and you laugh.

“Oh, are they not bringing it anymore?”

Bucky shakes his head, mischief in his eyes. “After you just latched onto me in the middle of their establishment? I don’t know, doll.”

“You’re ridiculous.” They still bring the cheesecake and Bucky feeds you the first bite, and like the flirt and menace he is, he gets a little just to the corner of your mouth.

“Let me get it for you,” and steals another kiss, ‘cleaning it off.’

Bucky Barnes really knows how to court a woman.

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anantaru · 2 months ago

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your first time with him — love and deepspace

synopsis. taking your virginity

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

warnings. fem! reader, taking your v-card, reader is a virgin, dirty talk

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

zayne was anxious, very much so, trembling with his excitement as his forehead presses to your throat, his breath shaky with how hard he's trying to hold himself together, "are you sure?" he whispers at first, even though his hands were already gripping against your hips, like your yes would be the only thing that ever mattered.

and when you gave it to him, a silken sweet, real, response, he exhales like he's on the brink of dying, like you're honestly saving him with your answer.

"you don't get to take this back," he utters within a hoarse tone, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear ever so softly, "you give it to me, you chose me."

he says it like it's something sacred, like he's owed the softness between your legs, the stutter of your breath, the shiver of your thighs clamped around his hips, all in all with his hands slowly spreading you open, bare and exposed beneath him, untouched, and the glimmer in his eyes was honestly luscious, like zayne wanted to burn this moment into you until it scarred.

and then, well, he pushes in as your back arches immediately, the stretch resembling fire— like your body was folding in on itself trying to take him fully.

you cry out without meaning to, your voice cracking, the pain sharp and intimate and new, fuck, you've never felt anything like it. something so thick and overwhelming was repeatedly pushing through you, the friction of him splitting you open— muscle dragging against muscle, tight and wet and far too much.

"fuck, listen to that," he snarls against you with gritted teeth as his hips inch forward again, the sound of him sinking into you beginning to be loud and soaked, not to mention raw as your pussy clenches hard and somewhat instinctive.

zayne groans the moment he feels your body accepting him— he was, in fact, utterly gone by this point, finding himself in heaven in the way you whined for him.

your pussy clung to his length as his hand clumsily fumbles at your hip, trying to slow himself down, trying not to break you, fuck, but his rhythm falters and his mouth finds your throat instead— hot and open kisses battering all over your flesh with teeth scraping just to feel you twitch again.

your legs were out of control, thighs shaking around his waist as you didn't know it would feel like this— like you're being hollowed out from the inside, like there's no room and no air, nothing, no way to separate the ache from the pleasure that's already bleeding in at the edges.

you can feel him for real this time— hot and thick and twitching inside you, truly, feel every vein, every slow drag of his cock pressing against that too sensitive place that made your toes curl, such place you didn't know existed in the first place.

after a while, you adjust a little and get used to the new feeling as he's trying to go deeper, over calculating on how much your virgin cunt could take as you suck in a ragged breath and sob out something broken yet sweet, your fingernails digging into his back and still, zayne never stops memorizing your reactions.

his pelvis presses flush to yours as you cry out again, your stomach tight with unbearable pressure as a dull pulse starts to throb low and hard into your tightness with your nerves fried and limbs shaking.

the pain and heat on your split cunt blurs at the edges and gradually develops into pleasure, everything reduced to the feeling of being full and completely owned as you find solace in the new sensation making you addicted to his touch.

"i told you," he breathes out, his voice tight like he's holding his heart in his teeth, "this isn't just sweet, yeah? it's not just soft, this is real, love, this is you giving yourself to me, and sweetheart, i'm not letting go."

ever so, zayne was careful even now, even with how fast he was going, how ruined you felt around him because, well, he's a doctor, wasn't he? he's spent his whole life learning how to fix what's broken, yet with you, all he wanted to do was feel you, let the control slip just for once, let this moment etch itself into your bones.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

xavier watches you fall apart like he's taking notes— yet he wasn't frantic, he was patient and methodical, a hunter who's already mapped your collapse long before the first touch as with each squeeze and kiss, he shows you that it wasn't curiosity calling him— it's certainty that he wanted this to be with you. forever.

he's towering over you, his breath caught somewhere between awe and hunger, "you're really giving this to me?" he whispers, almost in disbelief, drowning in the moment with his speech being the only thing keeping him afloat, "i'm so lucky,"

his fingers flex tight against the inside of your thighs with his nails biting in, holding you open like a wound as the warmth of his palms burn through your skin.

you feel him there, right here yeah? feel it everywhere.

his cock splits you slow and brutally, the stretch pulling a sob from your chest as your lungs felt too small to bear it and your ribcage too tight to hold it down, your whole body resisting and yearning in the same breath. although he moves deeper, dragging thick through you and you swear you could feel the shape of him break you, feeling it in every vein and every twitch moving forward, every grind of bone and flesh into your virgin cunt being taken so well.

"see?" xavier breathes, frayed with hunger, "you're taking me, even when you said you couldn't."

but it aches— fuck, it aches, you cannot stop moaning, every press of him grinding up against something electric inside of your cunt making your back arch, your fingers clawing at the sheets.

it's slick too, soaking wet and overwhelming— your thighs all sticky with slick and arousal as his hips slam wet and fast into yours with a rhythm that felt like pain turned to pleasure.

your nerves were on fire and everything from the inside out of your body pulses with your belly drawn taut, consistingly multiplying in pressure as his cock fucks into you drastically, your head empty except for the maddening throbs his erection put inside you. at this point, your voice had become a mess of moans and pleas as all you could hear were grunts and hisses intertwining with your very own noises.

xavier felt just so good— he's out of this world and treating you so well, reaching places you never thought were able to be reached in the first place as he grew quite confident in his movements.

whenever he brushed his cock against your walls, you could feel your high approaching with every new snap of his hips, the position he had you in allowing the tip of his cock to reach deep enough for you to properly get used to it.

sweat clings between your bodies and turns you into one, your skin burning and flushed as the air was thick with pheromones and whines and the soft, saccharine coated sounds of him driving into you over and over and over again.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

you cannot speak and it's futile to even try.

instead, your lips were parted, with breath stuck somewhere between a gasp and a sob as your chest rose with shallow, shuddering motion when rafayel slides his cock inside for the very first time— slow, of course, with his mouth at your ear, "relax," he whispers as his tip bumps upwards, sloppily thrusting into your folds, "you gotta let me in."

your muscles resist although at last, they seize around the stretch with the burn being intoxicating. you're a little anxious about it and he notices by how hard your nails clawed at his biceps— stabilizing yourself to anything while he adjusted himself, inch by inch making you take more of his cock into the small, untouched part of you.

such place no one else has ever felt, and fuck, rafayel's mouth waters at the thought, and well— he admires you, drinks in your struggles to take him as his breath comes sharp through his nose, although his hands remained steady.

one wraps around the base of your spine, the other cradles your jaw as he keeps your head turned just enough for him to study every flicker of pain that crosses your face, "you feel that?" he asks, voice a little raspy, "that's the shape of me, don't resist it,"

you whimper, your thighs slick with sweat and the mess of him spreading slow inside you and ugh, the pain, without rafayel being so considerate and talking you through the entire process, you wouldn't be able to handle it— it's so sharp and gnawing and too much, it brings you to tears, the unrelenting force of him coiling somewhere deep inside your gut, becoming unbearable.

how flustered you have gotten considering he wasn't even all the way in yet, yet you already felt like you're being broken in half.

with that, rafayel laughs when your hips involuntarily twitch, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand and murmuring so softly it vibrates through you, "you're doing so well for me, sweetheart, so brave, letting me be your first."

his lips trail down your throat as he groans when you shiver around him, every inch dragging liquid fire through the both of you, "you feel that? how warm you are? how soft you are around me? like you were made for this— for me."

your shy gaze averts from his heavy one as he found it so unbelievably cute and amusing that you still managed to feel embarrassed even after taking his cock so perfectly with your cunt by now.

rafayel pauses his hips for a bit, his forehead sensually pressed to yours, "you're not hurting, are you? I can stop— i'd rather die than hurt you," if only he knew you thought if only he could go faster now.

fuck, your head falls back when you urge him to continue moving, his hand dancing over your stomach as he abruptly presses down— always gently, just enough for you to feel him moving deeper inside within an invading force.

"you like that? you want me to do it again?" he smirks, "you're so tight, don't even know how to take it myself, but fuck, i'll teach you, i'll teach you until your body only knows me."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

you taste like need when sylus kissed you with your lips swollen, breath catching and the edge of panic sweetened on your tongue as his fingers trail down teasingly, forever feather light when your entire body tenses under the rub of skin on skin.

he treasures the lust in your limbs and the sheen of tears catching light in your lashes as his hands remain careful, but not hesitant, no, sylus was never hesitant.

he's memorizing every inch of you with that predator's patience— every hitch in your breath, every place that made your spine arch and your thighs twitch and now he's touching you like he's memorized the blueprints of your body.

sylus grinds into you with utter patience as he pushes through your sensitive hole, inserting just the head of course, just enough to make you feel the impossible stretch of him as your body betrays you.

a sound escapes and scratches your throat, truly, it was unrecognizable when you moaned his name for the first time, as if your soul had tried to flee through you and kiss his lips.

"you're shaking," his voice was velvet, stretched thin and vibrating desperately, surely about to snap, "do you want me to stop?" a pause lingers between your lips as his hand finds yours, "tell me, and I will, but if you want this, if you want me, i'll be so gentle with you."

sylus cannot take his eyes of you, he's breathless, as if that noise were a sacred thing, a proof of something irreversible— that your body was already surrendering before you'd fully let him in. the man believed you're out of this world, wanting you to feel everything— the swollen stretch of his length, the heat his body permeated, the hefty pressure of being entered this way, inch by inch around something so intimate.

"shh, i know," each of his words dragging deeper as his eyes lock on your face like it's a mirror to his own hunger, "you feel like silk, you feel like you're fighting it."

you are, yes, you're drowning in it.

his cock sinks deeper and the burn starts to slowly blur away, sensation blooming in sickening waves, pain and pleasure curling tight in your belly until you didn't know where one ends and the other begins. the sound of your body taking him was ringing through you and when his hips finally meet yours, you felt split, your thighs immediately jerking up, your stomach knotting as you make another desperate noise, both moaning into the kiss, exchanging your breaths as the feeling of him stretching you was to die for.

sylus doesn't move a lot in the beginning, just a few pumps ever so often to find out what you liked, although staying buried to the hilt, watching the flicker of your lashes and the way your mouth trembles open like you want to say something but cannot remember how to speak.

his pace was slow but steady, every grind of his hips forcing a soft, wet sound from between your legs as his hair brushes your cheek within each thrust, his warm breath prancing over your neck— yet when you finally start to unravel, when the pressure cracks you open and your breath breaks in a thousand shards, sylus seeks for your lips as you moan into them, a sound of you falling apart being the only thing holding him together.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

you're underneath caleb, your heart pounding with a noise that didn't belong to your body, although not from fear, not entirely, it's due to him, yes— his darling face and angelic voice, murmuring your name like he's never supposed to say anything else.

caleb cups your jaw as his thumb sweeps over your cheek lovingly, your skin already burning from the softness of his hands as your thighs were slightly twinging from the way they've stayed open, aching in the weight of him.

"you're sure, really?" he asks again like he doesn't believe it.

but you nod at him and it kills him, choking up on the storm of sensation as the man moves closer when you take in his scent, the air permeating of pine and sweat and warmth, the dampness of your skin pressed against each other as the weight of his cock repeatedly nudging against your entrance was something fated, something unstoppable.

he kisses you deeply, tongue slow and ravishing your lips, like he's trying to memorize the inside of your mouth before he captures you further, your body flinches when he takes you at last, choking on the sheer breadth of it.

the stretch was cutting, your body clamping down on instinct and body saving energy due to turning overwhelmed and confused.

yes, it was painful, you cannot lie to yourself, and slightly dizzying too, like something too large being forced into a space that's never known intrusion.

caleb's hands were everywhere, one holding your thighs wide open, the other gripping your hand tightly and grounding you as he presses his forehead to yours, his breath stuttering against your lips, "breathe," he whispers, voice slightly cracking when you tense down on his length, "breathe for me, i've got you."

he's barely halfway in, and you can already feel it— stretching deep, dragging against your nerves that have never been touched before, quite literally stealing the air from your lungs.

not to mention that he was big, well, you could've guessed that yet despite that, your body kept pulling him in instinctively, not wanting him to leave anymore.

caleb gasps, "you're so tight, fuck, i can feel you shaking," you were, in fact, your whole body was shaking, belly fluttering with pressure and pain and something else— something lusting and awfully blooming low inside your belly, tight and insistent as he shifts his hips forward, just a little more, and it feels like you're being split.

his cock continues to move, dragging every wet inch against your walls as your muscles squeeze him, your eyes glimmering from how good you were being fucked as you instantly open more for him, trying to accommodate him as good as possible.

"you're doing so good," he breathes, "so perfect, you don't know what you're doing to me," as tears prick your eyes when he kisses them ever so gently, even as he keeps sinking in he whispers your name again, like he's swearing an oath.

truly, he's everywhere, moaning shamelessly like your body was the only thing that's ever mattered to him, inhaling your maddening scent sharply as he kept rutting inside of you.

"i can't believe this is real," he cries out with his mouth against your temple and his hips rocking in and out, the friction too much as you're still too sensitive when dig your nails into his back to sob into his neck.

you're crying, you don't even know why, maybe it's the pain, maybe the stretch, maybe the way he kept whispering your name like it's the only thing he's ever wanted to say. with that, you clutch to him tighter, needing him closer, needing him deeper, and caleb gave it to you instantly, everything you desired— every inch, every rock of hips, every broken word of promises.

"you'll never need anyone else," he speaks as if the air itself was fragile, every word cutting deeper as he places a couple kisses on your cheek before smiling into the skin, "i'm going to keep you like this forever."

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