#valley echoes asides

[theambivalentagender]

I've been messing around with my line art style a LOT recently. Hopefully it'll look good when this is finished.

[theambivalentagender]

I’ve gotten this dialogue more than once in my recent play through and every time I keep making this joke.

I can’t decide if this conversation is funnier if it happens before or after Zeke and Shane start dating.

[cloudtransprncy]

"One Night Only"

Word count: 11210 Jennie x Male reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

She'll come. She always does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just one night

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

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

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

My first fic, hope you guys like it.

[rroseselavyyy]

vespertine - myg

pairing: yoongi x female reader

warnings: smut

As soon as you locked eyes with his, he slammed you against the door before you could even greet him. He didn't need to talk about how stressful his day had been because he knew you could see right through him from the moment he walked into your apartment.

You whimpered like a wounded deer as he pressed his body against yours and kissed you with his mouth open as if he wanted to steal the air from your lungs. He lifted you off the floor by wrapping your legs around his waist.

You didn't say a word to each other as he carried you up to your room. You unbuttoned his shirt as he climbed the stairs. His breath caught in his throat as you drew your face closer to the nape of his neck, giving love bites to his sensitive flesh.

He tasted like the pomegranate seeds you willingly ate to exchange your freedom for his kingdom of darkness.

You fell onto the bed with him on top of you. You were both panting heavily when you finally locked your eyes with his. He was more than emboldened to make you shy under his heated gaze as your crimson-red cheeks made you look even more beautiful.

He could never be more in love with you. Your mere presence was enough to enthrall Yoongi.

"You're so beautiful, angel." After removing his clothes, he took his place between your legs, trapping his frame between them on either side of him. He took a moment to brush your hair away from your face with his slender fingers. His free hand landed on your knee to spread your legs further apart. You closed your legs around his hand, inviting him to follow it to your most private parts. "You're beautiful too, daddy."

You whimpered as he pulled your panties aside and stretched your pussy with his middle and index fingers, your slickness making it easy for him to slide inside your walls. "Fuck- baby, you're dripping. Is it all for me?"

"Yes, daddy." You breathed through your nose as his thumb stroked your clit in a way that made your vision blur when the pleasure was too consuming for you to think straight. “It’s all for you.”

Though he had only asked the question to tease you, your sweet declaration sent shivers down his spine. You were like a delicate flower in his garden, he wanted to corrupt you until he had you all to himself.

“Do you think you're ready for my cock, angel?”

Your manicured fingers scratched his neck as you nodded feverishly. He slipped his fingers out of you and a whimper escaped your lips as if you missed the feel of his fingers filling you. 

He teased you with the tip of his cock as you let out a sob as if you couldn't wait any longer. You felt like you were about to lose your mind as he sank into you inch by inch.

His lips felt soft against your skin as his kisses traced a path down your throat to your breasts. He sucked on your nipples through your sheer floral bra as if tasting the sweetest honey. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear about how good you were to him as he made you see stars under his weight.

He picked up a pace that made loud thumps as he fucked you into the mattress, causing the bed to hit the wall. His raven hair fell into his eyes and sweat dripped from his forehead. He left kisses on your cheek as loud moans came from your mouth.

His thrusts became more brutal and his animalistic grunts echoed in your ears. You felt tears streaming down your face as you murmured to his lips how much you loved him. He finished inside your heavenly walls as your pussy gripped his cock tightly. His warm cum filled you to the brim, triggering your orgasm right after him.

He didn't pull out, but instead he lay down on top of you and rested his head on the valley of your breasts. His hands were on either side of you, caressing your skin in a soothing way.

"Yoongi, you can tell me what happened." He sighed as you played with his damp hair. "Your dad's giving me a hard time at work."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" You pulled his hair slightly so he could look at your face. He looked intently into your eyes before kissing your worries away. There was a look of amusement on his face as he pulled away from the kiss that you had shared with him.

"Don't worry about me, angel. I think it would be enough to give him a heart attack if I told him that I take my frustrations out on her daughter's pussy every time he makes me mad."

--

[theambivalentagender]

So this is the post I did this sketch for.

Farmer at 3am nudging Shane awake: Hey, would you still love me if I was a worm?

Shane disoriented from sleep: Wtf no

[spurbleu]

mouth, reprieves ♛︎

[ken sato x afab reader]

S. Ken Sato is a bitter loser. And you are patient- if not a little giving.

warnings: mdni, blowjob

word count: 2k

࿓༚︎︎‧⁎︎✳︎⁎︎‧︎༚︎࿓︎

A pity bloated between your lungs.

The loss wasn’t significant, only by a point. But you supposed that’s what made it sting - the stain of ‘so close’ and ‘almost’ near wicked in the grooves of the bat hold, or the home plate- plastic patched in rifts of dust and dirt (hard to swallow, all of it). Its grief was visible- slumped shoulders and buckling knees stuck to the grime on their uniforms, the announcer’s voice coming in- static and lame.

“And that is a wrap for the Giants 3rd game of the season. First loss this year- what does it mean for the future?”

It rattled the stadium- the echoing disappointment. It folded in the gaps of the chairs, salting the air in a bitter, frustrated sigh. You were unsure if you wanted to join the chorus or curse it.

The memories seeped through- distinct. The pull of his lips when they met yours. The twitch of his knuckles when he held his liquor. His light heels after his last physical therapy session (when magnified- wings. Stamped on the bone of his ankle- fluttering- impatient). The thrum of his snore, thick with anticipation- and expectations (never met).

Kenji’s first game of the season- a loss.

You didn’t take the frigidity personally. You knew the clouds in his iris, the roll of thunder from the back of his throat and off his tongue, was just an indication he cared. The breakage of his indifference, esteem cracking through its steel walls. He had learned to remove blame from his teammates- but as a result the weight on the breadth of his own shoulders grew immense.

It simmered- his insecurities. Boiling beneath the thin patches of skin where he slid on his knees- tender and spiteful. Drives home were borderline silent, aside from the heavy breath against his philtrum and the shifting of his shirt as you rubbed the tense muscles connecting his shoulders. Sometimes, it felt like talking to a wall- resistant to reassurance- as if the letters in ‘you did just fine’ and ‘I’m proud of you’  were venomous (fearful of the gentleness in cyanide).

But it was how he was. Equally as accepting of praise as he was averse to it. A paradox at home base.

You stood on the balls of your feet, swallowing dry air in timid gulps, watching the entrance to the locker room doors. Other wives and girlfriends- some children- and family members stood there in tense guilt- hands itching to embrace the men in a hug that promise ‘next time’.

Eventually, the belly of the stadium spit the players out, slick in its drooly chagrin.

There was a drop to the regular sharpness of his cheeks, ending at the base of his lips- dry and cracked. His hair stuck to his forehead- wet with outlines from the notches of his helmet- which was tucked under his arm (it looked more like a burden than a prize- its frequent glimmer dimmed by dust). The valley under his eyes a depressing shade of plum- his eyes dimmer yet festering.

But it was his brows that exposed the loss of immunity. Pleats in the center of his face, furrowing so low, that if you weren’t close enough, they would have looked joint with the shadow they caused.

When he found you amongst the hushed comfort, the rigidity in his shoulders collapsed into a softer word, striding towards you like a kid who broke a window (baseball myth, but maybe you’ll let him live in it for now).

“H-“

He curled into in gap of your shoulder and your neck, arms lazily embracing the small of your back and pulling you into his chest. You felt the hairs of his brows sink deeper into your shoulder, his breath fanning on your collar bone.

Your hand came to fill its gaps with the tangle of his hair, palming his temples. This embrace was familiar- not because he lost often, but because you found it somewhere in every day. The mornings during breakfast, pillow talk under plains of insomnia, the after-sex glow. Touch tugged a heart string in you both, and although there was no proof, you swear you could feel his heart slow when it kissed yours.

(He made you a romantic, and even after years the shoe still feels too big)

You pull away, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He didn’t kiss you back, but you didn’t mind. It was more of a reminder anyway- a way for you to say I’m here.

“Let’s go home.”

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

Looking from a doorway in the movies always appears more tranquil than it actually is.

There is nothing peaceful about watching your partner blister under their own defeat. The bounce of his knee, a desperate attempt to relax the tension that mends his muscles to the bone. You, left in your own uncertainty, bit the bumpy flesh behind your bottom lip, legs flinching with the impulse to do.  

Comfort, rally, motivate. Your mind searched for a better plan of action in the rise and fall of his shoulders, as he scrutinized the recordings of the game in dim light under a magnifying glass (ants in summer heat).

The body talks. Yours was saying thousands of things at once- none resonating. Dry hands, calloused by hourglass sand and the gruff reality of your own exhaustion, would do nothing but stir him from his own brood then bring him deeper into it. Your mouth would say filtered words with little connotation, leaving you both in a spell that felt purposefully blundering.

Then a spark, somewhere lower than your hips. A blushing growth- spoke in deep tones of arousal and charity.

Alone, your hands and mouth proved useless.

But together…

You pushed yourself off the wide wall, shuffling over in your pajama set loud enough that he could hear you coming. He didn’t move, eyes still trained in silent remorse as he watched his tapes. Your heart dragged on the surface of your ribs- pity.

You came to stand in front of the television, reaching behind you and grabbing the remote before forcing his chin up with your other hand. His jaw rested on your curled fingers, vulnerable. His eyes looked burned at both ends, the wick of his iris without fire, or rebuttal.

You took a seat on his lap, wrapping your arms on his slumped shoulders. A beat, before he caved into you, pulling you into the crook of his hips. You molded into him, taking a moment to turn the television off, dowsing you both in a dark, somnolent ease.

You familiarized yourself with every version of this pose. In his lap, drowse eating at both of your guts, limbs pulling each other closer still. It wasn’t a planned routine- just comfortable. You’d heard the line ‘we were made for each other’ about a dozen times in different movies and books- and although you found it cliché- there was a truth to it.

Good love can be cliché. Done over and over because it feels right. Kenji- his arms and his heart- feel right to you and they always have.

(Again, he makes you a romantic).

“You were amazing today, baby.” You said into his ear. He huffed- but you took his grip on your thighs as encouragement.

You kissed his cheek, then his jaw, and with each purse of your lips you tried to make a point. “You are the best baseball player in the league,” you continued down to his neck, hands coming to rest on his collar bone, “one game doesn’t change that…”

You felt his throat rumble, and it took you a few kisses to realize he had spoken.

“Keep…going.”

Fuck.

It was embarrassing to be aroused when you’re supposed to be comforting someone, but God. The timbres of his voice, their effortless depth and coon, pleading you of all people to do more was enough to make you start riding his thigh.

You reminded yourself that tonight was about his pleasure, and your own would have to be on the back burner.

You slipped your hands under his shirt, cool flesh meeting his hot abdominal, twitching under your nails. You traced the shadows of his muscle, enjoying the mumble that shook his adams apple as you kissed under his jaw.

“You’re talented and everyone knows it,” down the dip between his collarbones, “you’ve carried the team and brought them together…” your hands made your way to his chest, where you could feel his heart beating under the grooves of your palm. Good. You tapped his shoulder from underneath his shirt, and he understood, immediately shedding the shirt and throwing it carelessly into the dark.

You continued down his stomach, sending occasionally glances up. His face was veiled in something rounder now- the earlier layers of woe and its harsh lines drawn by the furrow of his brow replaced by something a little more sanguine. It peaked from behind the whites of his eyes and glowed under the plush of his cheeks in a blooming pink.

You dragged your lips further down, navigating the narrow of his waist, “You’ve got a handsome face to match your wit,” you kissed the band of his sweats, before you curled the digits of your fingers over, peeling it back to reveal the near painful tent spring from the cotton of his boxers, “and…fuck your big…”

You swallowed, massaging the cusp of his cock, feeling as he curved his hips into your palm, a soft moan breaching the clench of his teeth. You looked up at him- beautiful in the light of his own rousing. His throat bobbled; words caught in his tonsils.

You didn’t need him to speak- you knew what they were.

You brought back to his boxers, cock slapping the underside of his stomach. He sucked a breath through his teeth above you- desperation in the discoloration of his bottom lip- bruised. The shroom cap was weeping your name in a pearl of pre-cum, which you massaged with your thumb. You slowly pumped his length in your hands, hand moving in slow, tight swells at the base of it.

You knew it well- you had felt it a dozen times over. The vein that crawled from its root on the right side- thick- spelling your name in morse. The deepened pink as it ran up to his tip, the glans warm in hot colors of desire. The velvet that patched its stiff underside was particularly memorized- molded in the walls of your cunt.

But there would always be that stutter in your breath- your body talking in haphazard beats- a need he fills to the brim. It wasn’t shock, it wasn’t admiration, but you settle for somewhere in between.

“You’re so strong- from your injury, to protecting the city,” if felt somewhat strange- authentic compliments paired with the pumping of his cock, the tip of his jaw and buck of his hips begged your fruition in low moans, “there is no other man like Kenji Sato…”

A gruff groan from the pit of his lungs made your own sex thrum with a familiar density, and you let a soft moan escape your own lips as you slipped them down his cock.

Hypoxia bloomed in the back of your throat- bright purple capturing oxygen. You let your maw clench and reel at the pressure- familiar but desperate for accommodation. Your breath came out in a single syllable against the base of him, nostrils flaring.

He moaned above you, the tremble of his ecstasy rolling down his shoulders and to the bridge of his cock, rattling your tonsils with an unflattering gag. His hands came to hold your hair, grip massaging the back of your scalp with a needy grip.

“Hah…shit…you’re too good to me…”

You bobbed your head in protest, tongue flattening to cup his front. Your fingers worked what your mouth couldn’t, fondling the sensitive bonds of his groin- slick in saliva. He let out a gruff growl, holding your head with a fatal grip- pushing you down to swallow more of him.

You held his thighs for balance you kneeled between them- tears pricking your eyes. You swear you feel him at the ends of your tongue as he rolled his hips into your mouth- hollowed cheeks to take the grit of him- avoiding grazing teeth.

You glanced up at him- met with the bend of his jaw- mouth open as he moaned your name like a mantra. It was so melodic- and for something so lewd it was sweet. Honied in the places that we were taught filthy- buried beneath the stickiness of arousal and sex was something warmer.

You sped up your pace- promising a song from him as you pushed your tongue to the roof of your mouth, tightening the plunge of your throat.

“Ohshit- fucking hell you feel so good baby…so good to me,” His ruts were becoming sloppy, breaking under the weight of his own overstimulation, “I’m gonna cum down that perfect mouth of yours…”

You loved him like this. Goo in your hands, the sharper edges of his jaw and his tongue softened when laid next to you. Saying your name like he’d forget it- hoping it brands into his flesh, maybe his bones. It brought your own weeping hole thrilling pleasure- the puff of your heart rapid.

Lost in rapture- the smaller moments and the forgotten words- somewhere in the craters of your bodies. You’d accepted it- becoming idyllic- eased into a life where love could mean so many things at once and all be right.

As in- the kiss goodnight is just as important as the blowjob after a loss.

You were made ugly- snot drippling down your lips in blunt weeps, tears wetting your lashes in asphyxiation. You were positive the round of your cheeks was rosed- glossed by the precum and spit that wetted your lips as you slipped up and down, tandem rhythm with his hips.

You could feel strands of your hair being ripped from the sensitivity of your scalp- his hands gripping hard enough it felt as though he’s trying to hold your skull. His moans were restless now, a wet and sickening chorus to the hymn of your nose hitting his stomach.

“Shit-shitshitshit oh fuck I’m cu-cummm uhmm…”

It painted the cave of your throat, the cap of your tongue, the roof of your mouth- ruthless. Filled your throat in hues of stress, lost to the compassion of your molars and the crest of your mouth. You could feel the excess ropes peel back the corners of your lips as it bubbled to meet his pelvis, which was still fucking your mouth in a noisy, orgasmic frenzy.

It slid from your fissure with a quiet pop, and you took his wrists, pulling them limply from your head as you stood, sitting back on his lap, softening cock resting behind your ass. You kissed his throat, feeling the shuddering breaths that fogged the air around you, catching his expression- knotted brows and tight nose- compressed in a vague expression of lust- and thanks.

You ran your fingers through his hair- kissing up to his ear, “I meant everything I said, earlier, y'know.”

You felt him nod shakily. “I know…sometimes I just like to hear you say it.”

You snorted- there he was. “Cocky bastard.”

He chucked, pulling you into his chest, smile soft against the indent of your shoulder. “Well, you had it down your throat.”

You pulled back, giving him his first real kiss of the night. Admittedly, it was to shut him up, but when he pulled you closer still, lips molding to yours in the way they always do, you both knew it was because you wanted to.

You pulled away, eyes opening to his face- lips pursed and eyes closed (adorably stupid, stupidly adorable- somewhere between the two) you laughed, pressing a kiss between his brows.

“Okay Mr. Romance let’s get you to bed.”

You began to slide off his waist before he pulled you back down, eyes open and revealing something much more earnest. The harsher edges of his face seemed to smooth over (rock eroded, calmed), and he leaned his head to your chin.

“Thank you.”

You sighed into his hair- deep down you wanted to say he didn’t need to thank you. But he had enough about him tonight.

“You’re welcome- my throat is going to be sore because of you.”

His head came up to meet yours, and you knew he was back when you saw his classic smirk pull at the corners of his lips. “Should I loosen it up again?”

You rolled your eyes, sliding off his waist before grabbing his hand and pulling him up. You wrapped your arms up to base of his shoulder blades and he returned the embrace, body molding to the shape of your front.

The sensitive part of you wanted to stay like this forever- pushing into him- held- safe. If you closed your eyes, you could, and somewhere in your forever you heard,

“I love you.”

[brewed-pangolin]

"Yer starin' again, love."

Soap's smooth, baritone voice called to you in the vastness of your enraptured stare. Subtle memories of a smile returned into the lines of your lips, pulling yourself back into the realm of existence with a languid whisper rolling off your tongue.

"Sorry, John. Still getting used to them."

"Aye. Take it ya like 'em then?"

Your cheeks burned with the unending affection for the man you had grown to love. Gaze lingering on the newly adorned carbon fiber rims surrounding his eyes, drawing ever more attention to the cerulean stare within.

"Yeah. I like 'em."

"Hm. Still getting used to 'em m'self, lass." He muttered, repositioning the frames on the bridge of his nose to regain focus on the writing in his hand.

"Perhaps you need better reading material," you interjected with a cracked smile.

His blue eyes rolled above the black rim like a current over a pebbled stream. His expression accentuated by a prominently arched brow as he laid the morning paper aside for something much more appealing.

"And what would you have in mind, love? Enlighten me."

You bit the inside of your mouth to keep the smart comment at bay. Preferring a more elusive method of enticing him rather than the usual gritty temperament.

"I think you know what I mean, John."

He shook his head with a heavy brow, a drawn out sigh parting through his lips as his fingers grasped at the arm of his glasses.

"Yer 'opless, lass. Y'know that?"

You raised a hand to halt him mid removal.

"No. Keep them on."

Soap paused. His eyes narrowed, brimming with glorious intent with a curl to his lips that sent a shockwave straight to your core.

"A'right. I'll keep 'em on. But if ya break 'em with them thighs, I'm gonnae break yer back."

"Promise?"

His eyes darkened like an incoming storm within the black, polished frames, a distant rumble echoing deep in his chest as you gingerly hiked up your night gown.

"Heid yer weesht"

Rising from his chair to his full stature, a towering mogul of a man as he marched, knelt down, and prepared to please his most adoring fan.

"Is this gonna become an'ther fetish, lass?"

"Don't know yet. Didn't think I had a thing for an old man in glasses until now."

"Old?"

You had to refrain from letting out a laugh as his growing scowl scolded you. Removing it from his features with the sight of your glistening cunt while he brought himself between the valley of your thighs.

"Do yerself a favor an' keep that smart mouth shut fer five minutes, an' let this old man take care a'ya."

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

[theambivalentagender]

One off comic from the sleepover arc, just before Zeke and Shane started dating.

[theambivalentagender]

I split the difference with Gridball in Valley Echoes and turned it into some kind of Ultimate Sports Nightmare where a game of "soccer" and a game of "American football" meet in the middle of the field and whatever happens happens.

I love how gridball is played like an American football vs everywhere else football thing in Stardew but also it's so confusing???

Like Shanes jersey is based on the Seattle Sounders jersey and he has a collectors soccer ball in his room, so I think when he's referring to liking gridball he's talking ab something closer to soccer. Alex likes a more American style version, given he has a football and helmet in his room, and he throws a football around outside. Photos for reference:

But when it comes to gridball related events they're seen together a lot?? Like Alex shows up to the Tunnelers game and Shane uses the game room Alex gets set up in the Saloon which is VERY obviously American football themed. Is gridball some kind of weird ass combo of the two different types of football???? Are there two teams named the Tunnelers that do different sports?? Do we have a canon explanation for this?

[ae-neon]

Two of A Kind (snippet)

Loosely Pride and Prejudice inspired.

Eris Vanserra crested the hill on his steed. It was rare for the prince to find himself with no immediate business to attend to and so, he had decided to make the trek from his post on the Summer border to the Ember Palace on his own. Had hoped to give himself enough time to sort through the tangle of thoughts and feelings he now faced.

Before him, the valley which housed the heart of the Autumn Court spread out. Sparkling lines of golden sunlight reflected off ripples in the water gardens, it’s edges bursting with greenery. Seven-foot-tall, white-feathered cranes dotted the landscape, hunting the tiny red dragons that darted about. And narrow stone bridges crossed between the handful of islets crowned by pavilions and weeping willows.

Ahead of the garden stood the Ember Palace, cradled to the East and North by jewel toned woods of oak, aspen, birch and maple. The palace was enormous: four storeys tall and sprawling with 3 000 rooms; built to bring every House of Autumn under the watchful eye of it’s Lord. There was no doubt it was a befitting capital, but Eris could not shake the pit in his gut which told him it was too big to be a home. That in this change of residence, something intangible would once again be lost forever.

He urged Windrunner forward into a gallop until they crossed the wide West Bridge and rode into the forecourt. The place was bustling, buzzing with servants carrying furniture and ornamentation into the building, all it’s windows and doors thrown wide open as more staff cleaned and decorated.

A familiar fae male, uniformed in the Palace staff’s beige vests, came forward to greet him, “Your Highness.”

“Has everyone else arrived?” Eris dismounted, entrusting the reigns to the man’s waiting hand.

“Yes, His Majesty called them to his study half an hour ago, though Her Majesty has not yet joined them.”

Eris took the stairs two at a time and slipped through a tall, open door as sails of white lace curtains billowed in the breeze. He waved a dismissive hand at the servants who had paused in their tasks to greet him, “Carry on, please.”

His own doubts aside, the palace was undeniably magnificent and Eris could admit his father’s decision to reoccupy it was the right one. Autumn needed them here. And, with a court as notoriously cutthroat as this, it was wisest to have it’s restless nobles where you could see them.

He removed his leather gloves and hooked his wrist behind his back, watching in idle fascination as chandeliers were mounted, busts dusted and lounging chairs unveiled. The tap of his polished boots fell under the movements and murmuring voices, but it was all much quieter than he’d imagined. The squawk and song of birds still managed to carry up from the gardens, down from the forests and echo through the halls. That, at least, felt familiar. The Forest House too, despite being a smaller castle nestled up in the mountains, had also always echoed with the nature that surrounded it.

Eris moved through the enormous building, passed busy kitchens and empty libraries, until he reached a crimson hallway in the North Wing. He had slowed his sure stride in this part of the palace, almost surprised by the intimacy of the portraits that lined the walls. In them, he and his brothers grew – from little boys who cradled puppies to proud men, each with a phoenix perched on their arm. In some they stood austere, in others they seemed to be caught in some innocuous moment; reading or playing at their mother’s feet.

He'd paused when his eye had caught on one in particular: Beron Vanserra standing tall with a hand on the shoulder of each of the two boys in front of him. Eris’ stomach twisted as his amber, fox eyes shifted between the two boys – their identical dimpled smiles, their wine coloured hair and the violet flames cupped in their hands. So alike, he could not even tell which of the two he was.

He turned at the sound of voices as two figures approached; his mother’s head servant, Silas, clucking around her. To anyone passing by, the sight of a servant so familiar with the Lady of Autumn might have set their hackles rising but those who knew the two understood they were in a constant balance of excitement and put on airs, and had been for centuries.

His mother was in a rare state of undress, adorned in a loose indigo shift and a robe made entirely of snow white crane feathers. The colour popped against her warm brown skin and glowing golden eyes – from head to toe, she was the picture of the Autumn Marshes and its people. Silas, a harpy fae, had a bead of sweat running from his tawny widow’s peak, no doubt from the inferno of heat the Lady Lorien was unintentionally radiating.

“Mother,” Eris greeted, lips tugging upwards and dimples creasing his lean face, “Do try not to cook Silas."

“Oh!” The heat was almost instantly gone and Eris let himself be pulled into a hug, taking in the scent of cinnamon and vanilla that wafted from her curling crimson hair. "My darling boy, you're finally here."

“Your Highness,” Silas gave a small bow in greeting and thanks.

Eris leaned back and cast a glance between the two, his eyebrows lifting at the heat that had been coming off his mother and the shifting of Silas’ eagle eyes, “Now, what news has the two of you so vexed?”

The two shared an unsubtle, conspiratorial glance.

“Silas...” Eris began but his mother wound her arm through his and tugged Eris along, waving a dismissal at her servant who took the opportunity to flee before he could be interrogated.

She led them to the heavy mahogany doors at the end of the hallway which creaked open at a wave of her hand. Eris felt her power reverberating through the very foundations of the palace and rippling outwards into the manicured gardens and wild forest beyond. It was clear that years of absence had taken it’s toll and his parents would need to hold a ceremony soon, to feed the land and in turn renew their connection to it. Between the upcoming court season – the first in 500 years – and a possible Hunting Rite, Eris could only imagine how wildly different Autumn was about to become.

The room beyond the doors was an airy space, it’s left dominated by a massive fireplace whose ochre flames were as familiar to Eris as his own.

At the centre of the room, four leather couches surrounded a table where Lucien and Marcel now played chess while Sebastian loomed over them, likely trying moderate the two notorious cheats.

To the right, Beron Vanserra sat at his desk, glancing above the rim of his glasses as Eris and Lady Lorien entered.

Eris glanced up to find Ash and Oak leaning against the railing of the upper loft, where their father kept a small library. They waved in unison.

As usual, Eris tried not to dwell on Apollo’s absence.

An ivory furred pup which had been asleep at Marcel’s feet popped it’s head up and hurried over. Eris bent down to lift the little creature up and cradle it against his chest as his mother floated towards the lounges, draping herself across an empty one with a loud sigh. It seemed whatever had been whispered between his mother and her butler was about to be revealed.

For a moment, united in mischief, no one spoke. Lady Lorien sighed again. Louder. Finally, Beron seemed to be at the end of whatever he was penning, set down his quill and addressed his wife, “Something the matter?”

“I have, just now, received word from cousin Edgar that Celeste Hugard is engaged to William Aisling.”

“A congratulations are in order then,” Marcel said dryly, still not risking lifting his eyes from the game.

Their mother ignored him, “It is a terrible shame. Miss Hugard is said to be the most handsome woman of the Court, and as the Hugard's only child, is to inherit a fortune.”

“And?” Beron cocked his head, his face as inscrutable as always. Their father was the opposite of his lady wife in everything from temperament to physical appearance. Beron favoured the East of Autumn: brown hair so dark it was almost black, evergreen eyes and the pallid tone and stoicism of someone who had been born under near constant cloud cover.

“And,” Lady Lorien sat up, flustered, “Well it is a waste, isn’t it? When we have five handsome boys with no lack of talent or manners among them?”

Eris almost laughed. Ash and Oak did laugh. Their father shot them a look, “If your assessment of their manners rings as true for their beauty and talent, then perhaps Celeste Hugard has made a prudent choice.”

“You are missing the point, my Lord.” Lorien Vanserra ploughed on, “As you’ve refused to host a ball here at the palace, the Hugard-Aislings will have the honour of throwing the first party of our new era – one which I will have to attend, and there be accosted on my failing to have any of the boys marry. And make no mistake, this humiliation will set a trend; if the handsomest woman at Court could so easily overlook a Vanserra then what of the second or third? Our boys will be made beggars, my Lord.”

Eris slid his gaze to his father, who seemed almost contemplative for a moment before the ghost of a smile graced his lips, “I see, then you will have to impress upon the court, before the Hugard-Aislings can, that the Lady Lorien is the handsomest woman at Court and that her sons are – in equal measure – ‘handsome boys with no lack of talent or manners among them’.”

She pouted, “Buy it is too late now to-"

Beron interrupted her with a hand on the papers piled on his desk, “The Aislings, the Darrows, Lady Birchwood, Lord Bellecourt, Sir and Lady Dechamp, the Ivermont Harwoods, the Davenport Harwoods, the Archerons, the Lavilleine Du Ponts, Celeste Hugard, all of the Rowans and that new boy from Lafon – the painter – have all already confirmed their attendance.”

*

Odd place to end, yes. But that's cause I'm mainly posting this snippet to bully myself into finally taking on the Neris pride and prejudice fic as an active project.

As with all my longer fic I will start posting it on ao3 when I get to 3 chapters.

Please do not mind the use of man/woman/people - I tried to use male and female and I gagged, sorry

Also, I don't know if my English is up to the task of this formal style but I'll try 🥲

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝔹𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡

🥀Pairing: Choi San x Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact

🥀Au: Sweet Sorrow of Evil au written with @thelargefrye , Medieval Au, Fantasy au, royal au

🥀Trope: male consort x queen

🥀Summary: San shows that you deserve to be spoiled like the queen you are, and why exactly he was the one chosen to be your first consort

🥀Kinks: body worship, oral (f), breast play, penetrative sex with no barrier, dry humping, switch! Reader, switch! San, cum play, cum eating

🥀Word Count: 2,229

🥀Betas: n/a

🥀Day Sixteen: Cockwarming 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Eighteen: Size Kink

You were up to your nose in the copper tub, wondering how long San would let you soak in there. It was your night with your consort but you weren't looking forward to giving yourself to the man whose duty it was to please you. You’d rather cuddle up with Jongho right now, while he read his nighttime book of choice.

“My queen?” San held out your robe.

You stood up and stepped out of the tub, allowing him to hold open the robe and wrap it around you. He tucked his head into the crook of your neck from behind while he tied up your robe. “Your skin is delectable,” he murmured.

You felt his rough tongue on a patch of skin. “San… Did you just lick me?”

San giggled into your neck and then released you but grabbed your hand instead. “Come to bed.”

The bed had been scattered with red rose petals and you laughed under your breath. “Is all this really necessary, San?”

San cocked his head. “Of course. You are the queen. And you should be treated as such.”

“San,” You ducked your head in embarrassment.

San brought your hand to his lips and kissed it. “It's my night with you. Let me spoil you.”

You let San lay you back on your bed, the dark sheets lit up with the rose petals. The perfume permeated your nose as you looked up at San. His billowy white top only highlighted his beautiful bronze skin. He smiled down at you and leaned down to run a hand against your cheek. “You're so beautiful.”

San climbed on the bed, remaining on his hands and knees. He began to kiss your face starting with your forehead and cheeks, nose and jawline. “Each part of you is precious to me,” San whispered with each kiss.

You moaned softly when he began to kiss down your neck. You moved your head to the side to allow him easy access. It made San chuckle against your neck. “So good for me, my queen,” he said.

You whimpered as he pushed aside your robe to kiss down the valley of your breasts. His tongue came out sneakily, licking up stray droplets of water that the robe had not absorbed. His hands skimmed the side of your breasts but he didn't cup them or touch your nipples. You arched your back for more but San simply continued to kiss down your torso.

“Please,” You whimpered, digging your hands into San's hair.

“I'll take care of you, my queen, you don't need to beg,” San replied impishly.

Your hands tightened, pulling back hard to look San in the eyes. “I don't beg for anything, San,” You growled.

San simply smiled. “There she is. The evil queen they all whisper about when it's dark and they fear you'll focus on them.”

Concern echoed in your gaze and San pulled at your hold on him, pressing a kiss where your eyebrows were furrowed. “I'm not scared of you, of course.”

You smile slightly. “Of course.”

“That's because I know if you kill me, you'd have Jongho to answer to.” San grinned cheekily.

You grinned eerily at San, making him gulp loudly. “You'll still be dead.”

“Luckily, I know a few tricks to convince you to not kill me.”

Your robe was undone and San finished his descent down your stomach to kiss your mound. He pushed your thighs apart, hands heavy on your inner thighs. You closed your eyes, anticipating that San would begin to pleasure your cunt, but instead he began to kiss down your thigh.

You sighed heavily, opening your eyes to see San's eyes in gleeful half-moon crescents, quite aware of your disappointment. “Are you trying to drive me wild?” You demanded.

San made his way down to your ankle, kissing it, and then said, “Yes. But I'm also trying to worship your body, like you deserve.”

You raised your hands and beckoned San back to you. San followed, cupping your face and kissing you thoroughly. His tongue tangled with yours, a messy kiss full of enthusiasm for you. His hands eventually moved down your torso again, sliding your robe completely out of the way so he could play with your breasts. His hot palms pressed against them, sliding and giving way so that his thumbs could flick across your nipples and make them pert for him. His lips looked wonderful around your nipples, eyes making contact with yours to watch the faces you made while he licked your nipples inside of his mouth.

He grinded his clothed lower half into your bare core, making you moan. “Give me everything, San,” You commanded him.

San grinded even harder into you, the friction toeing the line between pleasure and pain. The both of you looked down to see your slick had smeared the front of his pants, and the lewdness of it made you both curse. “I have to taste you,” San mused out loud and immediately lowered himself back down your body again.

“Worship your queen,” You purred. You felt rather than saw the shudder travel through San’s body.

“Yes, my queen,” San promised, eyes solely on your wet pussy.

San ate you up like a starved man. He could have gone straight to the bundle of nerves that would have given you instant gratification but instead licked your wet folds with a pointed tongue. He tasted every crevice that was available to him. He sucked your lower lips into his mouth and traced your hole delicately. He even shoved his tongue inside of you a few times just to get you to buck up into his face, smearing your wetness evenly across his face. His nose nudged your clit and you pushed his face further into your aching cunt.

“There isn’t a part of you I don’t want to kiss,” He groaned. You could see his lower half grinding into the bed, his hips moving back and forth to give himself some relief to his cock that was probably twitching to get inside of you.

“San, San,” You said his name to get his attention. “Don’t move your hips like that if you aren’t going to move inside of me.”

San bit down on his lower lip, slowly letting it pop out. “Your highness…”

You didn’t want San to withhold anything. This feeling of being a delicious morsel for San was heady. “Tell me, San.”

“Please let me fuck you and come inside of you,” San begged. “I’ll show you the stars but please, let me come inside of you this time.”

Previously you had been getting San to pull out and come on your stomach. Of course royal heirs were important, but you had agreed to San being consort in order to get the council off your back, simple as that. You still had more ruthless moves to make against your enemies and you did not need to be fat with child while doing so. Not to mention, you didn’t have the best parents in the world, and didn’t want to inflict that on another child.

“Please?” San begged and then he began to flick his tongue along your clit.

You grabbed the sheets under you and arched your back. San had your lips spread so that he had direct access to that sensitive bundle of nerves. He had you coming undone for him quickly, thighs shaking with pleasure coursing through you.

And with that messy face, he kissed his way up your body, smearing your wetness all along your body until he tangled his tongue with yours again. You could taste yourself on his tongue and yet you still let him kiss you like you were the cook’s prized dessert. “Please,” San said with a growly voice, full of desire for you.

You moaned and cupped San’s face. “If Jongho asks you, you’ve been coming inside of me every night, do you hear me?”

San smirked, slow and satisfied. “Why would Jongho ask me that?”

“Because he knows me,” You sighed. “You can come inside of me tonight, San, you have my permission.”

What passed between San’s lips next was caught between a chuckle and a hoot. “You won’t regret it, your highness.”

In the candlelight of your royal bedchamber, San stood on his knees and pulled his shirt off with one firm yank behind his back. His dimples showed as he grinned to your reaction of pure adoration at his bare upper body. He was a man worth gazing upon. Next went his pants, in which one wrong step almost sent him face first into the fur rug under him until he caught himself against the bedpost. The clumsiness only made you adore him that much more.

San slowly fucked his way into your cunt, hands gripping your thighs and hips as he did so. The squeezes were appreciative of the flesh there. He manhandled them to hold himself back from simply hammering into you. San was your consort and he was here for the romance of the moment and not to fuck you.

His eyes traveled over your body as if he looked to memorize it. “You are beautiful and I will smother anyone in their sleep that dares to say otherwise,” San vowed.

“How romantic,” You teased.

San leaned down to brace himself above you with his arms caging you in his embrace. He waved his body between your legs. His pelvis rubbed against your puffy clit and you moaned at the extra stimulation. “I will spend hours here. It’s my job, you know? To keep my queen pleased. Do I please you, your highness?”

“Gods,” You whined. “Is that even a question?”

“Being sheathed inside of you is a feeling not many men of this realm, let alone the world, will experience. And yet, my purpose is to be here. Do you even know how lucky I am?” San asked.

You looked up into San’s eyes and you found only the genuine look of adoration from San. His eyes were dark with lust but also wet with sincerity. You wanted to believe him. But this was his duty, you knew that, not his choice.

San must have sensed your hesitance because he bent his arms so his forearms braced himself on the bed now, inches away from your face. It was intimate, San fucking you like this. It was simply himself swallowing your vision of the world right now. “I choose every night to make love to you. You are not who I thought you’d be. Your highness--”

You pushed a finger to San’s lips. His eyes widened, surprised you’d cut him off. “I do not require you to spill your heart to me, consort of mine. Leave a little mystery between you and I.”

If there was a ghost of sadness that floated through San’s eyes, it was chased away with a confident look. “Yes, my queen.”

San picked up your legs to hook around his arms, holding you open for him so he could thrust more quickly inside of you. You could hear the cacophony of skin slapping against skin and also the wet noises of San’s cock moving in and out of you. Your breath was catching in the back of your throat; the intenseness of the pleasure he was giving you was making you breathless.

“Sa-san,” You stuttered, feeling your climax approach.

“I’m close too. After you, your highness,” San said with a teasing tone.

Your toes curled as your body tensed from the pleasure coursing through your nerves. You cried out his name, knowing full well who made you feel this good. It was soon after that San came as well, holding himself deep inside of you, giving you everything, just like you had asked of him before. His nose scrunched up, his hair clinging to his hairline with the exertion of making love to you. He looked every bit the debauched consort and for a moment, you were glad he was yours.

“San, that was..” You didn't even know if there were words to shed light on how you had felt just now.

“The pleasure was all mine, My queen,” San giggled.

You groaned as you realized you had bathed for your night with San but you were even more dirty than you had been before you had entered the bath. “We should call the servants back, we’re going to need another bath drawn.”

“What's wrong, your highness? Can’t endure a little messiness?” San teased, quirking an eyebrow at you.

San could barely contain the glee that was spilling from his lively eyes. “Should I clean you up myself then?”

You laughed under your breath. Considering your origin story, how you became queen in the first place, the irony of that statement was hilarious. But still, you played into the entire theme of the night. “I am a queen, San, and deserve to be treated as such.”

Your mouth went dry as he moved down to your core. Was he really going to undo the good work he did? His tongue played with the skin between your puckered hole, avoiding his cum and your hole. You had a long night ahead of you and you no longer felt like you wanted to avoid it. In fact, you wanted to embrace it head on.

“Clean up the mess you made, Choi San.”

🥀Day Sixteen: Cockwarming🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Eighteen: Size Kink

[honey-crypt]

hi hello me again with request because my brain cannot stop thinking abt elliott stardew,,

so elliott discovering that his farmer was planting pomegranate trees just for him bc I've been doing that.. like, there's a special area for pomegranate trees. My man would die on the spot cuz i know i would if someone did that for me LMAO

a/n: another addition to the ferzia & bee elliottverse LMAO it’s kinda short but i think it works haha, enjoy!!! and follow my moot!!!!

word count: 1.1k

summary: it’s just another day on the farm, the fall season settling nicely in the valley, when elliott finds a surprise on the farm from his beloved (y/n).

★ orchard - elliott x farmer ★

The crisp fall breeze ruffled Elliott’s hair, as he stepped out to the porch of the farmhouse. He inhaled the fresh air and exhaled deeply, admiring the little farm before him. The chickens clucked and the cows mooed, the fragrance of sweet corn and sour grapes coated the air, this little farm was truly home for the writer.

Elliott plopped down on the porch’s rocking chair and whipped out his notebook, “Another beautiful day to work,” he hummed softly to himself, as his pencil made contact with the paper and began to write. Camelia Station, Elliott’s first novel, managed to garner a dedicated fan base and his publicist informed him that getting another romance book on the shelves would only make his image as a writer better. Elliott didn’t mind his image, but he cherished his fans just as much as writing. Thus, he spent the last season or so on the porch, brainstorming and planning the next novel.

However, today wasn’t the day to write, as Elliott stared down the words he wrote out, a series of incomprehensible gibberish masking as literary genius. He huffed and set his notebook aside, Don’t let this end you, Elliott reassured himself, It’s okay to have a block. It happens to the best, but he couldn’t shake off the frustration bubbling up to his throat. However, a small meow greeted him and Elliott visibly relaxed, as Lobbie the grey cat leapt onto his lap and made herself at home.

“Oh, sweet Lobbie,” the redhead whispered to the cat while stroking her back, “I think today will have to be a lazy day for you and me,” the cat purred happily and kneaded on his thigh, “It seems that you’re in agreement, as well,” Elliott continued to pet Lobbie, his eyes fluttering with exhaustion. It was only seven in the morning, he shouldn’t be tired already. Yet, the amount of all nighters he pulled, anxiously writing out idea after idea at his writing desk, was enough to make the most energetic of people tired.

The sound of a rickey wheelbarrow echoed from a distance, the volume increasing as it got closer and closer. Elliott cracked one eye open and noticed you, his spouse, wheeling a pile of dirt towards an unused section of the farm. You unceremoniously dumped the dirt on the ground and returned the wheelbarrow to the nearby shed before noticing your husband on the porch. A smile graced your lips and you waved at him, which he returned with a smile and a wave of his own. What a hard worker, the ginger watched you head off to a different section of the farm, I wish I had their work ethic, his smile morphed into a frown, Maybe then I would have a solid idea of what to write next.

Lobbie hopped off Elliott’s lap and trotted off, perhaps to catch a mouse or one of the chickens. Elliott took the opportunity to stand and stretch out his long, wiry arms. He looked around the farm for you, seeing if he could be of some use for you, but to his surprise, you were nowhere in sight. Elliott knitted his eyebrows together, I swore I just saw them. Did they head off to visit Pierre’s or Robin’s?

He walked down from the porch and onto the farmland, rich soil beneath his loafers. Elliott checked the barn, the coop, the cave, and the greenhouse, but there was no sign of you anywhere. The writer lowered his shoulders in defeat and turned on his heel to return to the farmhouse when he heard the sound of water being poured. Elliott followed the sound, past the greenhouse and into the woods, “(Y/N)?” he called out to you, “My love, are you there?” the ginger scanned the wooded area before his eyes fell upon a simply spectacular sight.

An orchard, it was an orchard covered in a pheltora of fruit trees. They weren’t just any fruit trees, though; no, they were pomegranate trees, the sweet plump fruit hanging from the branches. It had to have taken months for these trees to mature to such a size and to bear such gorgeous pomegranates- and there you were! You were watering the closest pomegranate tree with the burgundy watering can Elliott gifted to you on New Year’s Eve. Elliott watched in awe, as you set the watering can down and reached for the lone pomegranate on the tree. You tugged at the fruit until it broke free of its branch and examined it for any irregularities. Once satisfied, you gently placed it in your wicker basket and moved onto the next tree.

“(Y/N)?” the writer appeared behind you, nearly making you jump out of your skin, “Elliott!” a yelp escaped your throat, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you scolded your husband. Elliott gave you an apologetic smile, “My mistake,” he eyed the surrounding pomegranate trees, “What’s all this, my love?”

“Oh!” your face heated up, “Damnit, I was going to show you this in a few days as your birthday surprise,” you pinched your nose with a sigh, “I guess I wasn’t that sneaky, huh?”

“You were pretty sneaky,” he answered, “It must have taken months for you to grow all these trees.”

“I started working on the orchard when we got engaged last summer,” you confessed sheepishly, “I wanted to have a piece of you as part of the farmland,” a nervous smile formed on your face, “I know how much you love pomegranates so I thought Hey, why don’t I grow some pomegranate trees? and next thing I knew, I had twenty or so planted and bearing fruit.”

“You did this all for me?” the writer’s expression was a mixture of surprise, bewilderment, and joy. You nodded, “I thought it would be a good birthday surprise since the trees’ maturity and fruit bearing overlapped with your birthday.”

Elliott suddenly pulled you into a tight embrace, nearly knocking the wind out of you, as he held you as close as he could in his arms. You hugged him back and felt his body shaky, as Elliott began to sob quietly in your arms, “You did this for me, all for me? You truly are a gift from Yoba, my love. This is the greatest act of love I have ever received or bore witness to, I- Oh, (Y/N)-”, you rubbed his back while he blabbered on and on how honored and overjoyed by your dedication to the orchard.

To you, creating the orchard was simply a gift, something you wanted your husband to enjoy, but to Elliott? The orchard was a sign that you were his soulmate, that the bond and love between you two was enough to foster great trees upon trees of delicious pomegranates.

After all, the pomegranate symbolized a rich, fulfilled life.

[theambivalentagender]

I know the secret note 11 thing is debated. I feel like it's like with many things in Stardew Valley, kept vague and open to interpretation. I love the transmasc Shane theory/headcanon for the note, but it's not quite the direction I plan to go with my canon.

(I also don't plan to go in the Jas direction either though, but a Secret Third Thing)

shit i feel like y'all forget about shane

he's an atheist and he's pretty open about it

he is a gamer and supposedly cheats a lot

he loves carbonation, it's the whole reason why he exchanges beer for soda and sparkling water

he is somewhat meta, mentioning how nothing really changes in the valley

he's really close to emily, even going to her clothing therapy without being grumpy or anything

he loves jas but he is pretty clumsy about it

it's implied he's trans with secret note 11

he's a jock AND punk

he voice stims with buh

he loves his routines, which is why when joja mart closes, he's so depressed about it

he goes to sam's eight heart event, just hanging out in the back

he's a dork. like he's incredibly silly

[skellymom]

"Bring Me To My Knees" PART 2

Crosshair/Hunter x Reader Non Gendered SMUT++

Dividers by the talented: @saradika and @4ngelic-wh1spers

Background: Reader and Crosshair are separated from the group during the rescue of Omega and Tech from Mt Tantiss. Two broken people trying to get by in the galaxy. Then two broken people finally dealing with what happened to their group.

Word Count: 2.3K

Warning: Star Wars Canon violence, angst, death of major character, sadness, crying, guilt, permanent injury, stuff blowing up, swearing, kissing, intercourse, heavy petting, bite kind, blood kink, pain kink, spank kink, smutty/lemony content, lovers triangle with Hunter and Crosshair.

FOR CLARITY, HUNTER FLASHBACK SMUT SCENE IN CHAPTER 1. THE CROSSHAIR SMUT SCENE IS IN THIS CHAPTER 2. Broke this up in 2 chapters because I just couldn't stop writing...and 4K might be too much for one sitting.

I purposely wrote the reader in this fic to be of no specific gender. Tried to carefully craft the sexual scenes to accommodate either gender/non gendered/trans/genderfluid/non-binary. Everyone has hills, valleys, sexual organs, nipples, and erogenous zones. I wrote them into the story, but it's up to you dear reader to put your imagination to work. Hope I have done a good enough job that you can enjoy yourself with Hunter and Crosshair without breaking immersion!

To read Chapter 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/744267915687264256/bring-me-to-my-knees-part-1?source=share

The intel proved to be correct. You and Crosshair traveled to an uncharted planet well past the Outer Rim. A quiet unassuming place to start planning a burgeoning Rebellion. 

He piloted. As your ship entered planetary airspace several Rebel ships swooped in as escorts. The Rebel base radioed in to confirm your status. 

“Crosshair, Clone Force 99 and Y/N, civilian. We are Rebel sympathizers wanting to join the Rebel cause and find our lost family and squad members.” You replied. 

“Authenticating data. Hold your position.” 

Silence as you and Crosshair waited on bated breath. 

“You are clear to land. We will perform a customary inspection of your transport. Then check your gunnery and weapons at the docking station armory.” 

“They’ll be taking my rifle OVER my DEAD body.” Crosshair snarked. 

“Toothpick?” 

“Hhm?” 

“It’s your gun, NOT your dick. Let them do their job.” 

He sighed and shook his head. 

Word must have spread fast. No sooner did you land than Omega was out the bay door jumping up and down in excitement. 

Crosshair barely got the gangplank down on the ship. You jumped over the stairs and landed on your hands and knees. Sprung up and ran to her. 

Omega knocked you over with her embrace. You were both laying there crying. She had grown two heads taller and much stronger too. 

Rebel soldiers had come out to check the validity of your claims. They stood aside seeing at least one of their residents recognize you. They had witnessed MANY reunions just like this as people were finding their way to the planet.  

There was more: Wrecker wasn’t far behind. He scooped you both up and hugged you fiercely. 

“AWWW...SO GLAD YOU’RE HERE! MISSED YA HORRIBLY!!!” Wiping away tears. 

Echo approached with Phee. 

Wrecker let you go, and you embraced them both with each arm. 

“Phee...what happened???” Her beautiful hair was gone. Head covered and tied fashionably with a scarf. Burn scar down one side of her face. You noticed one hand had scars as well. 

She shot Echo a strange look, then shrugged and perked up. “It’s growing back. Getting bacta therapy for the scars.” 

“Tech? Hunter? Are they here?” 

Echo answered “Come inside. We’ll get you settled.” 

“Wait, I didn’t come alone.” 

You turned towards your ship. Crosshair was standing at the bottom of the stairs. 

Omega gave him a bear hug. He had allowed her that. Wrecker stood a few feet away watching them.  

Echo took your hand. “Let’s give them some time to catch up.” 

He and Phee led you inside the base past bustling personnel.  

“Wait...I didn’t check my blaster...” 

“That’s ok” Phee patted your shoulder. “We vouched for you. Crosshair though...” 

You approached an open medical station with bacta tanks lined up...recognizing... 

“TECH!” 

He bobbed merrily in the solution, waving at your arrival. 

You stopped to see he was missing both legs...just like Echo. There were scars all over his body, some weren’t present during his rescue. Tech saw your face and immediately started signing in Basic. 

It is no major loss. I will be fine. Only 20 more rotations within this tank, then I shall be fitted for my prosthetics...please...don’t cry. 

Things were starting to come together...Phee’s hair loss and burns...the Marauder being hit... 

“WHERE’S HUNTER???” You yelled it in a panic. 

Echo stepped in and took your hand. “Y/N... he...” The look on his face told you this wouldn’t be good news. Echo’s eyes registered the scarf draped around your neck. 

There was a commotion behind you at the entrance of the base. Crosshair’s voice. Arguing with two Rebel troopers over his lack of compliance regarding check-in. 

“Sir! We need you to...” 

“NOT NOW! Can’t you see MY PARTNER is in distress!!!” 

The trooper grabbed his arm. Crosshair immediately disarmed the man and put his ass on the floor. Then handed the troopers gun to HIS partner sneering, “I said FUCK OFF!” 

The second trooper took the gun and commed for backup. 

Crosshair stalked over gently putting his hands on your shoulders. Fixing Echo with his baleful stare. “Where’s Hunter?” 

Echo fixed you both with his amber eyes. He sighed; his expression was so sad. “I’ll take you to him.” 

Tech tapped on the tank to get Crosshair’s attention. Cross glanced over shocked. He hadn’t recognized who was in there. Then he noticed Tech’s condition. 

I’ll be ok brother. He signed.  

Tech put his hand up against the glass. Crosshair placed his on the other side against Tech’s. 

The trooper’s backup arrived and trained their blasters on Crosshair. He turned and eyed them menacingly. Then dropped his hands from your shoulders, one of which you grabbed. 

“Don’t start any shit, Toothpick. Please, this isn’t the time.” Squeezing his hand firmly. 

He squeezed your hand back and stood down. 

“Break it up Trooper. These are friendlies.” Captain Rex emerged from the back of the squad. 

“But sir, he assaulted one of our Rebel staff. And he refused to check his rifle.” Pointing to Stormpuncher mounted on Crosshair’s back. 

“I’ll handle it, Trooper. You are all dismissed.” 

The Rebel squad eyed Crosshair uneasily as they filed away from the scene. 

“Good to see you both alive and well.” Rex smiled genuinely. “But I’ll let Echo catch you up on everything.” He nodded to Echo and stepped away. 

At this point Wrecker and Omega joined the group. 

“Follow me.” Echo instructed. 

You glanced at Tech as the group started to walk away. He smiled wistfully.  

“I got them Brown Eyes.” She winked at Tech, and he winked back. But he still looked concerned. 

Phee put her arm around your shoulder and walked with you. Crosshair followed at your other side silently. 

The group filed through the whole facility: past logistics, maintenance, troop training, mess, quarters, a small prison area (mostly empty), daycare, pet kennel, a few non-descript departments, and finally to the back end of the facility. The group approached heavy double doors. 

There was a sense of dread in your chest. Everyone was quiet. Echo looked heartbroken as he swiped his key card over the lock mechanism.  

The doors opened to the outside. A HUGE garden stretching for over a mile...planted with the bodies of those fallen from the Empire. Headstones, holoshrines, helmets, and all manner of tributes marked each plot. Adults, children, military, civilians, even service animals. Droids who could not be repaired were erected as tribute statuary with holoplaques proclaiming their sacrifice. 

Hunter was there. Laid to rest several rows down from the entrance. 

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. 

“This isn’t real...” Shaking your head but staring straight ahead at Hunter’s helmet propped up on his plot. “NO... can’t.” Tears running down your face. 

Phee rubbed your back. “I’m SO sorry.” She was crying too. “Broody saved my life. I almost burned to death.” She pulled off the scarf to reveal the severity of her injuries. “I’m the reason he’s here.” 

Wrecker piped up “Noo, that’s not true. He would’ve done it for anyone on that ship.” He hugged Phee. 

Survivor’s guilt. Your heart went out to her.    

Crosshair took your hand and silently encouraged you to step down into the memorial and go to Hunter’s plot. You inhaled and stepped down...then your legs gave out. Crosshair grabbed your right shoulder. Echo ran over and supported your left. 

They led you to the plot. Wrecker, Phee, and Omega stayed behind. 

Soft grass was planted for whomever wished to sit and visit. Hunter’s helmet was surrounded by vivid red Poppies in full bloom. Echo seated you upon the grass. Crosshair kneeling beside you.  

“Can I do anything at all for you both.” He inquired. 

Silence. 

“Uh...I’ll give you some privacy.” 

“Echo?” 

“Yeah?” 

You swept him up in a hug again. “Thank you...for everything.” Tears returning. 

“Oh, of course.” He embraced you back. Holding on for some time. 

Echo patted your back and cleared his throat. He let go and wiped a tear from his face. 

Then he was gone.   

Crosshair sat stone faced staring at Hunter’s helmet bereft of emotion. It was the best he could do at this moment. 

You took off the red scarf, slipped it over Hunter’s helmet, and arranged it as if draped off Hunter’s own shoulders. 

Like he was sitting right in front of you with his bucket on... 

A sudden loud sob escaped. Each exhalation became louder until it ended in a scream. Your face red and pressed into the warm grass. Watering Hunter’s grave with your tears. Freeing the emotion out of the pit of your being. Screaming, sobbing until empty, finally collapsing from exhaustion. 

The afternoon progressed and the sun started to dip down towards the horizon. 

“Hey” Crosshair nudged you from disassociation. “Let’s go.” 

Numb, you let him haul you up under the shoulders. Standing, your vision went snowy and black.   

Crosshair must have carried you to the ship. The next few days were a blur, you slept through most of it. He hovered, fixing ration soup and just about threatening to force feed you. Trading whatever he could for black market sweets just to get ANYTHING into your belly. You barely remember Echo, Wrecker, Omega, or Phee visiting. Or AZI monitoring your vitals, reporting them well within range, that it was “only” grief and would eventually pass. 

Finally, after days in your bunk Crosshair had enough. 

“Soup!” He poked you awake. 

“Whaa?” Weakly turning over, burrowing under the blanket. 

“Get up. You STINK!” 

“Fuck off Crossy...” 

“Get up, or I’m throwing you INTO the refresher. Clothes and all.” 

You ignored him. 

Crosshair reached under the blanket and yanked you up. You caterwauled hurling swears, too weak to fight. But you were strong enough to hold on. 

He opened the refresher door and attempted to set you down. You stuck to him like shit on a Bantha’s behind. It turned into a wrestling match, both of you swearing at one another. One hand pried off him, then another would latch on, finally tearing his shirt to shreds. 

Cross gave up and flipped on the water soaking you both. The cold spray only made you hold on tighter, pressing against his chest for warmth. He gave up, sighed, adjusted the temp to warm. 

“Will you wash my hair?” 

Sighing again. “Yes.” 

You let go and turned your back to him. Crosshair lathered up his hands. 

“Wait.” You pulled the soaked T-shirt over your head and threw it in the corner of the shower. Now you're only clad in underwear. “Ok.” 

He applied the shampoo and did one helluva job massaging it into your hair. You smiled and groaned at the sensation. He finished by twisting the hair into a soapy point atop your head. 

“Will you wash my back and neck?” 

Heavy sigh. But he did. His hands were amazing. 

“Toothpick, will...” 

“I’m NOT washing your dirty ass...or anything else. You can reach.” Cross rinsed his hands and exited the refresher, leaving you to finish the job. 

You finally exited the shower feeling and smelling much better. 

Clean towels and comfy clothing were waiting for you. A non-descript box sat atop them.  

Dried, dressed, brushed your hair and nasty teeth. Then opened the box. The beautiful black and silver scarf from Mel and Marv’s stand. Toothpick paid attention...and had held on to it the whole time. 

You put it on and made your way back through the darkened ship. 

Crosshair was waiting, sitting on a blanket spread out on the floor. There was a multitude of fresh food and rations upon it. Also, a lit candle in the middle. The kind he would razz you about that “smelled like flowers and shit.” 

You smiled. “Is this a date?” Attempting some levity. 

“Sit your ass down and eat.” 

“Thank you.” Caressing the scarf around your neck. 

“For what?” He played dumb. You could see he noticed. 

“Everything. Being there for...” You couldn’t bear to speak it. “Taking care of me, this food...” 

“Can’t have you dying on me. Would have smelled worse than you already did.” 

“Oh...and that shower brawl...” looking up from your food. “THAT was certainly SOMETHING.” 

Crosshair grinned. “You owe me a new shirt.” 

“Do I, now? Well, don’t wear clothes in the refresher when you decide to throw me in.” 

He cocked an eyebrow while biting into a ration bar. 

“Then when I grab something, it’ll be foreplay.” 

Crosshair choked on his food. 

You stuffed yourself full. Satisfied, thanking Crosshair again (who rolled his eyes), and wandered back to your bunk. 

He had changed the bedding out while you were in the refresher. It was clean and the blanket turned over, inviting you to slide in. 

It felt wonderful burrowing into the clean sheets. 

But sleep was elusive tonight. 

The grief was still too much for you both. 

Two people alone on a dark, silent ship. The distance between you palpable. 

“Are...you awake?” he furtively asked with hushed tones in the dark. 

“Umhmm.” Intrigued as to why he asked. Sitting up and sliding your legs off to the side of the bunk. 

Silence. 

You sat there in the dark waiting for an answer. 

More silence... 

(You like a song to go with the following scene? Please check it out. Smutty, but emotional)

...then Crosshairs hand gently smoothing away the hair from your temple. 

You immediately embraced him tightly. 

He falters for just a beat.  Body frozen for what seems like an eternity.  Would this scare him away? 

Then you feel his arms encircle you, lips upon your cheek...kissing down to your lips. 

Unable to hold back any further, you turn your head to meet his lips to yours. 

Mouths opening to breathe into the well of one another.  Sliding upon each other passionately.  Breaths furiously taken in between long heated kisses. 

Then parting quickly to pull the clothing from each other's body.  Almost ripping the cloth away from bare skin.  Occasional moans of longing for skin-to-skin contact. 

Finally free of constraints, he stops to visually take you in... 

...he’s waited SO LONG for this moment. Couldn’t help admiring your strength while rescuing him on Tantiss...but finding out you bonded romantically to Hunter... 

“I... I’m afraid...” Terror and shame on his face. 

This shocks you to hear such words fall from his lips. He’s so VULNERABLE...kneeling next to you proclaiming his feelings. 

You reach out and stroke the side of his face, then firmly grip this chin. “So am I. But it’s just the two of us now.” 

You both stare into the lonely abyss of each other's eyes. 

“And I CAN’T STAND being alone.” 

“Then you WON’T be...EVER” He reaches out across the space between, pulling you to his body. His heat, his need. 

You have your own need, your heat blazes HOT with his deep kisses. Tongues intertwining.  

Then he pulls away to bury his face next to your ear whispering EVERY DIRTY THING he’s going to do to you while nuzzling and nipping your ear. Rubbing his hard cock along your shin, sliding along the wetness it leaves behind. 

You moan loudly...” Oh...fuck me...” 

“Mhmm...” trailing his tongue down your neck. His hands caressing the inside of your thighs. Stopping just short of your sex. Teasing his fingers around it...teasing you into fever pitch. 

Your hand on his shoulder digs your nails into his flesh. He moans in ecstasy from the pain. Trailing down your chest to nip and lick at your nipples. Crosshair stares up adoringly with half hooded eyes. 

His hand casually brushes your sex and trails away. 

Smiling while he teases. 

You grip the edge of the bunk, bracing your feet on the floor, and buck out your hips in the air, gasping, baring your teeth. 

Then he playfully but firmly slaps your sex. 

It pisses you off while turning you on at the same time. The tension building. 

His cock is SO slippery against your leg. The breath coming from him labored and shaky. Tracing your thighs just so closely to where you want to be stimulated, then away again. 

“FUCK ME!” You growl deeply through your teeth.  Something FERAL awakening in you. Shaking, sweating, digging harder into his shoulder. It starts to bleed, and his eyes roll back in his head.  

His facial expression turns intense. He slaps your sex again. You moan louder, then growl again. 

The teasing. It’s driving you INSANE. 

He knows you’re about to lose it... 

Crosshair stops kissing your chest, put’s his snarky, sexy, come-fuck-me-face up to your ear...  

“...Mmm...bite me...” 

Back somewhere in your sexually addled lizard brain registers this could be literal instead of figurative. 

And he slaps you...ONE MORE TIME... 

Without thinking you sink your teeth into his other shoulder. Blood seeping into your mouth. 

Crosshair screams out in fevered sexual ecstasy...frotting his weeping cock furiously against your leg. 

His slapping hand comes back fully on your sex, furiously stimulating... 

...kneading... 

...filling up your intimate spaces... 

...sliding.... 

...you buck your hips tightly against the hand that services you... 

...as the pressure of your molars squeeze the flesh of his shoulder...it’s heavenly pressure...the taste of copper as you suck it down... 

Crosshair’s fevered thrusts of his hips. 

The fevered ministrations of his hand. 

Ragged breaths mixed with groans...whimpers... 

You release your mouth from his shoulder, as you gasp for air... blood trailing down his back from the punctures. Small crimson rivulets running down your chin, neck, across your erect nipples...you fall back...Pressing your head into the bunk...eyes widening...mouth open. His left hand on the small of your back like a spotter, his right sending you over the edge... 

Clenching your abdomen...you feel that tickle...the beginning of... 

Crosshair stops and pulls his hand away. You grab his arm devastated, angry even to be thwarted from your orgasm. 

Breathlessly “I want to FEEL you...from the INSIDE.” It’s not presented as a question. But he’s waiting for your consent. 

You reach down, stroke his sopping wet member. He moans and shudders. Then brush a ghost of a kiss across Crosshair’s forehead as you scoot fully onto the bunk and open yourself up to him. Your seductive gaze is inviting. 

Up off his knees, he slinks over you on the bunk. Staring like a hungry animal.  

For a fleeting moment, you don’t see Crosshair there...just Hunter. Your desire threatens to topple over into grief...all these emotions bubbling up from the surface. That scar will NEVER be totally healed. The sadness that will NEVER totally leave. 

Crosshair watches the subtle changes of your expression and senses this. He understands. While there are differences, it’s his loss too. 

He covers his body with yours, basking in the warmth skin to skin. Then takes your face in his hands. Touching foreheads, he whispers promises for you both in the future. All the things you will do together and the burdens you will both share and support each other through. Every one of them ends with a kiss as a promise.  

“I’m not Hunter...but...I’ll work on being a better man than I was in my past.”  

“I don’t want you to live in Hunter’s shadow. You’re different. Our relationship will be different.” 

Silence. 

“I’m SO SORRY you lost your brother.” 

Crosshair covers his face with his hand. Silent tears spill out between his fingers. 

You say no more and hold him tightly. Knowing it was A LOT for him to even let go like this. Knowing the relationship, he had with especially Hunter was fraught with so much emotional angst. And the heavy burden Crosshair holds about the horrible things he did at the end. 

You both lay there for some time wrapped up together in each other's arms...just being. Crosshair’s head resting on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. You rubbing gentle circles though his hair. 

Finally, he speaks, “Would you like me to finish?” Looking up at you seriously with those intense dark eyes. 

You read him like a book. He knows you too well now. There’s a deep care for one another. But you both know the sex tonight will be for dealing with the grief. That's ok though. It’s an unspoken agreement of how this will help the two of you bond and heal.  

You’ll both drink, fight, fuck, laugh, and all manner of things together while dealing with this shared grief. Whatever gets you by. It’ll bind you both thick as thieves. 

“Yes.” 

He kisses down your body to your sex. Licking, sucking, lavishing you with an intensity that prevents you from lying still. All the while grinding his returned erection into the sheets, soaking them. 

You both begin to get vocal. He adds more stimulation with his fingers, driving you wild. Grasping the bedding, you arch your back again. With the pressure in your core, his tongue wetly sliding over your sex...your breathing reaches a fever pitch...the tingling returns... 

“Crosshair...” 

He stops, sits up, gently pulls your hips to position, and slides his length into you. 

“Fuuuck...” he groans loudly, slowly pulling out, then slowly sliding in...he wants to feel it ALL. No rush. Just the amazing sensation...every inch...of him...against you... 

...sliding out... 

...sliding in... 

His legs are shaking. 

Your breath not just respirations but moans to the timing of his thrusts. 

...sliding out... 

...sliding in... 

Crosshair’s eyes are hooded in desire. He can see you’re about to cum. A crooked, horny smile crosses his face. 

The tingle becomes a wave... 

IT RUSHES THROUGH YOU like beautiful warm surf racing towards your sex... 

...and reaches its destination... 

You arch your back deeper...He’s watching you at the apex of your orgasm. Time seems to slow down for a few seconds. Eyes open with no angst, anger, judgement, spite, sass...his eyes...the window to a man WIDE OPEN at this moment in time. He’s telling you with his eyes what his voice could not.  

You’re staring above right into those eyes as your head presses just a centimeter deeper into the bedding...you inhale DEEPLY as those warm tendrils explode deep at the base of your core.  

Orgiastic moan-scream comes from your mouth so intensely you feel it in the roof of your mouth. Vision fuzzing out slightly. Tiny warm explosions of nerves firing everywhere in your body.  

Crosshair squeezes you tightly, screaming gutturally, eyes shut tight, and shuddering inside you with his own climax. Both of your sensory stimuli shut out to the outside world: Only aware of you both connected at the junction of your bodies.  

And then the orgasm dissipates like a wave being pulled back out to sea. Seafoam settling in and tickling the shoals of your sex.  

You feel warm and tingly...the rush of all those endorphins. He collapses gently on top of you. Gathering each other up in embrace. 

laying in each other’s arms realizing the future is wide open. It's a bit daunting...scary even. But you have each other. And, for now, that will do. 

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

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[thronesaccido]

Beneath The Snow

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader T/W: Angst, hurt/ no comfort. mdni. (kinda rushed)

The icy wind howled as it tore across the barren tundra, stinging every inch of exposed skin like knives. the endless expanse of snow-covered land stretched out in all directions, blending with the overcast sky. A storm was brewing and deep in the heart of Russia's frozen wasteland, two soldiers advanced silently, Simon (Ghost). led the way with his trademark skull mask hidden beneath layers of tactical gear. Behind him, You followed, Your footsteps heavy and purposeful with the biting cold.

Simon had argued against you coming on this mission from the start.

"This terrain is unforgiving" he had told you back at base, his voice low and stern. "This isn't the mission for you"

But you, relentless and sharp as ever, insisted. You weren't one to sit out of any operation, especially not one like this. You had trained for this moment, for this exact kind of pressure and you weren't about to let Simon side-line you.

"They need me out there, Simon" You had said, locking eyes with him in defiance. "You might not want me here, but you know I'm right"

Now, here you were, trekking through the harshest environment you'd ever faced, with Simon's misgivings hanging in the freezing air between you.

The terrain had been manageable at first, but now, the snow was getting deeper, the ground beneath you growing more treacherous, Ice cracked underfoot, and the biting wind made every step feel like dragging a weight behind you.

"Stay sharp" Simon muttered, scanning the horizon through his frosted goggles. the mission was simple on paper: extract valuable intel from a downed satellite somewhere in the tundra. But the terrain wasn't their only enemy.

A sharp crack echoed through the valley. a bullet whizzing past.

"Down!" Simon barked, diving into the show, Pulling you down beside him.

Stray gunfire erupted from a ridge to their left, automatic weapons lighting up the white landscape like angry fireflies. Simon cursed under his breath. it had been too quiet for too long. Now, they were pinned and retreat was becoming their only option.

"Commands ordering us to pull back!" Simon shouted over the crackle of gunfire, his voice muffled by the gusts of the wind.

You gritted your teeth. "Not a chance. We're too close!"

You rose to fire, but Simon grabbed your arm, yanking you back down.

"I'm not losing you out here, Love!" he snapped, his grip tight. "We move now. or we don't move at all."

But there was no time for arguments. The bullets were coming faster now, zipping through the air. Simon signalled the retreat, covering you as you scrambled for better cover. He could hear the orders from command in his ear, fall back, regroup but it was chaos all around them.

You, fighting your way to the nearest cover, was suddenly backed into a narrow crevice in the rock face. The ground beneath you gave away with a sickening crack and in the blink of an eye, you disappeared. One second, you were there, readying your weapon for another round of fire. The next, the earth collapsed beneath you, swallowing you whole.

Simon shouted, his heart freezing over faster than the tundra around him. He scrambled toward the spot where you had vanished, but the ground was unstable, Threatening to cave in under his weight.

Gunfire continued to rain down on them as Simon crawled toward the edge, his mind racing. He peered over into the dark chasm where you had fallen. Nothing. No movement. His breath came in ragged gasps as he called your name again.

Silence

The ground was still. The gunfire had slowed, but Simon's pulse was thundering in his ears. He threw caution aside, shouting into the coms.

"Command, this is Ghost. She's down! She’s gone underground!" His voice was thick with urgency, a desperation rarely heard from him.

"Ghost, we need you back at exfil. We’ve got what we came for. There’s no time," the cold reply came through, static-laced and distant.

Simon clenched his fists, his knuckles white through his gloves. He couldn’t just leave you. Not you

Hours passed as he searched frantically. His team covered the area as best they could, but with the storm intensifying, visibility was dropping by the minute. His heart sank further with each fruitless call of your name.

By the time the next day arrived, the tundra was swallowing them whole too. The blizzard was closing in, reducing the world to nothing more than a white abyss.

"We need to move, Simon," one of his teammates said, gripping his shoulder tightly. "We’ve got the intel. We can’t stay out here any longer."

But Simon wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.

"She’s still out there. I know it," he growled, eyes fixed on the spot where she had disappeared. "I’m not leaving her."

"We’ve searched the area twice over, mate. If she’s still alive… there’s no way we’re finding her in this storm."

Simon’s throat tightened as the bitter truth settled in. His team was right. The mission was already completed; they had the intel they needed. But at what cost?

"Simon" his teammate pressed, "We can’t lose anyone else. We need you with us."

For a long moment, Simon stood there, staring into the empty white void. The snow had already started to cover the crevice where you had fallen. His fists tightened at his sides. He could feel the anger, the helplessness, gnawing at him. But there was nothing left to do.

With a final, agonizing breath, Simon gave the order.

"Let’s move."

The team turned and trudged back toward the exfil point, but Simon cast one last glance back over his shoulder, the emptiness of the tundra mocking him.

You were gone.

And Simon Riley would never forgive himself.

a/n: i thought about this one night and i just had to write it.

[veronicaphoenix]

To drown your sadness in a sea song.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x mermaid!reader Parts: one - two - three - four - five - epilogue Trigger warnings: sexual innuendos, brief mention of sexual intercourse, mentions of blood.

PART FOUR — THE SONG | Words: 2.2k

She doesn’t like clothes. It’s a fact that makes him laugh when he first finds out, seeing her stepping out of his room in his old, shrunken shirt and sweatpants. She looks funny but she also looks clearly uncomfortable. 

“They’re itchy,” she says. “I don’t like it. Can I just wear your white t-shirt?” The one she’s been wearing since he bathed her, the one which is thin and light and oversized. 

“Sure,” he agrees, his eyes still soaking in the sight of her human form. 

“I’m just… not used to wearing clothes,” she adds, her voice low, as if she feels guilty for it. 

“Don’t mind me,” he can’t help replying, his lips curling into a playful grin, “I wouldn’t complain if you chose not to wear any.” 

“You’re cheeky,” she retorts, her smile betraying her feigned annoyance.  

“Just a little” he chuckles. 

With a playful sway of her hips, she tugs down the sweatpants and throws them at him. The last thing she hears it’s his laughter as she closes the door behind her to change.

She didn’t tell him but another reason why she likes that old white t-shirt is because it carries his scent. All his other clothes do, too, but there’s a particular tinge on that one that she really likes, that brings her comfort and a sense of closeness.  

 

Later that evening, while Noah sits cross-legged on the living room carpet with his MacBook open on the coffee table, she embarks on a tiny new adventure. Her mermaid curiosity leads her back to his room, where she’s drawn to the artifacts of his human life. 

In a corner, a guitar stands proudly on its stand. Framed vinyl records are framed and hung on the walls. Leafy vines cascade from the ceiling, lending a touch of nature to the otherwise man-made space. And then, there are books, lined neatly on a shelf. The Lord of the Rings collection catches her eye, and she can’t help but run her fingertips along the weathered spines. 

She decides she will ask him to read to her. She craves the sound of his voice, and she can only imagine how wonderful it would be to hear him weaving tales to her into the night. 

There’s also other books and she wonders if he’s ever read anything about mermaids. It doesn’t matter, really. She’s willing to teach him everything there is to know. 

If only there was enough time… 

Her curiosity doesn’t end there. 

She pulls opens the first drawer of a large white dresser by the bed. It’s a jumble of underwear and socks. She entertains herself trying to find a pair of matching socks, but she finds none. 

In the second drawer, she finds a collection of sweatpants.

“Itchy,” she mutters, quickly closing it in disdain.  

The third and fourth contain an array of clothing—tank tops, pajamas, swimwear— all foreign concepts to her aquatic sensibilities. 

The last one is a chaotic mess, and it feels like opening a treasure that’s been lost at sea centuries ago. Her eyes sparkle as she delves into its colorful contents, feeling a rush of excitement.  

Of course, she has Noah’s permission. She might be a wild creature from the sea, but she’s got manners. She waited for Noah to notice how curious she was about things he had in the house until he told her to explore wherever she wants, for as long as she needs.

She moves aside a clutter of items: empty plastic traveling bottles, an ibuprofen blister, travel plug adaptors, two square silver packages, old cable headphones, and a striped fox seashell the size of her hand. 

Her heart quickens its pace, a rhythm echoing the restless tides of her soul now that she’s away from home. 

She cradles the shell in her hand, feeling its weight, tracing the ridges and valleys with her fingertips. It carries a whisper of the distant shore and the echo of crashing waves. Its surface is weathered by time and tides, but it holds a kaleidoscope of reminiscences anyway.  

It’s barely been twenty-four hours, but she does miss the gentle sway of seaweed forests, the iridescence of coral reefs and the playful dance of sunlight filtering through azure waters. 

She wishes she could show Noah her world. 

So, rising from her kneeling position, she closes the drawer and descends to the ground floor, her steps more confident now as she makes her way to the living room. 

“Found something interesting?” Noah asks, catching sight of her approaching barefoot. 

“The last drawer in that white furniture in the room resembles the depths of the ocean,” she enthuses. He furrows his brow in momentary confusion. Then he remembers all the crap and other things he’s stashed away in that particular drawer. He’s about to feel alarmed when he notices the shell on her hand and he senses the energy radiating from her. 

“Where did you find that?”

“In that same drawer. It doesn’t belong to my region, though,” she informs him, still eyeing the sea treasure in her hand.

“I think a friend gifted it to me from a trip abroad. I’m not sure,” Noah replies, his interest somewhat subdued. He really can’t remember, to be honest. 

Undeterred, she settles beside him, facing him directly. Noah’s attention is drawn to the scales on her knee. He wonders if they cause her any discomfort, given their dry appearance. They look as dry as scabs and he’s about to ask her if they should be worried.  

“Listen,” she says, interrupting his thoughts. 

She places the opening of the shell against his ear. 

He expects the familiar echoes of the sea, but what he receives is beyond it. 

A symphony of sounds unfolds within his mind. Not the typical oceanic murmurs, but a harmonious blend of melody and whispered words.  

It’s a harmony. Each note feels like a brushstroke painting the canvas of his imagination, conjuring up a composition on the lines of the music sheet in his mind. There are whispered words. His soul is stirring. He wants to chase the echoes. 

In that moment, he understands where he failed. As he fell into the grasp of his misery, he failed to see the vastness of the world, how boundless it is. Within its depths lie what he’d been looking for, and he hadn’t been able to see it.

As he listens and tries to retain the melodies, a new element is added to the composition—a voice, ethereal and captivating. 

It’s her voice. 

She’s singing and he cannot hear anything else around him. 

“Don’t stop,” he encourages her while enthralled. 

A few moments after, he reaches for his phone, desperate to capture the magic of her voice. 

Her voice fills the room, a haunting melody that echoes through the corners of the house. He will not dream of anything else ever again. His heart is swelling with a newfound sense of purpose, a clarity that he has long been searching for. 

Even as he sets the shell aside, he can still hear the ocean continue to sing within him, mingling with her voice. It’s a promise. 

The smile she wears as she finished singing is like the last ray of sunshine before the sun sets behind the mountains.  

He’s not the only one elated. She can’t recall the last time she’s heard her own voice, let alone performing with such grace. 

 It takes him a moment to fully grasp the significance of the moment. This is what he’s been waiting for for months. With just a worn seashell by his laptop and a minute-long recording of her voice, he knows that a world of possibilities is right there waiting for his added touch of magic. 

It is music already, but he will make it his. 

When he looks back at her, it strikes him again how any of this is possible. 

“Come here,” he says, his voice restrained with emotion. 

She blinks, her smile falling a little. 

She’s right next to his body but closer isn’t enough for him. He wants her nearer still.  

As soon as she makes attempt to move, his hands are on her waist and he’s lifting her up and settling her onto his lap. She steadies herself against his shoulders, and she can feel the muscles beneath her touch. She holds her breath for a couple of seconds. His brown, beautiful eyes roam her face as if he’s not sure she’s really there. If she’s truly real. 

But she is, and he affirms that reality with the press of his mouth against hers.  

The kiss begins with a slow, tender rhythm, just like their first on the shoreline. But it transforms into something wilder, more urgent when he feels her confidence in her grip, in the way she grabs at his shoulders. The kiss deepens as her head tilts to give him better access. It’s as if she knows exactly what he wants. Her hands move to his neck and soon she’s pulling at his hair, eliciting a low growl from deep within him. 

She wants to hear him growl again. It reminds her of the ocean. 

The ocean, who isn’t gentle; who’s rough and demanding. She wants to feel Noah  just like that.

She pulls at his hair again, aware of what it does to him. She feels proud of herself for learning so quickly.

But amidst the fervor, she forgets one crucial detail: 

She can go a lifetime without air.

Noah can’t. 

And despite how he wouldn’t mind dying in her embrace, in her kiss, she doesn’t want that to happen. 

She pulls away, putting her hands on his chest to push him away as she senses how much he wants to continue. 

“You need to breathe,” she reminds him in a soft whisper. Her cheeks are as flushed as his. 

His grip on her hips starts to loosen. His expression is dazed. She watches as his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. 

“I can breathe you,” he replies. His words are laced with enchantment.

He’s definitely bewitched, she thinks as he attempts to draw her back into his embrace.  

She lets out a tiny laugh and attempts to stand up, only to feel her legs tremble beneath her. With a near stumble, she catches herself just in time, steadying herself with a hand on the table. 

“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath. 

The curse breaks Noah out of his trance.  

“Did you just swear?” He asks. 

She meets his gaze with wide eyes, wishing she could take back the slip of her tongue. 

“Yes…?” Her response is self-conscious. She feels somewhat mortified that Noah had to hear such language from her. 

“I didn’t think a creature like you could swear,” he says, a hint of amusement coloring his words.  

Why does he find it funny? She wonders.

She shakes her head in mild embarrassment and straightens up, smoothing down the t-shirt that falls to mid-thigh.  

“I can do more than what you think,” she tells him without paying too much attention to her own words. She’s not trying to be provoking. It’s just a genuine, innocent statement. 

But she quickly notices the effect her words have on him.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman here, you know?” he says, his eyes narrowed and darkening for a second.

She knows exactly what he means, and she blushes. 

The rest of the day is spent in the warmth of the living room floor, with Noah sipping on his coffee while she sticks to juice, finding coffee too bitter for her taste even though it smells comforting, she says. 

Also, juice doesn’t make her puke, which is a relief. 

She still refuses to wear something else beside his t-shirt and underwear, which prompts him to cover her with a blanket when the night starts to envelop them.  

The melodies come easier than they ever have, and every time he manages to get another piece of work done, even if it’s just four seconds, he rewards her with a kiss and a touch of her fingers on her face. She loves the way he tucks her hair behind her ear, how sweet and tender he is. It’s something she’s been wanting to do to him since long, even before they kissed for the first time, but she restrains herself for a little while longer. She will do it very soon, when she’s trapped underneath his naked body on his bed and he’s moving against her, building inside of her the same sensation of a tidal wave that will threaten to devour her.  

Noah is engaged in a phone call downstairs when she locks herself in the bathroom. 

She’s been feeling an unfamiliar discomfort in different areas of her body, and it’s only been intensifying in the past few hours. 

It doesn’t take her long to pinpoint the source: the remnants of scales clinging to her skin. 

Delicately, she traces the ones just beneath her ear. They’re parched, dry. It’s an anomaly, for they’re usually wet and shiny. 

She moves her shoulders, trying to locate more of the pain. Hesitant, she gingerly lowers down the fabric of Noah’s t-shirt, revealing another patch of scales covering a tiny bit of her right shoulder. She reaches out and brushes the area, which is surrounded by a crimson halo. When she touches them, she encounters a dampness which is meant to reassure her. Instead, when she brings the fingers in front of her eyes, instead of ocean water she finds her fingertips tainted with blood.            

This is not her world, not her body… and she knows she’s running out of time. 

'PART FIVE — THE NECKLACE' COMING UP TOMORROW