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freenightfall · 24 days ago

Text

ALL CROSSROADS BOUND TOGETHER

summary: twenty some years ago, you met a mysterious drifter who offered you something you couldn't resist and in return you offered him the only thing you had—your soul. just when you start to believe that he has forgotten you, remmick returns to collect what was owed.

pairing: remmick / f!reader

contents: f!reader, reader in their early 30s, no use of y/n, dark themes, vampirism, feeding/blood drinking, blood, fire, marking/biting, obsession, stalking behavior, yearning, corruption, feelings of hopelessness, religious undertones, selling of ones soul, violence (implied and explicit), abduction, death/murder. sexual content (MINORS DNI): oral (f receiving), p in v sexual intercourse, blood kink. cw: mentions of csa (not described in detail but still yucky—DEAD DOVE DON'T OPEN).

a/n: the title of the fic comes from the lyrics of "In Moonlight" from the Sinners soundtrack and the song included in the fic is "Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us" by Robert Plant and Alison Krauss (the song itself didn't come out during the time period, but it sounds like it could so that was enough for me to justify using it lol)

word count: 14.5 k

You were just a child, no older than ten, when you made that deal with him.

He came to you in the night, when the nocturnal critters emerged from their dens and amorously praised the stars for their guidance and protection from the dangers that prowled in the daylight.

He looked like any other man you’ve seen in town. Tall and handsome, wearing clean, crisp clothes that seemed far too nice to be sullied by the rotten tree trunk he sat on, strumming on the banjo that was strapped to his shoulders. A musician who found solace in the darkness, like the cicadas and frogs that sang all around you in a calming serenade.

Remmick, that was his name, the one he gave you freely.

You gave him yours, unaware of the power it permitted him over you.

He smiled as he repeated it back, like a response to a Sunday hymn or reciting a song he only had ever hoped to croon. He said it as if it was the most immaculate thing he’d ever heard.

You remember how his words were laced with a sickly sweetness that tugged on your heartstrings as he spoke with you. His voice was entwined with an accent, or maybe two you think, fusing together to create a dialect unique to a man that could only be him, something no one else would be able to recreate. It rolls off his tongue with ease, as if he had a century to perfect it.

He offers you something you can’t refuse, something that you had silently prayed for but never dared speak out loud, not if you wanted to come out of this horrendous ordeal unscathed.

And his eyes—the unforgettable, unnatural glow of them, as hot as embers—looked at you with a tenderness that you hadn’t seen in years, because he knew just by glancing at you that tenderness is what you needed on this night. Not harm, not violence, but tenderness.

He spoke of a promise to release you of this suffering and all you had to do was offer him something in return, something of equal value. It was simple enough, so you offered the only thing you had to give.

He accepted your conditions with a grin that stretched from ear to ear and assured you that if you truly agreed with all of your heart that he’d come back the following night.

And he kept that promise.

It was a night where the moon was bold, illuminating that hot, humid Delta night with an eerie glow only reserved for when the veil between this world and the next was thin enough for the wretched and malevolent things that haunted humanity to roam freely without fear of the sun’s divine might.

But the moon’s peaceful luminance was tainted by the blood-red stain of flames that painted the night sky a sickening crimson hue.

Your uncle’s house—the one that you were forced to call your home after losing your parents in that terrible accident some months ago—was now set ablaze by the flick of a single match, and the hand that held it was of the same wickedness that your grandmother always warned you about.

She told her stories by the warmth of the fireplace, her voice withered by time and the disease that ultimately took her life after spending much of it smoking from the same old pipe that her own grandfather had passed down to her.

You remember the tales she spun, woven with the same kind of fear mongering that spewed from the preacher’s mouth every Sunday, warning the congregation of the evils that corrupted this world, turning the innocent away from God’s graces and His salvation with the invitation of temptation.

Because that’s all what her stories were: warnings laced with images of demons and vengeful spirits and of beasts that stalked the swamps looking for their next meal to keep you on the right path in life in an attempt to save your soul from the eternal damnation that would await you should you not live righteously.

But the lore of ghosts and monsters and witches did not frighten you. Even as a child you knew that this was just a way for the adults around you to scare all the children into listening and obeying them, even when they were wrong. Even when they did wrong but did not have the decency to recognize their own hypocrisies.

No, you did not fear her stories, not at all… not when the only monsters you knew that existed dressed in the same cloth and patterns as you, spoke with the same dialect that fell from your mouth�� closed the door of your bedroom late at night when your aunt turned a blind eye and acted as if she didn’t know what your uncle was doing to you.

The flames that tried desperately to escape from the wooden entombments of the house reflected in your irises. The heat that poured from the broken windows and cracks of the old wood, mixed with the ashen, black smoke that billowed out from the same crevices burned your eyes, tears welting up at the corners of your lashes as if begging you to look away from the devastation that unfolded before you.

But you could not look away, couldn’t tear your eyes off of it even if you wanted to. Your feet anchored you to the damp earth, keeping you in place as you swayed gently with the cool breeze that swept through, moving with the spanish moss that hung on the trees.

It was as if the fire had casted a spell on you, entrancing you to keep your gaze upon the smoke and embers that only grew more and more ferociously, climbing higher and higher and higher until it appeared that the flames tickled the star-studded night sky.

You couldn’t help but think that it looked as if they were trying to reach heaven, trying with all of their might to escape the evil that resided in that house.

Above the roar of the fire, something else permeated through the air.

A scream—so miserable and bloodcurdling that it pierced your sensitive ears.

It sounded as if the person at the other end of such a disturbing wail was screaming out to you as a cry for penitence and not just a frantic call for aid all while the fire continued to consume all that it touched.

But you knew better.

Your uncle did not cry or scream to ask for your forgiveness.

He was a man who did not know what the word forgiveness meant, wouldn’t know how to repent if his life depended on it—as it did now—because to men like him, his actions were not seen as sins. He was a man and everything belonged to him by his mere God given existence. There was not one thing that he could desire that he could not obtain purely by the fact that he was born as God intended. And if the almighty created all of his children in his image and some of those children had tendencies to do bad things, then surely they were not bad things at all… at least that was the way your uncle saw things.

It was how he justified the horrendous things he did; justifications that made it easier for him to sleep at night.

That’s why your heart felt empty as you sat in the crowded pews of the church house every Sunday morning since moving into that Godforsaken house. That’s why the preacher’s words felt meaningless, falling upon your deaf ears as you purposely turned your back on the God you were raised upon… because why would you give your devotions to a God if He would make vile men like your uncle? Why would you fall to your knees and pray to a deity that created a man who purposely harmed a child, one of His most precious gifts?

Why did this God not hear your own cries when your uncle preyed upon you?

Why did this God allow your aunt to let her husband hurt you in such a way, turning away with her head bowed in understanding of what he was doing to you when she should’ve been there to protect you from him?

No, He did not deserve your praise or your prayers, not when he abandoned you when you needed Him the most. When you were the most vulnerable. When you were still innocent.

It’s still night when the screaming finally subsided, fading into the darkness without much of an afterthought and leaving you in the beautiful smolder of the dancing flames and crumbling wood.

Amidst the thick smoke, something heavy imbued the air—a shift, one that you had never felt before but was undeniably palpable—and a scent, sweeping through the yard on a gentle breeze, carrying the smell of dead earth—wet, damp soil and wood after the rain—mixed with tobacco and copper.

Then, you saw him, a dark figure emerging though the wreckage.

From where you stood across the yard, you couldn’t make out the details of his face, shrouded in the shadows of the doorway that were created by the flames that raged on behind him, casting his intimidating form in a ghastly silhouette.

The figure looked up suddenly and his eyes glowed a dangerous, chilling shade of red that made your heart skip a beat. His gaze was hypnotizing, watching you diligently, the same way that a predator surveys its prey as it stalks, waiting to strike.

You blink slowly, feeling as if time has slowed, and when they open the man is standing before you, looming just mere inches from where you were planted in the yard, so much larger than your own smaller form.

He was still casted in that same daunting configuration, his broad shoulders outlined by the malevolent glow that endured endlessly behind him and the only distinguishable feature you could make out was the crimson glimmer of his rapacious stare.

Remmick doesn’t say a word, content in the silence that pervades around him while he continues to stare down at you.

He half expects you to tremble in his presence. You may be a child but you were not stupid, you were born in a place where danger lurked where you least expected it if you weren’t careful enough. But your heartbeat didn’t quicken, nor did it falter when he took another step closer. It remained even-paced and calm even when he inched closer and closer until he towered above you like a giant.

And just as he expected fear, he also expected that perhaps you would look upon him with defiance, to prove something to this stranger, but he doesn’t see it. Not an ounce of it in your large, doe-like eyes.

Instead what he sees is indifference: a small mortal creature that neither cared or not of what he was or what he was capable of doing. It was evident in the way you just stared at the fire while it destroyed the only roof you had over your head. You did not cry in distraught as you lost everything you had left in the fire nor did you jump up and down with joy as the cage that kept you bound to your abuser burned to the ground.

The wind picks up and instinctively he sniffs at the air, noticing another scent lingering there, one that doesn’t belong to him or the fire. His nostrils flare at the all too familiar metallic fragrance, his gaze drifting down your nightgown-clad frame to rest at the disheveled hem of it.

He breathes in slow, deep, when his eyes fall upon the red that muddies the cotton. The breeze tussles the bottom of your nightgown briefly, revealing the same crimson ichor that stains the flesh underneath.

His expression hardens and the corner of his lips twitch in a scowl as he tries to contain the disgust that eats away in his chest at the sight of the blood that coats your skin, still fresh. You shuffle at the unsettling look on his face, your small hands reaching down to smooth the edges of your nightgown while trying to ignore his dark, unwavering leer.

It quickly reminds him why he is here and the red glimmer of his stare slowly dims into its natural color at the sight of your uneasiness, but it doesn’t make him any less intimidating, any less frightening.

“My end of the deal is done, little dove,” he says then, voice softer than you expected yet still harboring that same level of menace that radiates off of him like heat. “I will come for you when it is time to hold up yours.”

“When?” You ask simply.

He tilts his head, mouth downturning into a pondering curl before he straights back up, his eyes never leaving your tiny, unmoving form. “When the time is right.”

“But,” the sound of your interjection causes the man to raise his brow in question, “how will you find me?”

There’s no emotion in your voice that Remmick can decipher, no indication that you don’t understand his words or the meaning behind them. You knew exactly what was asked of you and you accepted his bargain and with it every gruesome and horrendous act that he committed to fulfil his end of it without question.

He smiles, not smirking like you think he would, but genuinely smiles as if you asked the golden question, the one he’s been waiting for with keen ears.

Slowly he reaches out and patiently bides the time it takes for you to give him your hand.

His touch is soft as his fingers wrap around your wrist—not forcibly, not with the intention to harm you, but with gentle consideration he turns your hand over. His fingers slip from your wrist, his calloused thumb running down the expanse of your palm.

A quiet, surprised gasp leaves your mouth, eyes widening at the sight of his nail growing longer, sharper as it scrapes against the skin, causing a dull but angry looking line to blossom beneath his nail and for the first time you feel yourself panic.

He presses the sharp tip of his nail against the soft pad of your finger, causing you to wince at the pain. But even as the crimson ichor oozes from the small wound, you don’t pull away. You don’t turn and run like you know you should.

He swipes his thumb along the cut he’s made delicately, acting as though reverently handling the most holy of relics that lays in his hands, and coates it in the red warmth before bringing it to his lips and slipping his thumb into his mouth and sucks.

He inhales deeply, relishing the sweet metallic flavor that dances on his tongue, but then his brows furrowed briefly as another flavor overpowers the sweetness—vaguely sour, putrid almost as if spoiled.

He grins, knowing all too well of the taste and it forms a delightful pit in his stomach.

“There,” he says and releases the grip he has on your hand, “now I know. Wherever you go, wherever you end up, I’ll find you.”

It’s all he says and then he’s gone.

That was some twenty years ago and you haven’t seen him since.

It was quiet at first, no inklings that he was ever around, and that false sense of abandonment made you believe that perhaps it was all some kind of deranged hallucination your mind created as a way to cope with the trauma you endured… but then just a few weeks ago, you started to notice how the air suddenly hangs heavy, shifting with the weight of his presence—always at night, always where the darkness can hide him from you—and always lurking somewhere in the shadows.

Sometimes you think you catch glimpses of him amongst the treeline and those glowering red eyes of his, watching you from the dark sanctuary of the woods that surround your new home—that of your new home across state lines and miles away from the where you once lived with your parents and that of your uncle’s house, but it’s gone before you can even realize that it might be him.

The wind carries his smell from time to time, but still he’s nowhere to be found; even when you search and scour every last piece of land that surrounds you until your feet bleed from exhaustion, there’s not a single trace of Remmick anywhere.

It’s in your head, you sometimes think as you stand alone in the darkness. It’s been so long since that fateful night, surely he would’ve come to collect what was owed by now.

Perhaps he forgot about you, or perhaps he found someone more worthy of fulfilling their end of the bargain, you thought woefully.

Now in your thirties, you believed yourself past your prime, past any youthful appeal you once held, and reluctantly you doubt that you would ever see him again.

It was foolish to think that you were the only one he’d ever strike a bargain with. You certainly weren’t the first, not with how fluently he was able to coax the secrets out of your heart with nothing more than a kind look on his handsome face, begging you to speak your sorrows to him, your wishes, and you knew that you couldn’t have been the last.

Creatures like him don’t tread through the world waiting for one insignificant, lonesome soul to be ripened.

They hide where the sunlight can’t find them—lurking, hunting— never satisfied with the offering some wretched, wayward nobody had presented to them on a silver platter. Ravenous beings such as he were always hungry, always wanting more, and would stop at nothing to chase their immeasurable appetite.

And though you knew better than to hold onto that fleeting sentiment, your mind was only consumed with the thought of him and the covenant you made—ever persistent, ever resolute— and the idea of him not wanting you in return devastated you.

It hurt more than how your uncle would use you, hurt more than how your aunt did nothing to stop it, hurt more than the passing of your parents and that of your grandmother… but the worst part was you didn’t know why he didn’t seek you out when he promised that he would.

Why didn’t he come back?

Why didn’t he return to you to finish the deal that was made?

Like a disease it ate away at you, purposefully taking its time to rot you from the inside until once again you felt empty, hollow, like that sad little girl at the mercy of your uncle; sinking its claws deeper and deeper as it gradually became a part of you, ensuring that you could never escape from it.

Still, as you swore that he was there, watching, waiting, he never made himself known to you. He never showed himself, never gave you a glimmer of hope that he hadn’t forgotten about you.

Besides, your soul was poisoned, blighted by the years of resentment that found its home in your worn out heart.

Even now you can still feel the heat of your uncle’s foul breath on your skin, smell the rancid stench of it invading your nostrils when you speak to other men like him, knowing who they truly are without being told so.

It followed you, clinging to you like a ghost.

Why would he want a soul that was mired, infected with the incapability of letting go of the memories that tortured you?

And you tried forgetting, tried letting go, by everything that was still good in this world you tried, but no matter how much light you let it, you always found an excuse to cast it out.

And so, you buried that hurt away deep in the caverns of your downtrodden heart and did the only thing you could.

You waited.

Tonight was like any other and when the sun finally descends past the horizon, you spend your time basking in the solitude you’ve grown to live with.

The house was quiet, even more so now that you lived in it alone.

Your mother’s cousin passed away some summers ago, leaving you to tend to the aging house that had cared for you these last couple of years.

It was easy living with only yourself in that house once she was gone. Everyone in your life had the tendency to either leave or betray you—your parents, your grandmother, your aunt and uncle, even Remmick—so you found yourself embracing the loneliness, the solitude of it all, and you were content in living in the little, two bedroom house on the edge of the Mississippi.

There were no painful reminders here, no devils prowling in the shadows waiting until your back was turned to strike. Just mundane memories that didn’t fill you with complete disdain and scorn.

The window in the living room was wide open, allowing the fresh, night breeze to sweep in and breathe life into the house.

Sitting in the rocking chair that once belonged to her, you allowed yourself to sing the ballad that she had taught you.

“Strange things are happening every day, I hear the music up above my head. Though the sight of my heart has left me again, I hear music up above—”

Outside, the harsh chirp of crickets slowly fades into silence, as does the croaking of toads and cicadas and all the sounds of the night around you until only your voice endures through the uncanny stillness.

“Secrets are written in the sky. Looks like I've lost the love I've never found. Though the sound of hope has left me again, I hear music up above—”

The wind picks up faintly, causing goosebumps to prickle at your skin, but it’s not from the chill of the draft that makes your body react.

Your rocking stops and so does the song that fell from your lips.

There’s something different, something that was not quite right.

It’s the same shift in the air that signals that his presence is near—not here, but somewhere close by, so close you can almost feel him there in the room with you.

And then, out in the distance, you hear it—a voice.

His voice.

He calls out to you like a whisper in your dreams, faint and dulcet as he recites the same lyrics that have since died on your tongue.

“Standing in my broken heart, all night long. Darkness held me like a friend when love wore off—”

Somehow your feet have pulled you from the chair, your body reacting solely on it's own accord, leading you out the house as if in some kind of surreal trance and drawing you out into the black Delta night.

The soft strumming of a banjo hangs in the air, enticing you to venture further and further into the darkness, into the unknown, and far away from the comfort you've built in that little house.

The earth is soft under your feet, sighing and kissing your skin affectionately with every step that you take.

Closer to him, closer to the voice that lured you towards him like a siren’s song.

Your gaze remained on the unpathed road before you, through the fields and grassland and into the swampy woods that separated you from your destiny, the one you sealed to him with a vow as a child.

It was almost pathetic how you followed his voice without a second thought, as if this was meant to happen… because to you, it was.

You had waited faithfully and now all of your patience was to be rewarded.

“—Looking for the lamb that's hidden in the cross. The finder's lost…”

Through the swampland you tread, turning and wading through it until the ground that once welcomed your journey now spites you; the twigs that litter the ground stab at the soles of your feet, at your ankles, and the prickly branches of the trees snag at the material of your nightgown as if trying to stop you—warning you.

You could feel the wrenching of your grandmother’s withered hands grabbing at you, silently begging you to reconsider before it was too late—an attempt to save your soul from the covenant you were about to seal with this blasphemous creature.

Her voice reverberates in your mind, soft and mild yet undeterred to break you of the spell that he had casted on you; for you to understand what was to come should you continue on and that your time on this earth would come to an end should you not turn back now, unable to join her and your parents in the afterlife.

But you didn’t heed that warning.

You embraced whatever fate you had resigned yourself to long ago and no attempt at saving your soul would prevail.

You found your own voice effortlessly calling back to him, singing gently as your voice carried itself on the wind, hoping that he’d hear you.

And in the echoes of your mind, you hear your grandmother weep.

“I know I loved you too much, I'll go alone to get through—”

That slow, simple yet tantalizing strumming of the banjo leads you through the wood, deep and dark and twisting without the glow of the moon to guide you.

Still you pursue it, even when logic and reason told you to stop and reconsider what might undeniably be the death of you, but there was no turning back. Not now that you were so close to what you had longed for.

“I hear Rosetta singing in the night,” you both sing in unison, your voices melding together and becoming one singular, exquisite proclamation into the night. “Echos of light that shines like stars after they're gone. And tonight she's my guide as I go on alone, with the music up above.”

Time has evaded you, unsure of how long you’ve walked along this barren road, but eventually you reach the end.

Through the thicket and trees of the forest lies a house—worn and old and decaying from years of abandonment, and yet it still stands tall and proud across the clearing, a remnant of another time that has refused to be forgotten.

This is a place where the cypress trees and oaks have lived far longer than any human has, a place where they’ve planted their roots and refused to leave. Spanish moss hangs from the branches, spinning silvery green-gray threads of garland that sways with the wind, dancing to a melody only known to them, one they lived in harmony with.

Though distance separates you both, you can see his shape lingering in the darkness, standing in the doorframe with his banjo in hand and strapped across his broad shoulders.

Remmick.

As you approach you can’t help but think that he still looks the same as you remember, untouched by time.

With his sleeves rolled up to his elbow you can see the veins that pulsate beneath his unblemished skin and the lean muscle underneath, a testament of the strength that he undoubtedly has. His dark hair frames the top of his head, catching the shadows that play off the contours of his handsome, angular face.

He watches as you proceed towards him, those glowing red eyes never leaving the sight of you, drawing you closer and closer like a moth to the flame until you stand before him at the bottom of the few steps that lead up into the old house.

You’d think that he’d be hardened from all the time that has passed since you've last seen each other, weary of you and unsure that you’re the same girl that he made that unholy promise to all those years ago.

You trace every curve of his face, mapping the lines that kiss at the corner of his eyes and the relaxed slant of his lips, searching for any inclination that his perception of you is not what it once was.

But the longer you look, the more you don’t see any uncertainty of your intentions reflecting back at you in those inhuman eyes of his, only adoration, only reverence.

It makes your heart flutter pitifully inside of your ribcage.

“You found me,” you say finally, breaking the silence between the two of you.

He smirks, recognizing the steadiness in your voice as you speak.

Still unafraid, he thinks, still that same unfaltering spirit that he remembers from when he first encountered you just before that blood-stained night that lived in his memories like a keepsake.

“I told you that I would. Did you doubt me?”

You shake your head, not so much as a response to his question, but more of trying to shake away the disillusion of your own equivocation.

“I thought…” you start, feeling that familiar, unwanted hollowness in your chest return, “I thought that maybe you’d—”

“Forgotten you?” He answers with a seriousness that makes your heart stop beating for a second, “Forsaken you and the vow we made?” He tilts his head and smiles. Not smirks like he did before, but smiles, genuine and true. “I’m a man of my word, little dove, a man who keeps the promises he makes.”

Little dove, he called you that on the night when he slaughtered your uncle some twenty years ago. Such a fond endearment, one that he spoke as if he reserved it only for you.

“It's been so long, why wouldn’t I think that?”

“You were a child when we made our bargain, I needed you to be prepared when I came to collect what you owed. I needed you to be willing to give it to me without a doubt in your heart. Not taken from you. Not stolen. I wanted you to welcome it, to welcome me. Not fear me.”

“I don’t fear you, I never did.”

He chuckles. “I know you didn’t, not back then at least, but time changes people. Memories change how people perceive things. Maybe as you grew older you would come to resent me and the things I did to your uncle. I wasn't kind. I didn’t spare him one moment to repent for what he did to you… and who knows, maybe you found it in your heart to forgive him.”

“I can’t forgive him," you counter sharply, "don’t think I’ll ever be able to. And I don’t resent you either, not for giving me a second chance to live without knowing if the next time he’d visit me would be my last. Why would I resent you for that?”

He hums in response, your words somewhat convincing him that he was right in believing that you were ready for this, but he still has to ask, even when he already knows the answer. “And you’re still sure? You still want to uphold it?”

“Yes,” the word escapes your lips before you can even register it.

Remmick nods solemnly, staring at you with those soul-piercing eyes.

He’s spent the last twenty years waiting for this, letting time and severance come between the two of you and fermenting those memories, those emotions of that night until just the right moment that allowed this reunion to become all the sweeter for him; and for you too.

“That song of yours,” he purrs, inhaling deeply and allowing himself to reminisce about the lyrics, the sentiment behind it, of how it resonates with him just as much as it did with you, “it's beautiful.”

“It was the only thing that gave me comfort for a long time,” you say. “It was something that I could hold onto without fear that someone would try and take it away from me.”

“A beckoning,” he interjects slyly. The points of his fangs peek out from beneath the curl of his lip when he smirks, glistening in the moonlight—the canines and the rest of the teeth behind them are large and elongated and serrated, like a mouth full of knives. “An enticement.”

You nod, “In a way, yes, but not how it might seem. I just needed to know that you were out there somewhere and that you heard me, that you still remembered me. But you never answered—”

“It was never the right time,” he replies, “but I did hear you. Every time you sang out into the night, I heard it.”

Remmick treads down a step, then two, until only one separates the two of you. He places a hand on your chest, right where the source of your music lies, the same beating mechanism where you kept your memories of him. Your intensity. Your longing.

His hand is cold, just as you remember, but it exudes more warmth than you felt in what feels like a lifetime.

“Heard the saccharine crooning of your blood, even when you didn’t sing, especially when you didn’t sing… your heart reaching out in an attempt to call me back to you. Aching. Pleading for me to return—but you knew I was there, didn’t you dove?”

“I did, that’s why it hurt so much. Knowing that you were there, close enough to sense you but just far enough away where I couldn’t find you.”

He’s quiet then, eyes wandering over every little detail of you, every line that’s etched in your pretty face, every minute change.

You’ve grown since he last had a proper glance at you, now taller and with a fuller figure that has filled out every curve of your body that he can see through the silhouette of your nightgown, clinging to the sweat that coates your skin like raindrops from the humid Delta night; not exactly the same thin, sickly looking girl he found decades ago with blood on her thighs and tears in her eyes—cursing silently to herself about all the wrongdoings that had happened to her, ones that should never befall a child as young as you were—but despite the changes, he can see the same spirit sweltering in your heart, untouched by circumstance and time.

Remmick never let you drift too far from his sight, choosing to keep at a distance in order to preserve the decorum of the arrangement the two of you made, but over the years he noticed how your restraint began to wade and contort into something more zealous.

He saw the way you searched for him relentlessly when you thought he was there, watching you or not. He felt the way your heart called out to him, felt it when you were in the arms of some long-forgotten lover that you still only ever thought of him, wishing that he would just come back to you, even when time and time again he never did.

This, what he had, wasn’t an easy life, but it sure as hell was easier than the life you’ve lived thus far. And he just had to be sure, not needing to make a mistake that you would surely regret, a mistake that would make you resent him.

“I wasn’t completely truthful when I told you that I had fulfilled my end of the bargain.” He says, his glowering eyes never leaving yours. Just as terrifying, just as soft.

“What do you mean?”

He pulls his hand from your chest and straightens, nodding towards the inside of the house.

“There’s one last loose end that needs to be taken care of before you can fulfill our deal.”

There’s something sinister that laces his voice and it sends a shiver down your spine.

He turns and enters the house, leaving you alone once again as you watch the darkness swallow him.

Without hesitation, you follow.

Remmick’s already at the top of the stairs when you enter, walking down the short corridor that leads into one of the seemingly empty rooms. He moves seamlessly through the hall and without a sound. Like a ghost that is bound to this place, an apparition that haunts each brick and plank that holds the walls up, holding the nails and cement in place that prevents the house from collapsing in on itself.

Your feet carry you up the steps and the floorboards creak under your weight as you ascend the rotten wood, quietly threatening you with each step that it might be your last.

Still, you venture further into the dying house.

The wallpaper peels off the walls in captivating spirals downwards, trying to escape the atrocities that this house has seen, of what it’s about to see.

The air is stale around you, unmoving and void of any life that has not thrived within these walls in decades. Untouched by loving hands or caring souls that should be felt in any house. Instead it was just left to rot from the cancer that dwells in its underbelly until even time has forsaken it.

Pale moonlight seeps through the torn and tattered lace curtains, the glittering of dust hanging in the air as if frozen in time.

Small paintings decorate the walls, depicting the vast and fertile swamps and wetlands of the only land you’ve ever known, of the dirt roads that lead to the small shacks that people here called home. But their colors had faded from neglect, drenched in the sunlight that filters through the window on the hottest of Southern days.

Other than the moonlight, there is nothing to guide your way, so you carefully make your way down the hall.

One of the doors on the right side of the hallway is slightly ajar and you can see the flickering of lamplight from beneath the wooden door, a sign pointing you in the direction of where you needed to go.

Cautiously, you push it open.

Remmick stands in the center of the room, facing you fully, his face devoid of any emotion yet nothing about him is unnerving, least not to you.

Surely if he wanted to kill you he would’ve done it long ago, back when you were some weak little thing that was unable to protect itself. It was easy for him to kill your uncle, it would no doubt be easy to kill you too, you think.

Remmick seemed like the kind of man that could take life without reservation, not caring for who or what it was that he destroyed as long as he had a reason. If that reason was right or not, you didn’t know. But he didn’t kill you, didn’t touch you without your sanction, nor did he drain you of the one thing that kept you alive, and that was enough to reassure you, even when it was stupid to do so.

He’s watching you with such intensity simply because he could, because he wanted to—wanted you to know that this was it, the exact point of time that you’ve been anticipating since you were that lost, shattered little girl he met all those summers ago.

This was your salvation.

Something makes a sound in the room and your eyes linger on him a second longer before they drift to the source of such a pitiful whimper, to the figure that kneels with their head bowed and eyes screwed shut, trembling on the floor just past him at his feet.

His crimson gaze follows yours, neck craning to glance down at the pathetic excuse of a woman that shakes terribly behind him like a rattled dog.

The sound of your unwavering footsteps makes the figure look up frantically and your whole body stills, goosebumps princkling at you skin when you come face-to-face with one of the demons that has plagued your nightmares since that fateful night—one that instills a knot of dread to form in your stomach, twisting and churning your insides violently.

It is your aunt who kneels on the ground before you, her graying hair thin and wiry and not at all the same hue of brown that you remember from your youth. It frames her gaunt face, the skin around her eyes sunken in from all the years she spent in fear as guilt festered in her bowels.

Once you thought her beautiful with a face that was round and jovial, her enchanting eyes that caught the splendor of the sunlight in the summer, and a smile that promised nothing but love and warmth, but soon enough you saw that facade wane when the truth came to light. A truth of the horrors that her husband harbored in that godforsaken house of theirs, a truth that she was too cowardly to face.

Now as she kneeled before you, whimpering and weeping with crystalline tears that smeared down her wrinkled, hollowed cheeks, all you saw was the reflection of her soul staring back at you—Weak. Craven. Spineless.

Any fear you felt just moments before slowly ebbs into something darker, something more ominous and insidious as it maliciously seeps into your bones. There’s an unspoken itch that tickles at the back of your mind like a vindictive spirit whispering awful, terrible things in your ear.

Your aunt doesn’t seem to recognize you, her brows furrowed in confusion and squinting in the dim lighting of the room to get a better look at you.

But how could she remember you?

It has been over two decades since she last saw you, and now you stand before her a grown woman, so vastly different from any recollection she has of the small girl that once lived under her roof.

To her, you look like any other stranger she’d meet on the street in town.

But there’s something so familiar about you, something she can’t place.

It’s unsettling how she can’t put a name to the face that stares down at her with an abhorrence that makes all the color drain from her face and the gnawing ache in the pit of her ribcage intensifies. It invokes memories laced with secrets that she has long since tried to forget, locking them away deep in the recesses of her mind.

Secrets that were buried with her husband—whatever was left of him—hoping that with his untimely passing that they would never resurface.

The floorboards creak quietly and suddenly Remmick is standing behind you, slightly at your side, his breath fans across the nape of your neck and dragging heat along your jawline. He’s so close that you can feel the measured cadence of his chest heaving against your body with every breath he takes.

His nostrils flare, filling with that compelling fragrance invading his mind—infiltrating, penetrating.

You reeked of sin ready to be committed, of retribution yet to be reaped.

It clings to your skin like the finest of perfumes with the same veracity and allure as the blood that coursed through your veins. Just as potent, just as loud, and just as electrifying.

His eyes flutter shut, sensing it pulsate in the heavy thrumming of your nerves as his fingers caress up and down your arm lightly, tracing the path of it under your warm skin.

With his breath in your ear, Remmick speaks, brushing his nose into your temple with almost tender affection.

“That night when we met, you asked to be rid of the monsters that caused you harm. You only spoke of your uncle then, but I could hear your heart whispering another name, one last monster to be free of.”

It hits her then, hard and fast as if struck by a train running at a hundred miles an hour.

Her eyes, now glossy and bloodshot, widened in horror as her mouth falls agape.

Tears once again trickle down your aunt’s pale face, realizing what all of this was—of who you were and what you were going to do to her, her mind running amuck with the horrible possibilities.

This was no mere act of random violence bestowed on a stranger who was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time.

No…time and patience had crafted this diabolical reunion, carefully and delicately with heinous consideration and all of it orchestrated by Remmick’s sadistic need to corrupt all that was good in this world and make it his.

And he succeeded, seizing all of the anguish and rage and bitterness that dwelled in the abyss of your heart and manipulated it—manipulated you—with his deceitful promise of freedom, laced with honeyed words and kind smiles.

But you were too blind to see it, influenced by the wickedness of his black tongue.

She almost feels sorry for you for being easily tricked by this devilish cretin… almost, if it wasn’t for the fright that ran rampant within her.

Something small presses into your palm and you glance down to see Remmick slipping a box of matches into your hand, followed by the heavy metal handle of the oil lamp.

You glance at him briefly, but he doesn't say a word.

He doesn’t need to, the depth of his profound, burning eyes tells you all that you need to know; of all that needs to be done and what you had to do to obtain it, and you feel the grip on the items in your grasp tightened.

Remmick steps back, watching in reprehensible awe as you move fluidly towards the women, his red eyes glowing with nefarious intensity.

His mouth waters, the thick, vulgar sludge running down the side of his mouth and down his chin but he makes no attempt to wipe it away.

Your aunt scuffles back, knees tripping over the tattered hem of her dress with her hands up in front of her in a pleading gesture though no words leave her dry and cracked lips, unable to utter even a single word as absolute panic overwhelms her.

It’s too late to beg anyway, too late to ask for your forgiveness.

Twenty some years too late, you think ruefully.

Perhaps if she had ever reached out to you in an attempt to rectify what she had done and what she had failed to do, you could find it in your heart to absolve her of her passive sins. She was a woman oppressed by the hand that brought food to her table, indebted through marriage to a man who gave her a roof over her head and the clothes on her back.

But she could have protected you from the detestable hands of her husband, and yet she didn’t. She allowed that evilness to thrive, allowed it to defile you.

She could only stare in absolute terror as you brought the lamp up to your lips, blowing out the flame and casting the room into shadows, replacing the reddish-orange glow of the lamplight with an eerie hue of blue and silver that drapes over the room.

She finally speaks, calling out your name. The sound of her heartbreaking voice implores you to reconsider, to let her live because she was your aunt, because you were family and she didn’t know any better. She was scared, just as you were, afraid of what her husband would do to her if she were to have interjected.

She begs you to not be seduced by this devil and all of his false promises, but her pleas are futile.

You ignore her excuses, just as she ignored all of your cries for help that left your throat raw and dry as your tiny body was desecrated by the fiend that kept you prisoner in that house.

Remmick’s heavy breathing behind you saturates the room as you doused her in the slick oil and light the match with a single flick against the striker strip.

It does little to light the room and the flickering of the small flame creates shadows that dance across your face.

Your aunt can't help but think that you look nothing like the little girl she once knew.

You shared the same name, shared the same pretty features, but beyond the color of your eyes and hair, beyond the birthmarks she remembers, the woman who stands before her is unrecognizable.

Once you were sweet, and kind, but all of that warmth that she knew you possessed was gone.

And she was part of the reason why.

The realization of it makes her weep.

Not because she knew this was the end of her, but because of all of the hurt she inflicted upon you had led you into finding refuge in the darkness, led you into his arms.

Her eyes find yours and through despair that enrapts her, she musters enough strength not to look away, not daring cast her gaze to the match between your fingers even when you toss it onto her lap.

Her resolve only lasts so long before her screams penetrate through the room.

The fire that started at her skirts ascended upwards quickly, violently and without hesitation, keen on destroying the last boogeyman that had ever haunted you.

Her hands frantically try to swat the flames as if it will save her from this terrible fate, one that she had brought upon herself.

The sight of her brings you back to that night, back to when you witnessed your uncle’s demise, taking all of his sin and evil with him.

And just like that night, you simply watch as the flames take her, devouring her whole until there is nothing more of it to take.

Eventually her flailing stops, as does the screams, and her body falls to the ground with a loud thud.

The flames continue to grow, reaching out past her lifeless body and sprawling across the floorboards. They climb up the walls, feeding off of the dried out wood and engulfing anything that would satisfy its appetite—one that always burned, one that could never be sated.

Remmick’s hands are on you again, tighter this time and rougher, breaking you from the trance that the flames have placed you under with their deadly hex.

He lulls your head back to rest on his shoulder, exposing your neck to him and breathes in the delicious aroma that emanates out of every one of your pores—of all the corruption and depravity and wickedness that floods through your veins like the most lethal of poisons, a product of the seed he had planted inside of you.

This was his plan all along afterall, to fill your head with nothing but thoughts of him— his image burning in your mind until it was all consuming and replenishing the void in your chest with the lachrymose notion that one day the two of you would be reunited.

That was why he waited so long before he made himself known to you again—through fleeting gazes that made you question your sanity, through the lingering of his scent that wafted in the cool, Mississippi breeze that drove you to the verge of madness—ensuring that you wouldn't forget him so that the yearning that festered inside of you didn’t diminish. That it only grew and grew and grew until it became an obsession you couldn’t break free of.

He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find it amusing, your infatuation with him, because he too had his own sick fascination with you.

In the beginning, Remmick’s bargain was just that: a bargain.

You had something that he wanted, something he craved, and he was willing to linger unseen until he was able to collect what was owed.

But the more he visited, the more he watched from the obscurity of the treeline that surrounded your home and saw how you pined for the same need for connection that had plagued him for centuries, the deeper his twisted affections grew for you.

Just like you, the time he spent abiding his time was maddening.

For a creature of his nature, years passed by like hours, making all of the time he spent drifting through the world feel less excruciating, less unbearable. But even the most sensible of minds can lose themselves to the overwhelming spiral of despair that arises as they watch their loved ones perish to the cruel consequences of time, surrendering to the inevitable, over and over again. And Remmick was not far from falling headfirst into that spiral, so he needed to act fast should he lose that fight.

For far too long Remmick has roamed this earth in search of a companion, to find someone who would stay at his side and ease the ache that has cemented itself in his lonely soul. There have been whom Remmick saw promise in, others who’ve sought the same as he, but it never lasted. Some left willingly, others found the other half of their soul in men that weren’t Remmick, and others simply perished.

Even now Remmick didn’t know if what he felt was genuine or if he was merely projectioning what his soul wanted onto you, but it didn’t matter to him… you were his now, completely and utterly his.

The thrum of your pulse beats against his thumb as he holds your jaw in his palm pulls him out of his wandering thoughts and he sighs with admiration at the surge of your vitality that it courses through your body.

To him it was more than merely drinking from you, it was about forging a bond that would last in this lifetime and the next, sharing the most vulnerable and intimate parts of you with him, and he you.

What he craved wasn’t power over you, or control, he didn’t even want your blood as sweet as it tasted, as tempting as it was.

No, what he wanted was your warmth, your depravity, your affection and devotion… he desired the music that your heart curated and sang only for him.

It reminded him of a time before his turning, back when life was uncomplicated. Back when all he wanted was companionship.

And he found that in you, his fallen angel. His dark muse.

“This is it, little dove,” he pants, breath scorching and burning hot, unlike the rest of him.

You feel the scrape of his fangs brush along your pulsepoint dangerously and your breath hitches in your throat.

“I need to hear you say it, that you want this,” he says, almost begging, almost as if not to you at all and only to silence the doubt that holds him back. He needs to hear the words fall from your lips, to prove that he’s deserving of this—deserving of you.

That’s what Remmick tells himself, trying to convince himself that he’s holding onto a shred of humanity that he still had left dwindling inside of him by offering you a choice in the matter—sure it was choice molded and influenced by his deceitful hand, but it was a choice nonetheless—and making you say it outloud made it tangible. Made it real.

“Say it.”

“I want this,” you whisper, voice unwavering in your decision. Absolute. You look up at him, “I want you.”

Remmick swears he sees starlight glimmering in your eyes, full of veneration and fondness and love and it’s exactly what he needed, that push forward.

Your eyelids flutter shut when he leans in, lips brushing ardently in a kiss reserved for the most reverent of lovers despite the blasphemy of it all, despite the sacrilege of it.

And then he bites, sinking his fangs deep into the tender flesh of your throat and tasting the rush of your blood filling his mouth.

You wince, gasping at the painful pressure of where his teeth were embedded into you, his lips sealing around the wound as he drinks, swallowing hungrily at the metallic nectar.

It makes him dizzy with exhilaration, his mind fogging over from the euphoria that courses through him.

There’s an agonizing sting at first, but it’s not nearly as violent as you think it would be.

You’d imagine Remmick ripping off ribbons of flesh from your throat and tearing your arteries to shreds like some brutish creature devouring its prey.

He’s not greedily draining you with the intent to kill—he’s tasting every drop of blood that spills into his mouth, savoring the sanguine taste of you on his tongue and memorizing it.

You aren’t a one-off meal that he’ll tear into and quickly discard. You are now his one prized conquest, marked by his bite.

Remmick is surprisingly gentle in the way he cradles your cheek in one of his large hands while the other is wrapped around your waist, preventing you from stumbling over from the heavy weight of his body pressed securely against yours.

A shiver runs through you, feeling the chill of death creeping up your arms like mist, up your chest and neck despite the heat of the fire that rages all around.

You know that you should be frightened knowing that death is right at your doorstep, waiting for you to take that final step through the threshold, but you aren't scared, not when it feels like this—a merciful pull into the darkness, slowly draining you until your body grows weaker and weaker the more he takes. .

Like death itself was comforting you, consoling you, encouraging you not to be afraid and tread into that darkness without fear of the unknown. Apologizing for all the pain you endured, but assuring that there would be no more suffering once you let it in.

Let him in.

And you do, bearing every part of your soul to Remmick as he drinks.

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, finally finding the peace you so desperately sought in this grim, dreadful world, washing over you like a Baptismal fountain.

Through the warm ichor, Remmick can see the life that you lived thus far.

He sees your parents, both grinning ear-to-ear as they walk you up the steps of the church you all attended every Sunday and the hearty meals your mother had prepared after. He sees you standing at the edge of freshly dug up dirt, watching as the gravediggers lower their caskets into the ground. He sees the fireplace where you sat while your grandmother told you stories of her homeland and the origins of the traditions of your people and then the disgraceful excuse of a gravesite where they buried her, nothing more than a plank of wood with her name scratched into the grainy surface; the only thing your family could afford. He sees the last time you smiled before being ushered into your uncle’s house, ignorant to what you would experience at his hands. He sees himself in the threshold of the burning house behind him.

But he isn’t the only one who sees the lingering reflections of a time that have since passed.

Through the darkness that trickles into your vision, there are flashes of a life that don’t belong to you flickering behind your eyelids—a foreign land with vast green countrysides surrounded by treacherous waters, a small village with townsfolk that fill the air with laughter and music so touching you can feel it reverberate in your chest. A place where gods and spirits inhabited each stone, in every tree and in the lakes and rivers that flowed through the land, living side by side with the people who thrived there, undisturbed by marauders from across the sea who would eventually come.

The rush of images dissipate shortly after drifting into your mind as the world around you is fading, and the sharp, thunderous drawl of Remmick’s bite dulls.

He can feel it too, how your body slacks in his embrace with every second that passes. How the vigor of your blood’s song steadily begins to dim.

His tongue runs along the wound of his making on your neck, leaving a thick line of saliva on the skin there and quickly replacing it with an amorous press of his lips.

You groan at the fatigue that infiltrates your mind, your body instinctively pushing away the urge to sever the thread that binds you to this existence.

Your fingers find purchase on his thick arms, unconsciously trying to shove him off of you, but you have no strength to do so.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispers into your hair, so soft, so reverent, like a prayer. “Think of it as falling asleep and when you wake, you’ll be anew.” He coos against your temple and places a kiss to your cold forehead, “I’ve got you. Let go.”

And you do, with one final exhale you let go.

Silence greets you. And blackness. The world around you is gone, having ebbed away into absolute nothingness.

Growing up hearing the sermons from the preacher upon the pulpit, you’d thought death would be different, more dramatic. Blinding white light that leads to the pearly gates. Or of fire and brimstone that foretold the eternity torture that awaited you after a life of vice. Perhaps even of the muddled gray of a purgatory you’d never leave, condemning you to wander in uncertainty forever, but it wasn’t like that at all.

Just blackness envelopes you and you feel weightless, like floating on the waters of the Mississippi River just before the sun rises above the horizon.

Time is meaningless in a place like this and you’re unsure of how long you’ve lingered here in death, straying mindlessly in that cold, dark void. Like the passing of seconds into centuries, like surviving through a never-ending winter before a long awaited spring emerges, blossoming into something wondrous and exhilarating.

Finally, your eyes begin to open and the world around you is bold, vibrant with perfect clarity.

There are colors and hues that are new to you now and with amazement you watch as the inferno dances around you in splendid destruction.

You can see every flickering flame that burns deep into the walls and scorches the wood beneath it, like the brushstrokes of a painting of meticulous detail—so rich, so sharp, alive as if every shadow and streak of color had a soul within itself.

Still in Remmick’s embrace, now cradled ardently in his arms as he carries you out of the burning wreckage of the house you can feel every stitch of his skin on yours, amplified. The once cold hands that held you now radiate a warmth that you never noticed before.

The night birds and insects that chant their nocturnal melodies sing with sublime coherence. Even the sound of the leaves that sway gently in the night’s breeze sound as loud as the strumming of a blues guitar.

Your hand reaches up to caress his jawline, sharpe with the stubble that frames his chin. Despite the prickle beneath your fingers, the expanse of his skin feels velvety under your touch, taut and smooth like marble, sending electricity through your fingertips.

Remmick leans into the tender stroke of your knuckles along this cheek, trembling slightly as your nails rake down the column of his throat, feeling the hum of his blood dancing below with delight.

Once outside, Remmick lays you down on the lawn with the crisp air nipping at your skin. The softness of the grass against your back makes you sigh, like laying on sheets of silk.

His mouth is on you suddenly, hot and slick and hungry.

Your legs part, welcoming Remmick between them without hesitation and he moans when your hands cup his face, slanting your lips perfectly to deepen the kiss.

You cling to him, causing Remmick to hiss at the sting of your nails clawing into the nape of his neck, creating crescent-shaped into his skin through the fabric of his collar.

It spurs him on, how unaware you are of your new-found strength, and it stirs something dangerous in his gut.

His tongue traces your bottom lip, desperately asking you to part for him—an invitation—and when you do, he licks into your mouth like a man starved.

You can taste the remnants of the irony tang of your blood on this tongue and it eases a whine from your lips.

Once it would have repulsed you but now it remedies a craving you’ve never experienced before, but only a little; only in the slightest of ways, in a way that teases you, in a way that demands more.

Your head spins at the feeling of his hands on your body—fondling the swell of your breasts though the thin material of your nightgown and making your nipples pucker beneath his touch.

It has heat and wetness pooling between your legs and you chase the urge by lifting your hips upwards to grind against the hardening of his cock beneath the rough cotton of his trousers.

His tongue pushes deeper into your mouth, matching your eagerness, and he rocks back into you forcefully, enough to render another sound out of you which he does easily.

You should be ashamed at how pliable you are under his touch, at the pathetic and lewd moans that leave your mouth when his lips linger across your face, kissing and nipping at the skin of your jaw, down the expanse of your neck.

He places searing, wet kisses on each collarbone and between the valley of your breasts as he slides lower and lower down your body.

You arch into every kiss he lavishes on your clothed skin, desperately needing to feel all of him on you, to feel the heat that exudes off of his body bleed into you. You're so lost in his touch that you don’t even notice that one of his hands snakes under the hem of your nightgown, pushing it up and revealing the temptation of your flesh while the other tugs your underwear down your ankles until he maneuvers it off of you, throwing it aside carelessly.

You writhe against the damp grass, skin burning up. Like a fever you can’t break, kindled by the scorching trail of his tongue down your stomach, the weighted press of his body against yours, feeling the heat spread through your bloodstream and into every part of you from your head to your toes—igniting every cell with heightened pleasure.

Your mind spins haphazardly into a spiraling descent of hedonistic madness. Even the intensity that exudes from the dilapidated house that cries out for merciful release feels cool in comparison to his touch.

The flames and smoke fades into a smeared mess of orange, red, and black until you don’t recognize it at all. It just becomes a part of the night, like the stars and moon above.

You feel drunk off of him, mind blurring into enraptured grandeur.

Remmick leans forward, nuzzling the side of your thigh with his nose as he catches your intoxicating scent and it racks a shudder up his spine when he breathes it in gluttonously.

His name falls from your lips, full of want and desire, but he hushes your plea quietly.

It almost makes him laugh from the irony of it all—of how easily you traded one monster for another.

He wonders if the thought ever crossed your mind or if the hatred you harbored in your heart for your uncle and aunt have blinded you of the fact.

It doesn’t matter now, not when he has you right here he wants you and Remmick isn’t going to let you slip through his fingers by revealing the epiphany he had.

He’s going to indulge in all of the horrors you have hidden inside of you. Coddle it. Exploit it. Foster it.

“It’s alright dove,” he whispers, kissing your inner thigh before draping one over his lean shoulder, then the other, “it’ll all be alright, just gonna make you feel good, real good.”

Another kiss, closer to the glistening of your cunt.

He shifts his gaze to yours, finding the natural hue of them now glowing a rich tinge of orange, the same shade as the flames that swelter behind the both of you as the house continues to burn in an endless inferno.

It makes his heart falter at the sight of you, perfectly grotesque.

Pushing up on your elbows, your mouth parts to object but whatever questionable demur you plan to say dies before it can even form and a drawn out moan replaces it as the sensation of Remmick flicking his tongue over your cunt suddenly overwhelms you.

It renders you boneless, falling back amongst the grass while hot embers erupt across the sensitive flesh. Using the roughness of his tongue, he sluggishly drags it along the seam of your folds, tasting the wet ambrosia that lays between the sanctuary of your thighs, the only altar he’d ever kneel before.

One of your hands finds refuge in his hair, fingers threading through the short, curled locks while the other grasps at his forearm for dear life, knuckles turning stark-white from strain as that wicked tongue teases you—slowly sliding over your dripping, heated slit and stroking over your clit in deliberately tedious licks.

His large hands grip at your thighs firmly, holding you in place to ease the mindless gyrations of your hips towards his sinful mouth as he devours you—the wild, hungry way that he works his tongue against you, over you, inside of you.

Remmick hums in content, feeling the thin strings of your resolve snapping one by one with every trawl of his devilish tongue against your flesh, unraveling a little more with each needy whine or ragged sigh you breathe out into the night.

You shudder when he moves his mouth up to find that little bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex and captures it between his lips, flicking over it in slow, teasing manipulations, and you jerk, your body already nearly spasming and you dig your heels into the muscles of his back in a hopeless attempt to keep him rooted against you.

He moves his mouth lower once more, hands moving around to cup the ample swell of your ass and pressing you even closer as he delves his tongue into the hot, wet depths of your pussy.

And fuck if the strangled cry that tore from your throat wasn’t the most retched, profane sound he’s ever heard, especially when it was accompanied by a violent tug at his hair that pushes his face deeper into your quivering cunt, sending his tongue plunging even further inside of you.

The swollen ache turns into burning and you feel your inner walls tighten, knowing the sensation of your impending orgasm creeping up your spine.

Remmick senses it too, feeling the same coil tightening in his abdomen, but he doesn’t relent in his attention. His moans meld with yours, matching it pitch for pitch and accompanying every sound you make with one of his own like a sordid melody.

He wishes he could stay like this, tucked deliciously between your legs and drinking from your immaculate cunt until the sun rises beyond the horizon and for the rest of his infernal lifetime, especially as you grind herself against his face shamelessly and keening his name desperately despite the firm grip he had on your thighs, but he can’t ignore the almost painful throb of his hardening cock rubbing against his pants.

The reverberation of his groans and whimpers make your thighs tremble against the sides of his head, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. His body rocks in sync with the roll of your hips, flowing in the same rhythmic cadence as you both become one through the tormenting ministrations of his mouth.

Never had a man or woman touched you like this, uncaring of how obscene he looks with his head buried between your legs. His hands, calloused and strong, message the delicate flesh of your thighs and ass in soothing motions. He places enough pressure to induce bruising to flourish beneath the supple skin and the pleasure that blossoms under his touch is inebriating. Addictive.

The grip you have on his arm trails up to thread your fingers through his, your nails digging deep into his palm to rouse another elongated moan from him.

You smirk, satisfied at the sound you pull out of him, but the smugness is wiped clean off your face as the tightening pressure that had been building in your spine and lower belly intensifies, your mouth parting in a sequence of short, breathy sighs when it hits you.

It’s blinding and red-hot, a kaleidoscope of euphoria bursting from inside of you in a flash of liquid fire, and with a broken cry of Remmick’s name on your lips you cum into his eagerly awaiting mouth.

He slurps at your sweet slickness as it floods his senses, flaring his nostrils to fully bask in the scent of you, and a low, guttural growl rips from deep within his chest.

He licks and laps at your cunt, fervently catching every drop you offer him to not miss a single drop, not wanting to let any of it go to waste. Not on your thighs, not on the grass below, not even on his chin. No, he had to devour you thoroughly until there was nothing left for you to give.

And god is his tongue relentless, repeating the same motions over your sensitive bud that has you squirming under his touch, trying hysterically to push him away but he keeps fighting against you, his tongue stroking incessantly and arduously into the sanctity of your cunt.

You sit up suddenly, causing a glimmer of worry to flicker cross Remmick’s face when he looks up at you, but it quickly subsides when he sees the wanton glint in your glowing orange eyes.

A smirk spreads on his handsome face when you grab at him, pulling him toward you until your mouth clashes with his, lips slanting against mouth. His face is wet, and warm, and tangy sweet. And now as you kiss him, open-mouthed to allow your tongue to dance with his, all you can taste is herself.

In a swift movement, Remmick pulls you into his lap, mouth never parting from yours as he squeezes and caresses the sweat-glistened skin of your thighs. He guides them to rock your sex against his, still fully clothed, but the friction of his cock through his pants surrenders a moan that seeps from your mouth into his, feeling his pent up desire grind against you.

Your hands fall to the open collar of his shirt, fingers diligently tracing over the expanse of the exposed skin that lays beneath the fabric, beneath the golden chain that hangs from his neck.

Caressing the taut muscles at the juncture of his throat and chest, you palm the heated flesh and claim it with the drag of your nails down his pecs and then up again, leaving angry red scratches on his pale skin.

He groans at the pain that arises from your marking—your nails now sharper than ever, sharp like the edge of a blade as they pierce the skin deep enough to cause damage.

When you pull away, your eyes are drawn to the crimson flow of blood that oozes from the wounds you inflicted and he smiles.

He doesn’t have to say it because the enticement of the crimson ichor instinctively calls to you, whispering and screaming in equal measure to sate the new ache that gnaws and twists in the pit of your stomach. A hunger. One that you didn't know existed as your heightened senses emphasizes the thirst that leaves your throat dry.

What was once an intrusive thought now becomes a craving, a need to quench the growing impulse to drink. It draws you in like a magnetic force, one that you can’t escape from, one that continues to invade your thoughts until it makes your head throb with excruciating agony.

You can’t resist the lure, can’t fight the urge that beckons you with welcoming arms like the sweetest of songs. You lean forward, tongue flat against Remmick’s chest and lick the sticky substance up from the droplet at the bottom of his sternum up to the source of the wound at his collarbone.

Remmick laughs when your body trembles when you taste him, the rich, warm liquid coating your tongue like the most divine of holy wines, but his tone is anything but degrading or mocking—its breathy and sincere, a quintessential jovial sound that teeters on hysteria.

He laughs because now you are utterly and completely like him, a creature of his making. Corrupted. Perverted. Damned.

Gently, he cradles the back of your neck and allows you to indulge in the taste of him, his blood, his soul, and watches through hooded eyes with triumph as you drink selfishly from him.

It’s thick and sweet, igniting a fire that burns as it runs liquid hot down your throat. It's unlike anything you’ve ever sampled in your sad little life. Nothing tastes as delicious as this does, nothing could even compare to it. It engulfs all of your senses simultaneously, quickly soaking into every nerve-ending of your being.

You groan when the sacred liquor of his body is eventually tapped out, but Remmick hushes you with another vulnerable laugh and places a lingering kiss to the crown of your head, his nose nesting tenderly into your hair.

When you look up he kisses you again briefly, not as rough as before but you can taste the desire that imbues his lips.

“There’ll be more of that later, dove,” he whispers, eyes tracing every detail of your disheveled expression, “but for now I need to fuck you good, need to feel that sweet pussy of yours around my cock as I make you scream my name so everyone knows who you belong to now.”

His vulgar words, mixed with the euphoria of his blood coursing through you, make you dizzy, drunk from pure delirium.

You are his, forever and all eternity.

The notion of being some unholy bride to this monstrous brute should have scared the living hell out of you, but after experiencing the thrill of his blood dancing in your belly and the absolute bliss of his mouth on your cunt, you couldn’t think of any other place you’d rather be.

Heaven and hell be damned, you’d make whatever time you had with Remmick at his side your own paradise on earth.

In a swift, seamless motion Remmick undoes the buttons of his trousers, hissing under his breath when his cock springs free from its confines.

You moan when he pushes his cock against your slick folds, gliding effortlessly due to the wetness between your thighs, and you lift your hips slightly, just enough for the tip to prod against your entrance.

His hands fall to your hips, yours finding purchase on his broad shoulders to support your trembling body, already alight from the pleasure that ripples up your spine.

Slowly, Remmick lowers you onto him and you sigh, feeling every pulsation of his thick, needy cock as you sink down inch by inch to take all of him.

The measured push of him into the most sacred part of you is agonizing, maddening until he bottoms out fully, splitting you with a sadistically pleasurable burn.

Your mouth falls agape at the sensation of him filling you completely, and he can’t refrain from grinning at the sight of your utterly blissed out expression.

One of his hands loosens the grip he has on your hip, fingers creeping up from under the hem of your nightgown and fanning out to feel your velvety skin beneath his fingertips, pressing gently into the dip of your spine to press you closer to his body.

His bright, glowing eyes find yours and Remmick pauses to take in your new appearance wholly.

Any lines that once decorated your face have disappeared, leaving behind smooth, soft skin in its wake; like a moth breaking from its cocoon to reveal the splendors after a long awaited metamorphosis.

Your blood-stained fangs peek through from your upper lip when you moan, elongated and razor-sharp. If you wanted you could rip out his throat, he thinks, and make a meal of him right then and there, feeding off his throat like a parched man would suck the nectar from a ripened, summer peach.

His cock twitches at the image of you, mouth and chin saturated with the slick of his dark, red blood as it coagulates on your pretty face, your throat, and clothes—grotesquely painting you in his cruor and gore.

Your breath catches in your throat, nails digging painfully into his shoulders when he thrusts forcefully up into you, the violation quick and powerful.

“Oh fuck, Remmick—” you moan, falling forward to press your forehead into the crook of his neck and place sloppy, lingering kisses to his damp skin. Your hot breath fans over his jugular, smelling the saccharine aroma of his pulse thrumming in his veins.

He groans when your fangs scrape against his throat, teasing the skin dangerously and chases the fleeting sensation of implicit peril with another rough thrust.

The grass beneath you is damp, causing your knees to slip from under your weight and spreading you unbearably wide so that when you meet his thrusts the tip of his cock prods against the spongy patch of muscle along your upper walls that musters a whine from you.

He feels it too, how you squeeze around him, and wraps his arms around your back to press you impossibly close to him, desperate to feel it again. Your tender nipples brush against his chest and the friction of it is almost too much to handle, but you don’t pull away, don’t push him off of you, and instead you rock your hips to match his pace.

Quickly you both find your rhythm—harsh, almost cruel thrusts followed by the slow, merciful grinding of his hips meeting the sickly tender cadence of yours.

The night air was filled with the sounds of your mingled, interwoven moans, muffled slightly as they spill into each other’s mouths, greedily swallowing every groan, whimper and sigh that you both make in shared pleasure.

Your thighs shake uncontrollably, your walls clenching around him in anticipation of your approaching climax, the coil tightening and tightening with every thrust of his powerful hips.

Remmick realizes just how close you were when you continue to pant and whine like a rabid dog in heat and your voice musically invades his ears. He eases his head back to gaze up at you and locks eyes with yours. You stare at him with heavy-lidded eyes, your pupils blown wide and your lips swollen from biting them as you move on top of him like the blasphemous goddess you are.

One of his hands runs down between the apex of your thighs, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubs a slow, maddening circle over it, causing your hips stutter and your breath catch in the back of your throat.

He presses firmly at the bundle of nerves and reality slips away, begging you to give in. And you do, grabbing at the back of his neck while the other holds onto him hopelessly while your inner walls spasm around his thick cock and voice a desperate, strangled moan.

Remmick's eyes are drawn to the look of absolute elation that adorns your face, a look of awe, of pure amazement. It was like he just couldn’t tear his eyes from you, afraid that he’d miss something, anything, if he were to look away for even a moment. There was nothing in this ungodly world like watching your body respond to him, nothing like knowing that he was the one to pull these responses from you.

And watching you reach that peak climax, watching you plunge headlong into the throes of this intense orgasm, prompts his own body to respond. His hips thrusts erratically even as one of his hands grasps at your shoulder, curling around it to hold your hips square against his as he pumps his hips violently, his cock twitching as he finally lets go, cumming hard inside of your hot, wet cunt that still grips him mercilessly.

Remmick grunts as his pelvis jarrs against yours, pressing insistently against your clit with every thrust he gave. Your eyes screw shut and your whole body tenses just before you clench around him once more, throwing you into another intense orgasm.

His glowing red eyes widen as he stares at you amorously, his mouth hanging open in utter rhapsody. A slow, sure grin stretches clear across his face as he watches your features convey a look of complete and perfect euphoria.

You collapse on top of him when the initial high is over, your body laying limp against his as you continue to tremble and shake, burying your face into his neck and lazily nuzzle your nose against him, struggling to regain your breath.

He turns his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead and brings his hand up to gently brush your damp hair out of your sweat-soaked face, the other soothingly caresses up and down the length of your back.

A sigh leaves your lips, your torrid breath fanning against the contour of his throat with every hot inhale and exhale you take, whispering his name.

The night air is quiet as you and Remmick sit in each other’s embrace and the dull murmur of the crickets and cicadas slowly becoming louder as you ease back into the world, accompanied every so often by the sound of the house falling apart.

The fire still rages, but it has pacified immensely since it first started. Planks of wood fall to the ground with a muffled thump and most of the fire has died out, now replaced with the smoldering of the thick, grayish smoke that billows into the night sky, muddying the color of it.

It’s still beautiful, you think with your cheek resting against Remmick’s shoulder, bright eyes watching the smoke as it dances up towards the stars.

Now after all that you’ve endured you finally allow yourself to breathe, knowing that everything that has ever haunted you is gone, that every monster has been vanquished.

For once you can live without worry about what may come, you think with a silent chuckle.

It wouldn’t have mattered if Remmick ended your life instead of turning you because even then he would’ve kept his promise. And that was all that mattered to you—that he kept his word, just as he said he would. And that alone brings you peace.

It’s a while before he finally moves, shifting in little, anxious movements, and it’s enough for you to glance up at him, eyes scanning his face to find what troubles him.

His eyes—still that ghoulish, dazzling shade of vermillion—are compelled to the horizon.

“We need to get movin’,” he says, but you can hear the slight unease in his voice.

Turning your head, you look out to where his gaze remains and although you don’t see it, your blood tingles with astute awareness, knowing that something dangerous awaits should you linger here any longer.

Though the night sky is still cloaked in shadows, you can see how out in the distance it leisurely changes from that dark, navy blueish-black into lighter hues of magenta and gold with your enhanced vision—bright and shimmering as the sun awakens from its overdue slumber.

Daybreak approaches.

Seeing how Remmick reacts, you should be worried but you aren’t.

The worst of it all was behind you now and whatever the future had to offer was there for the taking.

Because with Remmick at your side, you were unstoppable.

tagging: @eddiesvixen

#remmick #remmick x reader #remmick sinners #sinners 2025 #sinners #sinners fanfiction #jack o'connell #nicole writes #my stuff

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tsuyalovebot · 5 months ago

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watch you entertain.

pairing: xia yi zhou / caleb x reader (love and deepspace)

synopsis: caleb comes to a few conclusions when you give him a blowjob for the first time.

cw: NSFW and explicit sexual content, mdni. established relationship. mentions of intercourse. oral sex (blowjob). mentions of reader receiving oral sex. hair pulling. imaginative violence (not to reader). petnames (pretty, pipsqueak). mention of oral sex (receiving). he slaps his dick on your face (not sorry). mention of spanking and watching porn. caleb-typical warnings.

wc: 1.7k (drabble....ish????)

author's note: i can't defend myself since 90% of this is word vomit. i'm working on another caleb piece right now, but i needed to get this out of my system. think of it as a precursor piece, like an hors d'oeuvres. also, please disregard any typos. (— - —)|||

The first time Caleb felt your lips on his was magical. The second, third, fourth, and succeeding times were all but surreal.

He had all but convinced himself that your mouth, pressed to his in a flurry of tender touches or desirous cravings, was something he conjured up in the blurry moments of his delusions. You always manage to kiss them away, though.

Later on, you admitted that he was your first kiss.

"When I visited you after you moved out," you said. Hands wrung, your gaze averted downward as you were perched on his lap one evening.

He knows what you're talking about. Remembers its vividness with a startling clarity that would have embarrassed him otherwise, if you didn't share the same sentiments.

By now, you've already kissed and made out in the intimacy of his place beyond finite counting. Had sex with him on whatever surface the two of you could get your hands on. You've long since spoiled him with your presence, both physical and mental. There's a key tucked away in his headspace with your name engraved into the metal. Magnetic and the signification of a special place for you in his heart.

He spoiled you, and now, you spoil him. Neither of you complain about this mutually beneficial arrangement. Why would you?

Though, he can't say he's exactly pleased at the current moment.

"That's it, mmm. You're being so sweet today."

He's watching you, as he always is. You're on your knees before him—you insisted, said it added to the atmosphere despite his crows of indignance at the possibility of them bruising—and your mouth impossibly full of his cock.

You're bare before him, towel discarded on the coffee table with your body damp and he's barely presentable in his uniform. Disheveled and pants undone, he wasn't sure if he was exactly living up to the honorable nature of the clothes he donned. He tried to undress, but you'd been pawing at him the second he walked through the doorstep in nothing but one of the towels he bought you, so his resistance was doomed from the start.

His arms spread on the top of the couch, he tilts his head back and sighs slowly. Hot breath escapes him in time with his Adam's apple bobbing, swallowing a heavy moan that threatens to break free. It takes him a few moments before he peers at your kneeling form once more.

One of his hands cups your cheek, the cool leather swiping over your cheekbone and pushing some of your hair back. Rapt attention on you, whispering soft words of, "that's how you do it" and "a biiit wider, pipsqueak— yeah, like that" with so much appreciation in his tone. Because that's what he feels toward you right now; so much appreciation in his heart belongs to you.

Your tongue was doing sinful licks along the underside of his cock's curve, the girth hefty in your two hands, and your eyes stayed closed in a quiet pleasure. It's expertly done, and the creation of human response as you wrap those pretty pink lips around the tip of him and suckle on it, strings of your saliva leaving sticky wefts along the shaft.

Alternating between peppering his length in kisses and taking a couple inches into your mouth, he's fighting for his fucking life trying to not bust a nut. He's sort of ashamed to have dreamt of this moment for years. You would never let him live it down.

As if the deities couldn't get enough of his suffering, his mind had made the fatal mistake of noting the visible difference of the size of him and your hands and your mouth. It gets him going, that stark contrast and how gently you were treating him.

It's a sight reserved for his eyes alone. Something he wants to pocket and immortalize because it's his and only his. That's the only reason for the powerful plethora of emotions boiling over in his gut. Truly, the only reason.

That's what he tells himself as he observes you with a progressively darkening, clinical, dead-eyed stare that you weren't aware of. A little voice in him nagging at his conscience, spitting words of venom that feeds into the slowly, slowly expanding green-eyed monster rising onto its feet.

"I got a question for you, pretty," he says calmly, deceptively so. Making sure to sound as casual as possible, his gloved hand coming to stroke over your damp, silky hair. You really just couldn't wait to please him, immediately pawing at him when he arrived home and you were fresh out the bath.

You murmur something in reply, lips suctioned to his shaft. Those gorgeous eyes, ones that beheld him with such reverence and adoration in round shape flicker up to his. The vibrations and sight hit him like a freight train and he groans, low and deep. He lets the pleasure settle into his bones.

"You have to answer honestly, 'kay?" He croons down at you, assuring. His facial expression had finally relaxed from its initial, contemplative one. You're happy with this, he notes as you eagerly bob your head, careful to remain quiet.

Good. It'll make hearing your voice all the more worth it. When you said he was your first kiss, he was beyond ecstatic.

Hopefully, you can echo the same thing now.

With an easygoing air betraying that of his positively threatening smile, he asks, "Where'd you learn how to do this?"

There's a sick sense of pleasure in watching you process his words a second too lats. Because you're such an open book with him, aren't you? The way your eyes widen and your lips halt, as if your heart stopped even beating. Even if makes his own blackened heart speed up, its thudding resembling a rabbit's stomping.

Your blinks were a linguistic of their own, and he was the expert in unraveling the lexicology of your existence.

You don't answer fast enough. Or, you don't answer at all. Because now, you're staring him like a child chastised for having their hand in a candy jar—where they weren't supposed to be.

Unfortunately for you, that was more than telling for him.

Caleb doesn't speak. The air is several degrees colder now, like the air circulation was suddenlt cut off, and he drinks in the way anticipation tenses your muscles and your uneven breaths smooth over his skin when you pop your lips off his cock. Those sinful lips that he stole away as his were now glistening in a mix of your spittle and his pre-cum.

He could almost forgive you right now. But, you make the crucial mistake of looking away from him.

"Oh?" It's inquisitive—his tone, yet it has the power of a knife being drawn.

The hand on your head loses its comforting, encouraging air and instead becomes a weight.

A threat.

The visual that's formulating in his head isn't a pleasant one. An image of stained glass shards, blurry yet clear in the vision of you on your knees for another guy. The scattered light capturing your mouth wrapped around the faceless stranger, servicing him the same way you're handling Caleb, seeking that same, sickly sweet tang of validation.

Could it have been that Xavier guy he sees on your phone notifications from time to time? Or is it someone closer to you, from your Association? There's a chance someone else from your childhood reached out to you, maybe after his disappearance. Did they hold you in ways he's been craving to hold you for years?

That's not fair, now, is it? He's worn your hairtie around his wrist for years, disregarded countless scribbled love letters from bystanders, based his little trinkets around those apples you love so much, and spoiled you countless times in his misplaced desire for playing the role of your protector. It simply isn't fair that you sought gratification from a source that wasn't him—because for him, it was always you.

Is it too selfish of him to want your everything?

You don't say anything even as your mouth opens and closes. You're either searching for an excuse, weighing the costs of lying to him at the moment, or you're genuinely floundering for words at the sudden blankness in your head.

He hums again, and it's lower than before. Full of thought and contemplation as his amethyst eyes bore holes into your speechless state. It's full of disappointment and he sees the worry creep into your eyes like a leaking faucet.

Threading his gloved fingers into the tresses of your hair, its smooth leather massaging your scalp, his face softens.

"I guess I did say you should be honest, not fast," he murmurs, laughing to himself quietly.

His lips tilt into a boyish sort of grin, and it's so full of mirth and entertainment that it's easy to process as him diffusing the situation. It works like so, and you're soon tilting your head into his palm and seeking his touch.

In the distance, the kettle in the kitchen screeches like an alarm of what's to come.

Disconcertingly relaxed, his smile seems absolutely sarcastic. A bit sharp at the edges.

"I should make it easier to understand. Let me rephrase it, then."

He pulls your hair. It's one harsh motion and it jerks your head up. A gasp torn from your lips as they fall open, the slight sting shooting through your body with an charged breeze.

"Who did you learn this from?"

He's so used to tasting you before fucking; your sex and his tongue are practically best friends in his eyes. It never once occurred to him to have you suck him off.

He should've been suspicious the second you offered to begin with.

The blood drains from your face some more and he relishes the blank yet alert state your eyes reflect. He's sure your mind is in disarray right now. The feeling is mutual, though you're aware of that too, most likely.

"I have a right to know. I always said that you could come to me if you needed help with anything, right?" It's a rhetorical question. You both know that. You're doomed either way.

You make another breathless noise, and he wants to explore your vocality. Now, how would you sound gagging on him?

"Caleb—"

He shushes you softly and you quiet down in an instant.

"I don't need an answer that isn't related to my question, don't you agree?"

Another rhetorical question as he cocks his head, the gesture mocking.

"You're always tellin' me to be honest and share my thoughts with you. I'm bein' honest now. Everything should be mutual, so, answer my question. I might even go easy on you."

You're totally panicking now, aren't you?

His other hand wraps around the base of his cock and he slaps the shaft onto your cheek, then smearing his leaking tip over your glistening lips, a thoughtful smile playing on his own as if he were offering you candy.

"And depending on how you answer, I'm either taking you over my knee while you spell their name out, or you'll be showing me exactly what pornos you've been watching without my knowledge. So, what's it gonna be?"

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misserabella · 2 months ago

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could u pls write a fic/blurb of virgin spencer having fantasies of being dominant 🩷 btw live ur work!!!

my first orgasm goes to you! ♡

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, watching of p0rn, bondage, dom and sub dynamics, spencer’s livid mind, imagining of spanking, male masturbation (spencer), dirty talking (he talks to himself while he thinks of you)…

okay… so spencer doesn’t know how he’s gotten into this situation.

he’s not one to… indulge in this kind of activities.

intelligence is correlated with sexual desire. most evidence indicates a negative correlation between intelligence and sexual activity. researchers find that higher intelligence is associated with a delay in the initiation of a wide range of partnered sexual activities, from holding hands to sexual intercourse —that’s why he was still a virgin— . statistically though, scientists have discovered that, the higher the sex drive of the individual.

but spencer could probably count the times he has masturbated in his 25 years of life with one hand. he just… didn’t get the need.

well, that was a lie. there was obviously a need. a physical one. he, like any other man, woke up with morning wood every morning. but there wasn’t a… psychological one. he had never… fallen in love. sure. he could find beauty in a woman. even a man. but… he just didn’t…

couldn’t finish.

he had tried. made research. tried again…

and when he couldn’t make it. he would gave up.

spencer reid has never had an orgasm.

until today.

after trying pretty much everything. he tried the thing he wished he’d never have to use: porn.

just a few clicks and he was into one of the million of pages for it. and there was a lot of… content. a lot of options in which you could choose from.

but one video caught his attention. it was about dom/sub dynamics, and a little bit of bondage. he had informed himself about them, and curiosity won as he clicked on it.

his eyes widened when the view of a beautiful —and completely naked— woman caught his eyes. her wrists were tied to the posts of the bed in which she was laying, cries and mewls leaving her lips along with some ‘stop’s and ‘it’s too much!’s. in between her thighs, a man of his complexion —although spencer was more skinny, lean, but skinny—, laid, devouring her cunt as if he were starved, arms keeping her pinned, still, as the woman tried to scape from the pleasure and overstimulation, hips jerking against the man’s face, thighs shaking, tears streaking down her face.

but what really did it for spencer was not the sight, it was the fact that the woman looked like you. same hair and eye color, same complexion, same full lips… if he took off his glasses he could…

no. that was wrong.

you were his coworker.

it didn’t matter if he’s had the biggest crush on you since you had joined the team a year ago, or that he was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with everything that made you… you.

he had never fantasized about you. well, he had. how couldn’t he, you were beautiful, and smart, and kind, and… and he couldn’t control his subconscious mind while being asleep or what he would dream of. so of course he had had wet dreams about you.

but he had never touched himself with you in mind. he believed that you didn’t deserve to be objectified like that.

so he wouldn’t.

he tried and focus on the video. on the moans, on the groans and touches. and it worked. he was hard. he teased himself over his slacks, slowly, a breath leaving his lungs before pulling down the zipper and pulling down his pants and underwear, releasing his semi and taking it in his hand with a sigh.

he focused on the video, cheeks reddening at the embarrassment he felt for be doing this. but he had to try.

slowly, he started to jerk his cock, long drawn out faps from the tip to the root. he moaned as he played with the sensitive and weeping slit on the head, before continuing.

but after minutes and minutes of trying, his high wouldn’t come. he groaned and stopped. of course it wouldn’t come.

a flash of you passed through his mind and thoughts of you in the position of the woman in the screen, with him being in between your thighs, making you feel good, making you feel so good you couldn’t take it. but he would make you take it.

his cock twitched, and he groaned as he started moving his hand right back up. he was just so desperate to cum. it hurt. and he just couldn’t not think about you. he did all the time. also. you wouldn’t know right? it would just be this one time.

he took off his glasses, and went back to the video, where now the man was pushing up and in between his thighs, pulling a scream from the woman when he thrusted inside her, fast and hard.

spencer’s pupils were blown, his breathing ragged. it’s as if he could see you, see him. fucking you just like that man was fucking the woman. pounding into her swollen, overstimulated and squelching cunt over and over again, pulling his legs up against her chest in a mating press, reaching so deep he was on her cervix.

‘i can’t please. i can’t! it’s too much!’

spencer whimpered, going faster, hearing the woman cry. would you cry too? would you beg him to stop? would you beg him for more? how would you sound moaning his name? screaming it?

“fuck.”

please spencer, i can’t take it anymore, it’s too much!!!

he could almost hear it. your sweet voice lost in pleasure. could feel your plush soft skin under his fingertips as he’ll spank your thigh, taste the salt on your skin as he’d suck on your neck and chest.

“take it. fucking take it. you know you want it. you know you want this cock.”

he got lost in the moment, pretending with his eyes closed that the moans of the woman were your moans, moving his hand at the punishing ruthless rhythm the man fucked her.

jesus, this felt good…

more spencer, give me more!

“you want more?”

yes, please, please spencer, fuck me more, fuck me harder!

“holy fuck. yeah, i’ll fuck you harder.” his fist moved faster up and down his cock, slicked in his precum. “i’ll fuck you so hard you’ll have a hard time walking for days.” he tightened his hold. “fuuuuuck.” he moaned your name. “you’re so tight. so perfect for me. taking it so well… you were made for this. for taking my cock, hm?”

yes, yes, only for you spencer… i want you to cum inside. please cum inside. breed me, spence.

he groaned, his eyes rolling, a new unknown tight feeling growing in his lower stomach, his dick leaking and twitching like crazy.

“you want me to cum inside? inside this pretty little cunt? want me to breed you? leave you full and dripping?”

he could picture you, nodding, babbling, pleading.

“then take it. take my fucking cum. gonna fuck it so deep… right into your womb. fuck. take it take it take it!”

and with a last moan, his world was breaking up, vision whitening, whole body spasming as thick heavy loads of creamy white cum shot out of his cock, making a mess out of his wooly vest and hand. he was moaning, groaning and gasping, continuing to move his hand through his high, until nothing else was coming out. the video had ended long ago.

he looked up at his blurry ceiling. and groaned.

fuck.

he had just had his ever first orgasm.

and the reason had been you.

@cafekitsune ‘s separators!

@kittyisick ty for your support angel, hope you like it!💋

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lolkency · 1 month ago

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Secret(Shh)

⋮ you unexpectedly see your former ta at a house party

❥ nerdmin x reader

cw: oral sex, fingering, squirting, sexual intercourse, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, (kinda) rough

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠...

RANDOM PARTY

The buzz from the pre-game shots spread through your veins, as you and your friend Sasha walked up the stairs to a random party. She'd begged you to go as soon as she learned about it through her friend Connie.

She knew you never turned down a party, it was the only way to distract yourself from the hellish life of being a pre-med student.

Apparently it was thrown by some guy named Eren, whoever he was, he was loaded. The all white mansion's lights shined bright in the night.

"Nice house" you admired, still walking up the never ending stairs.

"Yeah, his family's loaded, his dad's a really big surgeon around here" Sasha replied.

"Mhm maybe I could shadow him...you think I could get an internsh-"

"Ah ah, no nerdy talk right now" Sasha shushed you, as you finally made it to the front door.

You thought maybe there'd be some sort of security because of the scale of the party, and it being in such a wealthy neighborhood, but Sasha just walked right in, and you followed.

The crowd was massive, everyone practically bumping shoulders...or other parts. You couldn't help but admire the chandeliers above you, the lights changed colors along with the beat of the music.

Taking your attention away from the pretty lights, you caught the eyes of a familiar blonde. His blue eyes glowed in the now purple lights, glasses framing his face. He wore a dark green t-shirt, and a multi-colored flannel, with jeans.

Before you could wave, nod, or give him any type of acknowledgment, you were pulled in the opposite direction.

"C'mon I wanna see what they have to drink" she shouted over the music. You just nodded, still being tugged toward the kitchen. Once you were there, Sasha fixed you and her cups of punch.

You however, were still thinking about the blonde. He was your Biochem TA from last semester. You'd always thought he was sweet and kinda hot in a sorta nerdy way. You felt there was a bit of tension between you, but you never acted on it.

He even had one on one tutoring sessions with you before your exams. If it weren't for him you doubt you would've passed with an "A".

You wondered if he even remembered your name, he probably had so many other things to worry about.

Sasha handed you your drink, "Y/n?"

"Hmm" you finally snapped out of your thoughts, grabbing the red solo cup.

"Did you hear anything I said" she sighed, taking a sip of her punch.

"No, sorry. What did you say?" you shook your head, sipping the red concoction. It was actually pretty good, a bit sweeter than you'd like, but good.

"I saidddd, Nic is here!" She exclaimed. Nic being her crush of a few months, who you're sure that everybody knows likes her, but her.

"What? How?" You questioned.

"I sent him a snap of me at the party to make him a bit jealous, but then he snapped me back saying he was here too and asked if I wanted to hang" she could barely contain her excitement.

"So you're leaving me for your crush?" You playfully pouted.

"No of course not, you can come too" she smiled, not seeing anything wrong with you intruding.

"Ugh no Sash, I don't think Nic wants to hang with me. I think he wants one on one time with you, ya know?" You chuckled.

"No...he doesn't think of me in th- wait really?"

"Yeah Sash I'm pretty sure he likes you back, like 99.999% sure"

"Okay I'm going, you sure you'll be okay?" She looked up at you, concern in her brown eyes, oh how you loved her.

"Yes, I promise. I'll find something...or someone to do" you laughed, half joking.

"Alright wish me luck" she kissed your cheek and then she was off in another direction.

You decided to walk back towards the heart of the party. Scanning the crowd, your eyes moved towards the area of the familiar face, only to see he was gone.

"Looking for someone?" A voice questioned, close beside you. You instinctively jumped, turning to see Armin Arlert, your former Biochem TA.

Although the air was filled with weed and liquor, you were still able to get a whiff of his citrusy cologne. Well, you'd found him, or rather he'd found you.

"Yeah, I was looking for you actually. You're the only familiar face I've seen and my friend just ditched me" you sipped more of the sugary drink.

Armin only hummed in response, nodding over to his former spot in a corner. You nodded, following him through the crowd.

"So, you still a TA for Professor Hange?" You shouted above the music.

"Yep, not the same as last semester though" he replied, finally making it to the corner, where the music wasn't as loud.

"How so?" You questioned.

"The students don't ask for my help, I kinda feel useless" he let out a soft chuckle.

"You know I kinda missed you, you actually seemed like you wanted to learn". He smiled over at you, his pretty eyes meeting yours.

You took another drink of punch before responding."Really? You missed me?" You laughed. He only responded with a head nod, licking his lips, unintentionally giving you get a glimpse of his tongue ring. That god damn tongue ring.

"I missed you too" you blurted out, a smirk formed against his lips.

"Yeah?" He moved closer to you, his cologne was intoxicating.

"Yeah" you responded, with an innocent smile.

"There's no other TA like you" you added, finishing the cup of punch which you're pretty sure was 80% sugar, but you still felt a slight buzz.

Armin's cheeks burned red, and you couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol in his red solo cup or your comment, but you hoped it was the latter.

"You know, I kinda thought you didn't remember me" you continued.

"Who could forget such a pretty face" Armin's eyes flickered up at yours then to his drink, taking another sip.

"Am I just a pretty face?" You teased, moving even closer, face to face.

"No, you're smart and passionate about your future, it's admirable" he smiled at you, genuinely.

You didn't know if it was the punch or the way he was complimenting you, but you felt like you had a chance, and you took it.

"I've always thought you were cute"

"Cute? Just cute?" He asked, his mouth twitched into a smirk.

"And smar-" Armin's free hand grabbed your face, pulling you into an abrupt kiss. His lips were soft and sweet from the punch.

The kiss was quick, but you could still feel his warm lips pressed against yours once he pulled back.

"Thanks, but I'm not just cute" he smiled, his hands left your face, and back into his pockets.

"How so?" You teased.

"Let me show you"

The next thing you knew, you were upstairs in a random bathroom.

Armin locked the door, pushing you against it, connecting your lips again. He held your face in one hand, while holding your hip with the other. This kiss was rougher, less calculated, more frantic.

Feeling his tongue push against your lips, you let it slip in. The silver ball you'd fantasized about in class, was now in your mouth, and you couldn't help but moan at the thought.

Armin broke the kiss a string of saliva moved with him, still connected to your lips. He smirked down at you before grabbing the ends of your tank and lifting it over your head.

You quickly discarded your bra, your nipples hardened from the cool air of the bathroom. "Fuck, they're even better than I imagined" Armin drooled at the sight of your breast, you took it he was a boob guy.

His lips attached to one of your nipples, playfully flicking his tongue before sucking it. You let out a soft moan, grabbing his head, fingers running through his hair.

His other hand moved to play with your other breast, pinching and grabbing it, until it stung. The slight pain went straight to your cunt, begging for attention.

His teeth bit down on the sensitive skin and you swore you could see stars. You moaned out, grabbing his hair and pulling him up to look at you.

"You're a little freak aren't you" you teased, before grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him into another kiss. You moved from the door, sitting on the sink. Your legs spread, letting Armin in between, both his hands laid on your thighs.

Your hands moved from his neck, back to his soft hair, tugging it a bit, when he bites down on your bottom lip. He pulled back from the kiss, out of breath.

"I like to be in control" he looked at your sternly, glasses at the slope of his nose.

"Then take control" you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, his clothed erection against your clothed cunt. There were too many barriers between you at the moment.

He let out a chuckle, before giving your thighs a light squeeze to let go of his waist. He moved away from you and over the toilet, placing his glasses on the seat.

Then his flannel and shirt were off, and you couldn't help but admire his body. Holy sleeper build.

Once he's in front of you again, your hands immediately attach to his chest, his heart was racing, and for some reason you felt your pussy pulse because of it.

His hands moved to lift your skirt, sliding your black panties off. He balled the thin fabric, before placing them in your mouth with a smirk. "Shh" he lifted a finger to his mouth.

Then he was on his knees, between your legs. "You know, it may be perverted to say, but I've imagined what you'd taste like" his breathe shuddered against your cunt. He was such a freak, and you loved it.

Armin wrapped his arms around your legs and pulled you closer to the edge of the counter. Without warning, he dipped his tongue into your heat, down to your hole lapping up your slick and moving to your clit.

His tongue moved in circles against the sensitive bud, the metal ball adding a new element of pleasure. He slurped and sucked your clit just as hungrily as he'd done your breasts.

You moaned into your panties, moving your head back against the mirror. His fingers dug into your thighs, as his tongue dipped into your hole, swirling around before slurping your arousal.

He took a hand from your thigh, taking his ring and middle finger into his mouth and interning them into your cunt. "Mmm" you moaned, muffled by the fabric.

"You're so wet" he smiled up at you innocently, so much that it gave you whiplash. How could he look like that but do things li-

His lips attached to your clit again, as his fingers eagerly pumped inside you with a slight curve, hitting your sweet spot.

"Mmm mm" you pleaded, wanting to announce you were close, your hands grabbed a hold of his hair, pressing him further onto your cunt.

Armin continued his pursuit against your pussy, never letting up. He sucked your clit so hard you swore the stars were back, and with another pump of his fingers hitting that spot, you came undone.

Pleasure ran through your veins, the pressure in your abdomen releasing, you squirted against Armin's fingers. Your arousal and liquids all over his face, but he continued pumping into you.

"Mmm mm mm" you wanted to cry out from the pleasure and overstimulation, but Armin continued attempting to get another orgasm out of you.

He groaned against your clit, before lifting his head to look at you, "cmon you can do it again, I know it" he coached you.

"Just lift your hips a bit"

You nodded, moving your hands from his hair to the marble bathroom counter, slightly lifting your hips, arms trembling.

"Good girl" he smirked, still pumping his fingers into you, he spat against your clit before adding pressure with his thumb.

Armin watched your face the entire time, your second orgasm slowly built and he knew the moment your cunt clenched around his fingers you were almost there.

With his fingers bruising your cunt, you came undone again. Tears left your eyes, as you squeeze them shut, coming down from the high. Your hips jerked against his hands and Armin finally removed his fingers, giving your clit a soft peck.

He raised from his knees, taking the panties from you mouth. You let out a sigh, catching your breath, your body slumped on top of the counter.

A smirk formed across his lips, sticking his fingers into your mouth and you sucked them clean. Armin brought you into a quick kiss, unbuttoning his pants.

His jeans and underwear dropped to floor and the only thing left was his painfully erect dick. It was...pretty, just like him. You couldn't stop yourself from smiling.

"Stand up and turn around" Armin ordered, and your smile immediately faded, you didn't even know if you could stand anymore.

"You can do it" he added, his blue eyes softened.

You nodded, slowly getting off the counter, your legs took a second to readjust, but you were good...for now.

Turning around, you placed your hands against the marble counter. Armin's hands grabbed your ass, kneading it before aligning himself with your cunt.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Mmhm" you replied, looking back at him over your shoulder.

Armin slid himself inside you, and you finally felt whole. You let out a small whimper, which gained a slight moan from Armin.

A hand slapped your ass, forcing another whimper out of you, the pain hurt so good. Armin's strokes started off slow, but it wasn't long before his pace quickened, his hips snipping against you.

Each stroke, hitting your already bruised cervix. He looked down at himself moving in and out of your cunt. You swallowed him whole, taking him so well.

Your cunt dripped with your arousal, and he was proud to say he'd made you this way. You had gotten wet just for him. "Mmhm" he moaned, lifting a hand and slapping your ass again.

You looked up at the mirror, dried mascara streaks against your skin. You looked fucked out, but you could go for another orgasm, and he for sure gonna give it to you.

Armin increased his speed, pounding into you over and over. Your hands gripped against the counter, close to your release.

"Fuck Armin" you cried out, your legs trembling from his pursuit. He abruptly pulled out of you, turning you around and picking you up. To be honest, you hadn't thought he could lift you, but he did so effortlessly.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around him, as he pushed you back down onto his length. Pushing your back against the door, Armin began pumping into you again. With his face in the crook of your neck, he moaned, fingers digging into your thighs, he was close.

His hips snapped into you, coaxing your orgasm. You tightened your legs around his waist, wanting no space between you. Your hands moved to his hair again, giving it a slight tug.

Your hips bucked against his, "Mmhm Armin" you cried out, your third orgasm washed over you. New tears fell down your face, as you sobbed from the pleasure.

Armin groaned against your neck, "fuck I'm gonna cum." His strokes became staggered, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, as he came inside you, his warm seed coating your insides. He pumped into you a few more times, coming down from his high.

Armin caught his breath, slowly placing you to your feet, giving your forehead a soft peck.

✎ i promise he gave after care(i mean it’s armin we’re talking abt)

sorry for any grammar/spelling errors, i’ll fix em when i have the time<3

- ciara💻

#anime #armin arlert #armin x reader #nerd armin #nerdmin #armin aot #aot #aot x reader #armin smut #snk armin #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan #aot smut #nerd shit

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sapphiccup · 2 months ago

Text

Smoking out the window...

Pairing: Stoner Vi x reader

Word count: 23,000 Plus.. I GOT CARRIED AWAY I KNOW I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE SHORTER BUT THE DEMONS! MDNI MYGOD! NSFWAHEAD

Cw: Weed, Strong language, Banter, Fluff, sexual Banter, Tension, Perverts, Lingering eyes, Gay asf, Lesbian yearning/pining, Neck kisses, Rough sexual adventures, High Reader, High Violet, Consent is hot, oral, penetration, intercourse, fingering, Lots of lube was used in this fic,Switch Vi, Switch Reader, Dom Reader, Sub Reader I think? Sub Vi, DomVi, Making out, Lots of foreplay, Anal oral, vaginal oral, anal fingering both receiving 🌟 Tribbing, Starvation smutt, Lots and lots of dirty talking, till night til dawn kinda lust, Backshots to oblivion, Did I say strap already? The gays are fucking on all the furniture oh nooo.. (me next like tf?) , Riding faces, Tongue fucking, Thigh humping, Humping with clothes on, and after care. Tooth rotting fluff IM SORRY!!!! Message me if I missed anything <3

Summary: Chilling at home alone until a certain someone shows up at your door. A bag of weed and a hot lesbian? What could go wrong? You and Vi begin with a simple goal in mind: smoke sesh. Until things start getting more intense. Will Vi and you make it out as friends after this particular smoke session? or become more.. ? let’s find out!

Dc!:@/cafekitsune

Song: Smoke by Victoria Monet ft Lucky Daye🍀

ᥫ᭡

You were sitting on your couch chilling in your apartment listening to your r&b playlist. The music poured into your ears, a woman and a man singing about one of your favorite things to experience. Fuzzied socks on your feet, resting on your oval-shaped coffee table, some scattered decorative clutter to the side of your cute bear designed socks, slightly moving them away from the collected clutter. Carefully trying to not knock anything over for the tenth time today. You tilt your head back, really getting into those comfy cushions of yours, letting notes of the song carry you into a state of pure white clouds floating into the sky. However a thought gnaws on your wrinkled brain, thinking that these beats would feel even better with some thc in your system. And speaking of the “devil’s grass”

A knock at the door, perks your senses. You groaned as you pushed yourself off of your couch.

This better be good.

Sauntering your way over to your door, opening it, revealing a Violet holding a bag of weed and that famous smirk of hers.

Oh, this is good!

The way it stretches her scar on her lip, like it's an invisible spell that blows your way every time. Making you fly higher than any green substance has entered your dna. “So.. I’m growing a new strain..—“ like second nature she takes your hand, thumbing circles over your knuckles “I think you might like this one better.” She says, though not into your eyes, your lips quirking into a smile. You are in luck that she chose to gaze at your knuckles instead so you could peer at her lashes, they remind you of violin strings, with each bat it felt like a personal symphony, fluttering into your ears. This lovely symphony that made those lobes of yours mirror flowers, blooming for her. You’d tug at your hair with a single finger, a strand of hair from opposite sides weep reflecting like a weeping willow tree, to hide them from her.. Can’t let her know you’re bursting with glee inside.

“Oh yeah? It must be the best if it’s coming out of that mouth.”

“What do you know about my mouth, babe?” She asked with an arched brow, sprinkled with a playful grin as she entered your house, shutting the door behind her with her foot.

“Many things..” you respond, taking a step back, watching her take her shoes off, still haven’t broken eye contact. “Mhm—“ her eyes mapped out your body language, more like studying if you’re trying to do other things than just smoke today, from the way you usually get so nervous by her. She just takes it as you trying to be cocky. And she would be right any other day, however this time nervous fails to grab you by its clutches.

“Yeah, go ahead and sit down while I get us ready for this blunt.” You obviously obeyed, but not unless you had some control which prompts you to give her more of a hint, swaying your hips a bit because you know she is always watching. And yes she is completely in a daze watching your ass twitch a bit with every step. You were wearing flared leggings that cupped your ass and especially those curves of yours in all the right ways, and a cute tank top with noodle like straps barely being able to contain those pretty tits of yours. If wills of temptation could shatter, Vi's has hers teetering off the shelf. Blinking twice for her to get back to reality. You plop back down on the couch, shifting your body around to lay on your stomach, getting a better look of Vi entering your kitchen. Such an obsessed person you are, though who can blame you with trying to see more of Violet. She knows that she’s sexy and she knows that you know, so she doesn’t even tell you to stop gawking.

As you watch Vi make the both of you some snacks, setting up some cups for a couple of drinks for none other than the usual cottonmouth. You absentmindedly play with your nails, joyed that you pampered them this morning. Of course, this positive thought is only because you’re about to smoke with Vi.. it’s hard prepping blunts with long nails for you.

“What’s this new strain called?” You inquire her.

She digs into the fridge, grabbing some condiments, the clicks and clatter of some glass jars bumping into each other, cradling her acquired set up for her preferred sandwiches in her carefully crafted arms. Those same arms that are peaking through her white t-shirt, that isn’t too short or too long over her grey joggers. I guess she wanted to be comfortable today with you being 420 of all days. But, back to those arms.. they should be illegal to look that damn good, the way you can tell she just got a good pump in before arriving at your house! Those veins, and the way her biceps are so prominent, good gods.. I mean, literally how can someone make muscles look that good and she’s not even doing anything to make them visible right now. She’s simply just making sandwiches, (and you could literally watch all day if you could) but the way she has no choice except to squeeze them a bit or else the items she holds will fall. You wish you were the items instead, headlocked while-

“Noble Pineapple” she replies, setting down her array of sandwich preparations, breaking you out of a thought that barely had a chance to form.

“We smokin’ some royal Pineapple kush?”

“Yes ma’am.” She answers in a sing-song voice, that has you letting out a small chuckle. “Let me guess you, made up the name this time.”

“No-no, this was not my idea, I argued with my sister about this for 2 days, and we decided to combine it to stop-“ Vi pauses to stare at you, like you are fully listening to her dumb little rant, and she just bites her lip down. You’re just laying there on the couch, head settled in your cute soft palms, hair messy, still managing to look that good, her heart skipped a beat, cursing in her head that she shouldn’t have shifted her gaze to you. Sitting there all patiently waiting for her, gods..

Every time she stops to look in your eyes it’s like air rips out of her, sending her heart into a frenzy, the curve of your eyes, the color it resembles, the way you’re so focused on her, it makes her jumbled with a highway of fast pasting emotions. Not being able to keep up with only one.

She just keeps repeating Pretty,Pretty,Pretty, so fucking pretty. In her head like a broken record that refuses to play smooth correct music, in fact you make her vocal cords form into a broken record. The first time she caught onto the fact that your pretty eyes made her flip around her words no matter how hard she tried to be coherent it didn’t matter. Her mouth and her brain refused her to be coherent when she sees you walk on by, or even sharing eye contact. She made a vow to herself to just completely stop talking so you won’t hear her babble. Terrified she’d make a fool of herself in front of you risking to sweep all of this confident spell off of herself. That you see her as.

“Go on” you encouraged her, and god would she love it if you encouraged her some more, though she would fear her boxers would be drenched if you said it just a bit slower.

She blinks twice again, “uh..-“ her eyes zipped back down to the sandwiches she’s making,” Actually um, do you want pickles or no?”

“Yes please!” It was as if her heart played hopscotch against her ribcage, skipping to the vibrations of your voice.

Gods, I wish you would say please more.

You observed Vi open the pickle jar with such ease, the same fucking pickle jar that acts as if it can’t open for you any time of your pleasure, the same fucking pickle jar that you have to use a knife to open back up, without any fight it opened up for her. You frowned a bit at it. To which she caught your now knit brows, letting out a flutter of giggles already knowing why. After a while, she concluded your snack essentials for the awaited munchies later. You move the clutter out the way into a nearby woven basket. And Vi setting down both assorted snacks from sandwiches, to a bowl of strawberries, two glasses of kiwi strawberry drinks, and two water bottles (like duh? All that sugar needs to be drowned out of the both of you) on that very coffee table.

Before sitting down she grabs her grinder out of her pocket, it’s one of those cute customized grinders, with Jinx’s signature monkey on it. They’re quite known around here, no need to help advertise when Jinx is tagging the city buildings. The two sisters have created a successful business in the art of cannabis, not because they have to, no, because they both like to! They love to have fun and to spread that fun around with their trusted customers, especially you. You’ve been a loyal customer since college, first it was strictly professional, yet you and Vi just kept seeing each other throughout the city, you saw each other so much that you both decided together that you might as well just get to know eachother better. To a point where you both became really good friends.

Maybe even.. a bit too good of friends..

Sometimes the both of you do this back and forth of teasing, although as of lately that teasing has become a little more than Vi can handle. At first it was all fun and games, however Vi began to dive into your psyche, picking up on your habits, and even mirroring some slang you use on a daily basis. Whatever you were doing it was as if you injected something in her that has her thinking about you more than usual. It was as if you both were partners that never really solidified a title, never had sex, and definitely high levels of sexual tension. Not even a situationship, because there's no situation happening except that this quality time of yours has been.. appreciated. You both didn’t even dare to get physical, except for little touches here and there, such as hands, and a hug every time she leaves your place or when you both finish spending time with each other outside, going your separate ways.

If anything the most R-rated intimate thing you both do is eye fuck each other to oblivion until it’s time to go. (Ah, the famous sapphic trope)

She takes a seat next to you on the couch, grunting as she gets comfortable. Your eyes follow her handsome hands as they prep the bunches of weed for the both of you to enjoy. “You know people usually already have the weed, already broken down for a smoke sesh” you comment, still not breaking eye contact of those marbled hands of hers.

“We’re not usual people, and.. you love this part, the way I handle weed so carefully.” She taunted, stirring emotions inside of you to all gather into your ears, making them hot to the touch. She was right, you absolutely loved this part. She began to grind the weed up, flexing her arms, and you hypothetically drooling at her veins bulging with each grind. Certainly you aren’t the only one drooling. Vi could smell your consistent perfume, it was like aromatherapy for her, wishing it mixed around with her cologne.

Truly the real reason why she didn’t prep the weed: she needs something to distract herself and an excuse to spend more time with you. With anyone else she would have the joints already packed and secured ready to smoke. With you— that’s not an option. To get high with you so fast, would expand her initial emotions upon arriving at your house. She knows this by heart, when you get high, whatever emotion you have at the start will take over. And the kaleidoscope of more hidden feelings arises, heart beating fast, being able to heightened your senses, to feel another one's energy. Being high is no joke, and being high with you isn’t a soft giggle. It’s quite the opposite…

“Hand me that tray for me” she orders, prompting your brows to knit together with sour, removing your orbs from her hands to the corner of her eye. She could feel you getting tense, pitter pattering her hand away from herself to you instead, inching closer and closer. Trying to regain some playful energy back by playing with one of your thumbs. However, your eyes favored the back of your head, then towards the floor, flicking your thumb at her hand, ripping that playful shield off because of your little attitude. If you were Violet’s girlfriend she’d fix it real quick like how she usually deals with other girls' attitudes, only if you’re willing for it to be fixed of course.

She’s not the person that cut you, so you bled on her on your part. Luckily, Violet already knows how to evade that bloodshed that you’ve begun to splatter subconsciously.

“I don’t like your tone”

“Oh really, seems like to me you’ve been squeezing your thighs since I let those 6 words out my mouth. Pretty sure that tells me you like my tone, princess.” She countered swiftly. You tilted your head, deadpaning her, until you light bulbed a thought to throw back at her “Sounds like you’re interested, got a thigh fetish, Vi?”

Her blue powdered eyes cuts right to you as soon as those words fell from your lips, targeting right to your collarbone. She moistens her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue, blinking twice to escape another lustful loss(who’s really losing here though?) “Do you?” she asks right back. Did not expect that one from you… fuck..

“Maybe?”

You grab the tray, sliding it over to her on her thigh.

“Maybe not?”

“Should I be worried?” She queried, pulling the tray closer into her thighs, your eyes taking note of her shaky hand, a slew of thoughts set off in your head however one in particular stays in place, are her ears red? You check, and yes they are.. your heart drums harder against its natural cage, your breath a little harder to keep at its normal pace from the sight. Maybe nervous actually will have you in its clutches?

“—Possibly”

She takes a sharp breath, bubbling up some words to respond to you, anything, “Damn, princess laying it on thick today..”

gods, I might actually just say fuck the smoke sesh and let her do whatever she wants to me..

Violet takes a kitten bite of her bottom lip, dragging those teeth across it, soothing it with a lick at the dents, finding herself bouncing her leg but only an ant size bit not enough to tip the tray over.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Violet?”

“Uh, n-no. I’m good. I’m more than good. You know I don’t mind this little back and forth”

“‘Never made me uncomfortable” she continued, combining her fingers through her dyed hair, stealing a glance of you, your lip gloss shined so perfectly, you sat with one leg under you and the other hanging off the couch, you arms were squeezing those ti-

Tits? Holy shit, her shirt is really loose today.. o-okay.. I got this. Everything is going to be okay. Just don’t be fucking weird.

“Good, I don’t like making my favorite person upset”

“Awe, you care about me? So sweet” her voice jaunty, giving you a moonlit smile, twinkling your way, pulling your heartstrings, causing another rapid beat to rattle.

You nudged her arm in a jestering manner, yet those lines connected to your mouth danced upwards effortlessly, beaming a soft sunkissed smile. She hands you the tobacco leaf, waiting for you to grab and you stare down at it with a puzzled look, arching your brow.

“Wet it for me?” As soon as she said that you hated that she was right, you did squeeze your thighs. Hearing that.. dammit. Not only that but she caught it, you saw her eyes drift to your legs for only a second, and only a second you needed before snatching it out of her hands and quickly into the bathroom.

Gods, am I wet?

You checked to see if you were leaking through your pants, touching your lips with care. You felt that familiar slick through your clothes, making a tiny wet patch(it couldn’t compare to what was really going on if you opened your lips, oh how the locked dam wished it was opened by a certain pink wet muscle). It dawned upon you though, a weight that slugged you right in the jaw. You’re not wearing any panties today. You didn’t expect Vi to just show up (not like you’re complaining though) only.. no panties?!

You’ve always gotten wet by just her voice alone, but it usually only damages your panties. Now, you’re in uncharted territory.. you know you and Vi only do this for fun. Otherwise if she were to see you like this.. well you’d hate the fun to be over with just like that..

Fuck, do something to take this all away! Turn yourself off for Jannas sake! I cannot deal with this right now…

“Did you know whales have 12 inch dicks?” You inquired her, your voice laced with tiny panic, echoing from the bathroom. Turning the water on afterwards, wetting the leaf as she asked earlier.

“Haha! W-What?! Do I wanna know how you know that?”

You grip your free hand on the counter of your sink, taking a deep breath. Trying to calm down, slowing your heart, but as soon as you came back, the chasing waterfalls were rainbowed to continue as you laid eyes on Vi, she was man-spreading her legs waiting for you to hand her the leaf. You know what happens after you hand her that leaf, you know that this was what you were really waiting for… your favorite part with a smoke session with Vi, now becoming your worst nightmare..

Dammit I can’t change.. it’s gonna look too suspicious.. it’s one thing if I were to change because it’s too hot or cold but no one just ‘changes’ their pants!

You hand her back the backwood leaf, stepping forward, your hand trembling, slightly touching her cold hands, sending shivers down your back.

“Girl, if you do not sit down. You’re acting all scared, I won’t bite you”

“S-Shut up” you said with a pout, taking your seat right to back next to her, circling your middle finger on your knee. Vi began sprinkling a bit of thc magic in the brown leaf, meticulously about how big she wants to make it, which prompts her to ask a random question relating to the subject before..

“You got a thing for long dicks, princess?”

“Yeah, so?”

“From an animal?”

“Are you an animal Violet?”

“I fuck like one—“ Vi wanted to bite her tongue right then and there. Now why would she say that? I wonder why? Has she been thinking about such lewd things since you mentioned dick? Or has she buckled dirty jokes in her belt? She paused her actions, and you blinked twice, leaning in a bit towards her.

“Excuse me..? Wha- what was that?” She could hear your smile in your voice, and it only made her wanna jump into a fissure without parkouring this time.

“Nothing.. you didn’t hear that.” She answers, proceeding her previous actions, and not fucking it up with you. She bit the inside of her cheek, punishing herself. Hopefully you let that go and never bring it up again.. which is quite doubtful. You swirl your tongue in your cheek before speaking again, “And no I don’t prefer beastiality, thank you very much.” You saying that relieved some much needed ice breaking, melting her off again, laughs fell from her uneven lips, “ Yeah? Good, glad to know.”

The r&b playlist is over and continues to your rock playlist, you can tell Violet favors your music taste, with her subtle body movements, mimicking the beat with the tap of her foot, or the bop of her head. As she rolled, tuck, and shifted the weed in place, she’d sing a lyric quietly to herself before nearing that blunt to her lips.

“Focused on me?”

“Absolutely” you responded, closing your porcelain gates on your supple bottom lip.

“Good girl..” she praised, sealing it with a lick of her pink tongue, the brown leaf finally ready and full of your favorite color. And just like that, your body quickly was hot all over, whipping your head to a wall opposite of Vi’s face.

“O-Oh my god, never mind! I’m gonna throw myself off of a cliff “ your pitch shakey, and heightened, no mistake your heart was accepting this tune more ways than one, whereas your mind was boggled with panic. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. She’s never gone this far.. not even to get a good laugh— it was exhilarating.

“Whaat?—I thought we were laying it on thick today” a hint of mischief coloring her tone, her eyes darting around your face, just seeing you so distraught, so distracted, so deliciously filled with steam all over your body. If she didn’t know any better she’d mistaken you for an iron right now. Witnessing you change like a chameleon in the wild, she let out a pfft from her lips, then bubbles of laughter came out of her, and you simply joined in, pink sugary giggles of joy filling the air. Like a thief you stole a peek of her laughing, her eyes closed, and nosed scrunched.

She’s so hot.. How can someone look hot while laughing?! It’s too good to be true.

“Noooooo, I can’t” you claimed, a strained whine drowned in your words, you’d cover your face, trying to hide from her. She took note of you hiding, like a babe in the wild, finding it so adorable, seeing you get all shy just for her.

“You can’t what?”

“I—“ you take a breath “you’re annoying”

“Awe, such a baby. Such a big baby, hm?”

Holding the blunt between her lips, lighting it with a flick of her zippo lighter, which also has a Jinx signature design on it. She’s such a good big sister, not only supporting her sister's art, but also encouraging her to make personalized lighters for their shared business. It makes you think back of how many times she’s cheered you on, or simply helped you out with your big move from your parents house. You slowly moved your palms back to your lap, scooting a bit closer to her. You wanted to get her back for that comment. If she was going to go all in like that then—

“I’m always a good girl for you”

And that comment makes her whole body jerk. Almost letting the joint fall from her lips, catching it with thinning her lips. She’d raise her hand to it, taking it out her mouth, whipping her head towards you, seeing a devilish smile plastered on your face. You were definitely the one with horns and tail right now, no mistaking it.

“Holy shit… and I’m annoying?”

“Ah, youre blushi—ing I see it”

“Who wouldn’t blush if you said something like that?!”

Thank Janna, I didn’t just take a puff just now.. whew, girl trying to kill me.

She took a long drag of the joint, getting a good enough cloud in her system. Handing it to you. A little fire work in your fingertips, burning both of your worries away, a rotational celebration together. You can taste the strawberry mint gum she had before getting here, inhaling in her sweetness of a drag puffing a cloud out from your lips, passing it back to her. You’d cover your mouth, feeling a cough trying to make its way.

“Damn this nobel—“ you cough again “what the fuck Vi? How the fuck— wow..”

“Yeah you’re going to get high as fuck with this one, I think I perfected my green thumb.” Taking another drag of this sweet tree, tasting your lipgloss on it, usually she’d hate this from another, however you, delighted, rubbing her lips together getting it all over her mouth. Messy.., messy, messy, didn’t care and would do it again.

ᥫ᭡

After a few hours of rolling blunts back to back between the both of you, eyes hazy, and dugged into a few of your snacks, sharing old war stories with each other. You were sitting on your fluffy rug, telling her one of your personal stories, from when you were young. She doubled over in laughter, shaking with merriment, almost falling off the couch, with drops of tears in the corners of her rounds.

“No— - fucking way you said that in highschool, for the goodnews introduction!” Another laugh spilled from her lips.

“Okay listen, I didn’t say that for good news but I definitely did add to the conversation”

“Babe, that’s the same the thing”

“No it’s not”

“Totally different, it was adding to conversation, mind you I got detention for spreading awareness for that news” you added, a smirk scrimping at your cheeks.

“Oh my gods,..” she spoke with a sigh, wiping a tear away.

“The situation is serious as fuck but the way you’re saying it is killing me”

“I’m being deadass” you responded, shaking her thigh.

“I know with your straight facing ass that’s why it’s funny, stupid” she said leaning towards you flicking your forehead, you let out a little whine, receiving a dopey grin from Vi. You held your forehead, pouting at her, she went in for another flick because you started pouting finding your lil whines funny in her fuzzy head state. You got up from the floor swiftly grabbing her wrist pinning them above her head, the clouds of green swirling in your head got you feeling like you could conquer most things you couldn’t before.

“Try flicking me now, asshole”

“You do realize, I’m stronger than you right?”

“Have a lil faith” you responded with a shrug, Vi’s non-sobered brain not catching up to the fact that you’re extremely close to her.. it takes a minute but it gets there, and she is gradually turning red. Your tits were basically in her face, close as a kiss. Her breath became more shallow, her heart raced harder than the weed was doing her, taking a big gulp from the lewd sight. She needed to get you off of her right now, this was a line that she was not ready to cross with you, unless reciprocated. She tried moving her wrist away from you yet, the more she struggled the more you giggled and the more your two twins jiggled.

Fucking Janna, I’m gonna die like this, I’m gonna die from losing my absolute shit right now! Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

“Off, off, off!! I swear to the gods I will flip you on this couch right now”

“Do it, pussy”

And so she did.

ᥫ᭡

You stared up at her, and she down at you,

“Well hello”

“Still pussy?”

The realization struck a chord, your heart was drumming up something fierce, you were petrified that she could hear your beats. Personal notes, personal vowels, personal rattles of your heart telling her out loud that you have a cr— something you fear you might have an inkling of l—-

“Y-you know what, you—are like.. Jack frost” you said in a daze, your lip quivering, oh yeah nervous had you captured alright, captured and under a really strong Violet. You had to say something, not only to distract yourself but to distract her.

“Ho-haha- no fucking way you just said that to me?”

No, like seriously, right now of all times? Hands above your head, gripped in her calloused hands, not moving, only inches away from each other. To a point where you could most definitely can count and see her white glimmering teeth, even the natural K9’s she has. The same K9’s she so desperately wants to drag down on your neck. Her strong jawline, that is to die for.. Not to mention her knee is slotted between your legs, nearing your wet spot might I add, actually this is perfect, distract her you fool!

“I give you that vibe?” Her voice drips out like it’s the first oasis you ever drank from. Your body heat is radiating off of yourself sinking its fangs into her, yet cold hands grip onto yours.

“Yes, I genuinely think you’re jack frost coded” you try again, but it’s too late. No one is distracted, this is it.

“You’re so fuckin high..” your eyes burned for her, and hers towering over you, succumbing to those flames that you've set, the heat you wrapped her in, capturing whatever it could catch, and for once Vi was ready. Ready to be set ablaze by your warmth, and those eyes, comforting her cold body. She wanted to melt into you.

your hand moved on its own, and without protest of her icey ones, you were allowed one free hand. You reached for hers above your head only leaving a single one with your captured palm. Guiding her to your stomach.

“Y-you, what’re you…” her powdered blues searched yours, looking for a sign of any doubt, and there was none, just pure determination. She took a long audible gulp, and you investigated her eyes for any hint of fear, or beyond the line of this boundary, and none was there.

“What?” You questioned softly, voice oozing with desire. You flatten her hand on your stomach, another gulp down her throat. Her breath, rigid.

She’s so warm..

Her eyes became dark, an abyss full of want, full of images of you in different positions right now. You gave her a signature move that you are quite acquainted with, staring into her left eye, then right, and her lips.

Oh no she did not just.. oh yeah this is dangerous.. this is.. fuck..

You swiped your tongue across your bottom lip, powder blues following it as it traced its steps back inside of your mouth. Now locked on your collar bone, dragging her teeth on her bottom lip.

“Hey..”

Both of your eyes low lidded, taking in your energies swirling each other in. A line the both of you are at, tip toeing closer than ever, for the first time ever, you both might actually—

The phone rang, Violet's phone, knocking you both out of your daze and back to reality. It kept ringing.. Violet dipped her head in defeat, hair tickling your lips, a tiny snicker coming out of you. You spotted red ears, in her ‘sulken state’

“Fuck, can you..I’m sorry” She apologized, she shifted her weight off of you, getting up gradually, not really wanting to remove herself off of you, sitting back across from you. And you sat right back up, fidgeting with your hair.

“No, no.. it’s okay I.. give me a second I need to freshen up anyway, my hair is a mess moving around so much” you claimed, pushing yourself off the couch.

“I think you look fine”

“Yeah? Well I think I could use a little touch up..”

“Mkay, don’t take long I’m rolling the next one after this call”

“No I got it this time, you rolled plenty”

ᥫ᭡

You sat on the counter of your sink, splashing some water on you to sober up, of course it only sobers a bit of you. You’re kinda glad things stopped where they were. You want to make sure the both of you are at least a bit sober before deciding to go that far. You truly do not want either of you feeling disgusting after stepping over a line that many dare to cross. And she the same. As she talked on the phone barely paying attention to the conversation, thinking is this okay? Should you guys cross this line? And coming to resolve she confidently decided it wasn’t right.

You finish and come back out, gloss reapplied, eye liner redone, and calm. You sat on the floor again and grabbed a wrapper, her eyes watching you as you opened it. Noticing it had too many stems in it, sucking your teeth, you got back up and threw it away, Vi still not taking her eyes off of you watching your ass move like water in those flared leggings, her eyes venturing off, noticing something different.. noticing a wet patch near your pussy.

Oh shit.. oh..

“Hey I’ll call you back okay?”

ᥫ᭡

You both sat across from each other, Vi figured you should talk real quick. And you agreed, something needed to be discussed.

“I know we usually just fuck around but, right there on that couch—“

“I know, it was intense,” you admitted, fiddling with your fingers.

“Do you actually want to?” She needed to hear you confirm this, she must hear you say the words, the green light or red light to both of your future endeavors

“Yeah..” and as soon as you said that, fireworks erupted from inside her, thankful that the feelings were shared.

“Okay, well, just so you know, haha—‘feelings mutual..” trying to play it cool. But now is not the time to only celebrate, now it’s time to lay down some necessary values. And this can make or break for some, but for Violet she wants this to be a subject of high priority.

“I just want to be— sober, and I feel like you should too cause I’m not gonna touch you in those places unless you are fully sure and.. coherent. I mean— - l-like if you wanted to have high sex with me I’d like that to be voiced first while you're sober before, yeah. You know?”

“Of course yeah, I actually appreciate that so much.. We…never done this before. Shifting into a new space between each other. I-I fully agree we should definitely be sober before doing anything— beyond that”

“I mean— we- we can still do other stuff until we're both sober”

“Mmmm, like what Lanes?”

“I dunno, talk? Don’t mind hearing your voice too long” she said with a big stretch of her arms. You pondered on that statement, talking would be nice, maybe.. trying to get closer would be nice to and so you say-

“Tell me what you like since we got plenty of time” you told her, and a sly smile was offered to you.

Starting off in tricky waters the both of you guided each other in this boat of unknown seas, it was rocky at first, then smooth sailing helped guide you as the wind blew gently into the sail of the experience and ignorance. You got to know her better on a sexual level and seeing her a little nervous made you tinker your bell of laughter. Vi was getting a little more cocky with her words of what she gets into, takes the golden dust off of you and back to a blooming mess. And for you, she listened to you, focused on every word that fell from your lips. She’s heard you say inappropriatiacy before, though not like this, her eyes widened like saucers, shocked that you're into something more rough, gentle, things that she hasn’t explored yet.

You were like a present wrapped in pretty cutesie designs with a leather bow on top for her.

She eventually sat down on the floor with you as both talked about past experiences of your likes and dislikes, melting off that pressure from each other no longer sculpted icicles, now a pools of serenes.

You laughed, placing a hand on her, grazing your fingers tips on her chest pulling your hand back towards you, her eyes following them back away. She effortlessly reached for your hand holding it, putting both of your hands on her warm lap, back to your eyes admiring you, finally feeling less anxious to stare deep into you. The way she could tell that you lived such a happy life, your smile lines peeking through with every joke she’d tell you, every little angered brow you’d make when she teased something about you, poking those wrinkles away. The way she could make you easily flustered, she was fallin’ deep for you in this moment. And you, being so close to her, being able to eye her body language, her biting her finger tip, squinting her eyes, with her smile that resembled seeing the first day of spring again. You were both now well beyond unknown islands, explored your forests, your seasons, and finally felt a little more daring.

“Is this seat taken?” You questioned, with that small shy smirk of yours, scooting closer to her, Vi stared down at you and damn.. you really are a gift to see up close.

“Mm.. huh?”

“Is this-“ you tap her clothed leg, “seat, taken?” Violet eyes dilated so quick from the way you asked her, as direct as you can be.

“My lap?”

“Yeah?”

She leaned back palms that were flat, now fingers gripping your rug, shaking her head no, and you plopped your plush ass on her, slotted right in between her thighs, nearing her crotch so close. After a while she gets comfortable with you on her lap as if it’s natural to be like this with you, moving her hand to your hip, thumbling your side.

“You know, when you said I’m like Jack frost, which was completely outta of nowhere” you gave her a quick pap on her chest, her snickering from your bashfulness

“Stop playing with me, I was high, okay?” You rolled your eyes, paired with a thin lipped smile.

“Well if I’m Jack frost, then you must be the tooth fairy”

“Really?— What about me gives the tooth fairy?” you asked, with a playful offended hand on your chest.

“You have all these little facts in that head of yours— - you talk really fast when you’re being bossy, you really like getting up—“ she leaned into your face “ real close to me at times, like this..and they had a little chemistry going on.”

“Oh is that what this is?”

“Is that what you want?”

You stare intensely into each other's eyes , you nodded without a word. Your hand finds its way by her ear, tracing little hearts on her cold silver piercing, her ear wiggles a bit with each brush. Violet bites the insides of her cheek trying to hold back her laugh, and you just find it cute that her ears are so sensitive. Your sun beam light lifted the roses from her body in full bloom, and her moonlit shine rose your h2o with ease, not just between your lips but your body felt gravity go from grounded to zero, bringing you both to finally do what suns and moons do best. A rarity that only some can see in once of a lifetime, she raised her hand to yours, fiddling around with your fingers until the both of you pressed against each other palms, eclipsing each other with such tenderness.

“You’re beautiful..” she confessed

“Huh, no I’m not..” you rejected her compliment, a slight shadow crippled like a mirror, you never told her you didn’t find yourself pretty, beautiful no less. She cups your cheek into her palm

“That breaks my soul that you don’t know..”

Your eyes dilate, sharing a long gaze in her natural powder blues, your lips find themselves moving again “do you really.. think..” She would love to be the one to remind you every day that no matter what, the form you take, the colors you’ve painted in her murals of life will never fade, will never escape, and always be found again and again, your colors that you splatter on her world could never be mistaken as for anything less than beauty.

“You’re the definition of beauty, princess.. I promise you that.”

You really want to kiss her right now, but you want to respect her boundaries, checking in within yourself if you are not mistaking cloud nine in the midst of green clouds. You were absolutely sure, it was clear. And so—

“Sober?” You ask her

“Sober enough to know I want you” Vi replied,Her hands caress your neck, feeling the short hairs twine with her brisk fingers. Her other tracing your jaw. Vi basked in stretched out time for your lovely eyes, then traveled down to your glossed lips, begging to be kissed. She inched closer to you, your eyes came to a close.

“Been wanting to do this since I walked in here” she said before, finally closing that gap between you both. A quick peck, before you pulled away.

“again” Vi tells you, eyes dark, pulling you in like a black hole.

You peck at her lips again. Now you’re just teasing her, a tiny evil smile perks on your lips.

“Again, rougher—- don’t hold back” she demanded, and you submit to her orders this time. You moved, slicing the distance in half, your arms finding purchase around her neck, tilting your head, and gluing it all with a gentle kiss. Soon gentleness was thrown out the window the more that hunger festered inside, together like a storm, thundering, lightning electrifying that same kiss. Vi didn’t expect your lips to have her so out of place, her brows furrowed with confusion, on why this kiss felt so different from the many she has with different women. She let out satisfied hums between the perfectly locked lips, like two puzzle pieces that were lost in a box and the other had to be searched for years later before fitting each other. Frustrations, tensions, and long awaited touches, felt all the while through kissing, she nipped at your bottom lip like a curse for waiting this long. And you, licking her top, like an apology. Your lips were so soft, so enriched with flavor, sticky, it didn’t matter, she pulled you closer to her, whimpering for more.

You could feel her scar tickling your sensitive lips, only making you let out more lewd whines. Your body felt as though you were going to meet the gods themselves from how good she’s making you feel, with only just kisses. Bodies pulsating, hearts beating in tandem, a deep groan in agreement that this kiss was long overdue, feeling the vibrations from her body, pooling another wet and hot mess in your leggings. Your hands begun moving, feeling her veins in her neck, fingers in search of her hair, pulling it as the kiss got more tantalizing. A high pitched mewl coming out of Vi.

Oh, so you have a thing for hair pulling, I can work with that.

Her hand that was once exploring your jaw, now finding itself new temptations, slightly gripping your neck, your eyelids fluttering at the touch, tickling strings of moans into her mouth, and boy was she delighted to know that, she is going to have fun with you.

“S-So good” she lets out

“Wanna leave you breathless..” you said between breaths

“Make me then..”

You chase each other like you’re both dopamine like a fever dream, wanting more and more of each other. Such a greedy mess you both are. She slips her tongue in, and gods this is even better. Her hand lays upon your hip, soft and plushy, and grips it in her hand, getting a fullfist of your inuinal crease. It surprises you so you yelp, and that surprises her, both of you getting carried away with positions, toppling over one another. Still not taking a break from kissing, even though now you both have fallen with a giggling Violet on top of you, and you a chuckling mess below. Inhaling a sharp breath as her hand makes way, down to the fat of your thigh, taking big squeezes of you. She can’t believe that she gets to touch you like this, fully going crazy in her mind that you feel so good, you taste so good, you are so good.

Wrapping a leg around her waist pulling her in, and her humming a cute tune of blissful mhm’s in your mouth. You pulled away, panting in tandem, like a hot summer's day, you felt as though you were up above beyond words that compare. Vi gazed at your eyes, then those now swollen lips, and damn was she entranced.

“Fuck, didn’t know you could taste like that”

“Probably gives you a good idea of how much you’re missing down there”

“Oh is it now?” She says, now sitting on her brawny forelegs, you loosen your thighs grip a bit for her. Watching her as she takes off her shirt, revealing a pink sports bra, and good gods, those abs, might as well pull up a pink coffin and fucking pass out ‘cause those are to die for. Those 8 prominent ridges, going bump, bump, bump, bump, down to her V line… eyeing that part for longer than a beat. Which gives you a bit of insight that those peeking carpets might fully match just like the drapes. Then flick back to her eyes, something’s different, before they matched a morning blue sky, but now, they matched midnight..

She pulls you back by the wrist into her chest, holding you by the small of your back, peppering kissing on your cheeks and your neck, you beamed another smile, and she kissed that too, and you kissed her back, chuckling away with each other.

“Damn, I.. I really can’t believe—”

“What?”

“You really don’t know how beautiful you are, genuinely. You are amazing.”

“Oh stop” you said as you strip your top off.

“No seriously, I’m—

Revealing a light blue lacey bra that did not hide those perky nips of arousal. It was the organza that showed them perfectly, spinning Violet's head around like a carousel.

“—astonished”

“You’re not bad yourself” You start,

“I mean beyond the sex appeal. You really are charming, like.. extremely exquisite. I wish.. I could—“

You heart beat, time slowed, you could hear it in your ears, it was like a beat unknown to you, or maybe familiar…

“You could, what?” She asks, her eyes again, taking you somewhere else, putting a pause on life itself..

Am I fa.. oh.. I am.. I definitely am..

“I want to make a personal word for you, because you’re more than just pretty, Violet” you answer, eyes averting her gaze, heat rising to your face. She cupped your left cheek, and your eyes found their way to those blues again, her face was beat red, yet she smiled, staring at you like you're the most gorgeous person on earth. (Which you are like duh) the air becomes light again, both breaths, both chests rise and dive. She lifts her hand near your bosom, taking a quick glance at you if it’s okay, and you nod. She grazed her thumb against your nipple, you inhaled another sharp breath, then slowly back to rise and fall. The more she circled, the more your legs clenched. She still remembers there's a wet patch between those legs, an oasis that she’d like to drink from as soon as possible..

“Let’s get you out of these, yeah?” you replied silently with a little mhm coming out of you, helping her slip off your flared leggings with repose. Legs on obverse sides of her body. She was the opposite of disappointment seeing that you had no panties on, yet amazed with how much has been going on down there. Her eyebrows raised, huffing out a laugh, “You’re up next, joker” rolling her eyes, however those ear tips of hers are more pink than her hair now. She threw your leggings behind the couch. She unclipped your bra with one hand, slipping it off swiftly and throwing that pair in the same place as your pants, keeping them both with clothed company, and most likely forgotten until.. well who knows how long you’ll both be busy for——

-Read your diary by Maneskine 🧠💄

The way her tits sat in her bra, I like those very much.. I want to..your mind drifted off wondering how her breast felt? Would she like to be touched there? And a strike of memory does hit you, she mentioned she does have sensitive breast. So you sat up, prickling at the curiosity, staring hard at her pink sports bra.

“You wanna feel em’?” You couldn’t even say it out loud, giving her an eager nod, and she captured your hand, leading you to what your eyes set on that allures your desires. You cup her breast, and they’re so.. impressive, soft and pillowy. Your mouth was in despair of a drought, needing to taste something of her. And those tits were exactly what called your palate. However, you wanna take your time with someone like this.. you want her to remember you and you remember her. You moved into her neck, lip tracing her pulse points, noisey shlicks coming from your lips coming into contact with her neck.

“Mm.. fuck” words falling from her lips, the way she just moaned fuck for you, buzzing in your ears, stroking your growing ego. You tongue swirls against her freckled skin, her breath slowing, moving your hand that cups her breast, slipping it inside her bra, circling a finger on her pebbled nipple.

“Mmhm, you like that don’t you..” you comment, voice seasoned with cockiness. Vi, hands migrating to your bare back, taking rough, and smooth touches of your blades, your spine, and reaching down to the pierced dimples of your arse. She gulps, feeling the cold metals, she's never come across a person with something like this, so excuse her for her curiosity but that mind of hers is going wild with dangerous thoughts. She wanted to bend you over on that armrest right now.. just to get a better look at those piercings.

She let out a satisfied groan, as you bit her neck, pulling her back out of those thoughts and what you’re doing to her in the presence. Lollying her head back, fluttering those violin strings, causing her to grip a piece of your ass. You bit harder from the pleasure of her grip, which prompted her to spread your cheek, stretching your pulsating hole, letting out another grunt, and holy fuck, you loved her strong hands stretching it like that. You needed her to pound those fingers inside of you, you were starving for it.

“Take this off” you adjured, snapping her bra back in place. That sting, any other time she’d tell someone to fuck off with that, but you, something about you made her want to listen like a good girl. She slipped off her bra throwing it somewhere aimlessly, revealing an arrow shaped piercing on her right nipple. It was vital that you sucked that one immediately.

“Why only one?” You questioned, and she just shrugged, you licked the bottom of your lip, nearing the right of her breast. Pink, pink, pink, damn does she love pink, wonder if she admires her pink nipples too, huh.. Flicking your tongue on the center, she jerked up, inhaling sharp breaths with each flick, while massaging that piece of ass she still was gripping. And gods was it making you flood over, body in full depths of lust. “S’fine, need you..” she moaned quietly. You wrapped your lips around that pink nipple of hers and got to work. Her hips stuttered, pleading to fuck you like this, but she’s a good girl, so she’ll wait and wants you to have your fun. Licking and suckling her nipple like it's the missing oasis, spit dripping down her perfectly painted canvas of a body. The metals clicked and clattered against your teeth, turning her on even more. Sounds like asmr the way you are delighted to lick her up. Feeling how your tongue can do many tricks, tricks that she isn’t even familiar with, melting her into your hot sun rays of a mouth. She’s biting back so many moans, she can’t let you know that only a bit of nipple play has her mind going to mush. Your fingers carefully grazing her happy trail and dammit she can’t hold back anymore. Releasing her teased nipple woth a pop.

“Ahng, please, please!”

“Please what, baby?” You quizzed, kissing her swollen nipple, staring up at her eyes. You are so fucking sexy, those eyes said let me show you how you can feel good. You were curious of course, you were down right full of bundles of thoughts all coming back to sound exactly alike: what else ticks her brain..?

“Touch me, feel me..”

“Where? Tell me where to go, Violet” you told her voice coming out soft, sultry, drunk on your cloud like tone, she grasped onto your hands putting the both of them on different sides of her grey joggers, words fail her, she can’t bring herself to say it outloud, and you don’t force her to either. “lie down for me, pretty”, and so she did, lifting her legs up as you took her joggers off nice and slow, and just like a present, you were able to witness a sight to behold, as if Achelous decided to visit her and bless you with another river of elation waters. Those black boxers were done for.. all from a bit of titty play. Maybe even more before that? Your fingertips graze the rough edge of her boxers, biting her lip with anticipation. Though, you didn’t take off her boxers.. not just yet. You gradually made way to her puffed lips, that were obviously being tortured in such a wet mess of clothing.. pressing lightly of her bundle of nerves, on instinct she grabbed your wrist, her breath came out shakey and weak, making your eyes travel to hers, she was slacked jawed, looking needy, and begging to be fucked. You enjoyed how wet she was under those black boxers, like a sensory toy for you, you could do this for hours if you wanted, and she’d let you, she’d beg, being on the brink of tears for you to eat her out. Though, she’d let you do just that, she trusts that you could make her feel good even through something as that.. torturing her cunt from not giving her your mouth right away. Fuck.. just thinking about it has her clenching her thighs togerther, then releasing again for you to keep touching her.

“I know you want it, I know.. but you’re just gonna have to be good for me, Violet. Can you be good for me?”

She released her hand from you, combing her fingers through her head, letting out a whimpered mhm, “need your mouth so bad” she urged,

You went back to your mission though, massaging her lips through her drowned clothed pussy, she rolled her hips with so much want, rolling to your rhythm, chasing your touch. She covered her face with both palms as you and her did this, so cute, so shy. Not letting you see how pathetic she can really look like as you tease her cunt.

“Mm, look at her, crying out for more. It feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

“Y-yesh..” she answered, hips jerking up as you near her clitoris again, she needed you badly. So, so bad. Yet, she can’t lie— she loves the way you're taking your time. Like you really want her to know how much you’ve been wanting her, not rushing a thing. You reach back up to the lining of her boxers once more, gripping them with your index fingers.

“Up, baby” you told her, she complied with a saturated groan, slipping them off down to her legs, tossing them to the side. You laid down next to her. She was still not removing her hands from her face, leaving her large nose peeking through.

So cute..

“Hey, Vi.. can you look at me?”

She slowly uncovered her face, seeing your face, taking in the air that rips from her when she lays eyes down at you. Her hair somewhat sticking to her forehead, you wanted to kiss that too.

“There she is.. my good girl.” And there goes another Niagara falls down her legs. Goosebumps prickled the back of her neck hearing you say that. ‘My good girl’ she repeated it in her head over and over, ah, she but the inside of her cheek, fighting back her overwhelming excitement.

Keep it cool… keep it cool.. do not over do it. She just called you that because of the mood. Don’t read into it…

“You’re such an ass hole..but yeah, I’m your good girl.” Yet, she let it out regardless, and checked if you were upset that she referred to herself as that, instead you were ecstatic to hear her affirm it, though…You slapped her cunt for that ‘asshole comment’ not letting that go and she let out such a high pitched moan, instantly covering her mouth. “Oh? Is that it then?” You said grinning. Giving you a grunted ‘mhm’. She’s going to get you back for that just wait!

You scoot back a bit so you can get a good view of her pussy, her bush was so fluffy, and covered with shlick, you wanted to mix yours with hers, you were dizzy for it. Suddenly she pulled you back in for another kiss, and you melted right back into her, rocking her hips as she does so, pulling moan after moan from you, as her nipples poked yours, sending frissons down your back. You could feel her hand nearing your lips, but hovering.. you pull away noticing her hesitation to touch your slit, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable but you instead tell her, encouraging that-

“Hey..I w-want us, shared, each to each, don’t worry. I’m ready. Are you?” You tell her, looking into her eyes full of want.

“I want the same as you— I’m ready, I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable and.. I don’t want to fuck this up.”She admits,

“You won’t, I promise.” You said, and she nodded, sure of every move she can take with you, relieved that she can go this far with you. Her fingers sliding against your sticky wet slick, she hasn’t even tasted you yet. Already feeling your pussys analeptic effect. Just hearing your pussys slutty sounds, shlicking as she slides them slowly back and forth between those lips. Taking a nice and long taste of you in her mouth then back to your cunt. Tasting your flavors, flavors she’s bringing out of you, tasting so good for her, mmf she desired more and more. She circled your clit with her middle and ring, she felt upon you with such care, searching for that tick. You squirmed a bit and especially more after finding your spot, right near the top and little to the left. She just wanted to help you feel good, repeating the same thing she does when she masturbates. Flabbergasted that you feel that spot too, she bit back a shit eating grin, as she watched you grip onto her, sliding your hands on her muscular arms. Vi was in total euphoria seeing you like this, it was a lascivious sight, and only for her eyes to see. Feeling her callous fingers like ridges of delight, tickling and buzzing that spot. You were chasing that feeling, your gorgeous tits bounced with your motions of crave. That sensation sent waves of fuzz straight to your parietal lobe. Making you arch your back, holding her bicep for support. You released a cracked filthy whine, all for Vi to drink in.

You were fevering for her cunt, sliding your hand down slipping your fingers on her outer labia, opening them and closing them with your two fingers, “fuckin teasing me like that, princess?” She asked and fully gasped when you explored her dripping cunt, nearing her throbbing clit, slow meticulous circles on that whiney bud. Her need grew, shallow breaths the more you touched her. It felt too good, so good that she couldn’t help but buck her hips, squeezing her thighs to stimulate her clit. She hissed for more, feeling her mouth water from the inside, gulping down her drool. “M-more.. I want more, babe— mmf, please?”

“Need, y-your fingers, f-fuck.”

“Need you to fuck me, fuck me real good, hm?“ she had you spinning the way she was begging. You slid one finger in, and she lolled her head back, arching towards you, panting vigorously, tits shaking like she’ll erupt any second. “More!” She mewled, and you added another. “W-Wanna feel full of you..” you went in and out of her delicious cunt, squelching noises from each thrust of your fingers. She felt so warm, your fingers felt at home in this sopping wet cunt. Feeling you all inside her, curling your fingers, touching parts she can’t reach, god she wants to ride your fingers, but she’s too drunk on that feeling to move, until she remembers she wants to see you like this too. She slid in a finger in you, giving you a mischievous grin, and you slacked jaw at the sudden filling, you needed that, feeling those strong fingers fuck you so slow, one finger , and you trying your best not to close your thighs, moaning like you’re in heat.(you were.) and another until a ring of cream and shlick formed around her fingers, the sight was so fucking hot, you were just all sorts of surprises. Her ears buzzed with every moan she got out of you. Your voice, itched nerves that need that certain scratch, hard to reach but so satisfying to have. You both played with each other, moans filled the air, ooo’s and ahnngs’s fell from your lips, strings of slick engulfed your hands, shared kisses, and bites, and licks from each other. Both of you in utter bliss, heart beats drumming together, you bit her lip stretching it towards you, releasing it back to her, she couldn’t hold it any longer, she wanted to cum with you so bad. She grabs your shoulders bucking her hips, jerking uncontrollably as you thrust and curl your fingers in her sodden wet cunt.

You were sure that if you kept them in there long enough they’d wrinkle from how wet she is, and how long she relished to keep you inside, you’d do anything to keep the faces she was making. Didn’t care how long it took, or tired you be, this was being high but she was the substance, her moans, her twitches, her gasps, fuck her fucked out everything, you gave her more and more, the slick was getting outta control, splashing around her toned thighs, even some getting on your cunt.. You wanna make her squirt, you don’t care that it would get on your floor, the rug, fuck the rug, just fuck her til she sees stars.

You’d watch each other's faces become rich with need, then glancing at different parts of each body part that would throw you over the edge, wanting to cum together. Yet..

“Ahn,nngh I cant, b-baby I can’t, I’m c-cum..”

“My sweet girl— -cum for me, it’s okay, I’m right here” you coo’d to Vi as her walls got tighter, harder to thrust, yet you kept going for her until she bucked nice and hard, she’d pulled you into an embrace, smashing her lips against yours, having you swallow her moans, your eyes rolling behind your head, overstimulated, squeezing your thighs as you felt her come undone in your hands. So warm, so tight, her jerking became much harder, holding you tighter, sticking her tongue near the roof of your mouth, whimpering loudly, you gave her a few more good pumps, hearing something wet come out of her with each thrust. You were in love with this warmth, whether it came from inside or out.. you loved the sensation of her cumming. Her body slowly relaxed into you, she’d nuzzle her head into your neck, and using your free hand you rubbed her scalp, coo’ing sweet nothings in her ear softly, she didn’t say much just mmm’s . Pulling away, she stared at the mess between her legs.

Damn, she really did fuck me good.. I can get used to this..

Is what she would have thought until she saw the other mess she made on your rug.

“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!”

“Wh-why?”

“I just made a mess on your rug, I-“

You pull her into a hug, your lips nearing her ear “Violet, I don’t mind— keep doing it.. in fact do it again, but this time.. in my mouth” you said in a voluptuous tone, perking her ears. You kissed her ear and she just melted. Well in that case since all is well…

“Wanna taste you, please?” She whispered in your ear. Sending nerves upon nerves to rise and scream for her. You nodded eagerly. She coated your neck with frantic wet kisses, untying little bows of your fantasies feeling her enchanting scar against your skin, a smile played at your lips from her frenzy of greed. Decorating hickeys on your collar bone, soothing it with a long and rich swipe of her tongue, her ears delighted to hear your beautiful voice, sweet tones poured out of your mouth, her heart fluttering from each vowel.

Touring down to your breast, that glowed under your light, the shine on them was mesmerizing, the way they felt in her hands felt like she was intruding on an artist finished work. Like you shouldn’t be in her hands you should be in a museum, but selfishly like any artist admirer would do, she wants to keep you in sight of her own, even if she wasn’t the one that made you. She couldn’t let someone else see these. Just touching them feels like she’s healing; a lenitive feeling. Kissing them was even better, you’d feel her tongue tracing your areolas, swirling her tongue, suckling them as if something would come out, your head would tilt back, moaning how good it feels, squeezing your thighs together from how much she made a mess on your chest.

Trailing kisses down your sternum, licking your ribcage as if you could ever give more, feeling out your thighs again, squeezing them again, til she got to her destination, your stomach, kissing your tummy, biting it a little. And when she laid eyes on your puffy lips, it was as if her eyes became cat-like, zoned in on her favorite thing in the world.

“So pretty” she said before taking a long stripe against your outer labia, needing to tease you a bit, she wants to help you build yourself back up, it felt weird being tickled in that way, like she was pressing her pink muscle against places that were shocked to be touched like that, it sent tingles all around your dripping cunt. You’d buck your hips at her without your control, even your body knew that this sensation was immense, filling your brain with haze. She knew she’d had you under her thumb the more you kept bucking for her, urging her to try other places. She obliged to your silent begging, giving you a kitten lick on your stressed out bundle, you let out a bellyached croak. A short humorous laugh escaped her, her breath sending shivers up to your neck, “please..” you begged, “okay, okay, I’ll stop.” and when she meant she’ll stop, gods she meant it, she’d roll her tongue against you, slow, a rhythmic pace, that had you grinding against her face. Crying out her name, like it was a prayer, and she answered every last one of them. Fervorous whines and moans against your divine folds, bud intensified with lust.

She lapped desperately against your throbbing clit, you’d squirm on the floor, feeling your skin drag against the fluffy rug, tickling your back, and rough hands gliding against your plump thighs. The taste of you overwhelmed her the nerves of her brain, she kept thinking she needs to carve this into her memory. To think back on every twitch, and hitch of your breath makes when she flicks her tongue a certain way. She needs to make sure when she goes home, she can masturbate to this memory over and over again. She was savoring your juices that flowed down her mouth, not being able to catch it all frustrated her, soft groans against you— liberated your pussy. Your sweet tang fulfilling her appetite for you, making her moan against your body, circling her tongue around your hard bud, she wanted more.

“Pl-please suck on it.. I.. Vi please..” you whined, that little whine of her name coming out of your mouth your sounds sent jolts straight to her abdomen, she gave you a mhm’ before, clinging onto your thigh, she’d open her mouth to wrap her soft lips around your bundle of nerves, all the while licking it with the tip of her tongue and that send you feeling something snap within you, you gripped her hair, and pulled her in more bobbing her head into your pussy. The heat you emitted was a dangerous combination with your squelching pussy. A cunt too good to just be ate, no she had to devour you with everything she had. Especially as an apology for getting your rug all wet.

“Feels so good,nngh!”

She’d wiggle her fingers asking you silently if you’d like that too. Not taking a break to pull away from your gushing cunt.

“Fuck yes, please, stick them inside me” you implored stretching out the ‘me’ with a strained moan. She slipped one, then two, your legs shaked and almost trapped her in your thighs, stopping only one while the other shooked on the left side of her face. She rubbed little circles around your restrained thigh, and for some reason that made it feel ten times better, like she was unwinding your hips to help you release. Her mouth felt like the best squishy suction cup ever, and her nose, god her nose felt good too, loved when it grazed you a bit, she was getting real good and up in there for you.

Her fingers pounded more into you, as you bucked your hips. Vi, squeezing your ass so your clit would jump more, bingeing your every move. She reached up to grab one of your tits, pawing at it, and dammit that was it! A couple of rubs from your nipples and her sucking on you like she was starving— melted you from the insides. Like a volcano that’s been needing to erupt for thousands of years, you rumbled and tumbled and finally releasing, feeling your bud throb in her mouth as you let go, her holding your hips, indenting them with her rough fingers, the orgasm feeling all the more rippling inside of you, you had no choice but to arch in her arms. Quivering legs until you finally relaxed, she crawled up to your tummy for sanctuary, laying her head on top of you, panting, “G-Gods….”

“Y-You alright?” You asked exhausted, playing in her hair, and she hummed lovingly against your stomach, twining your fingers with her fuchsia locks. She is so close to your warm body, she’s practically sticking to you ”ye-, give me a moment..”

ᥫ᭡

When you both regained your energy, it was another trial of fucking to get to, it was as if that one moment unfolded and gave you the code to pandoras box of wonders, you had Violet standing up on against your wall, if this was dream I bet you’d never want to wake up from it. And speaking of dreams, Violet felt like she was walking on clouds the way you traced your fingers on her thighs, it’s been a while since someone appreciated them. Every time you touched her it felt like a song, a personal symphony sung from her nerves, crying out to gods that she was safe with you. If her soul was bare she’d let you touch that too. You massage the back of her legs trickling your way up to her buttocks, a shallow-slow breath emerges from her, your breath embracing her drenched pussy. A delectable thing to witness, your orbs turning to saucers, you’re about to eat out Violet lanes, it was nerve wracking. Fingering her is one thing, seeing her pussy swallow your fingers was amazing, but this is different. You stare up at her body, admiring her entire. This god of a woman was standing in front of you, biting her knuckle, averting her gaze from you. Shy little thing, but what does she need to be shy about? She’s a strong, beautiful, relentless person. Every scar from each fight, every back breaking muscle, the pieces of her mirror broken yet glued with gold by herself was completely in puddy within your hands. ‘Bout time someone reminds her that she deserves more, whether it’s through pleasing her, flattery, or simply taking care of her. And right now you have that chance to take care of her.. and hopefully you can do a mass of any want she could ever desire. As much work she’s put into herself, you’d be grateful to even support just as she to and for her.

“Thank you”, you said before diving in her lips, spreading them with your tongue, and from that first lick, she had to hold your head, and the wall to keep herself steady. Biting back a loud one at that, you kept going though, slow and precise, until you noticed her rolling her hips against your face. She used to only think this would happen in her next life, as many night shed traced your touches on her, craving for summer to come again so you’d have more places to lay your hands on, when you’d share a laugh bumping into her chest, laughing in it when you couldn’t get back up from one of her jokes. Even a simple hug when your warmth would linger could be enough for her to fantasize you holding her as she gave you the best strokes of your life. And she knows she’d do a good job at it, she just didn’t know today would be that day you’d be kissing her clit in ways that have her knees almost buckling. Holding her thighs so tightly, massaging them as you painted slow brushes to her pulsating mantle, and slurped her sweet fluids.

“Mhm, use my mouth baby, use it” you’d say, and she waul from it. Sticking two fingers inside of her, moving them like the waves of the ocean, and her hips followed as such.

“Mmf, d-don’t do that, Gonna cum quick with you talking like that.. hngh, ah—, yes, yes, oh—my gods! Yes—s..”

You could taste everything from her, her worries, her love, her fights, everything , it was enthralling, had her rambling nonsense as you replace your fingers with something more entrancing, sliding your tongue inside of her fluttering hole. You completely lost in it, and she was lost in your eyes, heart going crazy, wanted to leap out and kiss you itself, she bit down on her lip, whimpering your name every now and then. You kept playing with her cheeks the whole time, gripping on her fat ass, spreading it ever so often, slapping them, whatever whichway, it helped you immensely, she bucked harder into your mouth as you did that each time she whimpered your name. You pulled away for only a second to breathe, and she fiercely pulled you back, moaning her name in her pussy.

“I’ll..ha—h fuck.. I’ll l-let you know when you can stop licking”

Well fuck if you’re gonna be down there for so long, you figured tracing your name on her clit wouldn’t be a bad idea, she’d moan and laugh at your constant traces of your name on her. Though, she did enjoy your tongue plenty.. You didn’t just want her to only get head, no you wanted to entertain her too, so what better way to do it on this floor? You pulled away again and she cried a gargled moan out.

“Vi baby?”

“Mhm? Y-yes?“ she asked looking down at you, not ripping her eyes from your siren calling self.

You planted both your feet on the floor, crouching, she tilted her head if you were about to get up, but no, you went back to stuffing your face full of her sodden cunt swirling circles around her bud, she was slacked jaw from the way you use your air against your tongue to thrum it against her jittering pink nub. She couldn’t remove her eyes from you, looking down at you but noticed something different.. you were moving your ass while giving her head, and fuck was she entertained, you felt her clit get even harder as she watched your ass moved up and down, ripples moving as you stared deep into her eyes, those sexy eyes of yours plus your arse, those piercing, then massaging her clit with your lips, sending her on a different atmosphere.

“Need to fuck you.. I need to fuck you everywhere…”

“Fuck me after you cum for me, pretty”

“You’re so l-ah! So fucking lucky..” if she wasn’t damn near buckling her knees over this head your giving she’d fuck you senseless right now. Tongue fucking her again as her hair tickled your nose and once you giggled it had her yelp bending over into you,

“Awe, fuck! Yes baby!” She blubbered on and on how it felt so good.

You mumbled against her pussy and it talked right back to you, curling her tongue to cup her clit, flicking it giving her a more heavy sensation of your tongue, Vi was at the edge of your mercy, ready to just fall into your mouth the way you swallowed her up. You began rolling your hips, your heat aching for her as it dripped on the floor. You’d flatten your tongue letting her take control for a bit.

“Just like this” she whispered

“Just like this baby, mm..”

She came undone again, hips stuttering against your face as she cradled your head, moving it the way she wanted to move it, pulling your hair abit, making your roll your eyes back from that feeling and once she was done using you like a toy you’d flick your eyes up at her, gazing at her fucked out face, you were adorably stuck, a little smile growing on your lips. You were still awkward about how you presented yourself, yet she once again melted that down from you. A puddle under you and puddle were you. She cupped your face holding you, thumbing your cheek, admiring your glistening face, swollen lips.

“I like you, I like you— a lot..”

“Mhm—-like..me some more, love.” You replied

“Will do..” She said leaning her head back to the wall taking another breather. Her eyes lingered around the room, landing on the couch.

perfect.

“Get your sexy ass up on that couch, and open those legs up.” She demanded

“Oh? Someones trying to be in charge” you teased, rising up from the floor,

“I’ve always been in charge— just… a girl can’t enjoy herself?”

“You’ve been enjoying yourself alright” you said turning on your heel sauntering your way to the couch, Vi giving you a quick smack on your ass, you snickered, rolling your eyes from her lil bravado. Taking a seat on the arm rest, watching her walk over to you, damn did she look good naked, and walking just took it to another level of sexy.

You lounged your elbows on the edge of you couch tilting your head. You’d lick the bottom of your lip with a quick motion.

“Why are you looking at me like you wanna pounce on me?”

“Maybe I do”

“You’re gonna have to put a pin on that cupcake” she commented, gliding her hands on your hips, “wanna try something for you” giving you a quick wet kiss, turning you around, facing her, back against nothing. Only a shove could place you right into the cushions, but Vi has that in store later. She’d grasp a full piece of your ass in her hand, thumbing around your dimple piercing, kissing up your neck. She would draw her name out on your stomach right before she reached your slit, running her finger tips along her new well used toy, curious how much you could take. She glides through your folds with ease, her fingers were becoming a favored familiar feeling, your walls took well to her, not putting up a fight, never drying out. She shlicked in another.

Her eyes low lidded, staring at your already quivering lip, she didn’t move her fingers just yet, she let them stay there for a bit, warming her up, as your honeyed waters flowed in her hand.

“Wanna take three?”

“Mhm, stretch me out..” and as soon as you gave her the green light, she slid one more in your crying calcifer, “Yeah.. there you go”, she said sinking them in, three knuckles deep into your needy heat, your hands found there way on her back holding her close, letting out pornohraphic moans, the sound of your arousal going in and out and in and out, echoing wall to wall, not missing a beat from wherever the noise came from next, littering your neck with more wet kissing cooing you that you can take it, in your ear, turning you on even more.

“Gonna take real good care of you..” she kept going, stuffing you full, her thrust became more rough as time went on, you could feel power coming from her workouts in your greedy little cunt, it was too much but just enough to have you drooling. You’d move your hands to her shoulders, steadying yourself on her, grinding your hips to feel more.

“You like being filled don’t you? Mhm— oh you like that word filled?, don’t think I didn’t see that clit twitch when I said that”

You laid your head on her exposed chest, hiding yourself from your face, now understanding why, it was so embarrassing for someone to see you completely in utter disbelief with ribboned hornyness ironed on your face. A truth that you could easily see through, that you were a horny mess. Whining and whimpering against her, feeling the vibrations of your voice, foggying up her head with just you pleading for her to fuck you harder.

“Mhm, yeah.. c’mere, bring your ass closer so I can suck on those pretty tits”

Popping one of them in her mouth as she made work with your clit with her thumb,

“Had so mush fum with mime, mashty girl…” she babbled with a wet nipple in her mouth, all of it was sending waves to your head and thighs. With grooved crafted long fingers making there permanent dips in your bed of incalescent, you barely being able to focus on anything.

She aided your backdoor arousal, unknowingly, as she noticed you rolling your hips again, in doing so using her free hand moving your plush arse to rub against the couch, stimulating your body the best she can.

You cried when she pulled away from your swollen sweet pebbled nip, shutting you quick with a hand that was once gripping your cheek now around your throat. She slant her head to the side, her eyes trailed down to your tits, then her plunging fingers in your tight cunt, “hear that? That’s you about to cum..”

“So this is what we’re gonna do, okay? You’re gonna be halfway off the couch, while I take another taste of you. Good? Good..”

Fucking angel fallen from the golden gates..

She took away her soaked fingers and sucked the slick off of them real nice and slow for you, pushes you to bend backwards on the couch, pulling your legs around her head, going back in for seconds.

“Good girl, mm you’re so good..’mmm” she said taking a long swathe of your pussy, slurping a ton of you, you knew her tongue was long but goodness gracious it was tracing the rugae of your cunts walls. You tried to touch your clit as she used her tongue to thrust in you but she smacked it away, and slapped the top your pussy, making you clench on her. And boy did that feel good, her soft muscle of a tongue felt so different, you were gripping the cushions of the couch, reaching for the head of it to grip its edge, something because your mind was slowly breaking.

She gripped her arms tighter helping you get closer in her mouth, yanking you back and forth, your ass dragging against the material of the couch, spinning your head around, and another snap went as a pitch of your whine like a symphony spread throughout the room as your legs shake uncontrollably. Vi could feel your body pulsate, your legs closed pulling her head deeper inside of you as you jerked your hips.

She pulled out, panting “you tapped out?”

You gave her your middle finger, “okay, guess not”

You reached out for her to help you up and she took hold of your wrist pulling you up from the couch, embracing her as soon as you got near her chest. Your arms wrapped around her neck, your legs soon following the same action around her waist. Kissing her deeply, she was caught off guard by your sudden energy, kissing you with the same vigor, holding you up by your ass cheeks digging her nails in your flesh. You gripped on her jaw, nails making crescent moons on her sharp jaw. Shakey breaths in between separation, magnetic to come back for more. Your fingers carding through her fuschia mullet, your fingers not only her drug in her hot wonders, but her hair too. You were dangerous for her. Dangerous for her heart, and the beat that grew again in her core.

“Fuck, I figured you’d want a break” she exhaled out breaking the hot kiss you both shared.

“First of all, why didn’t I feel that earlier when we made out?” You inquired her, almost hinted with furious.

“Was scared..”

“About what?!”

“Not a lot of people like the feeling of something long hitting their uvula..”

“Fuck them!”

“You sure cause..”

“Vi..not the time” you scolded sternly, irritation mounted your face, in the back of your head the thought of even sharing her was nerve shattering. Especially after experiencing that.

“‘Kay..” she said thinning her lips, holding back her smile, she liked this side of you. Never thought in a billion years you’d want her like this..

Possessive already, sheesh.. (she’s not complaining)

She gave you kiss on your cheek to melt that off of you, hoping you’d forgive her, and yes it worked. Can’t stay mad for long anyway. You’d tap on her shoulder signaling her to let you go. She slowly set you down and you swiftly moved behind her. A look of confusion washed over her features, wondering what are you up to now?

“Bend over on the couch please?”

“What’re you?”

“Please?”

“Fine, better tell me if you’re gonna stick something in me”

“I would never not tell you that” you said giving her ass a good smack she let out a shriek that made your pussy weep from that high pitch. You absolutely adored her voice pitches.

“Spread ‘em” you ordered her, she sighed, moving her legs away from each other.

“I promise I won’t stick anything in you without permission so cut it out with the attitude”

“Maybe if I was being fucked right now I wouldn’t have it”

“Okay smart ass” you muttered, pressing a thumb on her outer labia, Vi hummed happily that you started touching her again. Except, you were only using your thumbs, massaging her lips, pressing them together, dripping her nectar down on the floor.

She’d whine moving her tush for you to do something else, but you had this evil grin on you.

“Nuh uh, you were being a smart ass.”

“Sorry please, need you”

“Not gonna work, babe” you denied her, she let out this sob and you spanked her for it, another high yelp coming from her. She bit her lip down, groaning. However every smacked you gave, you did not fail to see that her tremoring waters were falling down her muscled thigh. You moved your hands to her ass, drawing small circles around her supple cheeks. Tingles were killing her on the inside, upset from no penetrating fingers and oddly enough, curious satisfaction from it, it felt as though you were enjoying her little shakes from being deprived of your lack of fucking her. Shallow breaths emitted from her, and the build up was no secret, you were working her up something fierce. Stripping her of her privileges was just the start, you’d near her pussy every now and then only to give her nothing, blowing on clit, thinking she’d finally get some, only to bite her thigh the next.

After a a half an hour of you fucking with her head, you gave her a little prize for not begging, or trying to get something to touch her rose bud, you kiss her cunt sloppily, swaying you head from side to side lapping at her bushy pussy, burrying your face thoroughly into her musk,.

“Oooh, fuck..— eat that pussy mmm! Fuck.. yeah baby” she’d moan, bobbing your head as you laved in her folds, pulling more wauls from her, gobbling her right up.

“Oooh,, fuu—ck “ a prodigous hunger you become acquainted with every time you submerged into her mess of a cunt.

“Awe shit, oh gods…” her legs mimicking temblors, desperately wanting to move around, but everytime she even as shake her ass into your face you’d smack it hard and rough, preventing her from just adding more friction.

“Lemme grind into your face please, please, need to!!”

“Uhh-uh” you say and she felt it, grinding her teeth, drool seeping into your cushions, fuck it she had to bite down on something, it was torture not being able to rub her throbbing axon of ardor. You’d break away from her pussy, drown from her intoxicating natural perfume, a muffled whine feathered from her lips. You had to pull away just for a bit…to admire her butt that is.

You gave her another smack, making a red hand mark on her pale ass. You groped the round of her butt, giving her a good harsh squeeze, roughly playing with her ass, always seeing it just not in your hands often put your mind in a frenzy, of course you were an ass girl after all. You gripping on creases that weren’t too far away from her rounds, shaking them to make sure you got see this lecherous ass vellicate in your hands. Watching it bounce, wriggle, whatever it was breathtaking, gave you a good scratch to your brain.

“H-Having fun there?” She asked and you ducked under her legs seeing her face all red, breathing out a laugh, “fuck you”

“I bet you’d like that huh?”

She sighed deeply, pushing her face into the cushions.

“Oh be quiet, you’d do the same thing to me. In fact you’ve been pawing at my ass quite a bit today”

“It’s a nice ass” she stated, murmuring into the couch but loud enough for you to hear the words. You rose back up, shifting your focus back to her arse again, you’d spread them apart to marvel at her pink pretty pussy, and her.. throbbing anus.

“Hey..”

“What?”

“Can I.. can I stick my tongue in here?”

“Why..?”

“Just curious “

“Mm..I mean.. go for it let’s see if I like it”

Pretty sure you will the way it’s all twitchy

You gather a large amouth of saliva, drippling it down to her anus, watching it slide over her slit. You didn’t want to rush this, so back to her pussy it is!

You licked her entire vagina, you moaned without a care in the world, eating her like she's the last waterfall on earth. Her slicked mimicked a certain plant, a gingembre de la ruche, the kind that you have to squeeze out, getting your hands all messy with its thick and creamy substance, you slurped with delight. Her ass ricocheting against your face, muffled sobs of sweet eudemonia.

You moved up to her arse swirling your tongue into her ass hole, and to your surprise it’s actually sweet… like extremely sweet. And after find that out you gogred yourself to her rimmed ass,

“Oh! Um?! Oh fuck?” You slid your tongue inside of her, getting more of her, a swell filled your core, tingling with excitement knocking at your entrance, something possessed you the more you drilled your tongue in her hole, kissed it, licked it, going deep inside of it, fuck it all you didn’t care, it was so sweet and addicitive, you couldn’t help but go back for more.

“Okay..fuck—.. oh, FUCK!” Something clearly possessed Vi too, at first it was weird, like a weird tickle, and then it broke, whatever strings of decency she had ripped from her and had her gritting her teeth to feel more of you sink your tongue inside of her.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes” she rocked her hips to feel more and you gripped onto her, hugging her legs, another long stripe from her clit to her ass again, and again, like she was candy herself. Her legs were shaking, pussy pulsating, and her arse begging for more. And then you stopped.

“Huh? No.. no,no, no.. I was so close, baby please.” She even stomped on the floor for a second, your eyes buldged at her tiny tantrum. You winded your arm back and spanked her, knocking some sense back into her.

“Nope, water break” you clearly stated, pronouncing each word fully, sticking your finger in her cunt once more, her knees buckled and she caught herself on the couch. You sucked your fingers walking away as she laid on the couch, panting.

“Yeah you’re right.. water break. Definitely need a water break.” You pressed something cold against her cheek, and she whined from the sudden freezing bottle.

“Big baby”

“Whatever” she replied, snatching the bottle from you. you jortled at her, you’d seen her have an attitude plenty of times, but this is just downright hilarious, over some ass eating? Seriously?

“I wanted to finish..” she pouted taking a drink from the bottled water.

“In a minute” you decided, another annoyed huff from her.,

ᥫ᭡

-Own my mind by Maneskin😵‍💫🔒

She sat on the cold coffee table, nervous she might break it, you’d reassure her that everything is okay, it’s a really sturdy table. Her shoulder tension soon untied and loose, widening her legs for you, and hands planted behind her. Her hair stuck to her forehead, she'd comb it out of the way, her body still sticky from earlier, abs glistening in the light. You’d peer at your window seeing the sun setting, no ones ever been able to keep up with you like this, it was nice. Of course Vi could keep up, she doesn’t have a body like that for no reason, but you’d worry if her libido has been strained. You’d check in with her and she would tell you with eyes full of certainty and trust: I’m not that tired, I’ll let you know if I need to stop. And last but not least a fire that was still going behind all of that validity.

Since you were so worried she might be pushing herself, you’d decided that you should have a safeword: red.

You gradually slither your fingers from her abdomen to her sternum, taking a flick from the bottom of her nipple, she’d wince from the sudden touch, feeling something hot within her gut, you’d repeating this movement in the interim waiting for a sign that she’s ready for your next ecstasy of curiosity. Your sign came out, enough for you to hear a low throaty moan freed from her soft lips. Your expression on your face was pulling her in, that greedy smile that you bit down with your teeth, your lids halfway closed, lashes fluttering hinting something perverted within you. Vi rotated her hips for you, her face was flushed like hues of ripe strawberries when your finger pulled her non-pierced nipple.

Releasing it making her tit bounce back, you’d take both of your fingers poking, rubbing, flicking her nipples (pay back for flicking your forehead earlier) a dopey laugh loosed out from your succulent lips, and huff from her mouth.

“I said I was sorry, stop being such an ass about it” she proclaimed, her nose scrunching up a bit, but her tone hinted, want, desperation. Her jumping pink cherry, not really helping her out with being a chest puffed out prick. More like please fuck me but I’m going to pretend I’m being a bitch.

“You actually never said that but go off” you quipped, flicking her nipples again, another stained whine from Vi. Your eyes took an interest between her legs and noticed a pool of her liquids leaking off of your coffee table. You’d smirk, the thought she was getting off just from her tits made you throb all over.

“Oh so you are into bdsm” you said outloud, not realizing that wasn’t an inside thought.

“Huh..”

“Huh”

“Wait you- are we going t-?”

“Mm.. I think that would be a bit much for you.. today” you interrupt her, fast talking over whatever she was saying that made your face firey, avertying your view from her. Your ears were hot as fuck, embarrassed that you actually said that to her. You don’t want her pondering on that so, you bent down, lips kissing and sucking her abs, you been itchin to lick the sweat off of her, she’d clutch onto her own thigh from the libidnous assault on her abs, your tongue encircling them, and her panting from the carnivorous display. She grabbed your jaw, planting a wet messy kiss on your lips, tasting her sweat off of your tongue, you both humming in between breaths. She guided you to sit on her lap, straddling her, legs quivering over the large rigid muscle. Hard as a damn rock it was.

Your fingers made their way to her fuchsia locks, pulling it, it felt so good that she pulled you closer, breast pressing against each other, nipples teasing with each shake. She’d pull on your nipples as revenge, yet is it really?— When you're in fact moaning her name?

You ripped yourself from her lips, her brows furrowed frustrated that you wanted to keep teasing her.

“Wait—“ you paused, her nose scrunching up again, her lip upturning to let out a- “ before you get mad I have a proposition”

Her face relaxed, and she manspreaded her legs, you gulped from her still being able to exude that masculinity even in this state, fucking janna you needed to stuff her cunt in your face again!

“Proceed” she growled, she was still a little pissed with the interruption.

ᥫ᭡

You came out of your room with a big bottle, a smiled buddened your lips.

“What’s that?”

“Lube”, she shook her head waiting for you to finish why you have that, with nothing else in your hand.

“Wanna try anal?”

“Um…” she said with puckered lips.

“We don’t have to!”

“No! I.. okay.. —- uh..I don’t want to do strap anal.. YET! “ she corrected you before you figured she was scared of that idea or even protestant of that suggestion, “But another time, sure..”

“Okay that’s cool, I.. I- that’s I didn’t bring anything.. I’ve tried it.. but I know you definitely wouldn’t want to try that all at once.. To tell you the truth it’s a lot at first..”

“Fingers would be better though,” you continued. Her eyebrow quirked up, hearing that.

“Can we try it with—fingers?” She asked, her eyes dilating, as she danced her gaze between you and the bottle.

ᥫ᭡

You first poured it on the surface of her ass then filled it with the lube..“Nngh, that’s cold..”

“It’ll be warm in a bit” you reassured her, kissing her inner thigh.

“I’ll start with one finger and if you want two, tap me” she nodded, “Vi.. I’m not going to insert it right now”

“But—“

“Aren’t you scared? It might hurt”

“I trust you.. I think I can handle it if it’s you..” her eyes were glossy, biting her lip, darting from your orbs to your lips. You bend down to her face, nearing her lips again. “Gonna take this nice and slow, okay frost?”

She let out a light snort from that dumb nickname. You interrupt her laugh with a kiss, and she instantly melted into you, a enjoyable hum coming from her, your lips sort of fight a bit for dominance, not much of a fight though, from you, her scarred lip once again trembling your hooded secret, her hands cradling your face, pulling you into her more. Her tongue no longer shy reaching deep down your throat, you breathed deeply through your nose for air. It felt as though you were making out with the most indelible woman in the world, actually not it was a fact. A dangerous fact that had you caught in her muscled clutches, welcomed to be captured by her. The kiss grew deeper, delicious tongues, and teeth were shared, long pining moans in an earth plate shaking tango. You’d tuck her hair back from her face, removing her tickling locks from your nose, she moved her head back and forth, tongue fucking your throat, and you were all accepting of it. Your Oropharynx, being treated with such devotion, enamored with her tongue as well which alerted your brain to alert your blooming dripping flower to be overflowed with want.

You kneaded her abdomen, feeling the pressure of her hardened tissue, appreciating her dedication with a well deserved massage, her abs contracting at your compassionate touch. You fingers made their way down to her happy trail, enjoying the sensation of her hairs twining with your fingers, her moans through her now rough frenching, louder, swallowing each one, gladly. You pulled away sucking down one more moan, a honeyed line connecting you both. Together, stertorous, sucking the air back into your lungs, fuck the air you craved to touch more of her, you sat on her lap. Her hands naturally holding you down, your mouth eager for her ear, playing with it, circling her lobes with your wet pink muscle. Her back arched from your play, motioning you to grind on her lap, and you did. You fucking did whatever the fuck she wanted with an angelic voice like that pouring into your ears, your walls being able to hear such a voice fall from golden gates and into your home. If the walls could applaud they would, if the atoms in the air could do backflips they would, if only you could permanently have this moan in your head like a ongoing vinyl youd fucking would.

Your fingers danced around her palms intertwining yours with hers, an intimate loving way to tll her everything is going to be okay, holding your hand would had her losing her shit, instead she was losing herself not understanding where you began and she ended, mind boggled by how you got her so pathetic for more of you. She apologized for letting go over your hand but she needed to touch herself right now, or she’d bite down on her tongue to punish herself for not even taking the opportunity to show you how she pleasures her needy folds.

You watched her swirls her fingers around her crying gummy button, slick loud in her palms, moans crying out your name, bucking hips with so much energy, gods what a damn sight. You had to repay her, so you’d licked her pulse points, rolling your tongue and more intricate skills against her sweet spot. She sobbed your name in response to those sensations you and herself gave her. Your mouth latching on that very sugary sweet spot, sucking it again and again, soothing it with delectable swipes of your tongue, she was tearful for it. You’d lick her tears away coo’ing in her ears “go on, cum”.

However, she did want to very much so, she felt her anus needy, so she grabbed your free hand as you littered her with hickeys, moving it towards her downstairs heat. Catching on quick with your wit, you circle it a bit

“Please, please, please, —pleaseeeee” she grunted that last ‘please’, desperate for it, you stick only a half a digit, a tip of it in, kneading her tit in your other hand. You’d do this repeatedly, until her anus was trying to gulp you up. Stretching it a bit expanding her, another wail coming from her, biting her pearly whites on her precious bottom lip, you also gnashed your teeth on her ear pulling it, her back felined deeper.

You released it, whispering “how many times have you masturbated to me Vi?”

Her hips lurched from the sudden question, her ears crismon, how the hell did you know that she was tending her hot pussy to you?

“Better tell me or I won’t—“ you circled her clenching hole again, needing to be filled up by you, sobbing for you to put it in, only met by more teases.

“I.. ah.. — can you— mmf, oh god, princess please?”

“Uh-uh not until you tell me…”

You began to lapped at her nipples making sure both got attention, suckling her pierced one the most. Her head was a circus filled with too many things and too many thoughts going back to: I need to be full right now, fuck it all, fuck meeeee.

“Mm! -mmmhfwa.. I.. haah— o- ok, okay, oka—y fi—ne!” she whined, lollying her head back.

“Often, almost every time I leave.. I masturbate to you, your voice, that look in your eye, everything, even if your not wearing makeup, or if your hair is messy it helps out even more— happy? Now fuck me please”

You slid a finger warming her until shes ready for movement her lipped quivered and her voice tainted with only please coming out her mouth.

“B-baby I told you.. c’mon!”

“Since”

“Fuck! You’re such a bitch for this!” She cried again, you jerked in your her finger hard into her and she rolled her eyes back, gargling a moan out, “s-sh-sorry”

You kept it still, warming her again.

“Since I— I.. fucking hell. Princess, I’ve been masturbating to you since we met” she turned to you with puppyed eyes. Your eyes widened at her confession, your chest rising and falling, heat rushed throughout your entire body like embers making out with each memory you had with Vi since meeting her.

You began fucking her senseless, her ass and your fingers making abhorrent noises, especially as she masturbates, “You’re a dirty, little sweet treat, huh?” She nodded, moaning your name, memories of her masturbating to you, smothering her mind,“Nn-need your tongue, princess”

Your lips made contact again, tongue fucking eachother, quelching against each other, as you recoiled your hips, giving your inferno a some kind attention. Your falls, dribbled down her legs,”shho—warm” she tried to speak through your passionate kiss, you ripped yourself away again, lettinf out “fuck this, Need you in my mouth now”

You got on her knees lapping at her pussy she taped your cheek, and you slid in two for her as she began riding your fingers you played with her bush, and happy trail as you fucked her both ways. Both holes clenching down as you jiggling her ass with your free hand giving her more friction. Her mind and body being able to keep up with your tongue filling her hole, and your fingers, convulsions taking hold of her as she cried out your name so loud you knew your neighbors heard her, her musk was addictive, and her cum, twice as much, creaming on your tongue, and drowned, you thought you died but of course from muscle memory to remind yourself: I need to drink her, all off her. She didn’t stop cumming, she held your head close to her as she let out her squirt in your supple mouth.

ᥫ᭡

No mistaking it, you were both checking off to your lists of what else you’ve been craving to do to each other. All of this tension, all of the almost there's, and tooth rotting, hair pulling yearning that could have been melted with one kiss.

Her eyes roll back, her mouth slacked open a tasty moan, as she felt both of your lips make contact, “This feels— way better than.. ah,I-.. oh fucking hell… way better than I thought— ‘nngh” moaning, as her nails digged into your hips, slapping eachother cunts together, the friction going to both of your heats. Her hands find their way to your neck again, only pressing a berry size bit, the sensation peaked your sense you’d still try to speak to let her know, “Violet your sho warm..“,gliding together, your cunts glistened, shined.

Gushing against each other, her rocking her hips slow, the more you both shook against each other, the more you both became molten, “Babe, you hips are violently shaking..against me.. I- aah-, aah-, aah!”, clarets kissing each other ever so often spinning you both for a loop, minimal movement restricting both poise papillons thrills. It wasn’t enough for either of you but hardly stopped any stutters, only warmth, and titillation arousal kept you both going. “Can’t help it, feel too good” you replied.

Vi took grasp of your hips, her abs convulsing, with every touch of the curve of your arse, tides of your skin shook within her hand once she found a good cadence for your gliding cunts. “ fuck,fuck, fuck, fuck!” Vi cried out. But after finding a moment of consistent pleasure.. You were absorbed within it, pleasing the both of you that all you could hear in the room were your tulipe d’afriques clapping. A tune that never could be anything more than ustulation. Seraphic noises in the air, only reaching into ears of the perverse, and sweet throbbing clarets. Her nails marked you all around your lower body, fevoring for her favorite flower. Littering both of her cheeks with falcate bows in her skin, more red marks for her collection. It took one look from each other to interlocked, neither of you being able to look away from this moment you shared each to each as if this was a personal sweven that only you could wish on a starry night to have.

“This is really bad, why does everything feel so damn good with you..”

“I think I’m getting addicted “ she continued, another rush of her sugary throbbing drupe caressing yours, your eyes fluttering close, gritting your teeth at her shallow pants, all you could say was “So slippery”, as your eyes made home to the back of your head. “C’mere, w-want us to cum” she told you as she yanked your body closer to her, nipples giving eachother quick kisses, it was as if Violet was engulfed by your beams like a sensational time to apricate against you and only you. Her sun, her beaming beautiful sun, she could have mistaken her need to be closer to you as heliophilia if she knew how much she grown accustomed to your hot spell. As she slotting against you more, the squish of your lips together making obscene noises, getting close to your climax.

Your mind snaps and you let out cries, wrapping your arms around her neck, you didn’t stob rucking against her though, you pleaded “hold me” in her ear, and she embraced you tightly, her biceps curling against your supple skin, throaty gulps of moans in a sealed kiss as you both arrived on eachother. Hips becoming broken records just like Violet's vocal cords when she’d stare at you for too long. Now comfortable to view you, your essence, your spirit, and the comfort of a cotton candy embrace.

ᥫ᭡

You both cuddled on the couch, but only for a bit, you both popped this question that spun in your brains, creating rooms for free. Consent was given, and peppered kisses were shared as you. Both drank more water, a quick snack, and went back to business. But before you simply just went back.. that consent that was told before, must be wrapped and sealed carefully. Promised with a white cloud.

Your eyes became dark seeing the way she watched you lick the brown wrapper sealing it carefully. She placed the blunt in your mouth, waiting for her to light it. She’d flick her zippo lighter your way, burning it with ease. Shifting her body around to place it back in her grey sweats that were carelessly casted away.

That smoke twirled in that air, energy of love pouring into each of your cups, not being able to tell when she begins and you end.. as you both shared this blunt.

As was stated before, a high only heightens prior emotions, and no mistaking that this was going to be the best one yet. The mood shifted into something more deeper than before, it was as if you could feel each other's sexual energy, it quaked in your heart, and throat. A silfira, born. No, not born broke from the crust of the earth to emerge between you. She took a long drag of it before nuzzling her head into your collar bone, licking your nape in flat tongue motions, while playing with your pois papillon again. Gathering your syrupy slick along her calloused fingers, you’d laze against her, unwinding under her touch. Letting out soft pitcher lullabies, every vibration you let out reached her, like they were thrusting inside of her, cruising against your waves of honey.

“Mm, wanna fuck on the bed?” She suggest, focus on your slick sticking to her fingers.

“Mhm, carry-aah-, me?”

“Of course, baby”

ᥫ᭡

As Vi set you down on the bed, a thought crossed her mind, and groaned from that very thought. She was upset she didn’t bring her strap for you, of course she had no idea this would be the day you both would step over that pink ribbon of a line. Although not everything was lost, you admitted you have one, recently bought out of curiosity. You wanted to see what a girthy strap was like, searching online you found one. A black strap called ‘black mamba’ piqued your curiosity, it had thick veins, and the tip was big but soft. It has been sitting in your closet since the last time you took it out, just to feel it, and test it if you and it were a good match. Lots of lube needed to be used, though it just didn’t feel right exactly. You kept it in your closet because using the strap yourself wasn’t enough. Frustrations were the main reason for its imprisonment.

-Angel (Remastered 2019) by Massive Attack 💢⭕️💢⭕️🌹‼️

Now there was a ludic reason to finally bring it back out.

You were at the foot of the bed, on all fours, one hand underneath your legs, gripping the black strap shaft, not entirely swallowing it within your melting core. You were in fact plopping the rubber bulbous in and out of your needy heat, it felt even more good with thc in your system, all the while Vi rubbed your ass. You let out a breathy laugh, you could feel Vi was struggling just seeing you in control. You suggested she’d take a breather, lay down, relax, that was the idea, until you lightbulbed more scandalous brainstorming in that crafty mind of yours. Upon using both of her hands, entranced by the plopping sounds your pussy would make every time you took back out. You were in a particular mood, the kind that feeds her hunger, the kind that has you truly in deep plunging waters of seclouth. Her eyes were completely captivated by your stretched out slutty cunt. She paid attention to your pussy, as it gushed slick, making honeyed cord lines every time you make contact with the black bulbous.

“So fucking hot, holy shit, you’re so hot”

She felt anguish to not be able to just push your head into the mattress, giving you the most visceral strokes into your crying tight tulipe d’afrique. Fine, if she can’t have her play, then she’ll just fuck you in other ways. —-You see Vi wasn’t just getting fucked by you earlier. She was taking notes, and she’s a quick learner. She played with your trembling anus before gripping on your ass stretching your other hole, sending you off the rails. You’d plopped the black bulbous in quicker, “if you’re going to keep teasing me like that, can you..” trailing off, swaying your ass telling her silently: fingers now… She let out a soft whine hearing you say that, she was so curious to see how you take well to her fingers in there, you’d slipped the bulbous inside of you, warming it while vi … well she filled your anus with the same lube you filled hers. She made sure she grabbed the bottle while you were looking for your black mamba in the closet, with the way you described it seemed like you’d need it, and boy how much you needed… not just for that strap.. Came in handy, no? After a few teases of your ass hole, and throaty wet gulps from the anticipation, she dipped her fingers inside of you. You grit your teeth from being full from both ends, planting your face deep in the bed. Your legs twitched insufferably, Vi would take her free hand and massage your calves, making sure you were really feeling good.

“Awe is my baby about to cum? Hm? You wanna cum?” She said, pounding your ass with her long fingers, two in deeply reaching your special places within. You couldn’t even form a word, barely a moan, just wet noises coming from your mouth and two holes. You’d swivel your pussy around the bulbous to feel more, almost filling yourself with it, but had enough sense to not do that just yet. Violet could feel and witness you clench from both ends, you were about to cum hard. Except, a certain pink haired jackass got wise and swiftly pulled out her fingers from your anus, which prompted you to stop teasing your cunt,

“Fuck you” you moaned, finally being able to regain some verbal access.

“I bet you would like that right now, huh?” She quipped back, a nefarious chuckled she let out, you’d let go of your black mamba and gave her a middle finger from between your legs, she’d make a cirlcle with her thumb and index finger pretending to fuck it.

“bet you’d like me to ride that”

“Well now I dunno what I want, both are pretty.. “ she slid her fingers in your ass again, trampolining her long fingers again, confusing your brain circuits, you’d let out another moan before speak.

“Fu—ckin’, good options..” you managed to reply, and then once again she removed those delectable fingers again, a huff coming out of you from her insistent teasing. You got up sitting on your forelegs before crawling toward her, straddling her, properly holding her shoulders for support. She helped you position yourself above the strap, and you leisurely lowered yourself, your heat swallowing halfway down on it.

“C’mon go lower” she begged pathetically, her eyes yearning to see it disappear in you.

“I.. it’s too big Violet.” (you were lying… lying like a damn slut) —She was sad to hear that, but that’s okay, she wouldn’t force you to take it, if you can only handle only a bit, then she’d make sure you’re comfortable first before anything.

“S’fine, go ahead do your thing, baby”

You were making such a mess, dripplets of your cunt would splash on her abs, your slick was soaking the strap. And you were sucking it in so good just not enough for Vi to fully see it disappear.. but you tried using her abs as a steady mount, except your slick was truly slippery. You lost your footing and accidentally dropping deep into her cock her eyes round as ever immediately concerned for you, catching you but not in time to undo any ‘damage’. You’d let out a feral moan, your arms shook as you reached for opposite sides of your face, you tilted your head upwards facing the ceiling. Your jaw slack, then closed, biting your bottom lip roughly.

“Baby you okay?” Violet asked, the round bulbous smooched your g-spot, and made you let out more carnal moans, gripping the sheets, bouncing up and down on it.

“Fuck…! “

“Fuckin knew you could take more— messing—aah- with my head like that“ She planted her feet on the bed, arching upwards holding you hips jerking her hips into you, helping the strap reach deep in your cervix, only plap, plap, plap bounced off the walls, until Vi broke the ongoing noises adding her own.

“You take my cock just fine” she’d tease.

“Yesh, whatever fuck.. mee”

“Don’t stop, mmm” you said, as your tits shook up and down, nipples looking so succulent.

“Holding out on me”

ᥫ᭡

The both of you were supported by thc, taking over to add on the high of carnaling hunger for each other, She takes another drag from the joint before speaking again, “You are so— fucking hot, damn” , putting it out on a near by ashtray on the night stand and placing it behind her ear, diving in to suck your tits once more.

You lift her head up by pulling her hair back, she whines from being ripped away from your pretty puffy nipples, you felt empty, needed fulfilling. It’s critical that you get some strap in your stomach again.

You felined your backside up to her like an animal in heat waiting for her to stick that plastic right down deep in your sticky core. Vi swiping her tongue on her bottom lip, seeing you spread your petals, dripping your ambrosia on your sheets, ruining them with a puddle. Before giving you what you want she needs to taste it again, crawling over to you, baiser avec la langue, deeply, her nose drown in your juices, tongue reaching your clit, swirling it around, moaning vibrations into your cunt, you’d went cross eyed from her long warm tongue. Giving you clit a good sucking, releasing it with a loud ‘pop’ before sliding the black strap against your dripping rose, needing to pluck that hungry hole, leaking sweet nectar. She slowly slipped in the girthy dick in you, bottoming out, hips managing to touch your plush arse. You instinctively bit down on your sheets, preparing for some lethal strokes. Her breath quivered, seeing you suck it in so easily, short circuit her brain for only a moment. She rubbed circles with both palms on your ass, admiring your plushness.

In her eyes you were radiant, even though the sun had fully set, the night sky taking over, she personally had the sun in her palms right now. Her hips moving back and forth, finding her rhythm, and you curving your butt back into her, matching her tempo. Soughs coming out of your tainted lips, bringing thrills in Violet's ears. Your folds holding her tightly, yet you still begged her to fuck you harder. “Fuck you harder? You're already clinging to me, baby..”

“Please?”

“Okay, if you start crying I’m gonna stop okay?”

“Mm.. sometimes I tear up when it’s so good.”

“Overstimulation turns me on..”

“Oh..”

Ohhh

“You didn’t mention that earlier..”

“Figured you’d think I’m weird..“

“No no, this is.. great news”

“Now I don’t have to hold back” she said as readjusted herself on the bed.. tame, now unlocking a primal beast out of her cage…

“Gonna fuck you for real now.. kay?”

“For real?” You repeat confused by the statement..Vi pulled your legs closer, stretching her upper body over you, setting her hands down into your mattress, one palm over the over, you were confused with this position, never had done this before, I mean being folded isn’t new to you but this is odd. But as soon as she started snapping her hips into you, you didn’t even care. You were too busy sinking into the bed while she thrusted deep inside of you feeling your brain go to mush.

“Sho—ah-much— sho— dee- aah!” You said barely being able to form coherent words, even swallowing was hard, it was as if the harder her hips snapped into you the more pressure reached your cervix, somehow feeling like it was reaching your throat.

“Oh fuck.. my neck.. red, RED, Vi red” you yelped out, as much as it felt good it was just too much for your neck that is. Thank goodness for the safe word. She immediately stopped when she heard your yelp, helping you get up from the pose, inspecting your body first, worried eyes scanning over you.

“shit— I’m so sorry.” You rubbed your neck, tending to the pained area, “It’s s’okay, if we’re gonna do that I need to focus on more yoga, ‘kay?” You tell her, seeing her worried eyes gave you an ache in your heart, giving her a quick kiss trying to show that it really is okay. Just happy she listened to you, trusting her even more for respecting your consent, respecting the safe word.. just being concerned for your well being and mind.

“Still wanna continue?” You ask, and she nodded.

ᥫ᭡

You’ve been sucking on her your strap for a good minute, you wanted her to forget about her tiny mistake.You’d lather your spit on the strap, tasting yourself on it, Vi cupped your cheek in her hand, thumbing where you’d stuff the strap in.

“You ready?” She asked,you let out a gargled mhm, plopping the bulbous out of your mouth to turn your body around for her. She grabbed both of your wrists with one hand, reaching for your jaw and held up your face.

“You okay?” She asked one more time still feeling guilty for hurting your neck earlier, moving you closer to her face, kissing your neck, “Mhm..” she slipped in the lubed up strap in your heat real slow, her pace gentle and slow, still filling you up in all the right ways. Gathering up a ball of spit to drip down, the warmth of her spit hitting your cunt as she thrusted. She bottomed out over and over again for you, her metre pulsating your bud of nerves. Your slick reached down her muscular thighs, sweltering fluids felt so good, melting her brain with how the black strap would vanish within you.

“Vi?, Violet please” you’d pleaded, you wanted her to give you the backshots like before, it’s better in this position, your neck not in danger, wanting her to give her those carnal strokes made your cunt cling onto her more, and the way you begged for her right now, her ears were buzzing— red as ever.

“I love it when you say my name like that, keep calling out to me.” you grunted at her not easily obeying, but who cares you may be the bottom but it doesn’t mean you can’t be a dom right now.

“Let me hear you beg for it.. Lanes” Vi, whined that you wouldn’t let her have the upper hand, but whined even more that she did feel the need to beg instead, regardless of her being the one in control, you still had her on a silver leash.

“Please please baby, please say my name like that again” she sobbed,

“Mhm, -aah- good girl!..” you praised her and she was like a dog in heat, so so happy to hear you praise her while she fucked you all slow.

“Violet, it’s so big, mmmf —I need more of you, Violet, please— fuck me harder, Violet”

“Fuck…”. She just couldn’t keep you at bay from her strokes, in so she starts drilling into you.

“Oh fuck, yeah! Break me baby, break me.!” You moaned as your ass recoiled back into her hips, such a soft nice round ass, piercings glistening from the moon light.

“Say it again” she demanded, grunting through her teeth.

“Break me, Violet”

“Shit—-take it, take it, take it, fucking take it”

Digging in your gushy cunt, another thrust and it angled in a way for Vi to feel it touch her clit, her moans were animalistic, right through her teeth hissing, “yesh,yesh,yesh,,yesh” she repeated as she beat it into you and to herself.

“Oh gods—-aah— haah-, I’m gonna cum, fuck!” you let yelled out,

“cum with me baby, cum with me” She moaned, grunting in your ear, as the strap kissed your g-spot again, another few deep visceral strokes, and you were done in, and so was Vi, both of you falling into the bed, legs squirming, Vi lazily still trying to ride out her orgasm, pumping into you on your side.

ᥫ᭡

Tissues, water bottles, and an empty bottle of lube, surrounded the both of you, your leg was over her shoulder, her abs glistened, your forehead dripping in sweat. You gave her a hair claw clamp since her hair kept falling in her face, she was irritated about it, felt like it was cramping her style, and you’d laugh at her protest, but she listened regardless of it ‘ruining’ her style.

“Baby, are you tired?” She asked, seeing you glow under her, sweat covered the both of you, going at it for so long, till twilight, you were completely enamored by her. Her tenacity to keep up with you, her perfect hair, her perfect nose, her body sculpted by hard work, her libido was just a plus, and her personality.. everything had you hooked.

“No, I can keep going” you answered, gulping down some spit that built up from how good she’s fucked you up in this postion.

“You sure?” She said slowing down her strokes, unsure if you’re just saying that. ‘Mhm’, you said again, giving her a lazy smile, the strands of your hair sticking to the sides of your face, sweat in your brows, and all you can hear, plap, plap, plap, reverberating between you, after confirming you really are good to keep going.

“I’ll spoil you until you’re satisfied, cupcake,” she stated, teasing your nipple between her index finger and thumb.

“O-okay— haah-”

ᥫ᭡

A few more good quick deep strokes kissing your cervix and the both of climaxing once more.. finally caput, she fell down next to you from exhaustion, arm over you, her hand pressing into your sweat glistening stomach, pulling you into her also sweaty body. “Damn..”

“Damn indeed, why the fuck did we do that?” tiredly, panting hard, as so did she.

“Horny..” she replied,

“Oh yeah..” you, sprawled your leg over hers, and she lifting her knee to your warm slit, just wanting to keep it close to her.

“Dummy” she taunted, kissing your shoulder tenderly, a smile crept up your face, relaxing into her touch. “Not dumb just gay”

“Mhm” You both laid there still panting, you touched yourself, your body jerking hard into her body.

“Fuck, lanes— you ruined me..” You claimed looking at your slicked fingers she gave you an mhm and kissed the back of your neck.

“Was I worth the wait?”

“No, obviously I hated this entire thing, all of it fake, even this cum in my hand is fake” She tapped your face in protest.

“Yeah.. you—you really were worth it, Vi”

“Thought so”

You both took a well needed nap curled up to each other.

ᥫ᭡

Birds chirped, already awoke, sharing a nice chat, well deserved cuddle. You laid in her arms, still naked with each other, kissing her cheek with plenty of energy

“Awe you’re so shweet” She complimented you, as you tip toed your fingers up and down her stomach, and she rubbing spheres around your shoulder, sometimes her name, short, or long.

“Fuckin’ love these cheeks, mmf” you kiss again and again, to just peppering her with kiss and she just lets out sugary giggles from your insistent kissing.

“Oh, you like me very much, huh”

"Lanes, I like you so much I might have to whisper to the stars about it" She climbed on top of you, admiring your astonishing eyes, your messy hair, you were absolutely adorable, " You'd whisper to the stars for me?" Your neck, face, ears all becoming inflamed with a non-stop of a lovely heart shaped inferno burning for none other than Violet Lanes. " Is that okay?" you asked, tucking a hair behind her ear, a sharp breath she took, latching her lip against her K9's, nodding eagerly. You'd pull her in for another sweet kiss, little giggles twirling in soft plush lips, that seem to have taken quite the fondness between these two, and so have your lèvre, frenching— so vigorously on that coffee table, wanting to kiss just as much as the lips from above~

ᥫ᭡

Now both in the tub sharing it, you both showered, cleaned each other, deciding together you both should take a hot bath for your legs. You sat in the warm comforting water, cupping water in your hand to pour it on her pretty breast. Watching the water run off the tips of her nipples. You were between her legs, made an excuse to be there so you could do this.

Violet's eyes caressed you with wonder, mapping put your face, it glowed, and better had glowed after the kind of stress reducing fuck you both had. She had this thought in her mind thinking, what if I shared baths with her for the rest of my life? Wondering, what you and her futures could be like, wondering if your wrinkles could be the signs all she needs to know she’d be your best wife. She wants to see the skin that makes your eyes squint, get crows feet, not from crying but from the years that went by that she managed to have you smiling. The life that you deserve to have instead of having only moments with others. A lifetime of lifelines that connected you both again and again.

“So.. “ you trailed off, not knowing where these words would land.

“Violet lanes.. I..”

“Do you wanna go out with me?” She asks instead.

“Ughh, I was so ready!” Her face matching her hair, she didn’t even think you were about to say that! She thought she was just a quick fuck.. well long fuck.. for the day and be casted aside since well— she figured she ruined everything by stepping over this line.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry you can say it!”

“Nooo, I can’t “ you groaned, you placed your palm on your face, hiding your nose, and averting your gaze from hers as heat rises to your neck. It tickled her heart strings seeing you so bashful.. She wanted to ask you how long did you wait to say that? But it’ll have to wait another day.

“No no go ahead please,” she insisted, her arms lifting from the water reaching out for you, but you wouldn’t budge your hand from your face, she gave up, huffing out a chuckle.

You took a deep breath, removing your hand and into the water splashing, balling your fist. You gave her a serious yet not serious look. “Okay, Violet— uh, lanes.. will you go out with me?”

“Yes!”

“Okay!” You also shouted with joy. You put both of your hands hiding your awkward smile “fuck, now what?” A muffled sentence leaving your lips.

“I dunno, we’re girlfriends now, we can think about that later”

“Ah, my gosh you said it!”

“I should be asking you for your hand in marriage after all of that”, she murmured under her breath.

“Huh” before you could ask another question she stopped you with a kiss, a soft, pink cloud of a kiss, quirking your lips into a candied smile.

“Nothing— I. We worry about it later. But for now, you’re mine and I’m yours”

You bit your lip ..” ’kay..”

Vi had stayed another night with you, couldn’t leave you after basically fucking you out of comission.. Alas she has a life! She wanted to stay longer but it was time to pick up Isha from school. She's in middle school now, top of her class, thanks to Ekko, and Jinx chiming in with the best ways to teach her. It gave Vander a break from working so hard at the bar. It was morning time and right before she left she made you a cup of tea.

You were sleeping, hair sprawled out on the pillow, drool dripping from your mouth. Vi pressed a hot mug up to your cheek, a soft groan coming out of you.

“Feeling stupid for fucking for so long? Hm?“ she taunted, your eyes full of sleep, still happy to see your girlfriend, fuck.. that’s your girlfriend now. You finally have a girlfriend, and its Miss lanes herself.. you wanted to scream it out to Zaun, that is yours and you belong to her.

“Yeah, I still can’t feel my legs..” you complained, rubbing your plush thigh. Vi took a seat next to you on your bed, freshly cleaned sheets, that were potent with Jamila.

“Yeah that's what happens when you like pussy— well for you. I never done.. anything like that, nor for that long.. I mean sheesh” She confessed, shaking her head, and trying her best not drool a reminiscent memory of how your piercings looked, and your sexy ass ricocheting against her-

“Til night til dawn..” you said, interrupting her thoughts.

“That’s how it is, the usual” you continued, she whipped her head back to you.

“We’re going to be doing that often???” She asked her eyebrows making wrinkles on her forehead. You wanted to press those, but you could barely get up.

“No.”

“We did that cause we’re new to each other, it was intense.. and.— we got carried away.”

“You regret—“

“No! Hell no. I meant we were going at it like animals”

“I did mention.. I fuck like one so— you were warned.”

“And you’re not so bad yourself” she continued,

“Whats in the tea?”

“Eucalyptus fruit.. and goji berries. Help you regain some energy”

“Awe thank you babe” you took the warm mug in your hand, warmth embracing your fingers, taking a long sip from it, she even made sure it wasn’t too hot for you. You wanted to fucking kick your feet and holler.

ᥫ᭡

However the morning lesbianism was interrupted, her taking her leave. You had your black silk robe on, some cute pink slippers she got you last Christmas, walking her to the car. She told you to stay in bed and recover but you refused. Like the stubborn person you are. She was up against her door, as you gave her another kiss before she left to get isha.

Lips colliding, soft murmurs of saying like you so much, both of you scared to even say ‘I love you’ just yet. Peppering more kisses on her neck, to her face, and back to her lips. She’d hold your waist, pulling you in a tight embrace, your tulip quivered at the memory from her hugging you last time. “Uh-uh, we’re not going back upstairs,” she comment, yet she’s the one lifting her leg up between your legs, “you do realize I have my robe on right? Not worried if it hikes up?”

“Oh I know it’s not hiking up”, she embraced you closer taking a peek over you, sighing relief that it really isn’t. “I’ll be back, okay?”

“I know.. gonna miss you”

“I could tell Jinx to-“

“Oh hell no, last time she came back with Isha, she had gave her fireworks to take to school, and you know, Isha did not give one flying fuck, about setting those off”

“Yeah…” she scratched the back of her head.

“Shit was cool though” you smacked her shoulder, barely doing anything, yet she acted as if she was in pain, quick to aid her she, grabbed you, twirling you around in the parking lot, both of you laughing, sinking into each other, you gave her another kiss. She set you down, her warmth lingering on you as the embrace came to a cease. A pout was bitten back by yourself, not wanting her to see you unfortunately ( in vi's opinion this is very fortunate) attachment to her, more than you were, those silly teasings, banter with tension... not anymore will she or won't she but definitely ᥫ᭡ . Before walking back up to your apartment, she kissed your temple, holding your neck, forehead touching yours, her signature move to silently tell you I love you. But of course, this woman of so much confidence didn't say it.. she couldn't too scared it was too soon or too late.. overthinking to the brim of her bright mind. The same problem befallen you, thinking Violet is too cool for just an I love you.. or thinking you can't just say that and you literally missed several things to do before saying. A date? when, meeting family, yes, already been between her legs and several other crevices that you oh so ravished, hell yeah, a proper date should be when you both feel like it.. Right? Maybe? Or will this be another long standing awaited line.. you've known Violet for 5 years, 2 as professionalism, the rest was history. Turned into unfolding legacies of stories to, tell one day.. one day to whomever for the girl you didn't even think would go as far as a kiss. Not to mention you hate kissing.. But for Violet.. your heart beat to her raw and powerful songs, no matter how different it beat, and so did hers. Violet's blues followed your trial of a walk, biting her knuckle to stifle a snicker at your attempt by yourself without her help... At least no one could say she didn't give you a good time. Sighing to herself, tapping her foot with excitement. She couldn’t wait to see you again. Ending the day with you on a high note.

A/n: Hello, hello there, this is my first like seriously detailed one shot. And first erm.. adult adventure literature! I hope you had a nice time don’t forget to be drink water, and (if you’re a weed connoisseur.. make sure you take a hit for me too! ❤️‍🔥🍃) thank you! Mwah 💋

Tags: @swaggycunts-blog and @theoreticalfreak thank you for asking to be tagged! <3

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comatosebunny09 · 7 months ago

Text

vēnor | sylus

— summary: sylus must’ve gleaned all the info he needed during your exchange and dipped. figures. you’ve played your role well, and it seems he no longer requires your services. unbeknownst to you, crimson eyes narrow in the lowlight, watching the elevator doors swish shut as your target has his way with you. — cw: female reader, marking, biting, unprotected intercourse, creampie, rough sex, size kink, praise kink, cevix f-king, explicit language, jealousy, knife fight, alcohol use, mentions of blood and viscera, self-indulgent, not proofread, mdni — wc: ~4k — notes: you can prolly tell i was inspired by his new secret times, *fans self* thank you for reading, lovely! — now playing: wasted eyes - amaarae u, lost - jeremy pope

Your mission is simple.

Saunter in. Seduce your target. Extract as much information as you can concerning the whereabouts of a particular artifact. Smile pretty. Flutter your lashes. Lure him away with the promise of pleasure. Snuff him out like a candle’s flame when the moment allows.

The setup is flawless. Routine. Until it isn’t.

The figure clad in black, oozing smugness and sex appeal beside you, complicates things.

Typically, you complete your missions alone. You’ve played the role of seductress so long that it’s second nature. You’re more than capable of fending for yourself if shit hits the fan. You’re a menace with a blade and just as formidable without one.

Besides, you live for the thrill of a good fight. A few bruises and broken bones have never deterred you. According to your intel, your target came stacked with security, so you anticipate possibly getting your hands dirty.

But he insisted on accompanying you this time around—Sylus. Reasoned he didn’t want his diamond falling into the wrong hands, whatever the hell that meant. You figure it was an excuse to micromanage you. He’d been doing it a lot lately, ever-looming like a shadow, trained to your every move.

So, here you are—standing beside your employer as the elevator lazily descends, fretting over your hair and the occasional slip of your blouse off your shoulder.

You’re enveloped in an unbearably tense silence. Shift your weight between your feet, trying to keep your gaze on the gilded elevator doors ahead. Even that is a task within itself, scarlet eyes occasionally capturing yours in your reflection, coupled with an omniscient smirk that causes your chest and cheeks to swell with heat.

He stands in good form beside you, hand stuffed in his pocket, hair coiffed, dressed to the nines. He’s infuriatingly calm in contrast to the maelstrom brewing inside you.

You feel much like a child about to perform at a piano recital in front of their parents for the first time. Insane, given you’ve never been this anxious around him before. But things are…

Well, things are different now.

Lately, your relationship with your boss has shifted on its axis, making way for tender words and disarming touches where there were once indifferent looks and tedious banter.

You’re not entirely sure when, but at some point under his tutelage, you’ve developed a fondness for him. A part of you wonders if he feels the same pull, his recent treatment towards you slowly dismantling that carefully constructed wall between you.

The elevator pings and dips, disrupting your thoughts once it reaches its destination.

You release a breath you were unaware of holding. Square your shoulders, mentally preparing yourself for your mission. The doors slide open, a crisp breeze fanning over your inflamed skin, ruffling your floor-length skirt. You move to dismount the lift, but slender fingers encircling your wrist halt your exit.

They’re like a brand on your skin, searing straight to your heart. You’re stock-still as Sylus nears you, swaddling you in the warmth and enthralling scent of scorched cedarwood and cracked vanilla beans he carries. He rounds you, the tips of his shoes staining your vision. You’re wordless as worn fingertips graze your temple, sweeping errant curls behind your ear.

He chuckles something low, his other set of fingers easing beneath your chin to tilt your head back. Your breath corks in your lungs when your gazes interlock.

It’s like he’s peering into your soul, the way he studies you with a reverent shine to his eyes despite the ever-present smirk twitching his lips. You swallow thickly past the barbs in your throat. Enraptured by his gaze, you hardly notice him pushing something into your ear. Not until a sharp pitch of feedback causes you to wince until it levels out.

“Stunning,” he lauds, brushing the flat of his nails over your earpiece, outlining the curve of your cartilage. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You vibrate internally from the praise. He smooths back your hair, ghosting over your neck and shoulder. Slides a thumb over the space just shy of your bottom lip, and he tracks its movement, irises darkening into a mysterious shade of garnet.

You’re wearing his favorite color of lipstick–a dangerous shade of rouge reminiscent of wine shared over passionate nights. Your stomach pinches with something foreign. For a moment, your surroundings fall away, and only the pair of you exist in this world of pheromones and shrouded intentions.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of conquering the gap between you. Entertain grabbing his shirt and tugging him into a kiss. Based on the flutter of his lashes as he studies your mouth, you don’t think he would be opposed to it.

But fate has other plans for you tonight, another invasive ding from the elevator disrupting your reprieve.

So caught up in your own little world, you hadn’t noticed that the doors closed in your idleness until someone outside called for the lift.

“Oh shit! My bad,” says a sheepish voice from the hallway. With Sylus’ fingers still curved around your chin, the pair of you look at the intruder outside, Sylus’ expression reading annoyance, and yours, dreaminess.

—

It helps that you’ve already had a drink—a glass of bourbon in your hotel room to take the edge off, loosening your inhibitions.

The music is good, too. Something sultry and ambient as you wend through the envious gazes and intrigued whispering of the bar’s other patrons in pursuit of your target.

You feel his eyes on you, too. A familiar wash of scarlet trained on the space between your shoulder blades and the sway of your hips. The notion of him watching you so intensely sets your insides alight.

You banish the memories of his breath on your skin—of his ghostly touches along your flesh—to the furthest reaches of your mind. It’s showtime. You’ll have plenty of time to confront these complicated feelings for your boss later.

For now, you home in on your target. He’s dressed in something tailored and expensive, the material of his suit crisp as you slide a hand over his shoulder with a sultry smile rounding your lips.

The gentleman looks up from the whiskey glass in his hands. Dons a smile of his own, straightening when you pour yourself onto the stool beside him. He signals to the bartender, then turns to face you, skimming over your visage with his brows lifted in intrigue.

“Well now. What’s a pretty thing like you doing here all by yourself?” he queries, tone murky like the liquor in his glass.

You tilt your head, your hair falling over your features just right. Cross your legs, offering him your hand to kiss. Your voice is husky. Disarming as you counter, “Handsome fella like you looked like you could use some company.”

He drags his lips over the notches and grooves of your knuckles, whiskey-colored eyes fastened to you. Smiling, you pluck his glass from betwixt his fingers. Throw back what remains in it, the acrid sting warming your innards whilst you set it down on the sticky counter with a definitive clack.

The man whistles, clearly impressed. “Pretty and a drinker. I like you already.”

You laugh something rehearsed. Toy with the red-gemmed pendant between your collarbones. He’s charming. Good-looking. Maybe you’ll have a little fun before you take his life. You haven’t had your desires sated in a while, too busy tamping down your own needs for the love of your boss.

On cue, scarlet twinkles in your periphery. Sylus. He’s seated not too far off, nursing a glass of something viscous. Quietly biding his time, poised to step in if he deems it necessary. A part of you is spurred on by his attention. You play up the theatrics of your flirtations if only to get a rise out of him.

It’s relatively easy to fall into femme fatale mode thereafter. You chat up your target, inquiring about his profession and complimenting his taste in liquor, guided by Sylus via earpiece.

You don’t miss the vexed clip in your boss’ voice whenever you get a little too handsy, laugh a little too bewitchingly, and bite back a smile at how envious he sounds in your ear. The gentleman is putty in your hands, a grinning, chuckling fool when you squeeze his thigh and stroke his ego.

You pull out all the stops, feeding him alcohol until he’s red-faced with a loosened tongue, unwittingly spewing out the information you seek. He touches you as the night blurs, worn fingers smoothing over your thighs, cresting down the slope of your arm, brushing your cheek, dragging over your shoulder.

You let him have his fill. It’s not like you aren’t enjoying yourself, too, the alcohol warming in your veins, heightening your need for physical stimulation.

Finally, you sweep in for the kill. Angle yourself closer to your prey, your breasts pressing temptingly against his arm whilst your hands roost on his quad.

“Wanna take this party elsewhere?” you whisper, brushing the outer shell of his ear with your lips. He chuckles like the enamored fool you molded him into, dragging his mouth across your cheek in a kiss as you pull back.

“Got a room upstairs,” he husks in what little space dwells between your faces. “We could have some real fun there.”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

He takes your hand in his, drawing you from the stool. Twirls you ‘round to get a good look at you, the dangerous contours of your body accentuated by your outfit.

Your target clicks his tongue, inwardly patting himself on the back for bagging such a beauty. He guides you through the crowd towards the elevator. And as he whisks you away, you survey your surroundings in search of a familiar shock of white.

Disappointment spumes through you when you don’t find him through the bar's furling smoke and sultry lighting. He must’ve gleaned all the info he needed during your exchange and dipped. Figures. You’ve played your role well, and it seems he no longer requires your services for the time being.

Where before, you felt guilty for seeking a little fun, the feeling sloughs off, replaced by disdain and spite spooling in your gut.

Your target draws you to him by your waist as the elevator doors slide shut, the pair of you flanked by two of his bodyguards. You succumb to his ministrations, his lips on a shameless excursion over your throat, drawing the sultriest little laugh from betwixt your lips.

Unbeknownst to you, crimson eyes narrow in the lowlight, watching the elevator doors swish shut.

—

The hallway of the sixth floor is barren. Eerily quiet, the fluorescent lights above dancing over four figures moving over the carpeted floors.

You toddle behind your prey, guided by interlaced fingers, swathed in the imposing aura of his bodyguards on either side of you. You feel for the blades cinched to your thigh, tucked beneath the veil of your skirt. Easing one from your garter belt, you conceal the knife in your palm, and the guards seem none-the-wiser.

Suddenly, muffled sounds erupt on either side of you. You glance back, alarmed to see the bodyguards wiped from existence. The only clue revealing their fate is a familiar, wispy coil of dark red left in their place. You narrow your eyes, jaw set in a rigid line.

Sylus.

Your target seems undeterred, continuing to prattle on ahead as he herds you to his room. Sylus must’ve assumed you couldn’t handle your own, which makes you buzz with irritation.

Fine. He thinks you’re incapable? You’ll prove him wrong.

With the blade held firm between your forefingers, you prepare to thrust it into your target’s neck. So much for having a bit of fun.

However, before you can complete the thought, something ensnares your wrist, snatching you from the hallway into the arms of an inky darkness. Your spine collides with something rigid and cold, the air siphoned from your lungs.

Your fight or flight senses kick into overdrive, and with the moonlight highlighting your assailant's silhouette, you swing your blade where you assume their head is. They release a brief sound of exertion, ducking beneath your attack. You cleave through the air again, coupling the swing with a series of kicks to put some space between you and land a hit.

Your aggressor, seemingly familiar with your move set, catches your ankle, shoving it down to derail your attacks, and a dark chuckle vibrates the air.

“That all you got?” they provoke, the timbre of their voice reminiscent of thunder rolling over the horizon.

You stumble back a few paces, righting yourself before charging with another slew of punches, swipes, and kicks. It’s a futile endeavor, scuffling in low visibility like this against an opponent who seems to be using the darkness to their advantage.

But you’ll be damned if you go down without a fight.

“Too slow,” tsks your foe, egging you on.

Suddenly, your attacker traps your hand clutching the blade, and you dumbly blink as they use your momentum to swing you ‘round, manacling both your wrists together at the small of your back. Your cheek squished against a glacial surface, your assailant shoves their weight against you, trapping you between a wall and the hardened slope of their body.

Faint wisps of vanilla invade your scenes, yet the hot rush of adrenaline seeping through you blots out all logic and reason. You struggle against their hold, your labored breaths intermingling with their husky laughter.

You grit your teeth when a hand eases down the curve of your hip, sliding over your thigh with practiced ease. You grit your teeth against the feel of it as it dips beneath your skirt’s slit to tug your remaining knives free of your garter belt.

You listen with pinched breaths as the crisp steel plunges into a far-off surface. How the hell did they know where you kept your knives?

In a ditch effort to free yourself, you thrust your hips back, momentarily throwing your attacker off-kilter. Their grip on your wrists slackens, and you spin around, planting your foot against their chest to create some distance. Twirling your knife, you thrust it towards the outline of a neck. It’s to no avail, those searing fingers once again taking possession of your wrist before you can land a blow.

You release a frustrated cry, your hand twisting painfully until the blade plummets to the ground, sinking into the floor with a resounding thwack! Employing your other hand, you try to pry your wrist free, aiming an onslaught of kicks at your aggressor’s ribs. They effortlessly block them with the hard edge of their forearm, and your moot efforts seem to amuse them further.

The severity of your situation settling in, soft light suddenly floods the narrow space, pouring down from overhead to reveal the contours of a familiar face.

“Sylus?” you gasp, bleary-eyed and chest heaving.

He uses your surprise to his advantage, surging forward to capture your lips. The air punched from your lungs, you trade your alarm for a bitten-off moan, fingers instinctively seeking out the silken glide of his hair.

He pushes his tongue into the warm cavern of your mouth, swallowing your groans whilst his hands make frantic expeditions over your sides, bunching up your blouse and skirt in pursuit of the supple glide of your skin.

Fingers curl around your thighs where they pinch and knead the flesh there, Sylus notching himself between your legs. And fuck, he’s hard, your scuffle awakening things in him he thought himself dead to.

He lifts you into his arms, and your legs intuitively wind about his waist. The hotel door rattles behind you when he slams you against it, his hands greedily sprawling over your body, burning through the layers of your skin.

“What the fuck,” you breathe when he releases your mouth, and you crane your neck to the side, granting him more access whilst he brands your throat with the languid drag of his lips.

He nips and sucks in a way that borders pain, his breaths sweltering and ragged, matching the roll of his hips. The rough stitching of his slacks acquaints itself with your center, and you sigh all hot and wanton, your spine scrubbing against the door whilst he grinds into you.

“Did you really think I’d let him have his way with you?” he pants through the lust-ladened haze, dragging his lips over your shoulder and collarbones, down to the ample swell of your breasts. He rakes his teeth over the skin there, sure to leave pretty blooms of purple and blue in their wake.

You huff a laugh, the back of your head colliding with the door. “Oh, Sylus. Don’t tell me you were jealous.”

Of course, you were banking on it, playing your role too well.

You yip when he bites you in warning, the predatory gleam of his eyes trained on your face. “How could I be jealous if you’re already mine?”

You scoff at that, a wave of ecstasy surging through you when his fingers ease between your thighs, grazing your labia, rucking your panties to one side to reveal your own desire. Your back bows when he prods your puckering sex with two fingers, and he chuckles against your neck, the sound of it making your pussy flutter with excitement.

“Seems I’m not the only one affected by our little spat.” With a few more strokes up the span of your cunt, he sinks his digits inside you, and you share a pleased exhale as you greedily suck him in down to the hilt.

“Look at you. So ready for me. And to think you were so eager to give this away to another man.”

“Do you always talk this much,” you breathe, draping your arms around his shoulders. Screw your eyes shut, humping against his fingers, chasing that sweet coiling sensation building in your tummy.

“Are you always this impatient,” counters Sylus, open-mouthed against your chin, his thumb sifting through the thick folds of your sex in search of your clit. He presses down, and you shudder, the sound of his name curling around your tongue, making his dick jump.

“Only with you. Unh, fuck. Just with—just with you.”

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps into the hollow of your neck. Scissors his fingers inside you, slowly unraveling those bundles of nerves inside, the vulgar squelch of your cunt intermingling with your labored breaths. “Beg me to fuck you, or I’ll stop.”

To punctuate his words, he slows the pleasurable drag of his fingers, and you whine, clinging to his shoulders for dear life.

The heat of embarrassment washes over you. You’re too far gone to care. Too enraptured to give a damn about your facade or pride. Need him inside you, otherwise, you might just die.

“Your words, sweetheart. Use them,” he coaxes on a rasp.

“Fuck me,” you relent, baring down on his digits curling inside you. “Fuck me, Sylus, please.”

“Good girl,” he praises, already freeing himself from the restrictive pull of his slacks and briefs.

You’ve no time to admire his size in the dimness. Too clouded by lust, your eyes fixated on his while he rubs the swollen head against the seam of your pussy. He prods your sticky opening, and your mouth waters with anticipation, the sheer size of his head alone enough to stretch you nice and open for him.

“Deep breaths, darling,” he coos against your hinged-open mouth. And your thighs crater between his fingers as he sinks you onto his cock, the strain of pushing into you stealing the air from his chest.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” You’re halfway sobbing, gritting your teeth, your fingers buried in the collar of his shirt, and your face falls into the crook of his shoulder, where you bite and suck, seeking a little respite from the painful stretch.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Breathe for me.” He isn’t intentionally being pompous. Knows he’s thicker than the average bear, and as much as he burns to be buried inside you, he doesn’t want to hurt you more than necessary.

Soon, the pain subsides, making way for little flutters of pleasure when he’s fully eased home, his swollen cockhead kissing your cervix. When he’s sure you’ve adjusted to his girth, he fucks into you with shallow thrusts at first, watching your face for any signs of discomfort.

Despite the moment, he’s a patient lover. Taking his time moving inside you, invoking pretty sounds from your lips. A thick ring of cream forms around the base of his cock as he ruts into you, your intermingled fluids scorching down the inner cut of your thigh.

As time passes, your moans crescendo, spurring him on, and he fucks into you a little harder, your nails forming angry crescents in his traps through the fabric of his shirt. One of your heels falls off and clatters against the floor, he’s fucking you so good. So deep, battering against your cervix.

“You take me so well, sweetheart,” he dotes into the junction of your neck and shoulder, bouncing you on his cock a little faster. “So deep. It’s like you were made to be my precious little cock sleeve.”

You can do nothing but gasp at the delicious friction, blanketed in the throes of passion, in the feel of him nestled deep inside you, filling you to the brim.

You feel like you’re in a dream, being fucked by your boss like this. The object of your desires, the focal point of your fantasies and affections. Your clit scrubs against his pelvic bone with each thrust, and that sparkling rush of ecstasy begins to bloom in your tummy.

“Gonna cum?” he husks, your walls clenching around him.

You nod, your voice lodged in your throat, and you tangle your fingers in the delicate sweep of hair at his nape, pulling him in for a kiss, pouring every pent-up feeling into the warm chasm of his mouth.

Spurred by the delicious drag of his cock inside you, by his tongue licking into your mouth, and by your puckered nipples grazing against the hardened lines of his shirt, you cum. God, you cum.

And the world slides into white, your mouth opening with a moan seemingly dragged from the bowels of your chest, your toes curling against the divots of his buttocks. He fucks you through it, pulled over the edge with you, hot spurts of cum flooding the searing clench of your pussy.

He holds you like this against the door, swathed in the symphony of your quickened heartbeats and breaths. Gulps down air, his forehead nestled against your shoulder, a fine sheen of sweat covering your bodies whilst you pet through locks of powder white, drawing him down from the sky.

He hums against your lips, drawing you into a sticky kiss that lingers and etches a smile onto your face. He plucks you from the door, tenderly gathering you into his hands to walk you into the bathroom.

He sets you down on the crisp countertop, the marble cold beneath your inflamed skin. And you paw from him like a needy kitten whilst he divests himself of his clothing, chuckling when he steps between your thighs to rid you of your wrinkled attire.

“Sylus,” you query, blinking lazily up at him whilst he draws you into his arms, turning you toward the shower. He hums in reply, a boyish gleam to his eyes and a smile rounding his lips. “What about the target?”

Sylus snorts, depositing you beneath the warm spray of the shower, the water already working to ease the strain on your muscles.

“I already took care of it.” And with his hands perched on your hips, he angles himself to kiss you, full-bodied on the lips, never wanting to hear another man’s name touch your tongue again.

—

Meanwhile, Luke and Kieran meander through the quiet halls of the sixth floor, their masks spattered with blood and viscera as they whistle a wistful tune.

#sylus x non mc reader #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus smut #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus lads #sylus qin

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reidrum · 5 months ago

Text

hypothalamus

note: this is just me reidsplaining neuro i fear. and being horny. sorry? inspired by my real life final that i so bravely studied for without spencer's help </3

summary: in which spencer gets creative on helping you study for your exam

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, fem!reader, fingering, p in v sex, heavy praise kink, neuroscience jargon

wc: 2.3k

apologies in advance if it sounds too sciencey it is unfortunately the side effect of a woman in stem. bunsen burner! (divider by @firefly-graphics)

The dry erase marker crumbs stick to your hand as you angrily erase the whiteboard again, internally groaning as you restart drawing your diagram hopefully correctly this time. It’s not. After another few failed attempts you slump back in your chair and huff out in frustration, too deep in your sulk to hear the front door open.

“Hey I’m home!” Spencer calls out, bending down to remove his shoes.

“In the study.” you grumble out, a surprise he even heard you when he walks in a minute later. His gaze softens as he takes in the scene. Your notes strewn across the table, your whiteboard dark with marker smudges that match the side of your hand in which you used to erase it. The exhaustion clear as day on your face and the hint of defeat in your eyes is enough to draw him closer to you.

“Oh baby, what’s wrong?” he says softly.

You sniffle, not exactly crying but the stress was bringing you to the brink, “S’nothing, just trying to study and it’s not working. Feel dumb.”

He sighs and rounds the desk, sitting on the edge and reaching for your hands as he looks down at you, “What did I tell you about saying things like that?”

“To not to.” you mumble.

He laughs softly, “Well, yes. But it’s because you’re too hard on yourself. You were just explaining all of this to me yesterday.”

You whine, “I know and it feels like I forgot it already!”

“Maybe you just need to approach it differently,” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “Your whiteboard isn’t helping?”

“No,” you sigh, “I keep drawing it wrong and it’s frustrating me.”

The despair in your voice makes his heart ache, and all he wishes is to be able to take it away. Spencer remains deep in thought before something clicks in his mind, you see the shift in him but you’re unable to discern what epiphany he’s reached. His eyes sparkle with mischief as his entire demeanor changes, “I think you might need a different type of visual.”

Your eyes squint in confusion before you realize what he’s getting at, and you can’t help but laugh. “You’re not serious? This is a joke, right?”

He doesn’t break eye contact, “Humor me.”

The laughter dies down on your tongue as you take in and consider the very intentional nature of his words. “How so?”

“You’re studying brain structures right?” you nod, “Okay well, what better way to study than with some active learning?”

You couldn’t look less convinced. Spencer chuckles, reaching for your hand to switch places with him so he’s seated on the chair. You move forward hesitantly, he holds a hand out to gently pull you closer while using the other hand on your hip guides you onto his lap. You part your knees on either side of him and situate comfortably on him, arms slinking around his neck.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

You soften, “Hi. Are you sure this isn’t a ruse to get me in bed?”

“Oh come on, we’ll kill two birds with one stone. A lot of the hypothalamic functions are very important during intercourse,” he trails his fingers up and down your side, “You’ll get to study with a real life application and relieve some of your stress.”

You move your hips slightly, smiling when you feel him harden beneath you at the simple movement, “Alright, I’m game.”

He matches your grin and presses a kiss to the base of your jaw, “Need you to help me with my pants for this to work, baby.”

The soft kiss already sends you into a dizzy fit, nodding mindlessly as you scoot back to allow yourself space to work on undoing his belt and zipper. You aren’t even sure what his plan is, but if it keeps him talking to you like that you’re afraid there might be nothing you won’t do for him. Spencer’s eyes are focused on you while yours are focused at your handiwork, unable to resist slipping a hand in and palming him through his boxers.

“Ah—h baby, not yet.” he hisses at the contact, reluctantly removing your hand, “S’about you remember? We’re studying. So, tell me something about the thalamus.”

“Okay, the thalamus functions as a relay center for both sensory and m—oh—tor functions.” you moan feeling his lips attach to your neck, slowly marking a path down the slope of your nape with chaste kisses.

He looks up at you briefly, smiling smugly, “Why’d you stop? Keep going.”

You clear your throat as he continues his descent towards your shoulder, motioning for you to lift your arms so he can take off the shirt you’re wearing. His lips immediately reattach before he stops in place once more, brown eyes peering up at you knowingly amid your silence.

“R—Right, so there’s a structure called the lateral geniculate nucleus, fuck.” you curse feeling him suckle a hickey into the crease of your neck.

“Yeah?” he mumbles, “And what does it do?”

His lips descend further down, teasing the lace edges on your bra. You yelp as he nips playfully, “It um, it helps send um…visual stimuli to the brain, right?”

A wicked grin spreads on his face, “That is right, smart girl.” His fingers trace the outline of your bra to the back where he expertly unclasps it, letting it fall to the floor. “You keep getting it right, and I’ll reward you each time, yeah?”

You nod hypnotically, eager to please him and seek his rewards. A soft gasp leaves you as you feel him latch onto your breast, letting his tongue swirl around the peak of your nipple and feeling it harden under his touch. You tighten your arms around him as he latches onto the other breast, moaning softly as he makes sure to give it the same special attention.

You grind your hips down and he lets out a low groan, arm tightening around your waist, suspending your movement. “Can’t do that, sweetheart” he strains, “You gotta earn it.”

Another whine leaves your throat, dropping your head to his neck. He really wasn’t making this easy. “Okay, so ask me something else then.”

His nose brushes up the length of your neck before his hands reach for the notes behind you, “Anterior nuclei of the thalamus.”

Before you get a chance to think about the answer, you’re distracted by his wandering hands again. Only this time, they’re going down towards where you really need him.

“Spence,” you say breathlessly, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure for a moment.

“Nuh uh,” he pauses his ministrations, “Answer first, reward second. I told you the rules, don’t make me repeat it.”

You whimper and Spencer almost folds—almost. But for the sake of your education, and definitely not the way you look perched on his lap, he treks on.

He does feel a little pity and decides to show you a bit of mercy when he motions for you to lift up slightly so he can pull your pajama shorts all the way off.

“That feel better?” he whispers, hot breath fanning your face. You nod hastily. “Okay then. Anterior nuclei of the thalamus.”

“Um…the anterior nuclei is responsible for—“ your breath hitches as his finger traces the edge of your panties. “Memory, right? Hippocampus.” you rush out.

You feel him smile and nod, “Correct,” his finger hooks onto the fabric and pulls it to the side, the cold air not even hitting you before he swipes through your folds.

Your head drops to his shoulder as you let out a shuddering sigh, peppering kisses up his neck as his fingers provide the much needed attentiveness you needed. He chuckles softly, “Just relax. You’re doing good, pretty girl.”

He helps you remove your underwear, maneuvering you so he can smoothly slide them off your legs. His fingers collect the slick and glides up to circle your clit, grinning when he hears you whine loudly. He continues to move across your pussy before retracting his finger while you let out a soft whimper. You’re about to protest when you see the intention of his removal, watching his hand slip below his boxers to gently pull himself out. He gives himself a few pumps before laying flat against his body, guiding your hips so your cunt is flush with the topside of his dick.

He holds your hips down preventing you from moving, “Hypothalamus?”

The cock drunk state is getting to you and he’s not even inside you yet, “It’s a um…it regulates…stuff.” you trail off, his lips returning to your neck.

He sucks another hickey onto your neck, licking over it and pulling back to gently blow on it. “Not good enough,” he whispers, “Try again.”

You whimper, “Okay—Okay, it sends signals for…sympathetic response—fight or flight” the end of your voice lilting up as he begins to move your hips.

“Keep going.”

The sensation of your cunt sliding up and down his length is enough to send you into delirium, and you’re honestly impressed you’re still able to speak. “It also does,” you take a deep breath for regulation, “It signals appetite and eating…and…”

He slides you forward enough so the tip of his cock is barely breaching your entrance, “One more, pretty girl.”

You rack your brain as you try to force yourself to focus, and not think about the way his tip is stretching your opening, teasing you relentlessly. The answer comes to you in a lightbulb moment, “Intercourse,” you moan, “releases hormones for sex.”

Spencer grins again, “Good girl.”

He lifts your hips a little, and the shift in angle is enough to fully slide himself inside you, the feeling causing you both to moan in tandem. The stretch of his cock inside you splits you apart beautifully, making you feel so full.

You whine his name again as you try to move, getting louder when you realize his hands are still clamped to your side, holding you square in place, “Wanna move, please.”

“Oh baby, you know I love it when you use your manners,” he touts, pressing kisses up your chest, “One more question and I’ll give you what you need, okay?”

You nod quickly, waiting impatiently for his last question.

“Tell me the two hormones made in the hypothalamus.” he whispers against your skin.

“I know one is antidiuretic hormone…” you breathe out shakily, “But, there’s one more I can’t remember.”

“I’ll give you a hint.” his hands slowly begin to guide you up and down on him, a languished moan leaving your throat. The feeling of him pushing against your cervix is so detrimentally distracting, like all you’re focused on is the pure euphoria your body is chasing. It’s clouding your judgement, your senses. It’s all consuming as the pleasure spreads throughout you.

Wait.

Oh.

Spencer seems to sense that you’ve reached an answer and thrusts up into you, “Ah—Knew you’d get there. What is it, baby?”

You let out a sharp gasp before answering, “Oxytocin.”

He doesn’t give a verbal praise but his face splits into a wide grin, finally loosening the grip on your hips and allowing you full reign to chase your peak. You brace yourself on his shoulders and increase your pace, his hands returning to your sides facilitating your movements.

“Such a smart girl you are, baby,” he coos, “Taking me so well and getting all the answers right?”

“Spence…”

“You’re just so good, angel. My beautiful, intelligent girl,” he continues to praise, feeling you clench around him, “My good girl, isn’t that right?”

Any and every neuronal connection in your brain is fried at this point, melded down to nothing but atoms at the hands of Spencer Reid, clearly reveling in your fucked out state as evidenced by your incoherent babbling. His hands grip your sides tighter and pulls you harder when you sink down, the sound echoing throughout the study.

“ ‘m close,” you mumble as you slump into his shoulder letting him fully takeover. He stills his movements for a second before standing up with his hands under your legs to sit you on the desk in front of you. Your hands detach from his shoulders and hold you up from behind as you lean back and let Spencer pull your body towards him.

He continues to fuck into you, the new position allowing him better control for calculated thrusts and a faster pace. Words don’t exist in your lexicon anymore and you hope he can understand your babbles as you attempt to communicate with him that your orgasm is about to overtake you entirely.

He knows, obviously, because it’s you. He slides a finger down to your clit to further drive you to the edge, leaning down to whisper, “Come for me, baby. You’ve earned it.”

With a high pitched whine you crash into your peak with the full force of your body, vision temporarily going white before returning in splotchy spots. Spencer comes not too far behind you, fucking the last of his come into you before stilling completely.

You both pant heavily as you try to catch your breaths, and Spencer leans forward to rest his forehead on yours. “You alright?”

“I think you fucked me dumb.”

He laughs breathlessly, “Actually, I think I fucked you smart.”

You swat his shoulder lightly and laugh, “That was so bad.”

He smoothes your hair back before gently pulling out, using your discarded shirt to clean you up a bit. His lips press a kiss to forehead, then your nose, both cheeks, before landing on your lips kissing you deeply.

You pull back suddenly, “Wait, I still have like, five more sections to review.”

Spencer’s wicked grin returns. “Well, we better get to work.” He effortlessly picks you up from the desk as you giggle and wrap your legs around him. He reaches the bedroom and delicately tosses you on the bed, looking down as he stands over you at the edge.

“Gotta make sure you get that A, pretty girl.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

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vinjinssunglasses · 9 months ago

Note

could you write something about Yamazaki shingen can be anything

· ════════༺ ✦⋆𓆩❀𓆪⋆✦༻ ════════··

♯┆character yamazaki shingen

♯┆summary you are somi park, the woman who conceived. Strangely, you and Shingen get closer?

♯┆cw oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, squirting, belly bulge, slight size kink (?)

♯┆w/c 4.4k

♯┆a/n first smut fic, i hope you guys enjoy!! <3 also I do not condone somi park’s actions, nor is anything in this fanfiction canon. none of this is an excuse for her actions ^-^

· ════════༺ ✦⋆𓆩❀𓆪⋆✦༻ ════════·

The day you gave birth, you were filled with a mix of joy and emptiness. That warm feeling of joy wasn’t for yourself, it was for your own clan. Everyone cheered for you, so you should feel content too, right? Yet all you wanted to do was cry, let yourself loose with tears, hands soaking wet and makeup dripping. That child, the one who was too unworthy to bare the Yamazaki surname, was yours. And you hated it.

It reminded you of the day and nights of endless moaning from your parents, reminding over and over that you are one of the ten women to try to conceive that man’s child. Intercourse is only for those who are inlove, you firmly believe and stuck to your whole life. However there you were, taking in the ruthless thrusts of his man. His hands rest a firm grip on your hips, while his cock mercilessly spreads your hole. Yamazaki was indifferent; keeping his usual stern attitude and quietness, not sparing a sound.

It’s for your family, it’s for your clan. Those dreadful words ran through your mind endlessly. It felt like your perception of love and sex were being ripped to shreds right in front of your eyes. As soon as he finished, the room was dead silent. Not a word or a sound, other than him flipping the blanket over himself. Getting up to clean up, you only sighed as you felt it running down your leg. The mirror showed the pathetic sight of tears running down your face again. And there, the bathroom floor, you sat there curled into a ball, letting the tears run down your red cheeks while you silenced your own woeful cries.

Upon the announcement that you had conceived, you didn’t know what to feel. Relief, knowing you want to have to betray your own beliefs like that again? Or grief, knowing that the baby in your stomach could be deemed useless, and all your efforts to keep your mental state together has been futile? Everybody cheered and congratulated you nonetheless. If only somebody even cared.

That son of yours. Every time clan members reminded you, murder ran through your mind. However you were only allowed to smile and thank them. None of the idiots spared a second thought about how you felt, nor did they even ask.

‘THE HOPE OF YAMAZAKI’

As soon as that forsaken child was born, everyone seemed to take their judging eyes off of you, and onto that mistake. It was the birth of a being that was fuelled with all your grievances. All your hatred shifted onto that child, the one who was worthless enough to take up your last name, Park. Pitch black eyes and a tiny body that giggled when played with. He couldn’t even say ‘mama’, and his mere existence was worth more than yours.

The only ones by your side was the other nine women who also slept with that beast. You all made jokes to lighten the mood, yet the lingering feeling of ‘it’s all your fault’ lay deep inside your hearts. None of them congratulated you on that child, they all experienced similar to what you have. It felt as if they were your only safe space throughout this whole home.

If you were going to live here, you figured you may aswell call it home. Nothing about this place felt like home to you. It was your place of endless suffering, that felt like you were paying the price for your sins.

The first day you had to take your punishment, was the day you were scheduled to sleep with him. Everytime you even think of your last digit, you remember your trembling hand against the knife that pointed at your helpless finger.

Yubitsume, where severing a finger signifies an apology and loyalty to the clan. All of you trembled with sweat when holding that blade. Terrified gazes exchanged, you had to go through with the yakuza tradition. The reason was simple — the desire for his seed. All of you were considered lowlifes, therefore you weren’t allowed to express your opinion. As a result of these actions that were considered sins, the blood splattered over the tissues provided.

Afterwards, you were responsible for his daily tasks: bathing, cleaning, etc. It was an awkward silence, though you weren’t expecting much since he was never a speaker. Dark eyes rested on your curves as you went for a towel, in his eyes you were beautiful. The reincarnation of Aphrodite. While he would never let the words flow off his tongue, you noticed the way Shingen’s gaze rested on you for longer than it should. Though he only sat there, otherwise resting his gaze on the bathroom tiles while you scrubbed.

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You couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. Gun was only young, unbeknownst of what was to happen. Born by unluckiness to serve the clan against his own will. It’ll be the only thing he knows from now on. To be a killing machine, just like his father, ‘Machine Gun’. To treat him like that, you felt terrible; absolutely ashamed.

Stopping him from having the childhood he was meant to, playing kendama with the friends he made, maybe you were part of the blame. You didn’t want to, but the vice-president presence looms over your shoulder, threatening that if you do not comply; it won’t go well. It’s not the child’s fault, he didn’t deserve any of this. If you had it your way, you’d him play kendama for as long as he pleased; never force him to fight. Still, you weren’t worth a dime to these people, therefore you were forced to your pesky mouth shut.

It’s strange. The contact with you two has always been the same — for the traditions of the Yamazaki clan. Then why does the air between you two feel a little lighter? It was odd enough being so casually naked around each other, even though you’ve already seen the other like this.

“How was your day?” Shingen muttered under his breath, and you paused in shock. The room fell silent as you stopped spreading the soap over his body. No, he’s not the type of guy to spare a moment of care for another. Ruthless, unforgiving and selfish is his nature; he tears his opponents limb by limb, not slowing them to spare a breath before they meet their demise. A man like Shingen doesn’t bother caring for his underlings, as they’re under him for one reason and one reason only: they’re weak, unable to reach his level.

Then why..?

“It.. It was okay.” You responded, mindlessly continuing with the task at hand. The room fell silent again, as per usual. It was a nerving stillness, one that has your heart racing. It was softer, less rough like his calloused, scarred skin, a result of all the treacheries he’s gone through. Shingen raises his brow as he studied his hands. You’d just realised — you had been staring at his hands for too long, and he had noticed.

“What is it?” Shingen spoke in a low tone as he inspected all the scars, callouses and rough texture of his hands, they were simply huge. One handshake could snap your wrist in two, not to mention the once soft knuckles that had hardened from the continuous strain from punching. The long, thick fingers which felt like rough sandpaper along his own skin, he had already gotten used to the sensation. So when your unfamiliarly soft hands run along his back, it successfully soothes him. Unlike his, your hands are slender and soft, with well-kept nails that are moisturised often to keep their ‘femininity’.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” You clear your throat, proceeding to grab the shower head. Even when you suddenly splashed water over his body, he never flinched, no matter the temperature. Most times you could never tell if the water was too hot, as he would just sit there in silence.

The next few days weren’t any better. When you were simply cleaning the house, he’ll take a seat near you, sipping at tea while minding his own business. When you moved rooms, he’d do the same, following along and silently observing. Occasionally he’d ask you questions, but that’s as far as conservations went. At first, you tried to ignore him, pretending his presence didn’t bother you and focusing on your work. But over time, the heavy silence between the two of you became more and more unbearable. Shingen’s eyes would follow your every move, his gaze felt heavy, as if he wanted something, yet he never spoke.

One afternoon, as you dusted the walls, you finally had enough. You turned around, forcing the words out of your throat in an attempt to find out what you really wanted to know.

“Is something the matter? These past couple days, you have been following me around.” Your hands become sweatier and you could barely maintain eye contact. Shingen withdrew the cup from his hand, resting it on the table before gazing right into your anxious eyes. He was surprised by your sudden outburst, yet he maintained his neutral exterior.

“Is it bothering you?” He simply spoke, waiting for your reply. Unsure of how to answer, you hesitated — one wrong word and he could snap you in half if he wanted to. But did it bother you? Perhaps at first, however it’s a feeling you can’t put your finger on. It was intrusive, but it left you curious. Why was he there? Is he hoping to see, or hear something?

“No…” You muttered, letting out a sigh you didn’t realise you had been holding. His eyes lingered in you for a moment longer than it should’ve, leaving you with a shiver running down your spine. Expression unreadable, as if he was weighing your answer. You shifted uneasily, wiping the sweat on your palms onto your clothes, trying to maintain your composure under the scrutiny of his deep gaze.

“I see.” He spoke, voice low like a well-tuned instrument. It was as if he learnt something from your hesitation. Unsure of what to think, you swallowed trying to understand his body language, yet it proved futile. You psychically can’t understand a man like him. What is even thinking right now? The air is thick, filled with words you wish you could say.

“Well, if you need anything..” your voice trailed off awkwardly, and he nodded as to acknowledge your attempt at conversation before turning his attention back to his cup of tea. You returned to your work, yet the question still gnawed at you. Everytime you moved, you could feel his unwavering gaze on the back of your neck.

“Why me?” The question slipped out of your mouth without thinking, and you started to silently panic. Turning back to face him, he simply looked down at his reflected expression from the ripples of the liquid. Now that it was in the open, it was too late to take it back. For a moment, Shingen didn’t answer. No matter how much you squinted to see a pinch of emotion, you couldn’t see past the barrier between the mask he wore and his raw emotions. Angry, sad, disdained — you couldn’t tell. It was like staring at a stone wall, unmovable and devoid of emotion. To your surprise, you notice his lips curve into a frown. Did you perhaps do something wrong?

After what felt like ages, he spared a few words. “You interest me.”

‘You interest me?’ Your breath caught in your throat. His words hung in the air between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t grasp. You tried to search his face for even a tiny hint, yet he remained unreadable, as always. Before anything else could be said, he stood and left with the room. The only thing you could do was watch him. He didn’t even look back, leaving you with the echo of his strange words replaying through your mind.

The following week, he personally invited you into his chambers. A cold shiver ran down your spine when he suddenly asked you to meet in his room that night. While you were cleaning the dishes, he quietly entered the room unbeknown to you. Suddenly speaking in a low tone, you flinched and raised your head to look at him. Those same, cold and dark eyes gazed down at you.

“Come to my room, tonight.” Simple, and sweet. Usually he’d keep a distance from his underlings, yet he was close enough that his arms brush yours. You dropped the sponge and took a moment to process the situation — his room? Tonight? What?

“Is there a reason?” You felt compelled to ask. What could he possibly be thinking? He’s unreadable, and you struggle to understand him.

“No.” Leaving no room for anymore questions, he turned around and left. Standing there, puzzled, you could once again only watch him walk away as you were forced to continue your task.

That night, the clock struck ten and you had just finished washing up. You got changed and put your old clothing into the laundry. It was bothering you, what was he doing to do? Did your parents do something outlandish again? The whole thought of it left you pacing around the hallways wondering if you should just say you forgot. But then you’d be going against his order, and who knows what your clan will shame you for now? Sighing, you took the chance and knocked at the door.

“Oyabun.” You called out, and he opened the door. He let you inside, and you took a seat on the bed where he sat beside you. The quiet of his chambers felt oppressive, the air thick with words unspoken. You shifted a little and fidgeted with your hands as your mind spun with questions. Were you over thinking? The silence stretched between you, his presence looming next to you, quiet and unyielding. You tried to shut these thoughts out, but you could only focus on how close he was sat, his body heat radiating against yours in the lamps dim light.

You cleared your throat. Hesitating, the question you’d been holding back forcing its way out. “… What did you mean by that?”

Shingen shifted his gaze from your fidgeting fingers to your jumbled expression that could barely maintain eye contact. “The other day, where you said..”

Did you say too much? You paused and instantly regretted saying anything.

For a moment that felt like ages, he didn’t say a word. You could feel his gaze on you, but he didn’t make a move to speak. Anxiety coiled in your chest, and just as you were about to apologise for saying anything in the first place…

“You think too much.” The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you pulled your head up to looked at him. For once, he showed an emotion you could make out — troubled. His brows creased with worry, lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured, struggling to look you in the eye. “You..” Shingen paused, as if carefully choosing his choice of words. “…occupy my thoughts.”

What? It wasn’t as you expected ever coming out of his mouth. He’s a gruesome man who doesn’t hesitate to tear limbs apart, yet here he is, in front of you, weak and docile. Between the cracks of his yielding facades, a hint of emotion shone through. It was as if your hand moved by itself, curling his hair behind his ear.

“Why?” You whispered, trying to grasp onto any sort of reason. “I don’t understand you.”

“There’s no need.” Shingen replied, his voice low and soft. This time, his eyes gazed longingly into yours, filled with an unspoken desperation, like he was hoping for something he couldn’t put into words. In all honesty, you were speechless. Before entering this room, you had no expectations, wanting to leave as soon as possible. Now you want to stay here, in this moment, forever. Seeing his face so soft was a sight engraved in your mind, one that you wouldn’t get tired of seeing.

“Just.. stay. Stay with me.” He bit his lip, his expression tender, waiting for a response he desperately needed. These words were simple, yet they carried a weight that made your chest tighten. His words resonated deep inside of you, and you couldn’t explain his new feeling.

The silence returned, but it didn’t feel thick and heavy, nor suffocating. It felt as if something growing between you two, something fragile and real.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper, as your hand lands on his. Stroking his thumb, you noticed a faint smile creep onto his lips as a wave of contentment washed over him. It was a side of him that you had never seen — no, nobody has even seen — and it made you feel so special. *I was the only one to see this monster oh-so vulnerable. You saw it — how his shoulders eased and body relaxed, leaning into yours. As if he’d been holding it in for so long, and only now, in this room that he bared his suffering alone, has he been able to express it.

He turned his hand over, lacing his with yours. The feeling of his weathered hands felt so warm against yours, and you embraced his imperfections for what they were. That simple gesture sent a warmth through your body that made your chest ache. His other hand lifted, hesitating for a moment before resting it against your cheek, thumb brushing softly across your skin.

Shamelessly, you almost couldn’t keep your eyes off of his lips. And he couldn’t either. An eagerness that rested in your heart hedged for you to kiss him. You shifted closer to him, taking the chance and pulling him closer while your lips met his, hesitant but eager. Shingen’s mouth was warm, a firm contrast from his cold exterior. Your eyelids flutter close as you let yourself melt into the tenderness of his embrace. Restless, your hands finding themself gripping the hem of his robe, unable to get enough of him. Straddling his lap, you felt his hands naturally settle upon your hips. You finally take this chance to take a breathe, and you look into his eyes — hungry.

For the first time in your life, you felt as if you were in control — his gazed lifted to you, not looking down. You cupped his face,, watching how his cheeks squish against his lips, before leaning in to kiss him again. This time, you didn’t dare part them.

It was a moment you never wanted to end.

Yamazaki lifted you by the hips, taking care to lay your body onto the bed before climbing in between your legs. Untying your robe, his hands eagerly explore each crevice of your body. From your breasts, to your hips, to your thighs — you were perfect. Shingen leaned towards your breasts, gently circling his finger around your areola. Your nipples ached to be touched, yet he only groped your tits, kissing at the sensitive regions of your neck.

His kisses travelled down your collarbone, chest and stomach, towards your dripping cunt. Shingen’s long hair draped along your thighs, his warm breath causing your pussy to tremble.

“Hurry.” Voice aching with anticipation, he complied; his tongue slurped up all your juices, taunting your clit with the feathery contact. Every glide of his tongue has you loosing control of your pesky mouth once more, moans carelessly spilling, making his own neglected cock throb. Moving the strands of hair from his forehead back, you can see the lust and hunger embedded in his eyes, as if he’s holding back from having his way with you. It’s so sexy, seeing those glaring eyes gazing right back at you. His fingers grip deep enough into your skin that it could bruise, pulling you in closer to ravenously lavish in the juices of your leaking cunt.

Shingen leaned in closer to circle your clit with his tongue. A pleasured gasp came from above, which encouraged him to keep going. What if someone heard? You tried your hardest to suppress your moans, covering your mouth. Why’d he stop? A hand grips onto your wrist, pulling them away from your panting mouth as he looks up into your eyes.

“Don’t hold back your moans. I want to hear them.” He slowly pushed a finger through, thrusting in a come hither motion. Those hands, they were fucking huge, and your cunt struggled to spread around them. The once rough, sandpaper like hands melted into your love juices, becoming soft and creamy. A smirk ran across his lips as he rubbed his own erection, watching your face contort into a slutty mess.

Oh, what’s that? He presses against your g-spot, and you shriek in pure bliss. Each thrust leaves you breathless, bolts of pleasure running through your spine. What’s worse is the view of your juices spilling all over the sheets, creating a pool under you. Shingen can’t help but love what he’s doing to you, enjoying every moment of your helpless self.

Oh gosh, you could feel yourself getting closer, while he leans in to circle his tongue around your nub. Shamelessly attacking your weakest spot, you grip onto his hair as you could feel the pool of pleasure inside your stomach hollowing, and your voice becoming louder. In three last plunges against your g-spot, a squeal escapes you as you squirt all over his abdomen. Vision hazy, you felt his fingers pulling out and him panting himself. Shingen lapped up the aftermath of your delighted orgasm, hungrily devouring every last drop.

Next thing you know, his cock is hugged between the wetness of your folds, lined up against your hole. How the fuck was that thing going to fit inside of you? No matter how wet your hole was, the tip could barely push its way in.

“Relax,” His hands rested on each side of your hips for support, while he tried to push it in slowly.

“It’ll fit.” He spoke as if he knew what you were thinking. Shingen groaned as in one final thrust of force, he abruptly dipped into your heat. You let out a surprised squeal, as you both pant. One hand finds its way to grip onto your thigh that nestled around his waist, while the other grips onto your hips. Only three inches has found its home in the depths of your pussy, yet you’re already panting for air. It’s only just begun. He doesn’t dare push any further, afraid that’ll hurt you.

“Give me more. I.. I can take it…” Your voice trembles, trailing off at the end.

Of course, he indulges; pushing his length on further, six inches in. Even further now, seven, eight.. just how big is he?! The girth of his cock makes your head spin as your cunt stretches to accommodate his girth. As he pulls out, you noticed the glistening of his cock dipped in the wetness of your pussy, yet the remaining few wasn’t. Giving slow thrusts, you could feel the motion of his cock hitting so deep, making your whole body shiver in pleasure.

“You feel so good..” He groans into the crook of your neck, hungrily kissing your neck to your lips. That spongy spot inside of you is being tortured by his fat tip, and your joke shudders every time he does. Shingen’s never been this loud — breathlessly loosing control of himself, his precum already leaking inside of you.

“Shingen,” You pulled him in closer with your legs, causing another inch or two to slip in. “Gi.. Give me all of it. I told you, I, I can take it..”

You whine as your eyes start to water, having your toes curling. An instant regret floods his body as he saw the tears running down your cheek, yet he was feeling way too good to acknowledge anything else. Reluctantly, the last few inches fill you up, and oh, you could see his cock bulging out on your stomach.

Shingen faintly smiled as he pushed down on that spot, his hips unapologetically moving faster. It was so sensitive — him pressing down on your womb only made you scream in ecstasy more. Your hole tightens and squeezes him, and you could feel every twitch and pulse his desperate dick let’s out. His strong hands grip onto your hips, squeezing them while thrusting as fast as he could — a bolt of cum building inside his balls.

“Shingen..!” Your voice wails in heavenly bliss, yet he’s too pussy-drunk to even listen to a word you’re saying. “Agh..! W-Wait, I…!”

The sinful sounds of his balls slapping against your cunt drowned out the noises of your moans, and a sheen sheet of seat drips down your bodies.

“I’m.. I’m cumming.. T-Take it all..” just a little bit more and..!

He’s filling you up, mumbling all sorts of profanities. As soon as he pulls out, a rush of juices land on his chest yet again. It made him satisfied to see your hole bubbling with his sperm, dripping onto the wet sheets. It was an achievement to see you trembling, gasping for air, gripping into the sheets for some resolve. He plants a kiss on your cheek, biting on your earlobe before whispering into your ear:

“One more time, please?” And you couldn’t refuse.

#lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism x reader #yamazaki shingen #lookism smut #smut fic #shingen yamazaki #yamazaki shingen x reader

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sushirrrry · 1 month ago

Text

TRACED a harry styles x original character one shot word count: 22k (!!!!) cw: m/f intercourse, dirty talk, humiliation kink, talking her through it, marking kink, the slowest burn I've ever written, angst, praise kink,

summary: lily and harry go to a dinner party, harry wants to talk her through it, & harry seemingly loses chess to let her take control.

read part 1 before part 2.

this is one of the longest one shots I've ever written - over 20k WOW - I've also never written a part two so this just solidifies that this was needed & I hope you loooove the continuation of harry and lily <3

enjoy!

_________________

Harry had his feet up on her coffee table like he lived there – that wasn’t a new thing, he had been like that with her since day one.

Lily stirred the simmering pasta sauce and watched him from the corner of her eye—one leg crossed over the other, fingers absently flipping through a book he definitely hadn’t asked to borrow, curls damp from a recent shower before he had left his apartment, leaving little wet patches on the collar of his faded t-shirt. He scrunched his nose, almost in a move to push his glasses up on his face.

“You’re looking very comfortable,” she stated, staring at the sauce as she began lifting the wooden spoon to taste her work. Needed salt, she thought.

Harry looked up, deadpan from the book he had been reading as if he caught only the end of her sentence. But, to Lily’s surprise, Harry always listened to every little word.

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“It’s just… you know. You didn’t even knock.” Lily bit her lip; she didn’t want him to feel like it was a bad thing, but she always had never… experienced this kind of relationship before.

Harry not only didn’t knock, he left his jacket on the ground next to his shoes and grabbed himself a can of Diet Coke from her fridge.

She didn’t just love that he was making himself comfortable – she reveled in the way that he truly was just himself around her.

“I brought the wine for dinner,” he said, holding up the bottle beside him so that they could enjoy it with their dinner. “That’s basically knocking.”

Lily rolled her eyes but smiled, which only seemed to encourage him and all of his antics. She knew that he lived off of the energy that she fed him, which only made him want to push further.

“Also,” he continued, placing the book face-down on his chest as he let his head rest on the back of the sofa, “your neighbor already thinks I live here. He asked me to move my car. Called me ‘buddy.’ I didn’t correct him – said, ‘Hey buddy, can’t usually get out in the mornings, mind parking a bit closer on that side?’”

She flushed a little and turned back to the stove, hiding the way her cheeks from him or she knew that he would react to it. Harry had this effect of slipping past defenses without trying, of filling a room without forcing it; of being comfortable in a space she still sometimes tiptoed through.

She poured the pasta into a strainer and hesitated as she thought of her next question. She knew that there was another question on the tip of her tongue, and she wasn’t sure how to entirely bring it up to him.

It was something that she was a bit self-conscious on, considering she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to partake, but she knew that Harry would be all in the moment she asked.

“There’s, um… a thing on Saturday,” she said, nonchalantly, not wanting to make it a big deal.

Behind her, the couch creaked as Harry sat up, setting his book down again.

“A thing,” he echoed, amused. “That sounds incredibly specific, please don’t tell me anything more – I’m overwhelmed with information.”

She rolled her eyes at his wittiness, “It’s just… it’s friends, a dinner party,” she said quickly. “We do it every few months. Potluck style. It’s – I mean, it’s nothing fancy. You don’t have to come. I just thought maybe—”

He was already walking toward her when she went to pour the noodles back into the pot.

“Lily,” he said, soft but certain; standing next to her now, he looked down at her. The way that this hand caressed the side of her wrist, he bit his lip at the hot touch. “I’d love to come.”

She met his eyes, those maddeningly open, green-flecked eyes that sat behind those glasses, and tried not to let her breath catch.

“I, uh… I get weird. Around a lot of people. You know that – I mean, even friends. It’s just… that’s actually overwhelming to me. And then having to tell them about you,” Her eyes widened at the way it sounded, “Not that I don’t want to introduce you! I do! It’s –“

“I know.” He reached past her to grab two plates, brushing her shoulder just enough to make her heart race. “But I also know you’re not weird, and that you’re just a bit socially aware to a higher degree than most. I live to be the life of the party, ergo, why we work together.”

“That’s because you’re… not normal,” she muttered with a slightly sly tongue.

Harry grinned at her response. “Normal is deeply overrated. You’re charmingly mysterious. I’m outrageously good-looking and have very talented hands in one way or another. We make a balanced pair.”

Lily scoffed, dishing pasta onto both plates, grateful for something to do with her hands.

“Besides,” he added, tone light but sincere, “I would enjoy seeing you in your world. I’ve already conquered the tattoo shop. Your apartment. That bakery you pretend not to like but always take me to.”

“I don’t always—”

“And now,” he said, stealing a forkful of pasta from her plate before she could stop him, “it’s time to infiltrate the friend group. Win hearts. Win stomachs. Probably win you all over again, but that’s a given.”

She looked at him then, really looked—at the ease in his smile, the affection under all the teasing. He wasn’t just saying yes to a dinner party. He was saying yes to her – he was saying yes to being seen with her, which was the most encouraging part of the entire thing.

Once both of them had their plates, Lily making sure that Harry got his own garlic bread, since he always liked to steal bites of hers, they took a seat at the small table that sat in the nook in Lily’s tiny apartment.

Only two seats; practically on top of one another. But, Harry wouldn’t have had it any other way.

A tiny candle flickered between them—not lit for ambience, really, just left over from the power outage two weeks ago, but it cast enough glow to soften the shadows and make everything feel vaguely more intimate than Lily had intended.

She twirled her fork through the pasta, hyper-aware of every clink of metal against ceramic. Harry ate like he always did—unapologetically, making sounds of appreciation like it was the best thing he’d tasted all week.

“You know,” he said between bites, “if I’d known you were capable of this level of culinary magic, I’d have made you cook for me on day one. Now I know why everyone always wants to kiss the chef.”

“You would’ve scared me off on day one if you told me you wanted to kiss me,” Lily muttered, biting at her lip before looking up with large eyes. The large doe-like eyes that drew Harry in so quickly and effortlessly that day in the shop.

He paused, then smiled like he knew exactly how right she was.

“Probably,” he agreed. “But you’d have come back, obviously. I have that effect on people.”

She glanced up at him, cautious as she took a bite of her pasta. “You’re very confident.”

“I’m also very observant,” he said, nudging her plate slightly closer when she paused too long without eating. “You’re still here, aren’t you? Haven’t left yet?”

She blushed and dropped her gaze, taking another small bite. Harry leaned back in his chair, watching her over the rim of his freshly poured wine glass.

“You ever just want to flirt back?” he asked casually, like he just wanted to rile her up.

Lily cleared her throat, eyes going anywhere but up to the man in front of her. She could feel his grin; could feel his cockiness radiating from across the table.

“I-,” she managed after wiping the side of her mouth with her napkin. “I- I don’t know - ”

“Don’t what?” He coaxed, leaning forward a bit on the table; his lopsided grin was just teasing her now. It was such a small table she felt that he was practically in her lap. “Say it.”

She shook her head, lips twitching, but she couldn’t look at him directly. There was something disarming about the way he looked at her—like he saw every flinch, every half-formed thought behind her eyes, and still wanted in.

“I’m not good at that stuff,” she said quietly. “Flirting. Saying the right thing. I always second-guess it. Myself, all the time.”

Harry’s grin softened, just slightly. Enough to let the joking drop into something real.

“That’s the thing, though,” he told her. “You don’t have to be good at it. You just have to mean it.” He stopped for a moment, letting the façade drop before he shrugged. “You already have me; you don’t have to work that hard to keep me.”

She hesitated, toying with the edge of her napkin. “What if I don’t know how to mean it the right way? Or you take it the wrong way?”

“You don’t need a script, Lily,” he said gently. “You just need to stop trying to edit yourself so much.”

The silence between them hummed. Not heavy—just charged, like air right before lightning struck down. It felt like they were waiting for the ball to dorp.

She finally looked at him, and when she did, he wasn’t smiling anymore. Just watching her with a quiet, impossible patience.

So she said the first honest thing that came to her mind: “I like when you’re over here,” She tilted her head, finally letting her eyes lay on his, “You fill the space, and it’s nice.”

Harry’s mouth twitched – he couldn’t help how, in her own way, that was one of the nicest things she could have said.

“See?” he said, taking another sip of his wine. “You’re a natural.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table, his fork dangling from his fingers as he studied her for a moment. The way that her hair sat on her shoulders, her make-up was soft but in a dewy way. It made her look alive; made her look like she was glowing from the inside out.

“I like when I come over, too,” he said, quieter this time, trying to match her energy even though he could scream it from the rooftops, if he was asked. “Kind of feels like I’m being let into this secret little world of yours. Even if you pretend it’s nothing.”

Lily blinked at him, unsure what to do with the way his voice lowered like that—gentle, teasing, but edged with something honest. She could barely hold eye contact without her pulse jumping out of her chest.

“I don’t pretend it’s nothing,” she said, almost defensively, shaking her head a little bit.

“No?” His eyes softened. “Then what is it? The bit of nonchalance.”

She floundered, not because she didn’t have an answer, but because all the ones she did have felt too vulnerable. Too true. She swallowed and looked down at her plate. They ate with such purpose, letting their meal be an invited guest in their conversations.

“It’s... it just feels safe,” she said finally, voice barely above a whisper as she pushed her pasta around on the plate. “You being here. It’s … different than my quiet. I like quiet, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to make a big deal of it, because then maybe it’ll start being a big deal. It just feels new, and I like the energy that you bring.”

Harry was silent for a beat. Then, with a quiet response that made her feel bad for even allowing his glow to dim: “You know I can be quiet, right?”

She let out a soft laugh. “You’re never quiet.”

“Sure I am. When you’re reading. Or cooking. Or when I’m trying not to scare you away by saying dumb things like I really like the way your voice drops when you’re unsure of something.”

Her breath caught.

“I—what?”

“Exactly like that,” he said, tilting his head as if examining her, gentle and warm and utterly infuriating.

Lily’s fingers tightened around her fork, licking the edge of her lip before feeling the heat of her cheeks rising rapidly. “You do this to me on purpose.”

“What, tell you the truth?” he asked. “Yeah, I do. Relationships are based on truth, aren’t they?”

She shook her head, looking away, cheeks burning at that. “You’re too much sometimes.”

“And yet,” he said, reaching for his wine again, “you still invite me over.”

He didn’t say it like a challenge. He said it like a fact. And maybe that was the thing about Harry—he didn’t demand anything from her. He just let her react, unravel, exist. And somehow, that made her want to give him more.

She reached for her own wine, took a long sip, and when she set the glass down, her hand brushed against his on the table. It wasn’t an accident, though, even though she made it seem that way. Harry stilled, just for a second, as if giving her the choice to move away.

She didn’t.

Instead, she stared at their hands, fingers only barely touching, and said, “I don’t really do this.”

He didn’t move. “Do what?”

“This," She gestured between then, "People. Letting them in.”

His thumb ghosted over the edge of her pinky, the smallest touch. “I know.”

Her chest felt like it might cave in as she took in his words, knowing that he meant them. But not in a bad way. Not in the way she used to associate with being seen.

“I’m trying,” she whispered; and she had been.

She had been trying so hard to compartmentalize this feeling – it was so new. Dating, this whole thing. Harry was so forward, so ready to give affection at any given moment. And then there was Lily, so shy, so meek. So unsure of herself at times.

Harry’s voice was steady, warm. “You don’t have to rush it. I’m not going anywhere.” After another moment, he shrugged, “I don’t have to go with you on Saturday, if you feel that’s rushing it.”

She looked up then, answering quicker than she could have imagined herself, “No, I want you there.”

And maybe it was something about the candlelight, or the way he was still watching her like she was worth waiting for—but she leaned forward, slowly, unsure, until he met her halfway. There was hesitance on his end, knowing it was so unlike her to initiate something that could have possibly lead to rejection.

The kiss was soft. Barely there. Not because of hesitation, but because it didn’t need to prove anything. The taste of red wine on his lips, the taste of the creamy tomato sauce on hers.

When she pulled back, she felt like she’d exhaled something she’d been holding in for years.

Harry smiled, lazy and lopsided like he had been completed overwhelmed with affection. “You’re absolutely ruining me, you know that?”

The way that his voice lowered told her everything she needed to know but would be too afraid to admit. He was absolutely wrecked with her. It was a feeling that could not be described, a feeling that was heavily influenced by the pure attraction and cadence that Lily showed him. Every ounce of her was shifting; her ideas, her thoughts, her wants and needs.

All she could think about was him. It felt too good to be true, it always felt that way no matter what she was thinking. But, sitting here with him in her small apartment on the east side had been more than enough to swell her heart a few sizes larger.

It was enough to calm her; to allow her the dignity to hold her shoulders back and feel that her confidence was there, that she couldn’t have dream this life if she slept for a hundred years.

And she hoped that same confidence would push her through introducing him to her friends – she hoped that her friends found the same intrigue in him that she had. It was all she could do; hope.

***

Saturday.

Lily had a thing for being extremely early, and Harry had a thing for showing up when he was told, but usually fifteen minutes late. So, by the time Harry had arrived at Lily’s apartment like they had agreed, the dinner party was already in full swing.

When Lily and Harry arrived—warm laughter spilling out through the slightly cracked apartment door, the hum of music and clinking glasses weaving a comforting kind of chaos.

Lily shifted the lemon bars in her hands and looked up at him. “We can still turn around.”

Harry, carrying the wine under one arm like a casual afterthought, gave her a look that was both amused and gentle as he looked at the front door. “We’re already here.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I brought wine – again,” he said, like that solved everything. “You made lemon bars. That means we’re the best guests here by default.”

She gave him a look, nerves fluttering in her chest. “Just… don’t be too charming, okay?”

Harry’s grin went wide, delighted but also a bit slated by the way that she said it. “You say that like I have control over it.”

Before she could roll her eyes, the door swung open with surprise even though they had knocked—Ava, already barefoot, hair up in a messy bun, holding a wine glass and looking thrilled at seeing the two of them. Her eyes went from Lily to Harry, a bit shocked that there were two of them standing there.

“Finally,” Ava said, stepping back, allowing the two to come in the foyer. “I was starting to think you two were imaginary.”

Lily smiled shyly, gesturing towards the lemon bars that sat in her arms. “These are lemon bars. They’re still a little warm—”

“She made them,” Harry added quickly, shrugging.

Ava took the lemon bars in her arms, smirking at the two of them, “Of course you did, Lily – I’m sure they’re divine, like always,” Her eyes trailed back to Harry as he gave her a warm smile, “You must be Harry, then. We’ve all heard so much about you. I’m Ava.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Ava – hope they were good things.” Harry greeted, nodding her head at her. He held a bottle of wine, showing it to her, “Table for this?”

Ava turned to bring them into the room where everyone had been sitting, “Yes, we can put everything over here."

The two of them followed her into the living room and dining space; it looked like mostly everyone was there, which gave Lily already a burst of annoyance that they were semi-late, but it seemed that everyone still hadn’t eaten yet, so that made her feel better.

“Sorry we were late,” Lily offered, feeling Harry’s hand on her back.

“It’s my fault,” Harry shook his head, “Lily would never be late.”

Ava set the lemon bars on the table, taking a sip of her wine before smiling, “Oh, we were worried about her! She’s never late to anything, so I was worried something happened.”

“Gotta’ keep her on her toes a bit.” Harry charmed, “Take her out of her comfort zone once in a while. Not every day you meet a girl who’s just perfect in everything.”

The look on Ava’s face was one of surprise as she noticed Lily’s blush creeping on her face, she gave Lily a small look before she said, “She is quite perfect, I agree,” Ava cleared her throat, “Uh, please help yourselves to something to drink – we have wine, liquor, beer,” She looked at the table, “Stuff in the fridge, whatever you want. I think we are still waiting on a few other people.”

Ava placed her hand on Lily’s shoulder as she moved around her, whispering in her ear, “You said cute, not a fucking art-house stud.”

Lily turned her head as she watched Ava walk away with a devilish smirk on her face, wine being brought to her lips.

Harry turned to Lily with a triumphant look. “See? Easy. I’ll get you something to drink to wash away those nerves.”

Inside, the apartment buzzed with easy energy: twinkling string lights, a mismatched table set with dishes people had clearly brought from home, the comforting smell of baked brie and roasted vegetables wafting from the kitchen where Ava and her partner, Landon, had been standing as they tried to get everything together. It wasn’t fancy, but it was theirs—and Lily was suddenly very aware of how much it meant to bring Harry into it.

Her friends greeted her with grins, hugs, and raised eyebrows as they noticed Harry standing beside her. Most of them had heard something about Harry, but seeing him there—tall, casually dressed in a dark button-down with his sleeves pushed up and his tattoos peeking out from the unbuttoned collar, curls slightly unruly, charm dialed all the way up to a level past one-hundred—made it real.

“So,” said Danika, one of Ava’s friends who Lily had met a few other times, “You must be the tattoo guy.”

“That might be me,” Harry said, sliding into a seat on the couch with a bottle of beer, like he’d always belonged there. That was the thing about Harry – he didn’t need to be babysat by Lily, he just moved around and talked to whomever. It didn’t take effort, so Lily just watched from afar. “But I answer to many titles. Lemon bar connoisseur. Bad influence. Harry, mostly.”

“Professional bullshitter, Lily added under her breath, settling beside him. Harry moved to make room for her, even pulling her into his lap a bit.

He bumped her shoulder, playful. “She likes it, though, so I have to keep that image up.”

Danika bit her lip as she stared between them, “You are so not what expected for Lily,” She gave Lily a look, and then back to Harry, “But I think that’s what makes dating fun, isn’t it?”

Harry turned his head to see Lily blink over at him, “Chance is a funny game, but it’s cool when it works out in your favor.”

The small black skirt, the flowing white top with bell-bottom sleeves, her hair pulled back into a half-up with a clip. The way that her lips were pink and flushed, her eyes mesmerizing with long lashes and a flurry of freckles that danced along her skin.

Every part of Lily reminded Harry of what he saw in her the very first day, and how lucky he had been to have her walk in the tattoo shop that day.

They fell into an easy rhythm as the evening unfolded. Lily didn’t talk much, but when she did, it was with that soft, deliberate thoughtfulness her friends had always loved—and Harry made space for it, never talking over her, but always giving her room to speak if she wanted to. It was subtle, but she noticed.

She also noticed how quickly he won everyone over. The jokes, the way he remembered names immediately and would say them back as if to engrain them, the way he complimented Ava’s vintage glassware and meant it. He teased, but kindly. Told stories with the kind of easy confidence she envied.

When the group started sharing their worst first-date stories, Harry leaned in like he’d been waiting for this exact opportunity.

“I once took a girl out who told me—mid-bite of my club sandwich, mind you—that she thought tattoos were a cry for attention and that insecure people got them as a shout for help.”

“Oh no,” Ava gasped, covering her mouth. “That’s so crazy.”

“She said marking your skin was a sin of God as he had made you the way he wanted to,” he added. “I told her my parole officer was calling to schedule my court date so I could leave.”

Laughter broke around the table, and even Lily couldn’t hold back her smile at his ridiculous way of trying to make people laugh.

But what made her heart ache—just a little—wasn’t the way everyone liked him. It was the way he kept glancing at her, like she was the one he was trying to impress. Like she was the reason he was being funny. Like none of it mattered without her eyes on him.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Cynthia asked, one of her other friends, chin propped in her hand, eyes bright with curiosity as she stared at the two of them. “And please say it was some cool, grungy bar or a chance encounter at a bookstore where Lily was probably holding way too many books, so you offered to help her carry them home.”

“Not exactly,” Lily’s stomach fluttered, but before she could open her mouth to say any else, Harry leaned forward with an exaggeratedly serious expression; he’d had a few drinks that that point, so his usual chattiness had just upped.

“She walked into the shop like she was going to pass out,” he said, grinning, from the memory and the alcohol mixed together. “Wanted a tattoo but looked like she’d rather die.”

Lily groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Harry—”

“She was really adorable,” he continued, undeterred by her groans. “Kept second-guessing everything. I offered her water like three times. Thought she’d bolt when I turned my back or something.”

“I almost did,” Lily mumbled into her hands.

“But she didn’t,” Harry said, glancing sideways at her. “She sat there and took it like a champ.”

“And the rest is history?” Ava asked, grinning, leaning into Landon.

Harry’s voice softened, just slightly, his hand finding her thigh under the table as they sat next to one another. He looked over at her, a small bait of confidence hopefully.

“I- uh,” Harry, without much to say for the first time ever, found himself trying to hold back the large smile that was trying to break on his face, “Yeah. Something like that.”

Lily peeked at him through her fingers, heart thudding.

It wasn’t the story, really. It was how he told it with the sense warmth, like he had been waiting for her to step into that tattoo shop forever. With just enough truth to make it funny, and just enough fondness to make it feel like a memory worth keeping, even if his version was dramatized a bit.

“And then I asked her to get coffee with me, and I just – I don’t know, I didn’t want to live a life that didn’t have her in it anymore. Really weird how life can do that sometimes.”

At that, Lily turned to look at him – really look at him. His usually goofy, overwhelming self made her shy and want to let him shine. But the comment sat with her for a moment as she felt her radiance for just a small moment; he wanted to live in a world where she shone. He wanted to uplift her, show her off, show her how much she meant to him, and that made her feel as high as she could get.

Danika took a large sip of wine, shaking her head, “We’ve been waiting for Lily to find someone that understood her sparkle.”

Ava added, “She’s quiet, but she’s got unbelievable layers.”

“Guys,” Lily shook her head, letting her hand travel over Harry’s larger one that held on her thigh. “You’re too much.”

Later, while people passed around homemade brownies and Lily’s lemon bars and refilled their drinks with more laughter and drunken smiles involved as the night had gone on, Ava leaned in as they sat on the sofa together and whispered, “He’s a keeper.”

Lily nodded, cheeks warm as she took her own sip of wine. “I know.”

And she did. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like she was playing catch-up in her own life. She had someone who moved at her pace—someone who never asked her to be louder, or bolder, or someone she wasn’t.

Harry caught her looking at him just then, across the table from where he was sitting, listening to a story. He gave her the smallest wink of an acknowledgement. He didn’t need to be sitting near her to let her know he was thinking of her.

The last of the wine had gone warm. Someone queued a playlist that drifted into soft jazz, and the light hum of conversation settled into the quiet, comfortable lull that came when the night had peaked and begun its slow descent. People were sitting around, enjoying conversations with one another.

Lily sat on the sofa, legs crossed as she took in the conversations around her, her glass empty in her hands, watching the soft chaos of her friends—legs tucked under them on couches, laughter now more breath than sound, plates empty except for brownie crumbs and lemon bar sugar dust.

Harry was leaned back in a mismatched dining chair, his arms crossed, ankles kicked out, the kind of relaxed posture that didn’t try to impress but still managed to. He was in the middle of a story—one of the tamer ones—and she watched as her friends fell into his rhythm easily, drawn in by his dry humor, the wry twist of his mouth when he delivered a punchline without raising his voice.

She watched with intent, watching the way that people were drawn to him in a way that made her jealous, proud, and rigorously enticed in so many ways.

She had noticed that Ava wasn’t around, and moved towards the kitchen to help with some clean-up.

The kitchen was a mess in the way all good parties left it—crumb-speckled plates stacked in the sink, wine-stained glasses balanced precariously on the counter, and serving spoons abandoned in half-empty casserole dishes. Lily stood barefoot in front of the sink, sleeves rolled to her elbows, warm water running over her hands as she scrubbed a baking dish that had once held mac and cheese.

Ava dried a wine glass beside her, hip bumped against the counter, her bun unraveling slowly over the course of the night.

“I really like him,” she said, not bothering to pretend it was a casual remark.

Lily didn’t look up, focusing on getting the dried cheese off the pan instead. “You’ve said that three times.”

Ava shook her head, trying to read Lily as best as she could. “I know, I know. I just keep saying it in case you forget.”

Lily smiled faintly with the thought of her friends loving Harry, rinsing suds from the dish before handing them to her friend who held the drying towel, “He was good tonight.”

“He was,” Ava agreed. “And not in a ‘look at me, I’m impressive’ way. Just... easy. Like, charismatic and fun and… what you need.”

“Yeah,” Lily said softly, acknowledging her friend with a few nods and biting her lip as she continued to focus her hands in the sink, “He makes things feel easy.”

There was a pause as Ava handed her a towel and leaned back against the counter, watching her with the quiet knowing that only came from years of friendship, and for Ava to actually see Lily the way that Harry did. Lily had tried so hard in friendship, wanting to be seen and wanting to be heard. It was something she needed to work at, but she knew that Ava had been that person for her.

Ava had met Landon, they had been together for years and Lily had seen how easy it could be. She knew it was possible – but Ava was beautiful, and charming, and had everything working in her favor.

Lily, on the other hand, worked hard to make all of those things true.

“You’ve never brought someone into this part of your life before,” Ava acknowledges, “Around us, around your friends.”

Lily paused, drying her hands as she nodded, with a knowingness, “I know.”

Ava bumped her shoulder, smiling at her friend. “I’m glad it’s him.”

Just then, the sound of someone walking into the kitchen archway took them out of their conversation to stare at the individuals, already shedding the faint chill of the night air, a leftover lemon bar in hand, half-wrapped in foil like he’d just raided the fridge.

“Thought I lost you,” Harry said, voice low and playful. “I was gonna have to just leave with the lemon bars and never speak to anyone again.”

Lily turned, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “I’m just helping clean up.”

“I figured that’s what you would be doing,” he said, stepping further into the kitchen. He glanced toward Ava and lifted the foil like a peace offering. “Permission to steal her?”

Ava raised her hands, throwing the towel she had on the counter. “By all means. She’s yours.”

Lily gave her a quick look—soft, grateful—and then followed Harry to the door, the two of them slipping on their coats in the hallway. After a quick goodbye, some hugs and thanks given, Harry held the door open for her with a crooked grin.

The air outside was cooler than Lily expected when they made their way out of the apartment building, brushing over her skin in little bursts as she stepped out onto the front stoop. The last remnants of laughter and music echoed faintly behind them like a memory—dull through the walls, yet still lingering in her chest like a hum. The warmth of the wine, the soft buzzing of the evening’s attention still wrapped around her like an oversized sweater.

They walked through the quiet city streets under a pale wash of streetlights, close enough that their arms brushed now and then. The air was cool, the kind that snuck under your jacket and made your skin remember how to feel.

Harry was quiet for once—not in a moody way, but in the way that people get when they’re letting something settle. Lily felt it too, his usually bubbly-self had become quite dim. The party had been loud in the best way, but she was glad for the quiet now, for the sound of his sneakers on the pavement and the occasional soft laugh when he brought up something Ava had said.

Harry walked beside her, one hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket, the other carrying the half-eaten tray of lemon bars. His strides were loose, unhurried, like he had nowhere to be but next to her.

“You know,” he said as they passed under the golden haze of a streetlight, “I think I won.”

Lily blinked up at him, pulling her jacket closed around her. “Won what?”

“Dinner party MVP. Best guest. Most charming presence. Take your pick.”

She huffed out a laugh, cheeks feeling the hurt from smiling all night. “You made one joke about parole and complimented someone’s playlist because they were playing the Pixies. That’s a low bar.”

“Flawlessly executed, ten out of ten,” he said. “I rest my case.”

The streets were quiet at this hour, the occasional hum of a distant car passing, but not too many people past them. Lily pulled her jacket tighter around herself and fell into step just a little closer to him. He made it known that he wanted her close, letting his arm hug over her shoulder to pull her into him as they walked.

Lily heard Harry take a deep breath before he cleared his throat, slowing their walk as they approached an intersection.

“Uh, so,” he started, turning to face the opposite way from her apartment, “My place is actually closer to here than yours is.”

The way he said it wasn’t an invitation, really, but more of an observation that he wanted to introduce to her. It was clear that he may have wanted to give some hints, but didn’t want her to feel that he was pressuring her to do anything she didn’t want to.

It had only been four months – three months of this. It felt that every move they made could be new if they allowed it to be, but the feeling of nerves was there occasionally when they wanted it to be. Harry felt nervous thinking of what she would say, how she would react.

“Five blocks that way, actually,” he said. “You wanna come over? If you’re too tired, you don’t have to, but yours is thirty minutes and two trains. I was just thinking – “

“I’ve never been,” she said before she could stop herself. It came out smaller than she intended, but the intrigue was there.

He glanced over at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then: “I know.”

The way he said it wasn’t loaded. It was just true.

“Okay,” she said, nodding against his arm, her voice steadier now, with decisiveness. “Let’s go to yours.”

Harry didn’t say anything at first. He just smiled. The kind of smile that said thank you and finally and I won’t mess this up all at once.

So, they turned towards Harry’s apartment instead. Lily moved first, taking a few steps in the direction Harry had initiated and he felt a ping in his heart as he felt her want, her draw for something new. It took a lot out of her to do something like that, so he appreciated the enthusiasm for the invite.

Harry’s building was one of those old, converted warehouse spaces—tall windows, exposed brick, creaky floors. The kind of place that felt a little like a movie set if the movie was about someone who collected too many books and didn’t own matching chairs.

Ivy was curling along its edges like the veins of something alive. Inside, the stairwell creaked beneath their feet, wooden banisters worn smooth by time. He unlocked the door on the third floor and pushed it open with a sweep of his hand.

The apartment smelled faintly of cedar and ink and paper. The walls were cluttered with framed sketches—some in color, some in pencil. Books stacked in towers against the wall. A vintage record player. A dying plant he kept insisting was “in recovery.” A collection of mismatched mugs on open shelves in the kitchen caught her attention, too.

As soon as Lily stepped inside behind him, she felt her breath catch—not in awe exactly, but in recognition. The space was... him. Every inch of it radiated intention in a messy, artful kind of way. The floors were hardwood and scuffed, a rug with curling edges stretched beneath a low coffee table cluttered with sketchbooks, candles, and what looked like a half-assembled model of a ship that she wasn’t sure he had started, or if he had bought it like that. She wouldn’t have put it past him.

The walls were gallery-like—framed ink drawings, messy charcoal sketches pinned directly to the plaster, a few Polaroids tacked up among them with friends and memories he undoubtedly wanted to keep. There were books stacked in teetering piles by the windows, next to old records and mismatched furniture that somehow didn’t clash but harmonized, like an accidental symphony.

It was a mess, but in the kind of way that told a story. Like everything had been touched, chosen, kept.

“Sorry it’s not minimalist and beige,” he said, throwing his keys into a bowl shaped like a skull. “I was going for eccentric artist with emotional depth.”

“I don’t know what I expected,” Lily murmured, turning in place, arms crossed over her body.

“Boring? Empty?” Harry offered, shedding his jacket and tossing it on a hook by the door. He offered his hand for hers, “Wrong place.”

She shed her jacket, handing it to him with a thanks, “No. It’s... layered.”

He grinned. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

She wandered to the windowsill, where a cracked clay dish held a mess of rings, paperclips, and what looked like a tiny glass vial of gold flakes. A small, battered lamp cast a pool of warm amber over the couch, worn in the cushions and draped in a navy throw that had clearly seen better days.

“This just feels like someone lives here,” she said, staring out the view of his apartment, down onto the street that they were just walking on.

Harry raised a brow, maneuvering into the kitchen. “Good. I do. Every day.”

She looked over her shoulder, catching the way he was watching her—not impatient, not expectant. Just there, fully present, as he always seemed to be. He stood in the kitchen, pouring them each a glass of water, and returned to hand her one.

"You’re nervous,” he said softly, observing her as they stood awkwardly in the corner of his living room.

“I’m not—” She stopped, exhaled as she looked at the glass he handed her. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Harry didn’t press her, of course. He simply sat on the edge of the couch and let her move at her own pace. No rush. No demand.

“You know,” he said, swirling his glass a little, “for someone who gets nervous, you’re surprisingly bold.”

She glanced over at him, confused, she moved to sit next to him but just kept still for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“You walked into a tattoo shop alone. You let me talk you through your first ink, even though I could see you were ready to bolt.”

“I didn’t bolt. I usually do."

“Exactly.” He smiled at her over the rim of his glass. “Takes guts.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart fluttered. “I get overwhelmed easily. You know that.”

“I do,” he said. “And I like it.”

Lily turned slowly toward him, cautious. “You like that I get overwhelmed?”

“I like watching you work through it,” he said, voice low and warm like honey moving over. “I like the way you get quiet, like your whole world shrinks to one thought. I like how deliberate you are—how you don’t give anything away until you mean it.”

She swallowed, feeling that the way he said it meant something more as if it had a double meaning as they sat there next to one another. “That’s not how most people feel about me.”

“I’m not most people.”

He set his glass down and leaned back, one arm draped across the back of the couch, like he’d carved out a space for her without needing to ask.

Lily took a step closer, biting her lip as she felt that boldness he had talked about.

“Do you," She swallowed thickly, feeling her skin tingle at the thought of looking up to see him staring at her. When she did, it was all she saw.

"Do you bring girls here often?” she asked quietly, feeling embarrassed for asking the question at all, or prying enough.

“Nope.”

“Not even for—” She gestured vaguely, face flushing as she crossed her arms. “You know.”

He chuckled, deep and low, but feeling entirely too warm from watching her stand in front of him - the fact that she would even insinuate that made him feel a laugh in his throat.

“Nope. Not for that, either.”

She shifted on her feet, flustered. “I guess – I mean, we haven’t even…”

“No,” he said, lips quirking at her suggestion, but finishing her thought for her so she wouldn't have to. “We haven’t.”

The pause hung between them. Not tense. Just thick with awareness. She started to notice the more noticeable things about him; the way his nose ring fit snug, the way his mustache was perfectly groomed, the glasses on the bridge of his nose eventuated the sparkle in his eye, the mess of curls that fell onto his forehead that were a bit windswept as you walked back to his place.

“You never tried,” she said, almost barely making it past her lips.

“I could tell you weren’t ready. And it’s more fun this way.”

Her brow lifted at his choice of words. “Fun?”

He sat forward slightly, his voice dipping as he reached for her hand.

“Yeah. You’re like this beautiful, intricate lock, and I like figuring you out piece by piece. What makes you laugh. What makes you blush. What makes you look at me like you’re doing right now,” He made himself comfortable on the couch, leaning back a bit as he looked back at her, “I like when you look at me like that.”

She hadn’t realized she was looking at him like that—like she wanted to kiss him and also hide from him at the same time.

Harry stood slowly, hand still holding hers, and closed the space between them until she could feel the heat of him, the slow, steady rhythm of his breath. Such a different side, such a welcoming side.

“If you put the wrong key in the lock, you can break it real easy. I don’t need all of you tonight,” he said gently, his fingers running along the side of her face, pushing hair off her shoulder. “Not until you want to."

She didn’t pull away, all she could do was lean in.

And when he kissed her, it was slow, and patient, and made her forget every careful thing she’d rehearsed in her head. She didn’t think - it was all by feeling.

Harry bent his head and touched his mouth to hers like he was learning something—pressing in, pulling back, giving her a beat to catch up. His lips were soft but firm, coaxing her open little by little, his thumb brushing her jaw as if grounding her there.

She responded this time. Surer of herself than she had been before. She knew that Harry liked kissing her; it was something she felt confident on by the way that he held her tightly like he wanted more, more, more. Her hand slid up to his chest, fingers resting lightly against the beat of his heart, and she kissed him back with a quiet kind of hunger that surprised even her.

He made a sound in the back of his throat that was low and revenant and deepened the kiss.

His hand slipped from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, tilting her just enough to draw another sigh from her lips. She stepped into him, the front of her body brushing his, and he instinctively pulled her closer. His other hand splayed along her lower back—guiding, not pushing.

The tension shifted quickly—gentle heat started turning into something sharp, more urgent.

Lily’s breath hitched when his teeth grazed her bottom lip, and that tiny sound, which was barely more than a gasp, nearly undid him.

Harry’s fingers flexed at her waist in an attempt to keep himself sane. He wanted her. God, he wanted her.

Every part of her—shy and fierce and uncertain—was undoing him, piece by piece. The softness of her mouth, the way she clung to his shirt like she didn’t know what else to hold onto, the slight tremble of her breath. He could feel the heat building in his body, the ache of wanting to press her against the nearest wall and kiss her until she forgot her own name.

But he didn’t. He pulled his hips back when she went to press herself against him even more. Just slightly, so she wouldn’t make a huge deal of it.

But, then her eyes opened with a lidded daze and her lips were swollen with a maroon color so obnoxiously addictive, her breath uneven. Harry practically screwed his eyes shut to try and not think about how she looked right now.

Instead, he kissed the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then her jaw. Slower now, softer. Trying to calm the fire roaring beneath his skin. She fell into his touch, a small giggle escaping her breath as he tickled his way down her neck.

“Harry,” she breathed, her hand fisting in the front of his shirt.

“Shh,” he murmured, kissing the hollow just beneath her ear. “I just… I just need a second.”

She pulled back, blinking at him at him as if something was off. “Did I do something—?”

“No.” He was firm, steady with his response. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong. You did everything right.”

Her brows drew together.

“I mean, I’m not exactly thinking gentleman-esque thoughts at the moment,” he admitted with a hint of humor, his voice raw now as he drew back. “But I want to make sure you know how much I want you. Not just when it’s hot and dizzy and hard to think. I don’t want you thinking that’s why I brought you here, or what I’m trying to get."

She stared at him for a long moment. Then, with a trembling exhale, she nodded as if to understand. And in that nod was something he hadn’t truly seen from her since on that table at the shop— undoubtably trust.

He kissed her again, just once. Slow. Thoughtless. Instinctively.

Then, without letting her go, he pulled her toward the couch, collapsing gently into it and guiding her down with him, cradling her against his side. She curled into him like she’d done it a hundred times, her body pressed to his, her hand resting on his shoulder as he held her close.

His chest rose and fell beneath her, slow and steady, but Lily could feel the tension in him still—just below the surface. That aching restraint felt so coiled up. The way his hand moved slowly along her back in comforting strokes, even though his jaw was clenched and his thighs were still coiled tight beneath her.

The apartment had gone still, the kind of stillness that came only after hours of slow conversation and soft touches, not the heated moment that settled between them.

The lamp was still glowing nearby, casting gold along the edges of the bookshelf and outlining Harry’s profile in warm light. They were curled together on the couch, Lily tucked into his side, her cheek resting against his shoulder, one of his hands stroking gently along her spine in slow, absent motions.

She hadn’t spoken for a while. Harry didn’t push either way. But then her voice broke the silence—barely above a whisper.

“I used to move too fast.”

His fingers paused, then continued—no rush, no shift in weight. Just presence, like he was acknowledging he heard her but didn’t need to say anything and break her thought.

Lily swallowed before she continued, finding her footing. “With guys. I’d just… go along with things. Let things happen. And I don’t think they meant to take advantage of that – I-I mean, not all of them. But it was like… once things started, I didn’t feel like I could say no. Or stop. Or even slow down.”

Harry didn’t speak but he bit the inside of his cheek as he listened, his hand moved to the back of her head, gently threading through her hair, grounding her there with him.

“They liked me more when I didn’t object,” she said, her voice shaking now, almost in disbelief she was continuing down this path. “When I didn’t ask for space. Or softness. Or… time.”

She felt her words catch as she kept speaking, so she stopped for a moment. His comfort didn’t stop, only intensified as they sat.

“I think for a while I thought I had to be that version of myself. Or no one would stay.”

She felt the shift in his breathing before he even spoke.

“You're in good hands here,” Harry said quietly, he kissed the top of her head as he let his fingers dive through her hair.

“I know.” She looked up at him, eyes shining, lashes damp. “That’s why this scares me more.”

Harry’s jaw tensed, like it physically hurt him to hear her say that and to watch her get teary over memories that she felt were difficult. He cupped the side of her face, his thumb brushing gently along her under eyes to the tears she felt ashamed of.

“I’m not here because I’m waiting for you to give me something,” he said to her directly, sitting up a bit. He had to tell her so she knew his truth. “I’m here because I see you. And I like you exactly as you are. Not in spite of how careful you are. Because of it.”

She blinked, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead—light, like a promise rather than a confirmation.

Lily let out a shaky breath and let her hand rest over his heart again, feeling its steady rhythm beneath her fingertips. “I’m not used to being allowed to take my time.”

“I'm sorry they weren't patient with you, and I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could be patient.” Harry said, eyes on her like she was the only thing in the world. “I don't want you to sit here and feel like I'm pressuring you, because I'm not."

Harry smirked for a moment as he shifted his legs, "It's just biology, really – you should feel good to know you turn me on, but I don’t need you to accommodate me."

Lily sat with her head on his chest, letting the silence fill the air as she listened to the sounds below them on the streets. Like it was the soundtrack that narrated their moment here on the small sofa in the unfamiliar apartment that had started to feel like her favorite book. Something she would revisit, something that would bring comfort every time she opened it.

They were still curled together on the couch, a blanket soft and bunched around their legs. The vulnerability in the room lingered like the last notes of a song—quiet, resonant, humming beneath their skin.

Harry let out a breath, long and low. “You know, I wasn’t expecting tonight to feel like this.”

“Like what?” Lily asked, voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt as she pulled at one of the buttons.

He tilted his head, eyes drifting toward the ceiling as he pushed his feet up on the coffee table, out in front of him. “Like I’m… not even thinking about what I can’t do with you right now. Just… what I get to do someday. Which, at this point, right now, is lie on this couch and stare at your cute little nose while you breathe on my collarbone.”

Lily huffed a small laugh and turned her face further into his chest, trying to hide the heat that rushed to her cheeks. “That’s romantic.”

“It is. Very romantic,” he said, mock-serious. “It’s taking everything in me not to climb on top of you and wreck you, but really all I can think about is your damn button nose.”

Lily blinked, caught completely off-guard—and then she laughed. Really laughed. That kind of soft, surprised laugh that left her glowing.

“You can’t say things like that when I’m emotionally vulnerable.”

Harry looked down at her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Why not? You’re very cute when you blush, which is why I keep trying to make it happen.”

She tried to hide her smile but failed as she dug her face into his neck. “You’re such a menace.”

“I’m a patient menace,” he said, his voice dipping just enough to make her pulse quicken, looking at him this closely had made her think differently of him. The way that his skin was perfect; small moles and dimples and the scent of cedar and ash had coated her memory. “Which is far more dangerous, if you really think about it.”

Lily shifted beside him, trying to ignore the way his words settled low in her stomach. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Course I am.” His hand moved idly along the side of her thigh, fingertips trailing to help pull over the blanket. “You’re curled up against me, making these tiny sounds when I talk too close to your ear. I live for this.”

“I don’t make—”

“You do, trust me,” he interrupted, his mouth now just inches from her ear, his breath warm against her sensitive skin. “Especially when I say certain things.”

She stilled, feeling her heart beat faster. He didn’t move, either.

“Like what?” she asked, quieter now, pushing for an answer. She was playing a dangerous game, but Harry was down to push her further; make her squirm, make her blush so bad she would have to take a cold shower later.

He smiled back at her, thinking about what he could say to do just that. He almost didn’t know how to reply, opening his mouth before he shut it to rethink his answer. “You want me to prove it?”

“I want to know what you’d say,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

His hand moved again—slow, gentle, deliberate on top of her thigh. Her skirt was moving up her thighs, and he tried not to think about that. “I’d tell you how long I’ve been thinking about your mouth. Everywhere. How every time you bite your lip when you’re nervous, it makes me want to push you up a wall you just a little.”

Lily’s breath hitched at the boldness of his words; she could tell he had a filthy mouth when he wanted to. The cockiness oozed from him; she fluttered her eyes shut at the thought.

“I’d tell you I notice the way your thighs press together when I say something filthy, even if you pretend not to hear me.”

She swallowed, trying to be discreet at how her thighs pressed together just then. Of course he noticed.

“I’d tell you I think about you riding me, slow at first, real quiet like you can’t even manage a word,” he murmured, “until you get brave. And I think you're real brave, you know – I think you get in your own world."

Her eyes fluttered closed knowing he had completely won.

“And I’d tell you exactly what I’d do when you start to fall apart on top of me. How I’d hold you through it. How I’d talk you through it. How I'd–" He bit his tongue to keep from going.

Lily’s chest was rising and falling faster now, a slight tremor in her fingers where they rested near his ribs. But her voice—when she finally spoke—was steady. He flinched at the way that her fingertips felt hot against him, almost burning through the material of his shirt.

“And you wouldn’t push me?”

Harry’s hand stilled, then retreated, settling gently against her waist.

“Never,” he said. “This doesn’t work if it’s not yours too.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her gaze unreadable. “You’d talk me through it?”

His mouth twitched into a smile as he stared at the ceiling then, huffing out a breath of laugh as he couldn’t believe she was teasing him like that. “Every word, baby. Every breath. Every goddamn second.”

A long pause stretched between them, thick with tension but not pressure. He waited—still, steady, letting her decide what came next. Lily’s lips parted. Her voice was soft, but certain.

“Okay.”

Harry didn’t know how to react, lifting his head to see where her thought process was.

“Not yet, though,” she said quickly when she realized that he had some concern written on his face. “But when I’m ready… I want that.”

He exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding that breath for hours. Then he smiled—soft and full of something deeper than hunger.

“Then that’s what you’ll have,” he said, almost simply, as if they hadn’t just been talking about something dirty but about something that he knew she needed, “Exactly how you want."

Harry didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just looked at her—really looked at her as if studying every freckle on her face—as if he could memorize the exact shape of her words, the way she said when I’m ready like it meant something sacred. And to him, it did. It was written in scripture.

She was still curled against him, her cheek against his shoulder, and his arm was resting lightly around her waist now. Not pulling her closer. Just there—like an anchor. Steady in the dark water to help make sure she didn’t float away.

His voice was low when it returned. Not playful this time, but with an earnest nature that fluttered the depths of his heart as he thought about his admissions.

“I think about you all the time,” he said, nodding into the universe. “Not just in the way you’re probably imagining. Though… those thoughts aren’t exactly rare. But,” He swallowed, “I just think you’re… really special.”

She smiled faintly, her eyes cast downward, heart beating faster now. The way he said it was unfiltered—blunt, but a hint of hesitancy that she barely saw from him. Like he liked wanting her but knew that he was human– he knew that she was just as capable as producing heartbreak as he was.

“I think about how you’d taste when you’re breathless,” he continued, voice sliding over her skin like velvet. “How your body would feel under me – not even just in a sexual way, but a personal way. How you’d look when you finally stop holding yourself back.”

A sharp inhale escaped her lips as she thought of the moments that Harry could have of her. Harry heard it. Felt it, but he didn’t pounce. Didn’t lean into it like a challenge. He waited, watching her closely.

“You can tell me to stop, and I will.” His voice was practically a breath – he wanted to give her the opportunity, the one that hadn’t been given to her prior. He wanted her to make the rules.

She didn’t – no, of course she didn’t. After a few more beats, he kept going, voice a little lower now, as if daring her to stay in the moment with him.

“I think about what your voice would sound like—messy and raw—saying my name when you’re close. Or when you want something but can’t say it out loud.”

Lily’s thighs pressed together. She didn’t even realize she’d done it until Harry’s eyes dropped—just briefly—to where her legs shifted beneath the blanket. His breath caught at the acknowledgement.

“And I think,” he said, pausing to brush her hair gently off her cheek, “about how good it’s going to feel when I finally get to have you. Not just your body, Lils. The way you trust. The way you unravel.”

She turned her face into his neck then, unable to hold his gaze, hiding in the space where his pulse beat steady just beneath his skin. Harry didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease her for getting shy in the middle of their own heat. He just smiled—something soft and wrecked and tilted his head so his lips brushed the crown of her head.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured into her, almost like to engrain it into her.

“I think I do,” she whispered, her breath trembling as she tried her best to maintain a steady voice.

His hand moved again, slow and lazy over her waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt—but only just. The pad of his thumb brushed bare skin there, and it was electrifying, practically shocking him.

“You want to tell me what you want?” The way that his voice asked made her tremble, so softly it was almost a plea.

Lily hesitated at the way that he asked her. Her throat was tight. Not from fear—but from the weight of the want. The newness of it being okay to speak it, almost like she felt drawn in.

“I want to stay here,” she said finally, after a few moments. Even though she loved the way he spoke out to her, she wanted the opportunity to think of it. “Just like this. For a while.”

Harry nodded, eyes heavy-lidded but calm as he let the thoughts swirl around them like a cloud of alchemy. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple like it was a ritual.

“Then we’ll stay here,” he said, simplicity hanging between them. “Exactly like this.”

His fingers didn’t wander further, because he didn’t feel invited. His mouth didn’t ask for more. But his body stayed close—warm and steady—and his desire never left the room. It simply curled around them, like a quiet storm waiting to break when she was ready to call the thunder down.

And she would. God, she would.

But tonight, she breathed him in, curled tighter against his chest, and let herself rest in the heat of what they hadn’t done yet. And the sweetness of knowing that when they did—it would be everything. It was almost addicting, the thoughts, rather than the action.

They hadn’t moved in minutes, but everything about the space between them felt alive. Lily was nestled into the curve of Harry’s chest, his fingers grazing lazy circles over the sliver of skin just above her waistband. It was nothing, but it made her skin hum, made her breath stutter every time he touched that one spot again, again, again.

He hadn’t said anything since she told him she wanted to stay like this. And he hadn’t asked for more.

But her body told the truth. The way his thumb paused when she shifted her hips, not knowing if she wanted more or was asking for space. The way his voice had grown quieter, rougher, when he said her name just moments before.

“Still okay?” he murmured now, his lips brushing against her temple.

She nodded but gave him a quiet yes to confirm.

“Good.” He kissed her hair again, breathing in the sweetness of the vanilla of her shampoo. “But I’ll have you know that if you keep squirming like that, I’m going to start taking it personally.”

Lily’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and she buried her face against his collarbone. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he teased gently, his voice a little heavier now. “And it’s kind of killing me.”

She smiled shyly, but didn’t deny it. He shifted just enough to look at her, his eyes scanning her face carefully. “Talk to me, I’m ready to hear your voice.”

Her lips parted, then closed again. Her pulse was wild beneath her skin; she bit her lip as she let their eyes investigate each other’s again. She didn’t know how this felt so right. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to get it perfect,” he said, brushing his knuckles along her jaw as if to coax her. “Just tell me what’s in your head. Anything.”

She hesitated for the slightest moment; her gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up to his eyes that held so much curiosity and a ferocity of intrigue. Her fingers gripped the hem of his shirt, like grounding herself to him would make the words come easier.

“I want…” She stopped, swallowing. “I want you to touch me more.”

Something flickered in his expression—something sharp, almost like he wasn’t expecting her to be vocal about her needs. He just wanted to hear her, to listen to her, to do as she asked.

“You want me to touch you,” he repeated softly, his hand still on her waist, waiting.

She nodded again, so sure of what she wanted, but so unsure of how it felt to be listened to. “Just… slow. I get overwhelmed.”

“I know.” His thumb traced the slope of her hip, the way that his thumb brushed against her skin tickled her softly, making her bristle at the touch. Harry stopped for a moment, letting them settle. “But you want it.”

Lily breathed outwards, nodded again, “Yes.”

“Where?” Harry’s voice was direct, wanting full consent of the direction.

She exhaled shakily, trembling under his gaze, and whispered, “Anywhere you want. As long as you don’t stop talking to me.”

That broke something in him—in the quietest, most sacred way.

Harry leaned in and kissed her jaw, slow and careful. “I’ll tell you everything, sweetheart,” he murmured. “What I want. What I’ll do. How good you make me feel.”

Her breath hitched. She was already shaking under his hand, not from fear, but from anticipation so deep it made her bones ache. There was an adrenaline that was building up in her; the same kind of adrenaline that she had felt the day she got the tattoo from him. A shaking feeling that gave her a wound-up energy.

“I want to feel you,” she said, voice almost breaking. “But I need you to help me go slow.”

His hand came up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing just beneath her eye.

“I’ve got you,” he said, firm and low. “You say stop, I stop. You say slower, I’ll move like fucking honey. And if all you want is my hands and my mouth and my words? Then that’s all you’ll get. For as long as you want.”

Her body relaxed against his then, something in her melting completely, and the way she looked at him—hopeful, wanting, a little scared—was the most devastating thing he’d ever seen. She leaned in first this time.

And when he kissed her, it was deeper than before, hungrier—but careful.

Every breath they shared from then on felt like a promise. Every word he whispered into her skin was one more brick laid in the foundation of trust. And every inch he touched was earned like a medal of honor. Harry kissed her like the whole world had gone quiet except for her breathing; it was the soundtrack that played in his brain.

Lily’s hands had slipped up beneath his shirt—tentative at first, resting against the warm, lean curve of his ribs—but as he kissed her deeper, her fingers curled, wanting to feel more. She could feel the way that his muscles contracted, the way that he held himself back from moving further. It was a slow, deep want. He groaned softly into her mouth at the contact, like even the lightest touch from her could undo him.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he breathed, lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

She looked at him then, wide-eyed and flushed, her chest rising fast beneath the soft cotton of her shirt. “I think I do.”

Harry’s eyes darkened just slightly, but his hands stayed gentle—one braced behind her back, the other slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to trace slow, reverent lines along her waist. He watched her carefully as he did, his gaze asking permission even when his body begged for more. Lily didn’t stop him.

Instead, she leaned into him, shifting closer until she was straddling his lap, her knees tucked on either side of his hips. The move surprised them both.

Her breath stuttered. “Is this okay?”

Harry’s fingers tightened just slightly where they rested against her bare skin.

“Fuck, Lily,” he murmured, his voice low and thick as he felt her hands against his chest, moving down to his hips so that she could stabilize herself. The question hanging on his breath was pushed back to her, to solidify that her actions were matching her words. “Is it okay?”

His hands slid up her back, dragging her closer, but he still held back. His whole body was tensed in restraint, like every nerve was screaming to move faster but he wouldn’t. Not until she asked.

“You can touch me more,” she said, voice breathless but certain now; her shyness was masked by the spark of electricity that hung in the air between them. “Please.”

He groaned at that, tilting his head back slightly so he could look at her—his hands now cradling her waist like she was something rare and opportunistic; like being with her was a prize.

“I’ll show you anything,” he said. “Everything, if you let me. Just tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

He kissed her again—this time with more heat, more hunger. And this time, when his tongue swept against hers, she met him halfway. Her hands moved to the base of his neck; she felt his head tilt up to meet hers in a fit of need and angst. With each pull of his hair, an elicited groan escaped from between his lips into hers, the vibration creating a sense of need.

Her hands moved to roam beneath his shirt, and he helped her pull it over his head without breaking the kiss, letting her touch him freely now—her palms mapping his chest, his stomach, the ink that curled down his ribs like secrets.

He exhaled hard, forehead pressed to hers. “Lily…”

“Please,” she whispered, and that one word—so soft, so open—was everything.

His hands skimmed beneath her shirt next, lifting the fabric inch by inch, waiting for her to stop him. She didn’t.

When he pulled it over her head and tossed it to the side, his breath caught—his hands hovering, his eyes reverent, like she was art. Like he wanted to memorize every inch.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, barely able to breathe it.

She shivered, nerves fluttering in her belly, but when he touched her again—his hands trailing slowly along the curve of her waist, up her sides, then gently over her ribs. He kissed down her neck, down to the space just above her heart, always slow, always waiting for her to say no. Instead, she leaned into him, leaned into his touch to let her mind wander at the true feeling of want.

Not only did he want her – he wanted to treasure her. His hands were warm where they skimmed her bare sides, fingers brushing along the gentle curve of her ribcage. And then he paused—just under the swell of her breast, where a faint shadow of ink curved along her skin.

Harry pulled back slightly, catching the breaths that he felt he only had a few left, his fingers hovering.

The small, delicate linework he’d drawn months ago sitting beneath the pads of his fingers as he rubbed over it gently. Her first tattoo.

“God,” he murmured against the heat of her skin, brushing the pad of his thumb over it. “This is mine.”

Lily’s breath hitched—not from possession, but from the way he said it. Like it meant something more than ink. Like it was sacred.

“I almost didn’t go through with it,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving the spot. “But you did. You let me mark you.”

His hand stayed there, palm warm and flat against her ribcage, feeling the rise and fall of her breath as if it was his only lifeline now. Lily reached for the hem of his shirt, fingers trembling slightly. He didn’t stop her; he just lifted his arms so she could pull it over his head, baring his chest to her, skin golden in the low light, scattered with ink and soft shadows.

Her hands rested against him—curious, slow—exploring the tattoos she’d only glimpsed before. One on his shoulder, a pair of birds settling on his collarbone, a large butterfly under his ribs. A name near his heart in small, typewriter lettering.

“Do they all mean something?” she asked, tracing the edge of one with her finger.

A huffed out laugh came from his lips as he shook his head, “No, not at all.”

She looked up at him, face flushed, eyes wide and unguarded. And then she kissed him. This time, it wasn’t careful. It wasn’t tentative. She kissed him with want, with memory, with the understanding that this had always been building to something. Her hands slid over his shoulders, his chest, fingers flexing like she wanted to know him by feel. She pulled him in, and he felt like a sailor in a sea filled with siren songs.

Harry groaned softly, low in his throat, and gathered her closer, one hand slipping to the small of her back, the other threading into her hair as her mouth moved over his. His restraint frayed—she could feel it in the way his grip tightened, in the way his hips shifted beneath her.

But he still held the line. Every kiss, every touch was for her—measured by what she asked for, what she invited. When she rolled her hips gently against him—just once—his breath stuttered, and he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers.

“Lily,” he whispered, his voice tight. “I need to slow down. Or I’m going to forget how.”

She nodded, humming softly as if to protest, but knowing that she respected his boundaries as she should her own. She knew that she should stop – she didn’t want to move faster but she found it very hard to remember that when she could feel the way that he protected her, she could feel the way that he drew her in so heavenly.

“I want you so badly,” he admitted, his hands shaking slightly now as they cupped her hips to stop her from moving. “But I don’t want to take advantage of just… this moment.”

Lily’s lips brushed his jaw. “You make it hard to want to wait.”

He smiled—wrecked, tender, and completely enthralled with the way that her voice dripped with anticipation and need. “I think that’s the point.”

His hands moved back to her tattoo; his mark. And the only thing he wanted to leave on her that night.

They stayed tangled like that for a while—breathing each other in, heartbeat to heartbeat, the space between them simmering with unspoken want. Lily was still straddled in his lap, her chest against his, their skin pressed so close it felt like her nerves were tuned to his every breath.

Harry’s lips were at her jaw, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth again. Slow, dragging kisses that made her stomach twist with need and something more dangerous—safety. Her hips moved once more—subconsciously, involuntarily—and she felt the way his body tensed beneath her, how he froze mid-kiss, like his control was snapping at the seams.

Then, he pulled away. Not far. Just enough to look at her, chest rising and falling faster now.

“Lils,” he said, breathless and rough and with enough clarity in his head to know that he had to stop, “I’m going to stop thinking straight.”

He could tell that there was an internal struggle as he looked up at her. It was such a different portrait; she was so shy and flushed and reserved when he met her – this was such a different version of her. The darkness in her eyes, the want and need of satisfaction was controlling her now, but he wanted to respect her and understand that this was not the time and place.

“Come here,” he murmured, and kissed her again—slow and deep, like a promise instead of a goodbye.

When he pulled back again, he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

“I’m gonna get you something to change into, yeah? Then, I’m going to take the coldest shower of my entire life and try not to punch a hole through my own wall.”

Lily laughed softly at his comment, still breathless, her cheeks glowing with affection and embarrassment. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I do,” he muttered, moving to stand and gently lifting her off his lap, setting her on the couch with a tenderness that made her heart ache. “Because if I look at you like that for one more minute, this blanket’s not going to be the only thing I rip in half.”

She blushed a red that he hadn’t seen yet. He disappeared into the bedroom, leaving her sitting in the golden spill of lamplight, her body thrumming with sensation, her lips swollen and tingling from his kiss. She let her fingers play with them for a moment, knowing how they tingled. A minute later, he came back with a soft, oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

“Boxers are clean,” he said, tossing them gently into her lap. “Shirt is… eh, probably fine.”

“Probably?” she teased, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Might have worn it without washing, hard to tell,” he replied, grabbing a towel from a hook by the door. “You can sleep in the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Lily sat up straighter as she held the clothes between her fingers. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said, already heading toward the bathroom. “I, uh, probably need to just be alone.” He bit his lip thinking of what would happen if they fell asleep next to each other in the warmth of his bed after what he knew she was capable of.

He shook his head as he leaned against the bathroom doorframe. “Just leave a pillow out here for me?”

She watched him grab his own stuff, clothes and items in his hands before he turned back to her one last time, her heart tangled somewhere between longing and gratitude. Just before the bathroom door closed, he leaned back out, hair tousled, his eyes warm despite the fire still simmering just beneath the surface.

“Lily?”

She turned her head up, “Yeah?”

He smiled at the large eyes that stared back at him, “Tonight was perfect. Even if we didn’t finish what we started.”

She held his gaze for a long, humming beat. Then nodded, the shyness in her coming back, “Yeah. It was.”

Harry gave her one last smile before shutting the door softly, falling back into it as he let out the largest breath. His eyes shut as he tried to unravel every small feeling that he had ever felt for someone and tried to make sense of the way that he felt now.

He was doomed.

***

One Month Later

Rain pelted the tall windows in uneven rhythms, wind pressing against the glass in slow, heaving breaths with the scent of apples and blossoms from the wax candle that burned on top of the stack of books. The city outside was blurred—soft gold street lights smudged by the storm, like the whole world had decided to lean in, hush up, and listen.

Inside Harry’s apartment, the candle flickered in the corner, casting long shadows across the hardwood. The floor creaked faintly beneath them, the storm beyond the glass a steady hum beneath the stillness of the space.

They sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the low coffee table, a worn chessboard between them, the pieces already in mid-battle.

Lily was bundled in one of Harry’s hoodies, sleeves pushed up as if she had been getting serious about the game, bare legs tucked under her. Harry sat across from her in gray sweats and a loose black t-shirt, sleeves hugging the curve of his arms just right. His hair was still damp from the rain he’d run through earlier to grab the takeout from the corner store, curling around his temples in soft spirals.

“I hope you know you’re going to lose,” Lily said, flicking her rook across the board with precision; the way that her voice was soft and gentle was that much more enticing, as it didn’t have the edge of someone vicious.

Harry narrowed his eyes, thumb rubbing over the edge of his mouth in concentration. “You’ve gotten cocky.”

“I’ve been studying.” Lily answered with a bit of pride, taking a sip of her tea.

“Studying?” he repeated, eyes flickering up to her. “Oh, so that’s why you ignored me for half an hour the other night.”

With a bitten smile, Lily shrugged at him with nonchalance. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I was… strategizing.”

“You were watching tutorials on how to crush me at chess.”

“Same thing,” she said, smiling sweetly, innocently.

Harry leaned back on his hands, his legs stretched out long across the worn rug, spine curved just enough to show off the way his shirt clung across his chest. He was watching Lily the way he always did when he wanted to rattle her - calm, unreadable, mouth ticking up like he knew something she didn’t.

His eyes moved slowly across her face, cataloguing her as he studied the curve of her cheekbone, the soft flutter of lashes as she focused too hard on the board, the slight smirk she kept trying to swallow. His gaze lingered, like he was filing it all away for later.

“You know,” he said, pursing his lips with a low, teasing voice, “we never agreed on stakes.”

Lily looked up, raising an eyebrow, her bare thigh brushing against the edge of the table. “Stakes?”

“For the game.” Harry gestured lazily at the board, his fingers toying with a captured knight that sat on the edge nearest to him. “There should be consequences. And a clear winner.”

Her mouth twitched as she tilted her head, wondering how he could turn everything into a romantic gesture. “And what, exactly, do you have in mind?”

He grinned, devilish and slow. “If I win,” He threw his head back in thought before he turned it back up to look at her, “I get to choose exactly how I kiss you tonight.”

Lily blinked at him, and he didn’t miss the way her spine stiffened, the way her fingers fidgeted for half a second before stilling. Her throat bobbed as she moved her piece – a pawn this time.

He tilted his head, his voice dipping to a low murmur. “That includes where… how long… how soft—or how not soft.”

“You’re already kissing me whenever you want,” she managed, trying to sound bored but falling a bit short.

“True,” Harry said, shifting forward, his elbows resting on his knees now, gaze warm and steady. “But tonight, I want permission to be creative.”

Lily stared at him, her pulse starting to pick up speed. There was a curl of heat in her stomach that hadn’t been there a minute ago. She swallowed. “And if I win?”

Harry leaned in, closing some of the space between them. The warm glow from the nearby lamp threw soft shadows over his cheekbones. His voice came slower now, thicker. He moved another piece, a knight.

“Then you get to tell me how you want me.”

Thunder rumbled outside low and heavy, rolling through the walls like an echo of what was already building in her chest.

Lily nudged a pawn forward, fingers steady even if her breath wasn’t. “I think I’ll be keeping you on a leash.”

Harry’s smirk sharpened as he glanced at her legs, then up to her eyes. “God, that’s hot. Say more things like that.”

“Harry.” Eyes like darts hit him before she moved her own knight, to which he bit his lip. He hadn’t been pay attention, and that was clear before he needed to make a more strategic move.

He moved without hesitation, sliding his queen across the board until it landed with a soft click far too close for comfort.

“Check,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lily stilled, her eyes flicking to the board, then back to him. “You're kidding. Shit.”

Harry’s fingers trailed around the rim of his water glass, slow and deliberate as she turned her eyes from the game to him then.

“Am I? Because if I win… I think I’ll start by kissing your thighs. Just above the hem of these little shorts you’re sporting.”

Her breath hitched at his words, almost like they were a kiss of breath. She glanced down at her lap as though realizing for the first time how much skin she’d shown.

When she looked back up, his gaze was already there.

“And then I’ll ask,” he continued, leaning in just a little closer – he was trying to get into her head so he could win, “if you want me to keep going. Or if you’d rather just watch me lose my mind because you’re being such a tease.”

“You’re cheating,” she said, breath catching as she shook her head to get into the game again. She had to win now; she couldn’t have him getting away with this.

He raised his brows, shaking his head. “Nope. Just thinking ahead. Like any good strategist would.”

Lily flushed but kept her composure. Her hand hovered over a knight, then moved it swiftly, landing with a firm, clean snap.

“Check,” she said, daring him with her eyes.

Harry blinked, leaned in like he didn’t quite believe it, then exhaled through his nose. “Well, well. You’ve got me in quite a pickle here, love.”

Inching forward on her knees, holding herself up on her elbows above the game, closing the distance between them. The tips of their noses were just inches apart now. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You just didn’t notice because you were too busy staring at my mouth.”

He stared at her lips for one second too long.

“Oh, I noticed,” he said, his voice rawer now. “I’m just trying to think ahead for when I win, what I’ll get for it, that’s all.”

She froze. Her cheeks turned crimson, her hands going still in her lap.

Then, she whispered, “But, what if I do?”

Harry stopped breathing for a moment. His eyes locked on hers, the air between them tight and electric. His hand reached out slowly, placing a piece before his eyes darted back to her.

Lightning flashed outside, illuminating her profile in pale silver as if in response to his daring move. The crack of thunder followed with a low, distant roar that shook the apartment windows.

Lily stared at the board like it could give her answers, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

“You’re stalling,” Harry said, his voice soft and amused.

“I’m thinking,” she replied, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her as she tried to give him the best poker face.

He leaned forward again, dragging his gaze across her throat, her collarbone, down to where her hoodie hung loose over one shoulder. “It’s part of my charm. Verbal misdirection. Seduction tactics. I have layers.”

“You’re insufferable.”

He shrugged, the shirt pulling on his biceps. “And yet you’re half a second from climbing over this board and proving me right.”

“I’m half a second from destroying you,” she said, moving another piece deliberately.

He looked. Then smiled slowly. “God, that’s also hot. You’re ruthless when you play dirty.”

Harry shifted again, slow and catlike, stretching his legs out with deliberate ease as he leaned back on his palms. His shirt clung across his chest, the motion flexing the line of muscle in his arms, veins visible beneath the skin. It was effortless and sharp at once, and Lily caught herself watching the way his fingers flexed against the rug like he was resisting the urge to move toward her.

His voice was low and teasing, but there was a new weight in it now—something thick, laced with want. “What happens if I win the next game?”

Lily’s eyes narrowed, but her pulse betrayed her, jumping hard in her throat. She tried to hold onto a thread of composure. “We haven’t finished this one.”

He didn’t blink. Just tilted his head and gave her a look that could’ve set the entire board between them on fire—steady, heated, and too-intimate. His gaze dropped, slowly, down to her bare knees folded beneath her and back up to her mouth. The air between them buzzed.

“Just planning ahead,” he murmured, tongue licking over his lips. “You’re the slow burn type.”

Her breath caught. She rolled her eyes, but the pink blooming beneath her cheeks gave her away instantly. She was glowing from the inside out. “Is that a compliment?”

Harry didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he shifted forward on his elbows, the dim lamp casting his jawline into shadow. He watched her like he was about to devour every inch of her quiet—then said, voice dropping to something barely above a rasp: “It’s the highest one I’ve got to give.”

“You’re all soft gasps,” he continued, each word dragging heat across her skin, “and coiled tension and the tiniest sounds when I touch you just right. You act like you’re not asking for it, but your body language says it all.”

Lily’s hands trembled. Her knees dug into the rug beneath her, but she barely noticed. Her breath came unevenly now, and she couldn’t bring herself to look away from him. His stare held her there like a magnet. Still trying to pretend at composure, she pushed a piece forward. The sound of it on the board felt too loud, too final.

“Your turn,” she managed out, wondering how the game of chess had turned into a game of cat and mouse.

Harry didn’t move right away. His eyes had shifted now—less teasing, more reverent. Something unguarded flickered in his expression, like he was fighting between the game and what was happening underneath it. He looked at the board, then at her.

His fingers twitched at his side, but he kept them still. Instead, he leaned closer, eyes scanning her like he was reading every sharp edge and soft corner. Then, with slow precision, he made his move. Lily didn’t speak; she didn’t have to.

She reached for her queen, the pads of her fingers brushing the carved edge like it was glass. She lifted it and placed it down with the quietest, most lethal sound she could make.

Tap.

“Checkmate.”

Harry didn’t move. He sat perfectly still as if her voice had frozen something inside him. The rain outside had softened to a hush, like even the sky was stunned into silence. His eyes flicked to the queen, then to her face—lips parted, breath shallow, gaze full of something unreadable.

“No,” he said, breathless and barely laughing. “That’s illegal. I’ve been seduced into defeat.”

Lily beamed, her smile slow and wicked as it overtook her flushed features. “Nope,” she said. “Just outplayed.”

Harry exhaled like he couldn’t take it. “You cheated,” he muttered, voice hoarse, eyes still locked on hers. “With your mouth. And your thighs.”

She leaned forward slowly, closing the final inches between them until their noses almost brushed. Her voice dropped to a whisper, “Someone’s a sore loser.”

“Christ, Lily,” he groaned. Harry let out a sharp, strangled laugh—half disbelief, half desperation—and dragged a hand through his curls, tipping his head back.

She crawled around the board slowly, carefully—not like she was teasing him, but like she was still figuring out whether her body could be that bold. Her knees nudged gently against his thighs before she eased herself into his lap, featherlight, like she didn’t quite believe she had permission to be there until his hands came to rest on her hips.

His thumbs traced absent, grounding circles over the fabric of her shorts as she settled, still and quiet, hands pressed gently to his chest. He was so solid beneath her, muscles coiled under skin, breath just a bit too slow like he was trying to keep himself from reacting too quickly.

Her heart thudded against her ribs, but she tilted her chin and looked at him, nervous, but not backing down.

“I believe…” The way that she murmured was barely above a whisper, “I won the right to tell you how I want you tonight.”

His hands gripped just a little tighter at her hips, like he was holding onto restraint by the thinnest thread. His eyes searched hers, begging her to volley with his wittiness and eagerness.

“And how’s that?”

Lily swallowed, her lashes fluttering as she dropped her gaze to his collarbone, her fingers tracing a slow, trembling line along the edge of his shirt.

“I don’t know exactly,” She was so sure but so unsure of how to ask. “But I want to… try. I want it to be slower this time. But not soft. Just… different.”

His chest rose sharply beneath her hands, and she dared a glance at his face again. Harry’s eyes were wide and burning, like her words had reached straight into his chest and cracked something open.

“M'kay,” He breathed out, biting his lip. “I can work with that.”

She smiled—small and shy and impossibly lovely—and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. It was careful, unsure, but full of intent. When he didn’t move—just sat perfectly still beneath her—she kissed him again. Fuller this time. Her mouth brushing over his like she was testing how close she could get before she melted into him entirely. Her hands flattened over his chest, not searching this time, just feeling.

Heat pooled in her stomach as she adjusted in his lap, her hips shifting without thinking, slow and unsteady like they had before. This time, he didn’t stop her, he let her.

Harry let out a breath like he’d been holding it in all night.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he grumbled, voice ragged against her lips.

She hesitated for only a second before whispering, and narrowing her brows at him with blame, “You started it.”

That broke something loose in him—he laughed, soft and wrecked, and kissed her again, this time with just enough hunger to make her gasp. Her fingers slipped into his hair, tentative but needing. She rocked once more accidental, but very much not, and Harry pulled back with a low, guttural groan, his hands flying to her waist like a lifeline.

Instead of answering, she bent down and kissed his neck—slow, warm, her mouth brushing the sensitive skin beneath his ear. She nipped, then soothed the spot with her tongue, and he shuddered beneath her.

“I need to hear you say it,” he said, his voice wrecked now. “Tell me you want it.”

She leaned back, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed, and looked him in the eye with her forehead pressed to his.

“I want this,” she said. “I want you.”

His exhale was audible—part disbelief, part reverence. But he still didn’t move.

“You’re sure?” he asked again, his hands frozen on her hips, like if he let them roam, he might lose all control. He flexed his fingers in almost an aching way. “Because I swear to God, the second I let go, I’m not going to be able to pretend I don’t want to keep you like this forever.”

Lily smiled softly, and then—without speaking—she lifted the hem of her hoodie and tugged it over her head, tossing it somewhere behind her to reveal that there had been nothing underneath. Harry’s breath punched out of him, his hands gripping her thighs now like he was trying not to fall apart right there on the rug.

“Jesus Christ, Lily.”

She just leaned in again, kissing him deeper, more insistent on what she really wanted. And when his mouth opened under hers, his restraint snapped—but only just. He kissed her like he meant to unravel her. Like she was the answer to every sharp edge he’d ever carried. His hands finally moved, up her sides, over the curve of her back, palms broad and reverent, holding her like she was both precious and powerful.

“You’re everything,” His breath was hot as he breathed into her mouth, nipping lightly at her lips as he did so, making her giggle, “You know that?”

She kissed him harder in response, pressing her chest to his as his hands slid beneath the waistband of her shorts, slow, testing the boundary line that neither of them had crossed before. She shifted in his lap again, letting out a quiet moan when she felt how hard he was beneath her.

“Fuck,” he breathed, head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut. “We need to slow down. I have to—”

She rocked against him again, firmer now, grounding herself there, and grabbed his face between her hands. He still didn’t move for a second as if feeling the internal struggle that she continued to test of him. Like he needed to feel her say it again with her body. And she did—reaching between them, helping him out of his shirt, kissing the ink over his heart, then his throat, then his mouth again like she couldn’t get enough of him.

“Please,” she whispered, mouth hot against his jaw. “No stopping this time.”

And with that, the game was over.

Harry held onto her tightly before throwing her around, her back hitting the rug as he turned them over. Her breath escaping her at his sudden roughness that made her back arch into softness of the rug. The rug beneath them was rough but grounding, a scrape of texture against the softness of her thighs as she lay back, her body still buzzing from the way he’d kissed her.

Thunder grumbled outside, low and distant, like the sky was holding its breath.

Harry hovered over her, braced on one elbow, eyes raking slowly down her body like he didn’t know where to touch first – he felt like this was his first time and everything was new and exciting again. His free hand was spread across her stomach, warm and steady, thumb tracing over the faint line of her ribs. It was such a relief to have someone who wanted to listen to him; to keep it slow and to allow there to be such intimacy in a moment.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” His eyes drifted down her long torso that had practically opened for him; watching as her chest fill and emptied with every breath, “Lying here like this for me.”

Lily swallowed, cheeks flushed, her fingers curling into the fabric of the rug before she moved her right hand to pull at the hair on the nape of his neck.

“I’ve thought about this,” he went on, dragging his hand, dancing his fingers between her breasts, over her collarbone, to cradle her jaw. “Every night since you walked into my shop. I used to wonder what you'd sound like underneath me,” he whispered almost like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to speak out loud, “How you'd taste when you stop trying to be polite.”

She made a quiet, involuntary sound that she wasn’t even sure if she recognized, and Harry smiled—slow with the devilish feeling of sin, like he was unwrapping something delicate and unearthly.

“You like that?” Harry asked, his voice low and gravel-smooth, each word dragging along her skin like a slow flame that burned each inch of her. He nodded slightly, coaxing, his eyes locked on her face. “You like when I talk to you like this?”

Lily turned her head, her cheeks flushed so brightly it spread down her throat. She tried to hide in the crook of her arm, but he followed, chasing her retreat with his mouth—kissing her cheek, her jaw, the delicate spot just beneath her ear where her pulse thudded.

“You get so shy,” his voice was so soft, but set an electricity that made her ache.

“But you don’t stop me.” He kissed lower, the words barely a breath against her skin. “You don’t want me to stop.”

“No,” she whispered, the word barely a thread of sound. “No, no, no.”

He groaned into her neck, like her voice alone unraveled him. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Then his lips found hers again—hotter this time, deeper, slower. His hand slipped lower, between her thighs, fingers sliding deliberately beneath the waistband of her underwear, exploring with pressure instead of permission. Her breath caught, her body opening for him instinctively, hips tilting in invitation as she pushed herself into him. She was already soaked for him, dripping in anticipation, but he loved the long game.

Harry broke the kiss with a sharp exhale, dropping his head to her shoulder like he needed a second to breathe her in.

“Fuck, Lily,” he nipped at her neck, knowing he left a mark – God, he loved leaving her marked.

His fingers moved again—gentler now, more curious than greedy. He found her rhythm, learned it in seconds, and when he brushed right where she needed it, she gasped, her hips jolting in a need she had forgotten about. Her hands flew to the rug beside her, grasping for something solid.

“Look at me,” he said, and his voice was commanding now, but not harsh in any means.

Her eyes fluttered open. His face hovered just above hers so wrecked and beautiful, jaw tight, lips parted, but his eyes—his eyes were steady, dark with focus and want.

“I want to hear you when I do this,” His fingers circled her clit now, slow, devastating. “I want to know exactly how good I make you feel.”

She moaned—soft and sweet at first, her hand flying up to stifle it. Harry caught her wrist, gently but firm enough that made her gasp – almost choking a sob.

“No,” he said, tugging her hand away and pressing it above her head, stretching her out. “I want you loud for me, baby. So fucking loud when I touch you.”

She shuddered at the command, the praise, the sheer gravity of his attention. He wasn’t just touching her—he was watching her unravel, mouth parted like he was memorizing every sound, every twitch of her body beneath his hands.

“I’m gonna take my time with you,” he whispered, kissing down her shoulder, her collarbone as he watched the way that her nipples hardened as his mouth breathed cooly over them, “Gonna play with you until you’re begging for it. Gonna keep you on this floor until you forget how to say anything but my name, you understand?”

“Harry,” she gasped, hips rolling into his hand now, voice high and broken.

“I’ve got you,” he said, kissing her again, the heat of his voice was radiating through her, practically pumping the blood flow of her heart, “You just stay open for me. That’s it. Just like that. So fucking good.”

Her thighs trembled, the muscles in her stomach tightening as he slid her underwear down her thighs so slowly, kissing his way down her legs as he went. He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her knee until she was breathless and shaking beneath him. His eyes tried to memorize the way that she laid along his floor, fully on display for him.

“Fuck,” he breathed out in a haze, pushing his hair on his forehead; the hunger in his made him feel ravished, practically growling as he pushed her knees apart. He could tell that she was tensing, waiting for him to come back to her.

His fingers found their way back to her, spreading her with two as he stared at the way that her head pushed to arch her back, gasping in a fit of need.

Harry moved down, his mouth attaching to hip as his eyes flew to her reaction. Shaking hands wrapped around his curls, almost like she was scared of his reaction to being touched as he let his fingers push inside of her – warm and tight. So tight.

When his mouth finally replaced his fingers, his tongue dragging slow, deliberate strokes against her, she cried out—a raw, desperate sound—and he groaned against her in response. His hands gripped her thighs like he needed to ground himself, to feel her coming apart in his arms. And still—he didn’t rush. Every time she got close, every time her breath caught, and her body tightened, he eased back just enough to draw it out.

It was never to tease or to play games. To worship her. To show her what it meant to be wanted with patience.

“You’re already falling apart for me,” he said against her skin, spitting directly on her as she gasped. Smearing his spit and her wetness together against his fingers, he practically came right then and there.

His eyes flew up to her, “You want more?”

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice trembling, shaking as she could feel herself starting to lose control but every time she started, he stopped and it only made her want to cry – she wanted it so bad.

Harry demanded more, “Say it.”

“I want more—please, Harry.”

“Mm,” He wanted to tease her – to embarrass her just a bit. “You don’t want my fingers, do you? You want more?” He nodded, trying to get her to push herself, “Tell me what you really want.”

Lily fidgeted on the rug, practically mewling at his words. Her face was flushed as she tried to cover herself, but his hands moved her arms again as he came face to face with her again.

“You want to be fucked, don’t you, angel?” He swallowed as he blinked a few times, wondering if he was pushing a boundary too hard, “I’ll give you my cock, but only if you say please.”

Lily gasped, her breath making the skin against her ribs tighten, “Please – God, Harry, please.”

The storm outside had quieted to a gentle patter against the windows, but inside, the air was thick with something louder than thunder—want, built slow and careful over weeks, finally breaking open between them like a held breath let go.

He kissed her deeply then, tasting every part of her mouth like he needed it to breathe. His body fit perfectly between her thighs, warm and heavy, the press of him against her core enough to draw a soft gasp from her lips. It made him groan—a quiet, wrecked sound, and he pressed his forehead to hers.

Lily arched into him, her hands skimming down his back, nails dragging lightly over skin, and he shivered from the contact. She’d never seen him like this—undone, desperate, but still so careful. Like holding himself back was the price of having her.

“You’re shaking,” she whispered.

“I’ve never wanted someone like this,” he shook his head. “It’s driving me out of my fucking mind, like I may need to be sent away after this.”

He worshiped her with his mouth and hands, slow and reverent, every sigh and gasp she gave him another thread snapping in his chest. Her thighs around his waist, her breath on his neck, the way she moaned his name like a secret—it nearly broke him.

Harry pushed his own sweats down, letting himself free of the practical torture. Lily’s thighs practically captured him, pulling him towards her as they fit together, Harry hovered above her, breath shallow, eyes dark and tender as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead. His thumb lingered at her temple, like she was something delicate and precious—not because she was fragile, but because she was giving him something no one else had earned.

“What do you need?” He asked against her, “Condom?”

Shaking her head, she blinked at the ceiling, wondering if she was really on earth any longer.

“N-No,” She swallowed, “We don’t – we don’t need one, if you don’t – I mean.”

The stuttering made him smirk, shaking his head as he pulled his lips into his mouth.

“No,” he shook his head, “I mean, I’m clean – I just meant - ”

“IUD,” Lily breathed out, feeling the weight of the small conversation that hadn’t been had. Not that it killed the heat of the moment, but Harry just nodded with confirmation to ensure that she was taken care of.

“Oh, sick,” his lopsided smile made her heart flutter, “So, I mean, theoretically,” He licked his lips, holding himself over her, one arm bent and the other pushed up, “Should I pull out? Like… I mean, do you…”

Lily blinked at him, shaking her head as she thought of it, “I… I don’t think I mind. I’ve never had someone… like, inside.” She bit her lip, knowing that it was trembling as she used her shaking hand to move some hair from her face.

“Really?” Harry asked, biting the inside of his cheek, “I mean, I don’t know… if you realized, but I do have a thing. About like,” Lily noticed the faint hint of color that may have been spreading on his cheeks now, “Marking.”

Lily swallowed, breathing heavy before she cleared her throat, “Um, like, I’m yours?”

“You’re so fucking mine,” Harry stifled a breath of a laugh before he shook his head, letting his mouth fall back down onto hers, “Fucking love marking you, baby. Mine, all mine.”

His body aligned with hers, skin with skin, the space between them shrinking until there was nothing left untouched. Everything moved slowly, deliberately—like they were memorizing the moment, not just physically, but in every breath, every shared glance, every heartbeat echoing between their ribs.

When he began to move, there was no rush. Just a gentle give and take, a rhythm born from trust and quiet longing. Lily gasped, a sound caught between surprise and surrender, and Harry stilled as he pressed himself in, letting his cock take every inch of her.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “Just feel me. That’s all I want.”

Her hands clutched at his back, and she nodded, her body adjusting to him, inviting him in piece by piece. Every movement from him was careful, attentive, like he was listening to her body as closely as her words. And when her hips moved to meet his, when her breath hitched in time with his, something unspoken passed between them—an understanding, a vow made in silence.

It had been a while for both of them - since either of them had been intimate like this. Lily couldn't remember a time that she had felt so worshipped, so looked at. Harry couldn't remember a time when he cared so much about the person underneath him; it made his heart spiral in a frenzy of haze.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, barely able to form the words. “So fucking soft, baby. Fuck.”

She pulled him back to her mouth with trembling fingers, her eyes wide and heavy with want.

Their bodies moved together in rhythm, matched breath for breath, sigh for sigh. And when she started to tremble beneath him, clutching at his shoulders, he talked her through it—whispering her name, telling her how beautiful she looked, how perfect she felt, how much he needed her.

The room had heat and breath and the sound of skin meeting skin in a fervent, terrifying need. Every inch of them slick with sweat and want, tangled in each other like they didn’t remember where he ended, and she began.

Harry was moving deeper now, slower, but harder—like every thrust was significant and laced with a drug so addicting that he couldn’t stop if the room was on fire, like he wanted to make her feel it days from now. His voice was wrecked in her ear, low and constant, a stream of words that curled around her spine like smoke.

“God, Lily—fuck, you feel like heaven,” He struggled to practically breath as he felt her hips meet his,; he sat up for a moment, pulling himself out of her where he heard a bit of a reaction from her. “This pussy could make me religious."

Her fingers clutched at his shoulders, nails dragging over his back in jagged little lines that only made him groan louder. She couldn’t speak, it was like someone had taken her sound and replaced it with breath.

"You... feel so good," Lily murmured out, practically no voice left in her. The small vocals made Harry's ear perk up, like it was enough to keep him going.

“You’re so—tight, baby, so fucking good—taking me so well. So sweet. So fucking sweet.”

She whimpered beneath him, body shaking in an adrenaline high, breath catching with every roll of his hips. And still, he kept talking, kept praising her like he couldn’t get enough.

“You were made for this. For me. You hear me? This perfect little body—fuck.”

Her thighs tightened around him, and her breath stuttered, the pressure building like a crescendo she couldn’t quite name. Harry saw it—felt it. His hands cradled her face, eyes locked on hers like he needed her to look at him when she broke.

“That’s it,” he whispered, lips brushing hers. “Let me see it. Let me hear it. Don’t hold back now, baby—give it to me.”

She gasped, high and desperate like she was about to cry, but Harry knew that it was just pushing her to the limit. “Harry—”

Her voice shattered into a cry as the wave crashed over her, her back arching, hips locking around him, her entire body burning and trembling and opening. It was an all-encompassing need that her body clung to him to stabilize her high to the tallest degree.

And he lost it. Harry groaned, deep and broken, his forehead pressed to hers, his rhythm stuttering as he chased the feeling of her falling apart beneath him.

“Jesus—Lily, I’m—fuck, I’m right there, baby—don’t stop looking at me—don’t stop—”

He came with a ragged moan, his entire body felt like he was flat-lining, chest heaving against hers like something sacred had broken loose inside him. His hands shook where they gripped her hips. His mouth found hers again, wild and uncoordinated, but desperate—hungry for her even now. Her hands wrapped around him tightly to keep him as close to her as physically possible.

They stilled together, bodies wrecked and breathing each other in like air. Lily blinked up at him through heavy lashes, her chest still rising and falling in shallow waves. Harry was staring at her like he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life, and the angels from heaven had come down to get him.

“God fucking damnit,” He breathed out without realization that his entire bodily pressure was laying and pressing Lily completely. She felt the safeness and the gratitude, wanting to be buried like this forever. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. Smiled—slow and dazed with a stare so lost in space that she could barely understand what was happening around her. “I’ve never been better.”

He exhaled, lifting up just a bit to get a better look at her underneath him. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Me either.”

Harry brushed his thumb along her cheek, watching her as if he still couldn’t believe she was real. Lily felt the urge to smile, but her candor was sleepy and wrecked and glowing.

“I feel like the rug might be embedded in my spine now.” She muttered out, laughing just a bit as she tucked some of Harry’s curls behind his ear.

Harry laughed, pulling her closer. “I’ll buy you a new spine, if that’s what you need.”

She closed her eyes and tucked her head under his chin, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel scared. She felt chosen.

Maneuvering themselves, Harry finally felt the need to reposition them, laying on his own back as he stared at the ceiling with her. Lily moved instantly to lay next to him, cuddling up to rest her head on his chest as he pulled her close.

They lay tangled on the rug, breaths slowing, bodies slick with the warm aftermath of what felt like a lifetime compressed into a few hours. Lily’s head rested against Harry’s chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat a quiet comfort against the storm still murmuring outside. Harry’s fingers traced lazy circles along her spine, his touch featherlight now, as if afraid to break the fragile bubble they’d built around themselves.

Eventually, he murmured out, “You know, I think I’m going to have rug burn.”

Lily lifted her head, blinking up at him with a tired smile. “Rug burn?”

He grinned, a crooked, breathless smile. “Yeah. This little rug? It’s seen more of us than any piece of furniture should.”

She laughed quietly, the sound light and warm in the hush. “You’re ridiculous.”

The room was dim and golden, all corners softened by the warm spill of the lamp and candle that had started to flicker with the burnt down wick. Rain still kissed the windows, quieter now, more like a lullaby than a storm. Their clothes were scattered in lazy pieces across the floor as Harry and Lily tried their best to redress themselves.

Lily started to stir first, her skin flushed, her hair damp with sweat and curling at her temples. He started to feel her shift a bit in the quietness, and as he looked over at her, she started to lift her head.

“I should go to clean up,” her voice hoarse and quiet, her fingertips brushing at his collarbone as she lifted on her arm.

Harry groaned softly, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her elbow. “Can’t believe you want to move. I was hoping we’d just fuse to the carpet.”

She laughed—sleep starting to become more of a need than just a want, still breathless. “I don’t think your back would survive it.”

“You’re not wrong,” he muttered, rolling onto his side with a sigh, carefully untangling their legs.

Lily sat up slowly, her body aching in that good, golden way. She reached for the shirt he’d discarded earlier and tugged it over her head before padding barefoot down towards the small bathroom, her silhouette briefly lit by the hallway light as she disappeared into the bathroom without another glance.

Harry watched her go, arms folded under his head, eyes soft and dazed. There was something in the way she moved—still a little shy, a little unsure, but comfortable now. Like she wasn’t afraid to take up space in his home anymore. He sat up with a groan, grabbed a blanket off the nearby chair, and tossed it over the rumpled rug before pushing himself up and stretching. His muscles ached in all the right ways, but his mind had already drifted to his bedroom.

He had put his sweatpants back on, starting to get ready for bed by making sure the door was locked, the windows were shut, the lights were off. He flicked off the last lamp on his way down the hall, the apartment falling into quiet shadows behind him.

By the time he reached the bedroom with two cups of tea, Lily was already there.

She stood near the window, back to him, gazing out at the rain-slicked city. She wore only his shirt—long on her frame, hem brushing the tops of her thighs—and a pair of pale cotton panties. Her damp hair clung to the back of her neck, and the faint curve of her bare legs were decently on display.

Harry stopped in the doorway. His breath caught as he just stared and admired.

It wasn’t because she was half-naked, but because she looked like she belonged there. In his shirt. In his space. Like a painting he wasn’t supposed to touch but he had somehow been invited into. Lily turned slightly, noticing him. Her lips curved, soft and self-conscious.

“What?” Was all she could muster to say as she bit on her lip in a way that made Harry’s eyes glow with significant admiration.

Harry blinked and shook his head, he could barely look anywhere but forward like he was afraid she’d disappear if he even looked to the side.

“Nothing,” He answered, “Nothing at all.”

She flushed, tugging at the hem of his shirt, suddenly bashful again. Harry crossed the room in a few slow steps and reached her to set her tea down on the bedside table then. She laughed as he tugged her gently onto the mattress, both of them sinking into the sheets in a tangle of tired limbs and lingering heat.

Wrapped in his shirt, tucked against his chest, Lily felt something settle inside her—a hum, a knowing, like she’d finally found where she was meant to land. Harry pressed a kiss to her temple, his fingers sliding into hers beneath the blanket.

“I was scared of this,” she whispered, her voice low and vulnerable in the hush.

“Of what?” Harry asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“This kind of closeness. Letting someone see everything. It’s... it used to feel dangerous.”

He was quiet for a moment, one hand stroking the soft skin at the small of her back.

Then, he opened up, a completely different thought coming acrossed him, “You ever read The Little Prince?”

Lily tried to think, shrugging a little bit as she thought, “Not since I was a kid, I don’t think.”

“Well, there’s a line in it that stayed with me,” he told her. “‘One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye.’”

He went on, voice softer now. “I didn’t really understand it when I first read it. But now, I think it means that the things that matter most aren’t what people show you. It’s what they try to hide. And when someone lets you see that... it means everything,” He turned his head, eyes laying on her as she looked back at him. “Reminded me of you, I guess.”

She looked up at him then, eyes shining.

“That’s what you did,” he said. “You let me see you. And I’ll never take that lightly.”

She didn’t respond with words. She just kissed him—slow, deep, and filled with everything she didn’t know how to say, showing him that not only did she see him, she felt him – every inch of him with a certainty that made her scared to death and hopeful all at once.

***

A Few Weeks Later.

It was a Friday afternoon when Lily decided to walk back into the shop. The bell over the tattoo shop door gave a soft jingle as Lily stepped inside, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets, heart thudding despite the knowledge of who was inside and who she was there to see.

Harry looked up from behind the counter, caught mid-sketch of another project he had been asked to create, his curls tied up messily in a clip that he had been sporting for the longer hair, and another pencil tucked behind one ear. His glasses had started to slide down his nose before he lifted his eyes to look up at who had come in.

“Well, well, well,” he said, that lopsided grin, the one that always started in his eyes before it reached his mouth was on full display. “If it isn’t my favorite distraction.”

Lily shrugged, trying to play it cool, though her pulse betrayed her. “Thought I’d come in for something permanent.”

His brow arched at the confidence she wore; so different than she had looked when she previously stood there. “What – you here for another tattoo?”

She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a small, carefully folded piece of paper, shaking it in front of him. It looked fragile somehow creased but smoothed out, like she'd been carrying it with intention. She held it out with quiet fingers.

Harry took it from her without a word, unfolding it slowly. His thumb traced the edge of the paper unconsciously as his eyes scanned the familiar handwriting. And then he felt himself start to chuckle, start to shake his head before he looked back up at her and then down at the paper.

The quote sat in the center of the page like something sacred.

One sees clearly only with the heart.

The room went quiet, except for the low hum of the shop lights and the rain sliding down the windows. Harry didn’t speak right away. His expression softened, all of his usual wit and casual confidence falling away, stripped bare in the span of a heartbeat.

He looked up at her, blinking like he was seeing her in a new light. “Lily…”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting slightly under the weight of his gaze. “I want it here,” she said softly, reaching to touch the inside of her left arm—just below the bend of her elbow. “Just small. Simple. Just for me.”

She paused, then added, “But I want it to come from you, of course.”

Something flickered across his face—something deep and quiet and unspoken. He glanced down at the quote again, then back at her, as if trying to be sure he’d really heard her right.

“You know what this means, right?” he asked, voice hoarse with more than just surprise. She nodded, eyes steady despite the way her fingers curled in her coat pocket.

“Well, to me, it means I see you too.”

And just like that, all the air seemed to shift between them; thicker now, heavier with meaning. The kind of meaning that didn’t need to be spoken to be understood. Harry stepped around the counter, sleeves pushed up, falling into a space of pure obsession and completely on a different planet. There had always been a part of him that knew that he would find this, but when he looked at her, he realized how much of him had been waiting for someone like her all along.

No teasing. No smirk. Just his fingers sliding into hers—timid but foundational, warm but alive, and there.

“Let’s make it permanent, then.” he told her, nodding. Without another word, Harry gripped her hand into his, pulling her back to his work station – back to where it all began.

Back to where he knew he was in love. And to be loved, is to be seen.

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