#if only it were me. if i only i died in a fire
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I used to work at the zoo, and one time, a gorilla died of old age
Problem was, it was the only gorilla in the zoo because it wasn’t very profitable. The gorilla was by far the most popular attraction, and they couldn’t afford to go a single day without it.
So the zoo owner came up to me and said, "For an extra $100 a day, do you want to put on this gorilla costume until we can afford a new one?"
Of course, I said yes.
Pretty quickly, I became the biggest hit at the zoo. Everyone wanted to see the human-like gorilla.
About a month later, the craze started to die down, but they kept pressuring me to get people’s attention again. So, in a desperate attempt, I climbed over to where the lions were and started hanging off the net.
Suddenly, this massive crowd gathered, and everyone looked terrified. I could feel my grip slipping — I couldn't hold on any longer. I started screaming, "Help! Help!" — and then I fell.
The lion rushed toward me, and just as I thought it was over, he leaned in and whispered, "Shut the fuck up before we all get fired."
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All blood is black in the night
Pairing: Avis Amberg x reader
Summary: You had caught her eye long ago. So pretty and pure, a strange thing for her to find in a line of work as was showbiz, and she was going to make sure she had you. No matter what. Not even if there was a rune marking you as someone else's property.
Warnings: smut (+18), swearing, oral (Avis receiving), oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), tit play, spanking, strap ons, blood, vampires, lingerie, hair pulling, biting, power play, Dom/Sub, marking, magic...
Author's note: I saw @anthewitch 's drawing of Avis as a vampire with Lilia and just coudnl't help myself. I'm sorry it took me so long to write it when I promised it would come out soon, but situations happened (I'm better now), and I wanted it to be good. I hope that you all like it and as always, be gentle but tell me if I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking in something. I also accept ideas and suggestions that you might have. Available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Avis Amberg.
Shoutout to @bravewithacapitalb for being my beta reader. I LOVE MY WIFE!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️To @p2pecleanerwitheyes for being helping out when I needed her and for making the collage. LOVE YOU!!!!❤️❤️❤️ And to @anthewitch for the drawing of Avis that's in the middle of the collage. ITS GORGEOUS!!!
Word count: 28 K (As an apology)

All blood is black in the night
The smoke in the air was thick, like a dark fog that carried souls in silent parade through the streets, moaning and crying for release that would never come, only pain and an eternal wish that would never be heard. It was utterly delicious to taste such despair and fear lacing through the puffs that came out of her nostrils and mouth, like a dragon that’s ready to set fire to the entire world, to feast on the terror of all those small insignificant beings that walked past her as time stood still. The horrid and bright lights of the lampposts outside her office only increased her need for darkness, to be one with the shadows, to feel the adrenaline coursing through her bloodless veins until her dead heart pounded against her chest in anticipation, or perhaps to lazily stroll through streets that led nowhere simply to feel the sting of heat and cold against her skin for an instant. What a curse it was to be eternally beautiful and yet to be doomed to seek that which was not hers ever to have to calm her ever-growing thirst as she tumbled around the world as if it belonged to her. The ashes from her cigarette fell slowly onto the ground by her feet, swaying and breaking apart before collapsing on the floor like a sandcastle of consumed lives, like embers that were flashing their last orange flames before being snatched away by death, forgotten by the world, but not Avis. Never Avis.
She was a patient woman, someone who always got what she wanted and never apologised for getting it, but even with her perfection there was one detail she despised above everything else, her one and only regret. Decades past by, humans died and were born and from all those people that grew and crossed her path she could only feast of the bodies of men and the languid and virginal bodies of women, pretty dainty things untouched, unblemished by sin, an occurrence that was diminishing her supply of blood as the decades went by, as her cigarette became nothing between her perfect red lips. But even in her patience Avis was a powerful being, something far more impressive and important than those boys Ernie so willingly provided for her to satiate her hunger for passion and sex as much as her hunger for their flesh, and in that power she had bent rules and laws in her favour seeking something that up until a few months ago she had been unsure what it was. That smell, pure as the first specks of oxygen that had kissed the Earth, sweet as the first drops of honey that Spring brought, rich as the most expensive wine Avis had ever tasted, had welcomed her on a quiet and simply boring Monday morning, followed by the perfect image of a saint.
Hair neatly brushed and braided, cheeks rosy by the morning cold, not an inch of your skin spoilt in any way, pale and oh so enticing. The instant her oak eyes had landed on your form, hungry for everything that made you so utterly perfect, she had made it her mission to get you as close to her as possible, no matter what, not caring what others thought. She was a widow, a rich and gorgeous woman mature enough to know what she desired and how to get it, and stupid young kids who judged her with their fearful eyes wouldn’t stop her. She could make them all disappear in one long delicious rampage and get new people to work for her, after all Ace Studios was the best place in which to make ones, dreams come true. Or nightmares.
Every single detail had been set to lure you in, slowly drive you insane with lust until you begged her to take you but somehow everything had either failed or seemed to you like a lovely caring touch, a fact that had driven Avis insane with anger and frustration. Every single time your eyes had tenderly looked at her and thanked her only to totally miss the point had ended up with Avis fucking one of her boys to death. Literally. It wasn’t only the roughness with which she played with them, biting, scratching, choking them until they were on the verge of passing out as she rode them fast and hard, pouncing and fucking them until she was pleased, no matter how many times that could be, draining them until they were merely puppets in her perfectly manicured hands, her tongue licking every wound she had inflicted on their bodies, showing the gentleness she had foregone throughout the entire exchange until she grew tired of having them in her bed and quickly devoured them, blood staining her mouth and body as she let her lust and thirst mix in a perfect dance of sex and horror with which she satisfied herself one last time without fail.
But lately Ernie had been lacking boys that could withstand Avis’s energy, her body begging for blood, and yet she controlled herself, keeping tabs on you and making sure to get rid of any male eyes that fell on you, ripping them out without mercy, so angry that she had forgone her ritual and simply disposed of them. You might be too pure and innocent to notice her advances but everyone in that fucking place better know that you were hers or she would rip them all to pieces in the most gruesome sight of blood and flesh anyone could ever imagine. All for you. The cigarette in her lips had long died as she sat on her leather chair contemplating her options, thinking about what she was going to do with you because for the first time you had flirted, a giggle as sweet as anything Avis had ever had in her entire life and it would have been exquisite to let that sound fuck her under her clothes but it had not been directed at her. Some secretary or whatnot had caught your eye, and you had laughed at her mediocre jokes even when Avis was only a few feet from you, and that simple action, the sight of you all pure and saintly so close to the line of perversion was something she was not willing to take.
Between her index finger and her thumb, she put out the cigarette butt, the glass ashtray glinting under the horrid white lights, the entire office submerged in shadows that Avis longed to be in, to drag you with her and show you exactly where you belonged. To rip you from the “right” path and make sure you never forgot who your mistress was, your Goddess and the only person you should ever worship and sacrifice yourself to. Her acute hearing could make out the silence in the entire floor, the last person having left over ten minutes ago, making your little car one of the very few that were still in the lot, and therefore making it perfect for Avis to simply slip into your tiny cubicle and make a few suggestions. No, Avis thought as the plan formed in her head, her mind calculating and placing everything neatly in their rightful spot, hands pressed against each other as they rested against her lips, eyes narrowing and dilating. Suggestion shad been failing her in all these weeks, she would not waste any more energy on seemingly stupid seemly touches when it was clear your innocent mind was not picking on them. Time had always been on her side, but tonight it was an enemy, an hourglass that was running out of the thin and fine element, giving Avis the push she needed to turn the tables on her favour, to stop playing it safe and finally win the game.
After all the prize was far too sublime and tempting for her not to take it. Graceful as a tender April breeze she stood from her chair, her fingers tracing the edge of the wood of her desk as she rounded it, her black heels echoing against the walls with each step she took, the floor smooth under her soles. Even after she had finished her cigarette the air seemed to be foggy, filled with rivulets of thick smoke, or maybe it was the lust clouding her mind, she could not figure it out, not did she want to waste time on such a trivial task when there were far more important things to address, her eyes raking over every item in her office as she prepared herself for what was to be a delicious night. This room was a far cry from how it had looked when her husband had been alive, depressive, far too masculine for a man who could not keep up with Avis in the slightest, though she had made sure to keep a souvenir from him before his death, a tiny detail in a glass jar that hid in the depths of her desk. She had made sure he would never cheat on her again, watching in horrific delight the way his eyes widened in terror when she had ripped his dick off, basking in his pain and his despair before she grew tired of his screams. Oh, poor Mrs. Amberg who had to see her husband dead as she arrived home, crying fake tears and becoming the richest woman in the entire state in under a few hours. She had had half a mind to display her trophy, but it held more meaning for her where it rested.
She had not noticed the smile that had broken from her lips, dangerous, white teeth glinting under the mix of moonlight and lamplights, observing the trinkets she had been given throughout the decades, hoping to add you that her ever growing collection, although there was part of her that wanted to keep you for longer than she had with any other pet. Maybe if you proved yourself to her, you wouldn’t be a pet at all. Destiny seemed to be on her side tonight and had listened to her thoughts and pleas, as in a sudden and surprised move every light outside the lot turned off, a few sparks flying as if the electricity had suddenly spiked, pitch black darkness enfolding Avis and filling up every inch of the room, her body thriving in the feeling of the shadows that caressed her skin, her head lulled back in delight as her hands brushed against the sides of her body tasting the positively intoxicating flavour of secrets and filth that hid under the pretence of night. A predator can hunt better when its prey cannot see them, and a woman could give in to her pleasures when there are no unworthy eyes to observe her.
Her sense of hearing and smell weren’t the only thing that had improved since she had been turned decades ago, her vision had adapted and in the still of the night there was no soul she could not see, no poor unfortunate fool that she would not have, though she could grant you the tenderness that she never provided for anyone else if she so desired. A glass of scotch had been sitting on top of her desk for the last two hours as she planned, forgotten as the ice slowly melted, but now it was picked up and downed in one go, the burning sensation that travelled through her mouth and down her throat soothing the human doubts that sometimes would slither their way into her mind. Compassion, guilt, maybe even regret, but she was too old and too used to how cruel the world was to let anyone, not even her old self, make her feel bad for the things she had done and would continue doing. If she had been stripped of all her humanity against her will once upon a time, she would take advantage of it for her own gain not caring who got hurt. She could not die; it was of no concern to her what happened to those she sent on their merry way to Hell.
Picking up her purse and making her way to the big doors, she was sure to pick up her stole, draping it over her shoulder with one quick motion that fell perfectly over her clothes, like a rehearsed move that was meant to perhaps surprise someone, but in truth the only thing she wore to make people gasp, stumble on their words and beg for her permission to touch her was her underwear. Every morning, she dressed to fuck, then chose an outfit to kill and arranged herself to bewitch, and never had that process failed her. Humanity had failed her, and she was going to take revenge on them tonight. It was borderline delirious to see all those innocent faces filled with lust and agony when she undressed, when she gave them the opportunity to touch her, to please her, always under her command and never taking liberties, always showing Avis a good time. But it was even more sublime to see the terror when in all her naked glory, still sweaty and dripping cum onto the hotel bedsheets or her own Egyptian linens, she feasted on their sweet, tainted blood, almost as good as all the orgasms she drowned in.
The last time she had a boy had been three weeks prior, which was all the more reason why she was walking out of her office, locking the doors and heading towards the lift partially wondering if there had been a power outage and she would have to take the stairs. Thankfully the button turned on as she pressed it, leaving her standing there waiting, tracing every step of her master plan in her mind, imagining the moment she would make you hers, ruining your virginal body in ways only she could. What a sight it will be when she has the perfect mix of your blood and your arousal on her tongue, crimson rivers falling from her mouth and down her neck until they get smeared all over her chest and collarbones as she thrives in her lust, perhaps your blood even dripping from her nipples in slow teardrops as her naked body lays covered in that bright red liquid, Avis watching all that pristine skin marked by her lips in bruises and by her teeth in bites, forever tainted. Ruined. God, she could not wait to rip that angelic façade and find what depraved little creature laid underneath for her to fuck until you could not remember your own name. She had gone so long without a woman it was a visceral need now, raw, maddening, primeval, and she would show you.
You worked on the second floor, three doors down from the lift, right beside a council room that only her husband used to use, a boring, utterly hideous place that made her want to vomit every time she set foot in it. She had been meaning to remodel it, but her mind had been far too preoccupied by you and your obliviousness that it had slipped her mind, though after tonight she might have all the time in the world to think about such things. Once you were dealt with. From the lift she could make out the soft melodies of conversations, fading in the night as your heart pumped in a relaxed, steady rhythm, the only sound left in that entire floor, lights turned off except for the hallway that led to your tiny cubicle. She had thought of several ways in which to tackle this, from simply taking you without mercy over your desk to taking you to dinner, in a fake attempt to woo you, but after considering everything, she came to the conclusion, there was no need for such brutality nor such romance. If you gave yourself completely to her there would be plenty of time for both, but if you didn’t… Let’s just say that Avis knew how to inflict pain as much as she could give pleasure, and she would not hesitate to punish you if the opportunity arose.
Flickering fluorescent lights bathed her fiery hair in disgusting artificial beams that could not make justice to the sight of Avis under the sun, simply breathtaking in the morning light as dawn broke through the horizon taking all the monstrosities of the night with the last sparkling stars, but the moment in which your eyes had settled on her form, and had drank in every inch of her when she wasn’t looking, was at dusk. There was something so mysterious and perfect when the golden light of the evening dressed her body in melted silks of diamonds and rubies only to be dressed in a perpetual gown of darkness and moonlight moments after, every star in her eyes, every secret about to spill from her lips. You weren’t blind, you had seen her the moment you had set foot in this place, and a quiet voice had been telling you ever since that there was something more about Mrs. Amberg, something dangerous, something you could not quite pinpoint but that had you on the edge of your seat every time she talked with you which apparently was odd in itself.
This breathtaking woman, who filled the entire building with her presence, her confidence and her power, was giving her whole attention to you and no one else. Apparently seeing her around was a rare occurrence, a miracle some would say; she worked but never ate with the rest of the executives, never engaged in conversation with anyone but Mr. Samuels and Ms. Kincaid and kept pretty much to herself during the day. At night though Avis transformed into a completely different person. Rumours of deadly parties, of people that had crossed her and disappeared, of rituals she did to look as beautiful as she did spread like wildfire at the most random of times, and ever since you had arrived your name had floated through the halls like a curse. Avis Amberg didn’t give her sole attention to one person unless there was some sort of benefit she desired, people thought, a fact that wasn’t too far off from the truth, but Avis had had many virgins in her life and never had she met someone like you. A perfect and rare specimen that she would have for herself for all eternity, no one else allowed to claim your body and soul.
And part of you knew that. A small, tiny part of your brain that seemed to know what was going on but that it was far too small and quiet to be heard, warnings and pleas falling on deaf ears. You might have been oblivious to her advances, choosing to believe she was being kind instead of wanting to further your status from acquaintances to friends, or more, and as you worked alone at your desk you should have known that had been the mistake. You had been so engrossed in your typing, the clicking of the keys hitting the paper, echoing in the air, bouncing off the windows and closed doors as Avis’s footsteps were muffled by the carpeted floors, preventing you from hearing her approach you. But she could hear almost every cell in your body moving, your blood flowing and pumping through your veins making her mouth water, her tongue tracing the shape of her teeth, caressing her fangs gently in anticipation. She hadn’t felt such a thrill in a long time, and it was intoxicating to feel so ready to play, to wonder just how delicious you might be.
-Working late I see. – a quiet yelp escaped you, your hand rushing to your chest as your heart skipped a beat in fear at the interruption, the pencil you had had on your other hand slipping from your hand and rolling over your desk onto the ground, the sound soft as it collided with the tiles. Your head had jerked upwards to see Avis standing there, her hands toying with the fingers of her red gloves and she rested her body on the wall of your cubicle, her upper arm and shoulder pressed firmly over the smooth paint. You hadn’t seen her all day, almost missing her daily check-in before lunch or the random visits to observe you without uttering a word, just so her deep, rich eyes would fall on your form as her lips quirked into a wicked smile. – A pretty young thing like you should not be staying here, alone, at this time. Anyone could come in here and make indecent proposals to you, doll.
-I… Good evening, Mrs. Amberg. I… I was just finishing this report. I was going to leave in a few minutes.
-So much can happen in a few minutes. The night is a dangerous moment for any poor soul to be alone. – her body moved so slowly, her hips swaying from side to side as the fabric of her outfit hugged her figure, approaching your desk knowing perfectly that you would not run away. Never before had you seen clothes like this on her, a blouse bathed in black lace with a plunging neckline that allowed her black corselette underneath to peek through the red velvet. And as unusual as this outfit was, you could not say that the mix of black and red did not suit her. With each step the black velvet that draped over her legs, long and nearly brushing the ground, flowed like water around her curvy hips, pieces of rich oxblood red made out of translucent silk giving you glimpses of the skin underneath, of the nude stockings that covered her flesh. For a moment you thought that your mind was playing tricks on you, the roses embroidered on the skirt seeming to move in a sea of climbing flowers around her legs as the space between you became less and less, but it wasn’t that what made a red hue appear on your skin, it was the fact that through that silk, that beautifully expensive fabric, you could see the top of her stockings, the black lace that wrapped around her thigh and made your mind reel. Avis picked up like clockwork the way in which your once steady heart now beat nearly at double the speed, hammering against your ribs.
-It’s safe in here, and I don’t walk home Mrs. Amberg.
-Nowhere is truly safe doll. Has no one ever told you that?
-If it isn’t safe, why are you still here, ma’am?
-Because of pretty young things like you. Nothing can hurt me, but so many things can happen to you. – she was practically hovering over your desk, the embroideries around her breasts roses that had small rubies threaded in between them, like drops of blood that fell as one’s hands were prickled by the thorns. It was even more beautiful to see it so close, to almost feel the warm, soft fabric that hugged her waist, wishing you could undo the buttons on the front and see for yourself what truly hid underneath. Rumours had been floating around Hollywood for years of scars she carried, of images of deities she had imprinted on her skin, symbols that tainted her very soul and in your curious nature you wanted to see if she was unblemished and fair as you thought or if the world had been right all along. And if her freckled kissed skin was anything to go by, plump breasts begging to be released from in between their velvet and lace prison, you were pretty sure you had an early start on the race. The touch of her fingertips on your chin as she lifted your head slightly sent a jolt of electricity all throughout your body, but you didn’t dare move, didn’t dare speak, the contrast of her cold flesh on yours causing goosebumps to rise on your body. – We wouldn’t want anything nor anyone to touch you, would we now?
-No… No ma’am.
-Then be a good girl and get your things. I may have a chore or two for you that need to be completed tonight.
-Ms Kincaid said that all the important reports were made by her or Ms. Stinton.
-They are, but these chores can only be done by you, honey. You don’t want to cross me and upset me, do you? – the tender grip she had had on your chin suddenly became a harsh grab of your face, pulling you closer to her until your body had stood from its chair and was practically bent over the desk, breasts brushing your typewriter. Her eyes were staring at you with a deep sense of want, perhaps the initial stages of lust, her irises somewhat dilated but still allowing you to drown in that exquisite sea of browns that danced before you, singing in perfectly rehearsed voices to lure you deeper and deeper into her spell. You didn’t know then, but in that position with her red lips inches from yours you had already signed to do whatever she desired, given yourself without speaking, all so you could stare at her eyes for all eternity. Avis, being the smart woman she was, knew perfectly well that she had you wrapped around her finger already, but where was the fun when there’s no resistance, no pleadings and apologies? She wanted you to beg for mercy, and she would have it.
-No ma’am.
-Good girl. Get your things, I’m driving you to my place to… fulfil your duties. It’s far too late for me to let you go home all alone.
You were about to retort, mouth slightly agape when her grip on your face hardened, leaving you unable to voice your response, not that she would have let you say no by the way her eyes hardened slightly, narrowing and glancing at your rosy lips. Just that action made you close it, nodding in agreement at a question that was never asked. That seemed to please her, and her fingers loosened on your skin, her smooth tips caressing the reddened flesh she had abused as if she could soothe it. You were so eager to please, so ready to be controlled and broken, hints of fear mixing with your perfume, matching the way your eyes widened and shone in slight alarm. It was delicious to smell such a spicy aroma in the air, almost as terrified as the souls that followed her in the shadows as she walked through the night, their cries music to her ears, their tears the water she used to bathe her body in and soon yours would join them. Unless you proved to be far more rewarding to keep around. Avis’s thumb traced the shape of your lower lip, removing part of the balm you had applied not that long ago, and in a bold move to test the waters she moved her hand away from you, releasing your face at last, and proceeded to lick the translucent product with her tongue, making sure to keep her eyes on yours as she did so. Your body had the expected reaction.
The rush of blood in your body, the way your breath picked up would have been unnoticeable to a normal person, but Avis was far from human or normal, and she thrived in knowing that you were already crumbling when she had barely touched you, barely teased you. God, this was going to be a good night. Your body was frozen on the spot, watching Avis’s every move as the temperature under your skin rose by several degrees, following the shape of her hands, veins prominent on the back, nails trimmed and painted to perfection, an absolutely stunning piece of jewellery glinting in her middle finger that matched her person down to the very last detail. The stone embedded in between a dozen small diamonds and white gold seemed to be the deepest red ruby your eyes had ever seen, and as she moved her hand you could have sworn that you had got a glimpse of a distressed face reflecting off of it, but as soon as you blinked it was gone, leaving only the uneasy feeling that that ruby was more than just a simple stone. Under the flickering and nauseating lights as she hovered over you her hair shone and glowed in flames that framed her gorgeous face and bathed her features, a sea of fire that your fingers longed to touch, longed to be burnt in, her red lips slightly parted, plump, and so very inviting, calling out to you in whispers that licked at the back of your ears. Were your eyes so enthralled that your own mind was playing tricks on your overheated body? Every thread of fabric that dressed her seemed to flow around her like snakes, hugging every curve, hiding her skin and yet giving you glimpses of what you could have, what, as the seconds passed, your body was craving more and more.
Inches away from you, that velvet she wore matched the colour of your blood, deep, rich, but still inside you, rushing through your veins making Avis’s fingers twitch with want, but she had to be patient. With a grace you hadn’t witnessed before Avis straightened on her spot, tall in her shiny black heels, waiting for you to break free from her gaze and start gathering your things, but maybe she hadn’t controlled herself as much as she thought, intoxicating you too much and too early and leaving your body under a spell that you could not break on your own. For an instant she felt a glimpse of regret, maybe it was guilt, but it vanished just as fast as she moved around your desk, your body falling back on your chair of its own accord. There were no barriers between the two of you now, Avis observing your soft blue dress as it gathered around your thighs, your hands shaking softly, holding onto the linen of your gown as your breath picked up, your heart rate almost spiking with each step Avis took towards you, her perfume slamming onto you like a sudden wave that knocked you off your feet, whiffs of florals and a hint of vanilla filling your lungs. Her stole slipped from her shoulder slightly, threatening to fall as she bent her body, palms firmly on the armrests of your chair, her purse and gloves temporarily placed on your desk, allowing her whole body to pay attention to yours. It was a strange sensation to be barely inches from her face and not feel heat emanating from her, not hot breath ghosting over your lips, only cold, but it was a strange cold, one that somehow was filled with life and got a sharper response than any warm caress ever could.
-What is it Ms. Y/S? Why so quiet all of a sudden? Have my words scared you?
-I…
-Shhhh. – with her finger under your chin again she was able to lift your head, tilting it back slightly so that her lips were barely less than an inch from you, your nose smelling the rich carmine that had so neatly been applied throughout the day. How would it look smudged on your lips? Would it taste of her? Your brain could not comprehend these feelings, this visceral need that had grown inside you so quickly but at the same time you could not make it fade, perhaps didn’t have any desire to do so, after all it was well known that Avis Amberg got what she wanted and never took no for an answer. – You don’t have to fear anyone as long as I’m here doll. I’ll protect you… if you behave and don’t upset me. You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?
-Y… Yes, ma’am.
-Good girl. Go get your things, and hurry. There’s a lot to do before I release you.
If she did allow you the sweet and eternally damned release of death. Not a single virgin she had ever had had stayed with her, all meeting their demise as soon as their purpose was done, but there was something about you, something so delicious that she could taste it on the tip of her tongue, letting her breath, tainted with scotch, brush your lips before she stood up again readjusting her stole. She had nearly set you ablaze and she seemed so cool, so calm and relaxed, as if she hadn’t just spiked every hormone in your system, your mind clouded, foggy, every thought slow. You could only think of doing what she told you, of obeying her every word until she was pleased, until she praised your willingness to do what she desired, something you had never truly thought about until this very moment, when your entire world shifted from living your lonely life to being anything and everything Avis wanted you to be. As she rounded your desk once again, swaying her hips a little bit more than necessary, you practically sprung from your chair, throwing the cover of your typewriter on without much care, grabbing your white jacket and small purse from the hanger behind you, nearly tripping on a stack of old reports you had no room for. A smirk painted Avis’s lips at your clumsiness, a small chuckle nearly escaping her throat, but she kept it in. You were such a delightfully young and naïve thing.
Even before you had put your jacket on Avis was already stepping out of your cubicle and walking down the hallway towards the lift, your person rushing to turn lamps off and follow her before she could get upset at your lack of speed. A cold cup of coffee would be left on your desk, next to a picture, for whoever came to see you in the morning, only for them to find dust gathering over your forgotten reports and thirsty plants, unsure if you would ever return or be mourned in the early hours of the morning. The picture that presided your desk showed a gorgeous older woman of peppery curls and rich chocolate eyes, that strangely seemed to be twins of Avis’s, dressed in a yellow jacket and the hints of a white blouse underneath, the entire photograph radiating comfort and beauty as the strange woman smiled, a soft smile that stretched her reddish lips slightly. A signature on the right corner said “Yours forevers. Lilia xx”, swallowed by the deep shadows of the night. When Lilia found out about what Avis had done to you all Hell would break loose, two completely different and dangerous worlds colliding, and in that war, you would be in the middle.
The lift opened exactly as you stopped on your tracks beside Avis, the woman glancing at you from the corner of her eye already counting and planning all the things she was going to do to you, every depraved and perverted idea consuming what little control she had with each passing second. It was proving so very difficult not to pounce on you and suck you dry, the craving for your virgin blood nearly maddening, all consuming. Her grip on her gloves and purse nearly turned her knuckles white, inhaling sharply when your arm nearly brushed hers as the lift came to a halt on the ground floor, your perfume, a mix between berries and something sweet that she was unsure whether resembled caramel or vanilla, filling her lungs as her ears counted each beat of your heart, tracing the shape of her fangs in anticipation. With a loud ding that echoed in the mostly empty lobby Avis didn’t bother to wait for you, simply headed towards the entrance doors knowing that you would follow, that she had you wrapped around her perfect finger, and you would never stray from her side. Under her spell, her voice bouncing in your head “You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”, every ounce of free will had vanished from your body, your steps quick to keep up with Avis’s confident strides, your eyes following the shape of her spine over the velvet of her blouse, mesmerised by the way her skirt hugged her ass to such detail that you were almost sure you could see the garters of her stockings through the red embroidered roses, your mind jealous of each thread that dressed her.
The night air was slightly chilly, colder than you had expected after the heat of the day but to Avis it was the perfect weather, that gentle breeze caressing her skin with tender invisible fingers in that way only someone like her could feel. She had been a bride of darkness when she first got turned, scared, confused and so very lost but now she was longer that stupid little thing, she was its only wife, and she demanded and yearned for every touch and kiss it would grant her knowing that there was no one more powerful than her. Feeling the tender kiss of night on her red lips she smiled softly, thriving in the fact that you had to stay close to her while she walked towards her Cadillac, allowing herself to study you without you being able to see her, from your angelic face to the way your breasts bounced with each step you took. It was delicious and Avis almost craved for that sweet fog that would hide you both from the world, no disturbances annoying her while she devoured you, in every single sense, in the middle of the parking lot. But she supposed that the pitch blackness that was bathing the city allowing the shadows of lonely ghosts and souls to roam free to pave Avis’s way, was enough, a warning that she had to be patient as you’d be far sweeter when she had you in her bed and not over dirty concrete.
It would be a lie to say that you weren’t scared, the trek you were so very used to from the building to your car now a sea of nothing that consumed every spot of light your eyes could see, making every step you took unsteady, terrified even, but you had to trust Avis. She seemed to know exactly where she was going and you could not afford to get lost in this darkness; no one would ever find you again, and so you kept your body as close to hers as possible without touching her, keeping a moderate distance that wouldn’t make her feel imprisoned, almost crashing into her the moment she halted her walk, your hands clinging to your jacket and muttering apologies that were far too quiet for anyone to hear, but Avis did, and she smirked, her teeth shining in the night as if they had a light of their own. Avis’s skilled fingers pulled the keys to her beautiful Cadillac out of her black purse, working quickly on opening it, pulling the door and bending to flick the headlights on as the smell of your fear nearly overwhelmed her senses. She adored it but not when it overshadowed everything else that she wanted to taste phantomly on her tongue. As the bright beams bathed the ground and everything on a six feet radius your mind calmed its raging thoughts, eyes falling on Avis’s form as she was still bent partially inside the car, the fabric of her skirt taunt, nearly stretching the seams to the point in which you thought it might burst, firmly clinging to her round ass.
Everything was falling into place, a set of dominos crumbling under the steady weight of her heeled foot, watching in gleeful delight as each step performed just as expected, her power, the lust that flowed through her veins every hour of every day intoxicating you, making your mind hers as the clock ticked by. Your body would bend and break for her. Even though she found your reactions sublime she was finding it harder and harder to control her needs, and with no time to waste she pushed herself upright, turned to look at you and simply gestured with her head to the passenger seat, and thankfully you picked up on it quickly and rushed to the other side of the car, stumbling on your own feet. That eagerness did bring a laugh out of Avis, a sound deep and rumbling that echoed in the night like a perfectly tuned orchestra that played ancient organs under the dark clouds that hid the full moon, her head lulled back as her frame shook slightly for a moment. So adorable, so different from the other girls she had had, perhaps if you performed as she wanted you to, she’d keep you around.
Settling herself behind the wheel she pulled out her gold cigarette case from her purse before throwing it in the space between the two of you, her stole flying to the back seat without a care, the hood of the car off to enjoy the crisp air of the night. The red carmine stained the butt of her cigarette, turning her face to look at you while raising an eyebrow, asking without speaking, perhaps even demanding, for you to light it, your trembling hands grabbing her purse and looking for her gold lighter observing briefly the tube of lipstick, a handkerchief with red stains, a small bottle of perfume and a load of cash that was far more you had ever seen in your entire life, finding the lighter in a small pocket. Your hands shook as you lifted them, the flame flickering dangerously close to Avis’s face, but she steadied you as her cold flesh wrapped around your fingers, holding you still, and letting the cigarette burn between her lips. That first puff of smoke, the taste of nicotine and tobacco, tempered her system, calming her needy body slightly as her gaze locked onto yours, letting the smoke escape her mouth and nostrils in a big thick cloud but not before she blowed the last few rivulets your way, the swirls caressing your skin as your eyes fluttered closed for a moment. How could such a thing smell just so like her, sweet and addictive, as if she was breathing part of her own self in your direction?
You hadn’t even noticed, lost in your own world, how Avis has slid closer to you, her face inches form yours, tempted to brush her lips over yours but deciding against it after a moment, simply granting you the ghostly touch of her cigarette in your mouth, your eyes shooting open when you tasted her carmine and saliva, breathing in that deep tobacco that coursed through Avis’s veins, almost tasting her scotch on your tongue. If your body had been inadvertently fighting against her spell it was no longer bothering, the salty aroma of your arousal finally reaching Avis’s nostrils. Sharp as a blade she took her cigarette back, her nails raking over your jaw and neck as her pupils dilated, red angry marks painting your skin before she turned the engine off and backed out of her spot towards the gates, leaving you stunned, highly worked up and frozen in your seat. Your breath was hitched in your lungs holding onto the smoke without realising it, feeling the vibrations of the engine as Avis manoeuvred expertly through the gates and down the road, one hand on the wheel while the other held her cigarette, the radio playing a soft song that you couldn’t truly make out as the car sped down the street.
It was such a strange sight to see Hollywood in the dark, not even the moonlight daring to break through the clouds, like something out of a horror movie. No one out in the streets, even though it was summer, no music floating through the air as doors opened, the expected broken songs from clubs not even daring to slip through the cracks of the old buildings, afraid that the delicate balance that had settled over the city would shatter, taking everyone in its apocalyptic destruction. There was something so eerie about how things were developing, how the night was unfolding in a succession of occurrences that seemed too exact to be coincidences and yet there was no one to blame but the universe, the relative randomness of these things falling in no one’s hands. Though it didn’t make s feel any better. There were no lights even inside the houses, as if the entire world had gone dark, the only source of light coming from the cars that would pass Avis’s as she drove, completely relaxed, smoking her cigarette and letting the puffs of grey clouds bathe her face before they vanished into the air, the radio sounding more like static than actual voices. It was almost like a warning sign that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand, but you could not turn back now, not that you wanted to. Being with Avis was giving you a sense of safety and protection that you were sure no one else could ever give you, her body commanding the night as if she owned it, as if it owed her and would never mess with her.
From between two clouds the gentle rays of silver moonlight set the town alight, easing your fears for an instant or two, and allowing you to stare unabashed at your companion’s face. If ever should you say Avis Amberg wasn’t a stunning, gorgeous, breathtaking woman your eyes had been lost to a world where there was nothing worth living for, something from which you would never recover and that demanded death, because the day she was created every God in the universe, every entity, every fleck of matter that floated in between black holes had collided and exploded in a dance of particles that had sculped her. Every angel that had shaped her face and body had cut their hands off afterwards so there would never be a most exquisite work of art in this world. Unbeknownst to you though, eternity had given her the touch of immortal beauty that would never fade, never wilt. Avis was forever still in time, watching as others shrivelled and passed while she drank a glass of wine in her rich world built in a bubble of blood and stranded souls. And now, if she had it her way, you would either live with her inside it or accompany all those whom she had killed before, and something in the back of your head was extremely aware of such a fact.
Avis could have told you to stare ahead, to make watch the shadows of all the houses and palm trees that the Cadillac’s headlights, along with the moonlight, let you see only for a brief moment, but the fact that your attention was on her, so deeply attached to her form, your heart beating hard against your ribs as your gaze never strayed from her, she could not find it in her to deny you such pleasure. She was breaking so many rules tonight, allowing you to do things that she would never even think of allowing to one of her boys to do, things she had most certainly never let any of her girls even think about, but she wasn’t displeased with your eagerness to adore her. She had not forgotten your flirting though, and she had many, many plans to ensure that no other human would ever cross your mind, not even for a second. She wanted to be inside your head, inside your blood, to make you an addict and never let you live without her, your soul dependent of every single inch of her body, for her love, her pain and her desire. And the best way to start was by letting you look at her, drink her in and practically stamp her profile with fire into your brain.
Invisible fingers traced her shape of those perfect curls that frame her forehead, the breeze that formed as the car sped down the street not even touching a single strand, as if the air around you feared her and refused to touch her unless she desired it. Under the moonlight her ginger locks looked like stunning seas of rubies that were threaded through every single hair strand, matching the deep blood gems that decorated her collarbone and fingers, making you wonder if they would be soft in your hands, if her body would be truly cold if she was on top of you. Her long eyelashes fluttered open and closed with each blink, but it seemed to you as if the entire world had gone slow, every breath and movement suddenly taking centuries when they used to take seconds. Perhaps you were drunk already, inhibited simply by her, but you could not find the power to speak, to voice your concerns or to simply compliment her, your eyes kept watching how drops of silver moonlight fell from her lashes into her chocolate eyes, taking you back to a moment when instead of ginger curls there had been peppery ringlets in between your fingers. Still Avis was the only woman you could focus on, Lilia a million miles away from this very moment, pushed to the back of your mind like a forgotten thought, making your heart constrict and sting as if Avis’s hand was wrapped around it, her palm squeezing, her nails digging deep and making you bleed.
You could imagine her licking the crimson liquid from her palm as she stared at you, as she held your still beating heart like a prize, knowing that she had you at her mercy. Avis swerved the car to the right, sending your body closer to hers, your left hand on the back of the seats, nearly touching her shoulder while your right hand shot towards the dashboard. From the corner of her eye, she saw the way your gaze travelled to her legs, the satin allowing you to see the lace of her stockings closer, your knee inches away from her. In that moment, your breath held in your lungs, she turned her head slightly to watch you, a smirk painting her lips after taking a long drag from her cigarette, the smoke puffing out of her nostrils. God, every inch of her skin was sublime, her red lips begging for you to get closer, her rosy cheeks asking you’re your fingers to touch her, but it was her eyes, her utterly beautiful eyes, that were speaking to you, ordering you to not to a thing unless she gave you express permission. And so, you sat there, inches from her, your body temperature skyrocketing to a point that you were wondering if steam was coming off of your skin, aching in your core and wishing she would speak, tell you exactly what she wanted you your restless hands could finally do what they were practically begging to do.
Avis could already smell you, sending shivers of arousal all over her body, her foot stepping on the gas a bit more to get her mansion as fast as possible, growing restless and feeling how there were only a few threads keeping her control at bay. Flicking her cigarette out the window her eyes returned to the road, her house only a couple of streets away, feeling your body moving away from her to return to your previous place but she didn’t want that. Her hand shot to grab your thigh, stopping you in your tracks. It startled you just how cold her hands were against your scorching body, but it was a delicious contrast. As you two got closer to Avis’s place the headlights of her car dimmed, leaving the silvery glow of the moon to bathe her face almost exclusively, rivers of platinum tracing the shape of her gorgeous nose and kissing her lips, bright red mixing with silver. The engine slowed down in front of a set of big metal gates that were slightly opened, almost as if someone had been waiting for you both, the hood of Avis’s Cadillac pushing them open gently until there was enough room for her to drive through and park on her specified spot. And in all that time her hand had never lifted from your thigh, ensuring you stayed put.
Had you not been under her spell you would have noticed the front of Avis’s gorgeous house, the pillars, the neatly trimmed bushes and trees, the expensive fabrics of her curtains shining under the headlights for an instant before the car was turned off. Now there was nothing but darkness, no source of light to protect you, just the feeling of Avis’s touch on your leg to reassure you that you weren’t alone, that you would not be at the mercy of any horrid creatures that might be lurking in the night, your boss, the woman that had been trying to get your attention for weeks, shielding you. And it felt good. She was there when others had stayed behind, when the tender touch of hands filled with rings was nothing more than a ghostly sensation in the back of your mind, peppery curls and the perfect smell of incense somewhere in an apartment that you could only vaguely recall. Moonlight briefly vanished from the world, the sky cloudy, threatening storms approaching, and it was then, in that thick darkness that Avis’s hand travelled to your inner thigh, her body closer than ever before, velvet touching flesh, cold breath that no longer smelled of scotch, only nicotine, caressing your ear.
-You are going to do so well for me. Put in all the work I want, will you?
-Ye… Yes.
-Such a good girl. I have one rule that you must follow at all times, if you fail to do so, I will punish you. Severely.
-I understand. – her perfume was making you dizzy, lust seeping from every pore in her body, clawing and getting under your skin, fuelling the need for her even more, your underwear ruined at this point. Drenched practically and she had barely touched you. – What is the rule ma’am?
-The moment we cross the threshold of my house I won’t be Mrs. Amberg or ma’am anymore. Tonight, you take care of mama, tomorrow, she might take care of you.
And with that the wheels were set in motion. It was a dream the way Avis’s lips landed on your cheek in a gentle and short peck, her skin finally making contact with yours, and although her mouth was as cold as her hands, they left the imprint of fire on your flesh. In an instant the moment had ended, and just like that she was stepping out of the car, tracing her lips with her tongue to savour the taste of your skin, an appetiser of sorts, hints of what was to come. You sat there, frozen until you heard the click of the passenger door opening, her silhouette visible under the moonlight that had finally escaped from in between the clouds, her curves glowing under silver beams, her neck and cleavage drawing your eyes from where she had been sitting only moments before, claiming your full attention. There would never be a sweeter moment than the instant you begin to peel all those gorgeous clothes off of her, needing to know what laid underneath. Stumbling slightly, you stepped out of the car, following Avis towards the house as soon as she locked the car, her hips swaying from side to side far more than was needed, but you weren’t going to complain.
The front doors seemed heavy, but Avis pulled her keys out of her purse and pushed them open with very little effort, stepping to the side to let you go in first. Should you actually step inside? There was a quiet voice in the back of your head telling you not to but her eyes, her goddammed eyes were telling you to follow her, to walk into her arms and you could not fight them, you needed to drown in them, fall so deep inside Avis that you would never ever be able to escape. So, against every coherent thought you stepped inside, the door closing with a screech until the thunderous sound of wood shutting and keys turning told you that there was no escape, not anymore. You did not have time to explore, to observe the grandiose hallway you stood in, not that you would be able to when everything was pitch black, before your body was pressed forcefully against the doors, hands on your hips, fingers digging so hard through your clothes, you were sure there would be bruises there in the morning. Avis’s body was completely moulded to yours, her breasts squashed against your chest practically spilling from her velvet blouse as her face moved until it was inches from yours, her lips brushing your skin in such featherlight touches that she was drawing goosebumps all over. Berry perfume filled her lungs, but it wasn’t overwhelming, not when she could practically smell your blood under your skin.
-It is so rare to find someone like you.
-Li… like me? – your knees buckled slightly when you felt her hips pressing against yours, her hands slowly travelling over your lower back towards your ass to pull you closer, feeling every layer that she was wearing underneath her skirt.
-Untouched. Pure. I would almost say that you were innocent, but I wouldn’t buy my own lie. I’m sure your mind is full of depraved images, isn’t it?
-I…
-Don’t be shy. Tell me. – for a moment your mind could not even begin to register her words, not when her lips were pecking under your ear, licking the skin of your jawline, but in the end you managed to pull yourself together enough to let one single fantasy escape your throat, your hands pressed firmly against the doors as you had not been granted permission to touch Avis. – Tell mama what you have imagined doing with her.
-To watch… to watch as you fuck me mama. To see us in a mirror as you fuck me.
-Is that so? Fuck, it’s always the innocent ones, isn’t it?
No other words were uttered after that, no, Avis simply grabbed your hand and pulled you with her towards the stairs, your feet stumbling slightly over the tiles as the speed at which she was moving was almost too fast for you. The fingers that were wrapped around your wrist was definitely going to leave bruises, but you were lost already and would watch as Avis ripped you open and feasted on your body if she so desired, and would never even consider complaining, though what she was going to do to you would be consider borderline torture. Walking up the stairs was a chore when your eyes were adjusting to the dark, trying to make out the way her ass was moving with each step while also fighting your clumsiness, avoiding narrowly falling down the stairs a couple of times. Reaching the landing was a miracle but you didn’t have time to catch your breath before you were being rushed into a bedroom, every item around you blurry, barely shapes when your eyes could not stray from her. Your body could not stay upright when she pushed you quickly into what you assumed was the mistress bedroom, falling to your knees close to the foot of the bed, your hands scraping on the carpet.
The sound of a faint click had barely been audible as you winced and tried to see if you had injured yourself on the fall, but you sure heard Avis’s heels over the tiles, each step slow, far too slow, calculated almost and the fact that your back was to her sent shivers of anticipation and fear down your back. What on Earth did she have in mind? Did she want you on your knees at her feet? Carefully you turned your body, crawled to see her, and for some reason what your eyes met left you breathless. Not a single window was covered by its curtains, beams of moonlight drowning the room in silver halos that bathed her body, fingers with perfect manicured nails toying with each button on the front of her blouse, right underneath her bust, walking towards you over waves of platinum and rubies, the three feet that separated you vanishing inch by inch, exactly the same way velvet unwrapped form her body when the corselette she was wearing underneath began to make itself known, peeking and caressing her ample breasts. Your heart was rushing so fast you feared it might escape your chest, and you were positive she was hearing it and thriving on the fact that she could terrify you and excite you equally, your veins enlarged as your blood sped through your body.
She had been barely a foot from you when you made the stupid decision to try and stand, thinking that she would want to be face to face with you, but she had no desire to see you any other place that on your knees. The sole of her heel met the fabric of your dress and part of your skin when she placed it on your chest, the strength on her leg keeping you in place, black polished stilettos stepping on you, keeping you in your rightful place, one hand leaving her blouse to grab the hem of her skirt. Velvet and silk slid over her shin, caressing her knee and the soft flesh of her thigh, letting your eyes feast on her nude stockings and the skin underneath, although your eyes did drift under her skirt and in between her legs. Your mouth became dry. Was your brain playing tricks on you or was she not wearing anything? The fabric had gathered around her thigh, almost right above the lace of her stockings, hiding her from you, leaving you unable to answer your own question, the need to know, to see for yourself growing with each passing second, but she made no effort to move the skirt any further. Instead, she bent forward to make her point clearer, her breasts nearly spilling form the top of her corselette, velvet caressing the sides of her bosom.
-Did I tell you you could stand? – your throat was dry, like sandpaper, your vocal cords refusing to cooperate with you and make a sound, perhaps for the best. You shook your head, knees digging onto the wrinkles of the rug, hands pressed against the ground on each side of you as your gaze drifted from her foot, following the shape of her leg all the way to her chest, tracing invisible steps up her collarbone to her face. – Then be a good girl and never, ever, take liberties. I command you, you breath for me when I tell you to, you bleed if I wish it, you will spread yourself if I so desire it and if you don’t comply, I will make sure you regret it. Have I made myself clear?
With one single nod the stern look that had painted her lips vanished, mouth smirking, letting your eyes catch a glimpse of her white fangs that shone under the silver moonlight, her fingers caressing your cheeks, nails leaving red, angry trails over your skin. Part of Avis wanted to pepper kisses over your unblemished flesh, to memorise every inch of it until the only thing in her mind was you, but there was part that wanted to shred it to pieces, to unravel you like a ribbon and see the perverted creature that laid underneath because there was a feeling in her dead. Her cold heart that was telling her you were far less innocent that she had been led to believe. Not when you had flirted with that stupid girl and she could smell the kisses of a woman she knew very well on your cheeks, her perfume lingering lightly on your clothes. She hadn’t noticed at first, far too focused on enchanting you, but when she had caught a glimpse of that picture on your desk, and your perfume gave away to hints of Lilia’s her need to claim you, to ruin you and steal you grew even stronger, it wasn’t a simple want anymore, it was a need that made her bones ache and there was only one way to sooth it.
-May… May I touch, mother?
-Such a well-behaved child. You may touch me. Please mother.
Her wish was your command. Her body straightened even if her foot didn’t leave your chest, a dull pressure over your breasts from where the heel was digging slightly but it didn’t bother you. Gentle fingers began to caress the silk of her stockings around the arch of her foot, the polished black shoe cold against your skin when your hand brushed it slowly, your palms around Avis’s ankle. Her calves were muscular but still held a softness that made your heart ache, your body bending without you even realising it, your lips ghosting over her shins, small freckles visible under the silk, your eyes pleading with Avis’s oak ones, asking for permission. Her hand on your hair was all the affirmation you needed, kissing her body slowly, perhaps too slowly for her liking but she wanted to know how far you could get before she had to take charge of the situation. One single drop of control on your lips was all she was willing to give you.
Every touch was so soft, so caring that Avis wondered if you actually could ever match her temper or if you were so weak that she would be able to do as she pleased with you over and over and you would never complain, always taking everything she was willing to give you, always swallowing your pride and letting her use you like a sex toy for her own amusement and release. The idea wasn’t unappealing at all, she thought, as your kisses trailed higher, towards her knee, your hands massaging her thighs, fingering the lace at the top of her stockings, toying with the garter that connected with the corselette. Your heart hammered so fast against your ribs as your hands trailed higher and higher that you feared you might have a heart attack, perhaps slightly in fear of what she would do if you overstepped, but you kept going. It was surprising just how soft the lace was, perhaps it had been handmade, you could not be sure, and knowing just how rich Avis was, you wouldn’t put it past her. Even the rug you were kneeling on was as expensive as your whole apartment.
In your current position with her foot on your chest you could not quite give her the treatment she deserved, so without asking you lifted it and placed it on your shoulder, an action that made Avis’s brows lift in surprise, lips turning into a smirk. One mistake, well, well, well, how many could you accumulate before the consequences turned severe? How many before Avis had you on all fours on the ground with your hands tied to the bedpost? You were just giving it to her on a silver platter. Her breathes became a tad bit faster when your fingers pulled the lace down a little, giving your lips a bigger surface to kiss as you pecked above her knee all the way to midthigh, turning your head enough that the first real contact with her skin was the softest flesh you had ever felt in your life, her olive-kissed skin perfectly covered in the smallest freckles you had ever seen cold under your lips but you could not find it in you to care. You were kissing Avis Amberg’s inner thighs, and she was letting you, her fingers rubbing on your scalp as she closed her eyes, thriving on these sensations that she hadn’t felt in so long. Her boys were good for one thing, but they lacked tenderness, her girls were far too innocent to actually know what to do without guidance. You were a most wonderful surprise, one that was perhaps too curious for her own good as your hands moved under her skirt, touching her hip and lifting the fabric enough for your eyes to see beneath velvet and silk.
Oh, fuck! This glamorous woman that spent every day surrounded by people, mainly young boys who thought they could get in her bed to aim higher in the industry, this woman that had had three meetings with producers today, who had gone down to check on a couple of films while surrounded by pretty young girls and muscular boys, had been wearing absolutely nothing under her skirt. Not. A. Single. Thing. You could see her perfect pink folds, glistening with arousal under the moonlight, a most perfectly trimmed patch of ginger hair over her pubic bone, the smell of her engraved inside your lungs as your kisses got closer and closer to her, almost as if you were being called but this wasn’t how she had planned the night. Three mistakes she counted so far, it was about time she started with the punishment. The sudden pain that enfolded your head made you yelp, confused for a moment about what was going on until your brain registered that Avis had forcefully pulled you away from her, your head pushed back slightly so she could look at you as the sting of hair being pulled from your scalp expanded. Her eyes were mixed with lust and fury, perhaps there was a hint of amusement behind them, but you did not see that, you could only focus on the pain and the danger that seeped from her skin onto yours like rainwater.
-You have one single fucking rule to follow, and you can’t even do that. You are a failure, a slut, so eager to get what isn’t yours. Don’t even fucking think of arguing with me, doll, you don’t want to make it worse.
One moment she was acting all kind and tender and the next she was practically telling you that she was going to make you regret your existence. Your hands had dropped from her leg as quickly as if you had been burnt by her freezing skin, allowing Avis to drop her foot on the floor, velvet hidden her away from your greedy eyes, but no matter what she did you had the image of her, already wet, engraved in your mind, her smell leaving phantom touches on your tongue. You were in the perfect position for her to step over your head and let your mouth do its job, but she desired to have you trembling and begging, crying, and she wasn’t going to go easy on you. With your body perfectly still at her feet she had the chance to rip the front of your dress with her other hand, nails scratching your skin as the sound of fabric tearing filled the room, your creamy flesh glowing in the soft beams of platinum that broke through the windows, mirrors and vases reflecting the light like melted snow. You were so utterly perfect, not a single spot on your young body, only the redness that her hand had caused, tender breasts nearly spilling from a rich yellow brassiere that cupped them in small lemon flowers, the thin material of your gown hanging loosely from your shoulder as Avis exposed you to her, a hunger you had never seen in your life shadowing her features.
Well, well, well, you sure were hiding jewels under those proper clothes you always wore. All those flowy dresses patterned with flowers and bows that never went past your knees and were buttoned up to your collarbone had been hiding your exquisite body from her and she wasn’t going to forgive that easily. If you had assets, you should be able to show them off, dress for your body type and not let the clothes simply be worn. Perhaps she would teach you a thing or two if you took her punishments well, it would be heartbreaking to have to kill you when you were so delicious and she truly had no desire to take you away from Lilia like that, but it all came down to you and your performance. Fingers traced the shape of your collarbone, brushing the top of her nail down your sternum and over your breasts, fingering the top of the brassiere, her eyes narrowing when she felt that so well-known tingling that was Lilia’s essence. That woman was truly all around you, dressing you and hugging you even when she couldn’t be with you, and it made Avis’s blood boil. She hadn’t had the balls to fuck you and make you hers and yet she went around pulling shit like this, thinking that pretty underwear and her perfume on your clothes made some sort of claim over you? You would forget all about that witch by the time Avis was done with you.
Your ass was resting on the balls of your feet, heart hammering inside your chest at just a pace that it nearly made Avis dizzy, but she pushed through, in fact she pulled your body upwards by your hair, drawing out a wince from in between your rosy lips so your entire weight rested on your knees. Your thick thighs jiggled slightly at her actions, nipples brushing against yellow lace when your body jerked upwards, faces perhaps a foot away. Like that linen slipped down your arms and pooled over your calves leaving you just in your matching underwear that Avis caressed with her fingertips, following the shape of the hoops under your tits and the waistband of your knickers. If she was aware of the pain she was inflicting on your head she did not care, tears threatening to fall from the outer corners of your eyes but you still held her gaze, pupils so dilated that you could not see any of the deep oak that had enchanted you in the first place, only last and hints of fury that furrowed her brow and thinned her plump lips tightly, almost as if you had wronged her in ways that you couldn’t even comprehend.
-Such a whore. Did you wake up and decide to wear such filthy things? Were you expecting to be fucked by that bitch you were talking to in the canteen? Were you hoping your girlfriend would take pity on you and finally make a move? - Your head was spinning. You knew what she was saying, you knew who she was talking about and yet it was as if your brain could not filter anything she was saying, just the consequences of it all. The lace between your legs was ruined, soaked and sticking to you in the most uncomfortable way possible. – Or were you wearing this for me?
It was but a whisper in your ear, but it raised goosebumps all over your skin, shivers running down your spine like electric shocks. Not one step could be given without her consent, not a single breath could be taken if she didn’t want it and yet every single thing in your life seemed to have been created, every choice made, to drive her into a rage storm, a life that she had had no power over, until tonight. Your eyes looked at her slightly scared, a feeling that Avis thrived in, glistening with tears that threatened to fall at any moment, your lips agape practically gasping for air, rosy lips that she believed were far too lonely. Kisses were peppered over your skin, from right under your ear, over your jawline to your cheek, inching closer and closer to your lips, feather light touches caressing the corners of your mouth until finally her carmine wasn’t a simple taste around a cigarette. They were softer than anything you had ever felt before, a whimper of relief echoing inside your chest, as if you had been waiting for this moment all your life, to feel her kissing you, her hand cradling your chin and pushing your head back to deepen it. Scotch and tobacco mixed on your tongue when you felt her prying your mouth open, giving in without a fight, letting her dominate you, the tip of your timid tongue daring to trace her teeth slowly.
Feeling you moaning quietly into the kiss as you caressed the shape of her fangs sent a wave of arousal down to her core, surprise and delight melting into Avis’s movements at your actions. Most people would never dare to touch her like that, let alone find her nature appealing or exciting, not the way Lilia had, but perhaps she would have to thank her. It was obvious she had had some sort of influence on your views of supernatural beings, and she intended to exploit that fact for all eternity. It was so easy to move her hand from your chin to your throat, forcing you to stand without breaking the kiss, your oxygen supply restricted when you felt her fingers wrapping around your neck with far more force than was necessary. She wasn’t choking you fully, simply toying with you, using your human weaknesses to her advantage, feeling your rushed pulse against the pads of her fingers, knowing that very very soon all that sweet, pure blood would be spilling inside her mouth, sliding down her throat and around her lips in a macabre spectacle that would mix in the most sinful way possible as she seduced you, an erotic dance of sex and death. Your hands shot out to grab her arm out of instinct, but you made no attempt to remove it or fight it, drowning in her kiss still as she moved along with you around the bed, your feet slipping out of your shoes, padding barefoot over the carpet. Your body was practically naked, temperature spiking to insane peaks of fire that were so far away from Avis’s freezing skin, a delicious flesh that was still hidden by her expensive clothes. It wasn’t fair, really, but would she allow it if you asked?
-Mother, please. – breaking the kiss felt like the most horrid thing in the universe, as if you were ripping your heart in half with your own bare hands, carmine smeared all over your mouth, lips swollen and wet. It did not go unnoticed the way Avis’s body pressed against you in need.
-Oh, you want to say something? – the grasp on your throat loosened slightly, air filling your lungs fully after a few minutes, your head nodding at her words like the good girl you were. -Go ahead. Tell mama what’s in that pretty head of yours.
-Can I… can I undress you? I want to see mama’s beautiful underwear.
-Such a polite little slut. How much do you want to undress me?
-I want nothing more than to take off the clothes you’d let me and see your beautiful body mama.
-Mhm… How can I refuse when you are begging so deliciously? Undress me.
Christmas had arrived and Avis had been left under the tree for you to unwrap, and of course you weren’t going to make her wait. With the kindness of her cold dead heart, she removed her hand from your throat but not before scratching the soft skin with her perfectly manicured nails, her other hand releasing your hair and smudging the lipstick that had transferred onto your lips even further with her thumb. Watching her bring that same finger to her mouth to lick it made your thighs clench together, the lace of your knickers providing a small bit of friction, but it wasn’t enough. Four out of six buttons had been undone by Avis’s skilled fingers minutes before, a gorgeous black corselette cinching her body to the perfect measurements, though you were positive that the moment it slipped from her frame, landing on the floor, your heart would instantly stop until her mouth revived you with its rough and demanding kisses. Your hands were trembling slightly as they made their way the front of her blouse, feeling the soft red velvet on your palms, the boning of her underwear firm under her clothes, deep breaths making her chest rise and fall, but they couldn’t match the speed at which your lungs ingested air, as if the world was about to run out. Shaking, your thumb rubbed small circles on her waist as you took the opportunity to pull her a bit closer, a motion and request that she answered by actually stepping inside your personal space without so much as a raised eyebrow.
Had she been Lilia you would have taken hours to undress her, kissing every inch of exposed skin over and over, but Avis held an air of impatience that you didn’t want to tease, because you already knew that she wasn’t going to be kind or soft with you, and you had no desire to make everything worse. Inching closer to the buttons, tracing the shape of the black embroidered roses that seemed to bleed from their petals tears of darkness that felt freezing under your skin, souls that she had threaded into her clothes as a reminder that one by one they had given their existence to her. Unhooking them was easy, probably the easiest thing you had done all night, and the moment the blouse was pushed back, hanging from her shoulders you saw that the corselette wasn’t only black. Deep red blooming roses cupped her breasts, so dark that you almost didn’t see the thin thread until moonlight shone over her body, white soft poison ivies hugging her waist from the sides like dead skeletal hands that held her and lifted her. Your hands itched to feel each single pattern firmly under your hands, but you fought it and instead brushed your fingertips over the top of her breasts and collarbones until you could grab the neckline of the blouse. Surprisingly it slid down her arms without effort, revealing sun-kissed skin peppered in freckles and knowing that she would be upset by it but without being able to help yourself you pulled her closer until your lips could kiss the soft flesh of her shoulders, following the journey of her unmoving veins down her arms.
Every alarm and sense of danger had been completely turned off in your head, every bit of your attention focusing solely on her body, on pleasing her no matter what. Crouching down to kiss her hands you ended up on your knees once again but this time out of your own accord, holding Avis’s hips firmly as you looked for the zipper, that just happened to be perhaps an inch to the right on her left hip, the sound of her skirt coming undone matching the hurried breaths that you could not quite get a hold of. Waterfalls of rubies flowed around her pelvis and down her legs, pooling at her feet and over your knees, her body nearly bare before your eyes. Your throat was dry and raspy, a deep burn vibrating in your chest at the sight of her in just her stockings and corselette, no knickers to hide her, your mouth water at the thought of burying your head between her thighs all night long, and lost in that lustful daydream you barely noticed the way your hands kneaded her ass, enthralled. So many mistakes Avis thought, so many liberties that she had let you have, but not anymore. You touched and kissed what wasn’t yours to claim and did it without remorse; well, not anymore. She had kept her own needs under control for far too long and she was not going to do it anymore.
In a blur of motions and limbs your body was pushed back onto the carpet, right in front a big golden mirror that reflected part of the bed and a couple of open windows along with trinkets and vases that you only got a glimpse of for less than a second before Avis was on top of you, straddling your hips. The pain on your scalp returned without mercy, pulling your head back so far back you feared your neck would snap but she knew very well what she was doing and there was no need for that, you were far more interesting and exciting alive, trapped under her spell. Traces of carmine were left down your neck, but they were no match to the bruises that her lips were painting your flesh, sucking deep and hard until pale flesh turned purple and blue, making you wince as your hands dug onto the carpet. It would be so easy to stab her fangs on your pulse point but where would the fun be in that if you weren’t begging and whining to be fucked over and over? She did scrape her teeth over it feeling the thing layer that kept your blood inside you yet, a moan nearly escaping her lips while thumb and index finger traced the hem of your bra, sensing Lilia’s magic deep in the fabric, but you weren’t with her now and she did not want a single sign of that witch in her home. Ripping fabric reached your ears, a gentle chill brushing your breasts as they spilled from the torn brassiere, a mix between a gasp and yelp reverberating out of your mouth, and as a new part of you had just been exposed for Avis to feast on, she wasted no time before her head was buried in the valley between your breasts.
She wasn’t going to drink from you yet but that did not mean she could not leave marks all around you for that girlfriend of yours to find, biting down softly over your sternum before sucking the soft and plump skin of each breast. In her effort to taste every single inch of your sweet flesh, your body pure, your essence like honey maybe even perhaps like the juiciest strawberries money could buy, leaving that acidic and sweet flavour on her tongue with each lick of your plump tits, she accidentally bit down harder than she had anticipated. The sharp pain made you yelp loudly, hands shooting to grab her by the shoulders as your brain slowly registered what had happened. Drop after drop of blood slid down your skin from a bite mark on the side of your right breast, the deep crimson liquid contrasting with your creamy flesh. Avis’s instincts took hold of her senses, and licked it from your chest.
God, she had never had something as delectable as you, as delicious and untouched as you, sweetened mixing with its metallic taste only to be assaulted by that tingling she knew so well, those sparks of Lilia’s magic that had seeped deep under your skin and into your bloodstream. You had to be kidding. A single drop of blood was sliding down her chin as she pulled back, your eyes watching how she seemed to frantically be searching for something, hands all over your body, nipples aching to be touched but the last vanished into rage when she saw a small rune engraved on the side of your hip, nearly invisible to the naked eye, clearly meant only for Lilia’s eyes to see. She just had to be everywhere! Claiming things that weren’t hers to keep, fucking Avis and pushing her away after everything that she had achieved?! And now she had to taste her on you and see her fucking magic on you?! With brutal force she yanked you from the floor and onto your knees before she pushed you on all fours, ripping the shredded bra from your body, turning your head forcefully to look at her.
-Don’t move a fucking inch, if you do I’ll suck you dry and send you back to your fucking girlfriend all shrivelled up and dead, understood? – you were too stunned and turned on to do anything else but nod, limbs shaking slightly but it was as if all the fear you had been feeling had vanished, perhaps locked away somewhere deep in your mind that would prevent sanity from actually making you think. She had properly lured you in with no chance of running away.
You saw yourself in the mirror, watching as Avis stepped out of frame and began rifling through drawers, pushing pieces of clothes aside in search for something. What was it? No clue. There was a thin trail of droplets that had stained your breast and that were slowly falling one by one on her very expensive carpet, a fact that had your heart on the verge of escaping your chest and yet you didn’t move, almost didn’t even breath. The ruffling of fabrics and grunts of desperation and frustration were so loud that if your blood hadn’t been rushing through your veins at the speed of light everything would have been overshadowed by her and her little but too damn enticing sounds. A golden watch caught your eye, right above a marble chimney, the handles ticking incessantly, showing you that time was not standing still keeping you trapped in some distorted bubble with her, the hours were passing by with no possibility of going home. If Avis’s fury let you go home.
After a couple more minutes of ruffling fabrics every noise stopped. One step in your direction. Then another, heels muffled by the carpet. A third one and a soft glow of silver moonlight met the edge of the mirror, your breath held in your lungs in anticipation, and then you saw her. She had not removed any clothes, much to your dismay, but her lipstick was smudged, and a few curls had fallen from her perfect updo, framing her angelic face even though she was a wolf dressed in sheep’s skin. Such a vicious, lustful creature that you couldn’t get enough of. But it was any of those assets that made your eyes widen as your lips stood agape, it was the deep red cock that had been strapped around her hips, a thick dick of perhaps seven inches that made your pussy clench in worry and need. With one last step she was standing behind you, black heels on her feet that she almost placed on your back to keep you right where you belonged, legs dressed in nude silk and slightly spread with that thick cock standing proudly in between them, your eyes catching a glimpse of her nearly dripping folds, breasts nearly spilling from that gorgeous contraption that was her corselette, nipples almost peaking, but it was her mouth, that fucking wonderful mouth of hers, that made it all come together. A smirk on swollen and blood tainted lips that made her an erotic goddess that you would give your soul to.
-Turn around and face me. – you didn’t miss a second, crawling to meet her at her feet, the material of the rug nearly burning the skin on your palms and knees. – I’m sure that pretty mouth of yours has had far more in it than Lilia’s cunt, sucking cocks to get this job, so show mama what you can do with that tongue. Suck mama’s cock, get it all wet.
Avis could see the shame in your face, how your cheeks had turned three different shades of red that under the moonlight seemed like a deep pink, but that was just it, she knew you hadn’t done it, she could taste only Lilia in your blood, no man’s devious intents rotting you from the inside out, which made her even more curious as to what you were able to do out of pure talent. So far you had proven to be far more entertaining than many of the virgins she had had, God, maybe even half of the men, and she had an inkling that your tongue was about to be magical without Lilia’s interference. Like a good girl you sat on your knees and while still holding her gaze your hands wrapped around her cock, feeling the rubber on your palms and fingers, testing the material and girth before your body bent forward. From the base to the tip your tongue made one long but slow swipe, hands holding it firmly so it wouldn’t flop on your face or pull on Avis’s hips. It was pure instinct what you were doing, praying that it was to her approval as you twirled your tongue around the tip before taking a leap of faith and taking part of the cock in your mouth, breathing deeply as you bobbed your head up and down gently. She’d let you get acquainted with it for a short while, watch how you worked it well, how your cheeks hollowed so you could suck her the way only a good girl could, but not for long. Meticulously you seemed able to take a bit more of Avis’s cock each time you pull back and then took her again, your breaths ragged and fast through your nose, tongue moving arrhythmically around it, thin trails of drool nearly making it past your lips but you fought to keep this as clean as possible thinking that was what she wanted, another mistake to the ever growing list.
Grunts and gasps were vibrating from your throat without you realising it, oak eyes locked onto yours as you gave her the first, and hopefully best, blowjob of her life, hands shooting to grab her by her hips when you felt her fingers hold onto your hair again, ground your body for the assault that was coming. She gave one gentle thrust that sent the cock deep inside your mouth, your gag reflex making your eyes water but you kept going, taking her, sucking her as if she could actually feel what you were doing, and perhaps she could, because her breaths were as inconsistent as yours, moans echoing against the walls in between pants, her big thick cock fucking your mouth faster and faster. Tears spilt down your cheeks as you tried to breath, drool falling down your chin with each hard thrust, those sinful sounds of you gagging on her cock almost sending Avis over the edge, but she held back. You just looked so pretty with your mascara running down your face, ruined lipstick and her cock inside your mouth, though she was positive you would look so much better with it buried deep inside your pussy. Without warning she pulled out completely, your lungs greedily gulping for air, phantom thrusts still making you gag lightly but unlike Lilia, Avis did not care to let you recuperate, though she was quite pleased with the show you had put on for her.
-On your knees facing the mirror.
The ruffling of bed covers reached your ears as you moved, your trembling and need for air making your motions slower than you had wanted but Avis didn’t seem to notice as you were already facing the mirror by the time she threw a pillow on the floor behind you. If she had let herself fall on her knees and taken you without mercy you would have expected it, almost been prepared for it, but of course Avis was always one step ahead, throwing you of your balance while she remained perfectly still on her toes, never letting you know what her next step would be. She spread her legs wider, stelling her body above your, hips aligning vertically, leaning until her breasts were barely inches from your bare back, cold hands tracing the shape of your spine, caressing your sides until her fingers wrapped around your tits. If you kept biting down on your lower lip you were sure you’d draw blood, not that she would mind as you watched her standing again with a droplet of crimson, hot liquid, on her thumb, her cold and yet burning tongue licking it with closed eyes. Simply delicious. Raking her perfectly manicured nails all down your back Avis slowly stepped until her hands were resting comfortably on your ass, lowering her body gently onto the pillow all while your perfect skin shone with reddish marks, hands sliding over to your hips. A sharp gasp tumbled out of your mouth as you felt her cock pressed against your butt cheeks, cold and wet, lubricated by your own mouth, a fact that made you shiver and so desperately soaked between your legs that you nearly begged her to remove your knickers.
All is good to those who wait, Avis thought, the words reverberating in her mind finally letting a full smirk paint her lips, dark shadows cast over her features showing you the side of her that she kept hidden every single day, eyes flashing a deep red before her control vanished completely. The sound of ripping fabric reached your ears for an instant before you felt the tip of her cock aligned with your entrance, folds so wet that Avis almost thought she could have skipped you sucking her, but you had just looked so pretty with your mouth so busy. One singular thrust and she was five inches deep inside you without warning and without giving you time to adjust, the stretch stinging lightly and making you moan and whine in discomfort at the intrusion, a sound that Avis wanted to change into cries of pleasure and pleads of more, your arms nearly giving out under your weight. Very slowly she pulled out, surprised that you had taken her so well and so easily, before she plunged back inside you hard, filling you nearly completely and drawing out a sharp cry out of your throat. Never before had you been so full, so stretched, sensations nearly overwhelming you, but you had to push through, you had to please her, after all you were hers. Wasn’t that what she had wanted all this time? To have you? As seconds ticked by the discomfort slowly vanished, her cock pulling out nearly all the way once again only to slam her hips fully against your ass, all seven inches inside you hitting so deep that all you could do for an instant was close your eyes and let your mouth hang open, your vocal cords unable to make a sound. God, you were taking her so well, letting her fuck you better than anyone ever had.
-Open your eyes. Watch as mama fucks your pretty virgin pussy.
It was a herculean effort, but you did as told, eyelids fluttering open to see one of those fiery curls of hers bouncing as she pulled out and slammed again, picking up a slow but steady rhythm. There was nothing else in your mind but pleasure, the sight of her body slamming against yours driving you insane with lust and desire, nothing of this sort having ever clouded your mind and judgment, your frame jerking forward with each powerful thrust. Hands bruised your hips, finger digging with brutal force that matched the way in which her pelvis crashed against yours, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing against the open windows and dressed up walls of the grandiose room. Every pant, every strangled cry and moan that fell from your lips floated like invisible smoke around the two of you, the warm night breeze snatching them and taking them out into the dark world outside her house, not a single noise either of you were making staying within those four walls. You could almost imagine Avis’s moans caressing the rose petals in her garden the same way her fingers were now tracing the shape of your spine, but there would have been a delicate tone to her touches if you had been a flower, tender kisses around your pure white petals, something that she was denying you now. Nails felt sharp against your skin, and you were sure that as she went up to your neck the thin flesh of your back had been ripped and was now bleeding bright beads of sweet blood and of course who was Avis to deny herself the pleasure of having a taste? Tis was but a starter, a spoonful of caviar that her refined palate would taste before the main course.
Her previous pace, slow, perhaps even tender in its strength, had you already shaken, trembling slightly with each thrust that stretched your walls and sent a sharp but delicious wave of pleasure all throughout your body, a feeling that you had craved for so long and that now Avis had been kind enough to give to you. If she were the Devil perhaps you had been praying to the wrong God. How could you not believe that this was exactly what you needed, fate granting you the wish your mind had never truly had the courage to think about, when the only woman you had considered unreachable and that plagued your dreams and nightmares alike was now buried deep within you. Lilia was always so warm and caring, her kisses and caresses tender and loving but Avis was the opposite. She was demanding and controlling of every aspect of this encounter, but she did not lack passion or desire, things that you had longed to see in your girlfriend and that now your boss was giving you without you even asking. But it was her freezing touch and fake gentleness that was fuelling your desire with each passing second. Sharp icy blades were dancing on your skin, drawing out goosebumps the same way that each thrust was drawing out moans, the once slow pace that let you adjust to her girth and length now nearly punishing, making your hips ache as well as your pussy but you could not bring yourself to tell her to stop, not when she was making you feel like this, not when she looked so enticing on that mirror.
Pins fell from her perfect updo, bouncing off her bare shoulders and landing around her knees, under the pillow, fiery locks cascading down her back like a rain of rubies that your eyes could not stray from, her red lips slightly agape in complete surrender. With trembling limbs, you watched as she leaned forward, the soft fabric of her corselette brushing your bare back as her lips pecked the scratches she had caused, the tiniest droplets of blood staining them that got smeared all over your skin as she kissed her way up your back. It stung, the pain radiating lightly around your ribs but it wasn’t as if your brain could comprehend what you were feeling when her rhythm had become steady and fast, flesh slapping, the wound of your wet pussy as it was fucked by Avis’s cock filtering through the curtains out into the night, one hand keeping an iron grip on your hip while the other slid around your pelvis towards your front, heart speeding inside your chest as she inched closer and closer to where you ached the most. You could not prevent curse words from sliding past your mouth when the pads of her fingers twirled your engorged clit softly, hips buckling until your ass was matching her thrusts, grunts and moans reverberating form Avis’s chest that were muffled by your back. Unbeknownst to you the straps were brushing on her clit, making her bite down hard enough on your shoulder blades that she felt the rush of hot metallic blood on her tongue as you yelped in pain.
The overwhelming taste of you threw every ounce of delicacy that she had in her system out the window, her hips slamming brutally against yours, her cock so deep inside you that you could almost not take it, but her fingers rubbing fast on your clit helped you swallow it completely, from tip to base until you could feel the rubber balls of the strap hitting your bare ass. Moans were no longer moans, they were grunts and pants mixed with screams that were being ripped from your chest, leaving your throat raw and hoarse, thoughts gone, every synapse in your body chasing that high that was coiling fast and hot in your core. You fought with the urge to let your eyes roll to the back of your head as the thrusts became nearly impossible to count, Avis’s true nature taking a hold of every part of her being, clouding your mind with such raw pleasure and desire that you could not comprehend nor control. Your orgasm was clawing at your core so fast that your entire body had begun to shake, your arms giving way and leaving your face resting over the carpet as high pitched screams filled Avis’s head. Such deliciously filthy sounds that vibrated inside her brain, your walls clenching desperately around her cock making it slightly harder for her to pound into you, but she still did, your juices coating her fingers and dripping down your thighs telling her you were inches from falling down the abyss, but you didn’t deserve that. You would wait until she was willing to give you the release you so desired, making you crave her every minute of your life, even when you were with Lilia. No, especially when you were with her.
She was done waiting. Done playing nice. The hand that had been on your hip shot to grab you by the hair, yanking your body upwards and away from the floor until your injured back was firmly pressed against her chest. The new angle made you see stars, a sound you had never made before just escaping your throat before you could stop it, her cock having hit a spot inside you that you had your entire body on fire, moaning and whimpering for more like a slut, Avis’s slut. “Open your eyes” she grunted in your ear, voice husky and raw. You hadn’t even noticed that your eyes had rolled to the back of your head, but you did as you were told, watching in the reflection of that golden mirror the way a thin trail of blood had run down your abdomen from your breast, face flushed and sweaty as your hands shot to hold onto her thighs to steady your trembling body. Her pounding never ceased or slowed but now you were able to ride her better, rising and falling on her cock as fast as you could though it would never match Avis’s movements. Fuck, you looked so pretty with your pink folds wide open as you rode her, swallowing her completely, maybe more than before even, you could not tell and did not care. If she had known you looked like this while being fucked, she would have done this way sooner because she just couldn’t get enough of your ruined make up and swollen lips, mesmerised for a few instants by your bouncing breasts but there was a more enticing spot for her. Blood rushed and pumped inside your veins, the spot of your pulse point just so perfect, creamy and smooth and welcoming her with each beat of your heart.
Her tongue traced the shape of your artery from the base of your neck all the way to the underside of your jaw. Finally, the moment she had been waiting for, that sweet craving she had had for weeks about to be satiated all while she fucked your pretty cunt. If your God could see you now, he would fall from grace and join his brother Lucifer in sinful rejoice, watching as Avis claimed your body and soul, because how could angels and demons alike not wish to see a creature of the night as powerful and cunning as Avis doing these unspeakable things to a pure soul like you? If Eve had been blamed for Adam’s wrongs every woman since then had the right to shun away from salvation, after all there was no fun in being good forever, not when the other option was what Avis was doing to you. Victory red carmine stained your jugular, lips sucking hard until you could feel the familiar sting of a bruise forming and it was then and only then, with thin and sensitive skin that your eyes locked with her in the mirror. You had seen them, had felt them and yet when she opened her mouth and your eyes got a glimpse of pearly white fangs, your rational mind peaking through her spell for an instant before she sank them onto your skin and artery a sharp agonising cry reverberating from your chest but it only lasted a second, perhaps less than a second, you could not be sure, before every ounce of pain turned into a deep pleasure that had your head swooning and body howling in need.
Sublime. Exquisite. Blissful. Every drop that filled her mouth was the most delightful she had ever had, not a trace of shame or sin, only that sweet flavour of white truffles that coursed through your veins, delectable just like those gourmet dishes she had had when she had visited Italy only they were only now mind-blowing as she gulped your essence down, hot, dizzying blood caressing her throat all while she still slammed her cock deep into your cunt. She had spent a lifetime waiting for someone like you, desperate to smell you, to taste you and make you hers for all eternity, to drain you from every single drop of blood she could until your body was pale and cold against her dead hands, but she could not bring herself to part with such an enchanting young thing as you and condemn you to an endless life roaming the earth in her shadow. She would much rather have you pressed against her chest with her hand pulling on your hair, watching you in the mirror as trails of bright crimson stained your perfect skin, mixing with the tears that you could no longer keep from falling. Never before had your body been on the edge of crumbling, pain and passion interlacing so deeply that you could no longer pull them apart without ripping the other to shreds, every cell in your body, every synapsis of your mind running down a road you had never thought you would set foot in, the chances of turning back gone, not that you would have wanted to. As life slipped away from your grasp Avis’s veins filled with power, a once frozen heart pumping as her lips curled around your neck even though your blood overflowed her mouth and spilled all over her neck and chest in a greedy need to take as much as possible.
Merely seconds had passed before she tasted her on you. It was unmistakeable, that sharp citrusy essence that she had had on her tongue and in her bed for decades and that her heart both missed and despised more than anything else in her existence. It made her furious, her movements inside you past brutal, now wounding and so harsh that you could do nothing else but scream, your core waiting for one tiny spark to happen before exploding and taking you to another dimension, and yet Avis could not hate Lilia as much as she wanted to. Her hands were almost gentle all of a sudden, as if they belonged to a different person after the scratches and bruises, melancholy dressing her invisible injuries and scars, the ones Lilia had inadvertently inflicted the day she left. Memories threatened to overwhelm her head, the once steady rhythm now faltering slightly, and perhaps if she been more human than creature of the night she would have allowed them to wash over her and ruin the moment, but there was very little of that woman left, maybe nothing at all, and the anger and desire were far stronger than anything else. Avis had wanted you before she had known Lilia was involved with you, and she would have you regardless of the fact that she knew now because she was not going to change her plans for her, not anymore. Digging her fangs deeper, ripping your skin, a pathetic mewl fell past your lips, and she began to think that perhaps you were getting everything you had ever dreamt of while Avis stood behind you with a shitty consolation prize, unsatisfied in ways that she was sure you would excel in. And she couldn’t have that.
Every single drop that escaped your veins brought on waves of dizziness that you could not control, cheeks flushed a weak pink as the tips of your fingers and toes became cold with each passing second, terror finally making its way through the cracks. And even then, when you could feel death through Avis’s touch, in every brush of her fingers over your hip and clit, as her nails scraped your scalp and the base of your neck, with each breathtaking movement of her lips, you could not deny her or push her away. Death had never been a pleasant thought but there was something poetic about you slipping away while Avis gave you life, warm breezes that carried faint traces of the ocean kissing your bare body, every wound stinging but it could never compare. There would never be pain that could match what her fangs were doing to you, what her nature had inflicted upon you without permission, without a care. Movements became lethargic, hands clammy on Avis’s thighs, details that no one else would actually pay attention to but of course she did, she felt everything that you were going through as if your thoughts were written in your blood, knowing that you needed her to stop before things went too far. But you were so delicious, and she could feel that you were standing on your tip toes at the edge of the cliff begging in mumbled words for release, letting you go now would leave Avis hungry for far more than just your heart and flesh and she wasn’t feeling as kind now that truffles became oranges on her tongue. The scream that was ripped out of your throat when she let go of your neck, skin battered, broken and bruised, echoed in the night like a banshee that brought omens of darkness and death, a calling for every errant soul that crawled over the dirt of her pristine garden.
-God, you are just delectable. I could drink from you forever, keep you riding my cock as I take what I want. Is that what you want? – you could barely form a thought let alone an answer, blood sliding down your chest and over your breasts, droplets falling in slow motion from your nipples onto the carpet even though your whole body still moved at a punishing pace jerking up and down. Your silence wasn’t welcome. Avis’s hands shot to grab you by the waist keeping you seethed deeply on her cock unable to move, pathetic whines mixed with half sobs breaking from your chest. – I thought I had made myself very fucking clear. I ask a question, you answer it.
-Ma… Mama… I’m sor… I’m sorry.
-An apology isn’t enough. Words mean nothing to me when you defy me and don’t answer what I asked! – fingers dug deep over the already forming bruises on your hips, her mouth so close to your ear that her cold breath brought on goosebumps all down your spine as the overwhelming stench of metal filled your lungs. – That beautiful neck of yours could snap so easily if I wanted to, it wouldn’t be the first nor the last time I kill someone who doesn’t please me. I suppose you call yourself lucky that I haven’t sucked you dry when you are so fucking enticing. I see why Lilia was so eager to mark you.
-Mama…
-I’m talking! The disrespect is unbelievable. Is this how you treat your boss, the woman who can give you the most pleasure you could ever feel?
-I’m sorry! I do… I do want to be whatever you want! Please!
-Pathetic. You think that will persuade me to give in? – walls contracted around her, trembling limbs on fire at her words, the blood loss affecting your mind and yet it fast became a thing of the past. – Do you want to cum?
-Please! Please mama.
-Earn it then. Make mommy happy and then and only then will I allow it. Maybe.
The world around you swayed between a fog of denied passion and the blood loss suffered as her words sank in, locks of gold stained red when you managed to focus your eyes on the reflection in that huge mirror. You had her body moulded to yours practically and yet your shadow and her hair kept her face hidden from yours, every expression a mystery, even her frame was hidden by your naked body, only memories of how she looked rushing through your mind. There was no warning before she pulled out of you completely, the feeling of sudden emptiness making you cry out, body nearly collapsing on the floor with fire burning underneath your skin, your pussy aching to be filled by her again and to be granted the relief of sweet release she had promised in between the lines and silences that had echoed in the room as she had fucked you. If it hadn’t been for her arms wrapping around your waist your face would have collided with the floor, over the spots of crimson that painted an abstract masterpiece in between expensive threads of wool and silver, a work of art that Avis might decide to keep. Maybe she was growing soft for you already, but she was gentle enough to lift you off the ground and place you over the soft linen covers of her enormous bed, not caring if she had to throw them away or burn them tomorrow; it wasn’t as if she couldn’t buy as many sets as she wanted.
It was more comfortable than the floor, of that you were sure, your knees red and angry from the rug digging onto your flesh, your walls clenching around nothing, missing the sensations that had enfolded your mind and body so rapidly, your breaths still coming in fast as what blood she had left pupped through your veins making your ears ring. You could still feel hot crimson liquid sliding from the punctures on your carotid down your shoulder, slow thin rivers of death that Avis eyed from her position standing by the bed. Moonlight vanished for an instant leaving the room in complete darkness, your senses confused and dizzy as you tried to keep your eyes on her figure but to no avail, if she had left you had no way of seeing it, if she had moved and was hovering over you your oversensitive body should have been able to feel it but there was nothing. She was simply standing there with her deep chocolate eyes fixed on your panting and bloody form as her skilled fingers removed the soaked strap, it falling over the carpet with a muffled thump that made you jump slightly over the covers. Panic was sure as hell now breaking free from her spell, probably caused by the blood loss you thought, forcing you to rest your weight on your elbows and raise your shaky body from her luxurious bed, bedsheets smelling of rich vanilla and amber, perhaps a hint something floral hidden in between her pillows, you couldn’t be sure.
Time ticked away, handles of pitch-black metal moving in an orb of glass and gold, determined to show that seconds were passing you by while for Avis they stood still, not having moved for decades, and no amount of diamonds or rubies or gold embedded watches would change that. Avis had been put to rest in a cherry blossom casket, curls the colour of royal sunset lilies spread over white velvet, her heart dead, cold, her blood still but never rotting, no warmth in her hands on in her lips, just the curse of eternal death masked as the lie of an eternal life, and laying in that casket she watched as the world around her turning all while knowing that she would be buried six feet under and no one would ever hear her pleas or cries, just the deafening silence of a voice that had left the day her humanity had been stripped of her. She sometimes missed that naïve woman she once had been, and cursed her existence from time to time, but she could not say that her life had turned out too bad, not when she had built it stone by stone and turned herself into who she was today, murders and such occurrences aside of course. A woman needs hobbies to entertain herself after all. One single wave of platinum bathed the room, ruined black lace and silk wrapped around Avis’s torso, vines that once had been a pearly white now tainted and stained the same way your skin was by splatters of your blood, a sea of fiery locks cascading down her back and shoulders as your eyes locked with hers before directly looking at her mouth. How was it that that deep but bright shade of crimson red seemed to suit her far better than her signature Victory red?
Her lips curved slightly at the corners in a sweet and dangerous smirk as her chin and neck were presented to you with long trails of blood that journeyed south towards her breast, hiding the damage caused by with her corselette. She was far too overdressed you thought, and it wasn’t fair when you were completely naked and bruised before her. She seemed to have read your mind. Perhaps under other circumstances she would have let you undress her but not tonight; she wished to be pleased as soon as possible, and she had no time to let your soft, trembling hands unhook her. She had an inkling that Lilia still liked it slow and you had been an avid learner, but she wasn’t Lilia, and her patience had gone out the window long ago. Her hands were surprisingly clean, not a peck of red anywhere except for her nail polish as they traced the shape of each rose with her ring and middle fingers, the ones that had been circling your clit not minutes before, your arousal still coating her skin. You were sure she would start popping buttons in a moment but of course, she did the opposite of what you wanted her to and instead slid her hands down over her abdomen and towards her thighs. Her right leg was raised and placed on top of the bed, actually her heel was resting on your abdomen giving you a beautiful view of the red mark her strap had left on her hips and thighs and of her dripping folds, your mouth watering at the thought that perhaps she might let you taste her after all. For some reason you no longer had the need to be fucked raw and dumb but to see her coming undone under your skilled hands and tongue.
It was mesmerising to see her fingering the edge of her stockings, the pads on each finger selectively sliding and lifting the fabric before letting go, the sharp sound of the elastic drawing out a hiss from Avis that had your mind reeling and hips begging to grind onto something. This fucking woman was the biggest tease you had ever met in your entire life, and you had been with Lilia during that hippie era of no touching but going around the house completely naked. One quick motion had her clip on the front undone, hands travelling to her back to release the other, the pressure of her heel on your stomach leaving the imprinting of her sole on your skin. She was quick to do the same with her other leg, but this time the tip of her stiletto was purposely brushing the underside of your breast, your palate tasting that bitter dark chocolate that you liked as her eyes locked with yours, unable to stray from her, not even when she lifted the elastic of her stockings and moaned at the feeling of it landing on her skin again. You feared that if her fangs didn’t kill you all this teasing would. You hadn’t even noticed the grip your hands had on the covers, knuckles turning white at the force you were using to keep your hands away from her since you hadn’t been granted permission to touch her. She stood before you again, hands brushing the sides of her body, glancing at the blood smeared by her shoes over your taunt stomach, until finally her fingers reached the top of her corselette, your breaths hurried as her skilled hands unhooked it gently, one by one. The sight of her breasts spilling through lace and silk had you writhing, mad with lust and need to pull her to you and do the same unspeakable things she had done to you. Or more, whatever your depraved mind could come up with really.
Crimson rivers had flooded the valley between her breasts and pooled on the top of each plump tit, craving to see if there could be a sea of red over her hidden skin, if your blood had carved itself over her flesh in the shape of tilting roses, maybe even caressing the soft freckles that covered her body with the imprint of phantom kisses. As soon as the last hook came undone, the garment being held together by the pressure of her hands, your lungs stopped their incessant movement of pants, air held deep in anticipation. Time and space were relative; they could exist or be intangible theories that held no meaning in either of your lives because you could have sworn that nothing existed the moment she let go and revealed herself to you. Perfection. Utter perfection. No other word in the English language could describe what your eyes had the honour of witnessing, they all sounded weak, perhaps insulting to the beauty before you. Angels were forbidden from looking at her should they feel jealous of such beauty, demons demanded to worship the air she breathed and the ground she walked upon, and yet no God, evil or good, could claim her as their own for she was her own deity now. You were her most faithful apostle now, not the first, but the one that was given the gift of survival and that could never compare to anyone else, her church built of the bones of those she had considered inferior. Her abdomen held a softness that made your fingers twitch in need, the small pouch above her pubic bone dressed in pearly stretch marks that made your mouth water, hints of her muscles visible through the tenderness of her body that you could not help but compare to a Venus.
The skin of her chest was strained by the weight of her ample breasts, the wrinkles that had been caressing her figure now nearly gone as they had been red from her underwear and rested heavily above her abs, so full, so enticing. Her whole body reflected the silvery beams of moonlight as if she was made out of marble, every curve chiselled with the utmost reverence and patience, your eyes allowed to see, your hands allowed to touch. No more barriers separated you from her, a fact that pleased her as much as you as she climbed into bed, crawling like a feline over Egyptian linen that was already clinging to your perfume, her body slowly hovering over yours, straddling you. She had had the upper hand all night, commanding, dominating every single aspect of this encounter but for a moment you might get the chance to get a glimpse of her control, of that power she carried in her DNA, even if it cost you your own release. Because she wouldn’t actually kill you if you did this, would she? Looking at her now that her lips were following the line of your ear down to your collarbone licking off as much blood from you as she could you thought that perhaps it was a risk you were willing to take. A life of safety and innocence was a life wasted, all wrapped in cotton with nothing else to do but watch as everyone else did as they desired while you became nothing but ether, not even ink in someone’s diary.
And so took a leap of faith. Your hands shot to grab her by her forearms when her lips began to follow the shape of a vein down your neck and in between your breasts, your feet moving until the rested on the outside of her calves trapping her between your thighs and your ankles. The moment Avis felt your legs moving she lifted her head to look at you with an arched eyebrow and as you were feeling foolishly brave your lips curled into a smirk. A surprised yelp escaped her lips as you used a sudden burst of strength to turn the tables, or in this case your current positions. Avis’s body fell with a thud over the already stained covers, your figure now hovering over hers, all that gorgeous hair sprawled over white, framing her gorgeous face where your blood was slowly beginning to dry and crack. She was definitely surprised by this bold side of you, perhaps amused even though she shouldn’t be as thrilled, but it had been so long since someone had actually taken the lead in bed that wasn’t her that she had nearly forgotten what it was like to be pleased not only because she demanded it. And God, were you good at this. She had to give you credit because she truly had mistaken you for nothing more than a naïve little twat who loved to turn people on and then act as if you had never done a thing and in fact you were perhaps more like Lilia than she had anticipated. You had definitely had a good teacher. You had her arms trapped above her head, held down firmly while your legs kept hers spread open unable to move, trapped under you but she had no desire to take control of the situation now, she wanted to know exactly what you had in mind. Your lips caressed her cheek, brushing the cold flesh before you moved over to her ear, biting down and drawing out a moan from within her throat, one that had been waiting all night to be released.
-You want pleasure mama? – her lungs stuttered when trying to take a breath, the heat in her core burning with a heat she had not felt in a long time. Avis nodded barely. – Then relax and let your girl do exactly that. I’ll make you feel so good mama.
Oh, she knew you would. The world shifted for her, switching her kisses and caresses to hands holding onto the bedsheets as your lips followed the line of her jaw, your rosy lips stained bright red as you reached her chin and instead of heading down to her breasts, something you very much wanted to do, you decided to head upwards. Her mouth was inches from your, eyes locked in a gaze that could make time stop in every universe and although you knew you would not taste tobacco anymore you could not let the opportunity of kissing her got to waste, not when she was letting you do whatever you wanted. Inches became a thing of the past when your lips met hers in a soft, gentle kiss, nothing like the one she had given you before, all full of lust and power. This one was simple, unaltered adoration that you wanted to make sure she felt with every the brush of your lips, with the tip of your tongue tracing her bottom one until she opened her mouth, granting you access, the overwhelming taste of blood with it’s metallic essence brutal for an instant but somehow there was something sweet to be found under all that iron and you had an inkling that it wasn’t you, just the gentle notes of honey that dripped from Avis whenever your body moved to press against her releasing a melody of moans from her chest. Sounds that never reached the air around you as you swallowed them deep.
You were unsure if her spell was still clawing at your skin and mind or if you had surrendered to her already but all the terror that had clung to your heart moments before was gone, and as your tongue traced the shape of her fangs, goosebumps and shivers alike running all over Avis’s body, you only felt curiosity. Avis Amberg was a vampire, that much was clear to every soul on this planet, but you weren’t scared, why? Was it perhaps the fact that she had had the chance to kill you many many times tonight and she hadn’t, regardless of the threats? Or was it perhaps that she had drunk from you and the moment she had felt you dizzy and clumsy from blood loss she had stopped herself? This woman could be cruel and dangerous, murderous if she desired it, and yet you felt as if she was giving you a treatment not many people had ever got before, maybe no one. You weren’t entirely wrong, but you weren’t fully right. She was giving you the same treatment she had given Lilia, even though part of her mind knew that you could slip through her fingers just as easily as the other woman had, although she hoped you wouldn’t do it too soon. There was a softer side to Avis, and she might build up the courage to show it if she thought you were worth all the hassle of trusting you and opening herself up to you. Emotionally, of course, she was already quite open for you in every other aspect and dripping onto her expensive linens.
A loud moan echoed inside your mouth when your nails dug slightly on the sensitive skin of her wrists when your lungs began to plead for air, much to your dismay, and so your parted from her, hints of her carmine left around her cupid bow. Your journey began then, setting sail from the port of her mouth, following the stream of her neck, freezing but calm waters welcoming your kisses and the crystal clear waves mixed with tainted red currents on your tongue, passing the hollow of her neck where you made sure to through a mark overboard and sucked around it until you could see faint purple bruises appearing. On the horizon you could see the top of two stunning hills, soft, ample and splashed with patches of deep red roses that had taken root on the pools of your blood, your boat named “The Traveller” sailing through the valley of her breasts with easy, feeling her sternum underneath each kiss before you went on a trek through each hill. There were no bird or wild animals on the roads but the sounds that reached your ears were like songs that you wish you could record and listen to every time you found yourself lonely in your boat, pants, gasps and moan when your hands, the hands of gardener, of a sculptor and a surgeon, kneaded her flesh and caressed the petals of each of her roses knowing that your hands would be stained with your own blood, not that you cared. It was simply delicious to taste the plump flesh at your disposal, sucking and licking like a starved beast that was feet away from a fountain of pure water to sooth your thirst, right at the top of the hill, where your lips latched on to her stiff nipples and drank in every yelp and scream that she made, watching in awe as her hands gripped the covers above her head while her eyes fluttered shut, waves of pleasure coursing through her body like the winds that preluded a storm.
As much as you wanted to stay there forever, tasting her and toying with her breasts like this, pushing buttons that had Avis completely at your mercy it was clear you had to continue your journey before she changed her mind and released thunder and Hell on you and your little boat until you sank to the depths of the ocean, and so you returned to the valley but not before marking each breast with as many bruises as you could, violet contrasting with her tone in a most perfect pairing of colours. The waters you sailed on as kisses were placed tenderly on her stomach, the softness of her body simply breathtaking under your hands led you to beautiful but untold stories chiselled on her figure in the form of stretch marks, delivering gold and spices when your lips made sure to cares each and every one of them. She had them everywhere, around her upper arms, sculpted on the sides and underneath her breasts, around her lower abdomen and in perfect shapes that hugged her hips as well, marks that showed just how much she had lived and how her body had changed along with it. She might never get news ones or get rid of the ones she had, but there wasn’t a most beautiful thing to you than a body that showed just how much it had changed and adapted, how much it had gone through and how it had survived because it meant that Avis’s soul, cursed or not, had been there fighting through it all. Your tongue tasted thousands of memories interlaced with her DNA with each kiss you delivered, and even though they were silent words, you felt like the richest woman in the land, hands filled with gold and rubies as your palms held onto her hips.
Every sensation, every touch would fade into memories soon, your journey down her body soon reaching its destination, but it wasn’t something that made you feel sadness. No, you had conquered mountains and bathed in pools of sanctified water were her sounds echoed against marble walls and vines of rich red roses, you had kissed and tasted and had her in your arms but there was still time, still more to come before everything ended and you could not say that that wasn’t a thrilling journey of its own. “The Traveller” slowed its speed over gentle waters where the air smelled of saffron and salt, perfect ginger curls welcoming your lips with each kiss you left on her pubic bone, her arousal making them damp as your chin brushed against them. Her breath hitched in her lungs when your hands rested on the soft skin of her inner thighs, forcing her legs to spread even wider than before, your line of vision allowing you to feast on her dripping folds while also watching her face, slightly flushed, meeting your gaze in lustful waves that made you even wetter than you already were. Her skin was as delectable as you had always imagined, and her body as tender and responsive as you had expected her to be, squirming when your teeth nipped at the skin, the soothing heat of your tongue over the reddish marks nearly making her whimper in need, but she caught herself before it could slip out. She was giving you so much already, arching her back when your mouth had latched on to her breasts, biting down to keep from moaning wantonly when in truth she had failed miserably at that, thrashing and holding onto the bed covers until the linens were on the verge of ripping, she had to keep some mysteries to herself.
You would never do this for that girl at the canteen, only for Lilia, and now Avis, you thought as your kisses got closer and closer to where she needed you the most, her salty aroma making your mouth water, because that young thing meant nothing. She was pretty, yes, but she could never match either of the ladies you had the utmost pleasure of having under your body, screaming themselves raw when your mouth made them weak, a task you were very happy to fulfil for Avis now. She could never match the feeling of Lilia’s messy curls in your hands, Avis’s expensive perfume filling your lungs as you kissed down her neck, Lilia’s cold rings brushing your bare back when she pulled you to her or the sight of Avis soaked and ready for you as a gentle rain of silver fell over both of your bodies. One long swipe of your tongue had her arching her back, her folds the most sublime thing you had ever had the honour of tasting, salty with a spicy undertone that fell far from the usual sweetness you gathered from Lilia every time she let herself be loved by you, pleasured by you. A string of moans fell in quick succession from her bloody lips every time you sucked on her folds, your nose brushing on her clit with feather light touches that sent jolts of electricity all over her limbs, from the top of her head down to her toes, curling inside her black stilettos.
In under a minute you found a good rhythm, using two of your fingers to spread her open and fuck her with your tongue before wrapping your lips around her clit, sucking gently at first, twirling it slowly with your tongue until one of her hands shot to grab you by the hair to keep you in place. Fuck, you really could suck a clit. She had expected you to be good, Lilia was a very needy and sexually active woman so it was obvious she would have taught you a thing or two, but she hadn’t seen this level of expertise coming. Teeth grazed her swollen bud, spreading a white fire all over her body that matched the screams that her hoarse throat was giving, commanding you to go faster, to fuck her when in fact she had no control now. You could keep her wanting more, slowing down and then sucking and rubbing fast again and snatch her orgasm from her right when her fingers were about to wrap around it, almost daring to imagine how she would look pleading and crying for release like you had just done, like Lilia did whenever you had her at your mercy. Wouldn’t it be beyond erotic to have them both in your bed, one riding that big deep red cock while the other allowed you to eat her out, both moaning and begging to be fucked like sluts? Your sluts, all wet and lost in lust. Imagining that made your walls clench around nothing, missing the feeling of being so full even though you were slightly achy and sore, and the noises Avis was making along with the taste of her on your tongue certainly didn’t help the situation.
A singular synapse in your brain suddenly sparked an idea when the tips of your fingers teased at her entrance, pants high pitched and hips thrusting up to get any kind of friction that would get her exactly to where she wanted to be, but you didn’t push them in. You actually pulled back from her completely without a warning, a whimper at the loss falling from bloody lips before Avis lifted herself up and rested her weight on her elbows ready to call you out and angrily ask you what the hell you were doing. The words had already began to migrate from her vocal cord to the tip of her tongue when you rushed to the edge of the bed, your ripped panties sliding down your thigh, and bent to pick up something form the ground, leaving her quiet and curious as to what the fuck you were doing. The instant you straightened your back again her eyes caught a glimpse of black straps and a red tip and understood immediately what you were going to do, lower lip trapped between her teeth to avoid a moan at the thought of your fucking her like that.
It was clumsy to put it on like when you were still keeping her legs wide open with your body but after struggling for a few moments you tightened it, feeling the unfamiliar weight over your pubic bone, but you’d adjust to it fast you thought, your mouth returning to suck on her clit. You only needed to keep her dripping like this, and she would take you perfectly, your body moving to hover over hers as you aligned her own cock with her entrance, watching in delight as her eyes fluttered close when she felt the tip pushing a bit but never truly invading her. One of your hands tenderly grabbed hers and pulled them back over her head, inches away from her headboard while the other teased at her clit with your nails knowing perfectly well that she was more than ready, body sweaty and flushed. She didn’t scream, she made a noise so deep and guttural that she startled herself when you gave one hard thrust and buried yourself completely inside her, your hips perfectly moulded to hers, her ample breasts brushing against yours as her back arched and legs wrapped unconsciously around your thighs.
-Oh God!
-No mama, there is no God here. – pulling out slowly gave Avis the chance to feel every little detail on that cock, her cock, your mouth against her lips, ghosting over them but not quite kissing her yet. – Such blasphemy when you know that he would never fuck you like I’m going to. Mama is above such things and her girl will make sure to show her just how ethereal she already is. So, make sure to remember that I’m fucking you mama, not some God, just me and I will make you cum so hard that his name won’t ever be spoken again in this room.
She could have cum just from hearing you speak like that. The words, the husky tone, the power you held, or that she actually had given you for now, and the feeling of you filling her up so well, so deep and stretching her so good, it was like the most perfect cosmopolitan she could ever have, burning down her throat and spreading like a gentle tingling all over her body. You did not give her a chance to retort or gain any kind of leverage, you pulled out almost completely only to slam back into her until your hips were bruising hers, her hard nipples rubbing the sides of your breasts as your lips met hers, quieting every moan and scream of pleasure that was falling out of her. You had never dreamt you’d be fucking Avis Amberg like this, not even in your wildest fantasies, but life definitely has a way of surprising people in the strangest ways, or in the most delightful ones, because you could not describe those sinful sounds as anything else. Your thrusts were slow, fucking her with the tenderness she had forgone you, holding her hands over her pillow feeling her body shaking in pleasure and anticipation. She swallowed your cock with such ease, her pussy spreading itself to accommodate it with pools of arousal all around it, jerking upwards as every movement became faster, harder in execution against her pelvis, sounds that your lips couldn’t covered up as your lungs begged for air, filling up the room. Groans, pants, moans… and you couldn’t get enough.
-Fuck, Y/N. Harder, please. Fuck.
You could not say no to her when she was already begging, when her hands were fighting to hold onto the headboard for leverage. She wanted to be fucked good? Harder? Faster? She was going to go on a fucking astral journey when you were done with her. Both your hands reached to hold onto her thighs, your movements never faltering, and pushed her legs towards her chest, forcing her pussy to spread even wider, taking your cock deeper than before, so deep that the new posture had you touching all the sweet spots inside her. Avis’s back arched off the mattress, her head thrown back as the balls of her feet dug into the sides of your ribcage, meeting your thrusts at a brutal speed that she could take without issue.
-YES! FUCK! So deep, so full!
There was no self-control now, only the need to see her coming undone, to see if her screams could reach a point in which she could not manage sounds anymore, just frantic motions to show you that you were doing a good job, though you already knew that. Perhaps there some ego showing around the edges, but Lilia was to be faulted for that, she was a very very vocal teacher, and praises fell from her lips as much as profanities when she was riding you, though her strap was smaller than Avis’s, something you might have to fix. Being a virgin didn’t mean you lived in a convent. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled your head, your lips kissing down her neck as your blood dried and crack in between her breasts and on her chin, quelching noises of you fucking her furiously mixing brutally in an orchestra of perfectly tuned instruments that your fingers played. She was already clenching around you, holding onto her headboard for dear life moving her from side to side, almost lulling it back every time you sent fire coursing through her. She had fucked and been fucked so many times before, some of them actually making her lose her breath and weakening her legs but for some strange reason that her brain could not understand, or make the effort to right now, you were fucking her so well she could not compare it to anyone. Except Lilia, though you would not be insulted by it, of that, she was sure. Your hand retuned to her clit, engorged and absolutely soaked in her juices, your nails scratching in between circular motions.
-DON’T STOP! YES! YES! OHHHH
It was sudden, fast and mind blowing. For an instant there was nothing, no feelings or sensations, no thoughts, just time and space standing still and then a wave of white fire and electricity set her aflame. Your name fell from her lips over and over like a promise, a prayer, as her walls clenched brutally around your cock making your thrusts more difficult, but you did not stop, you carried on, with her body arching off the mattress and her hips losing all rhythm as she reached her high. Pleasure had her mind blank, cloudy with lust, tasting her own blood on her tongue from how raw her throat was, screaming her head off practically. You had to be thankful for her big garden, or her neighbours might have come to knock on her door already. Her juices gashed all over your cock and dripped down over the stained covers, but she was still in the peak of it all and had no intension of slowly her own thrusts down, matching yours with her breaths sharp and shallow, her heart on the verge of actually pumping again. After a few moments, perhaps minutes, or hours you finally felt her movements still and her body drop heavily onto the bed, resting her face against her arms as her legs trembled and slackened around your sides, the signal you needed to stop moving and let her catch her breath. She might lack a certain softness, perhaps a trait from her nature, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t receive it from you, your hands rubbing her thighs tenderly as you pecked her jaw and cheeks, allowing her time to relax her body and bask in the afterglow, knowing that she was okay when one of her trembling hands began to caress your hair in soft pets.
-Did mama feel good?
-Mhm… Very…
-I’m glad I was able to please you.
-Oh, doll, you did. Just don’t think you hold any kind of power here. I’ll be very quick to put you back in your place.
-Of course, mama. I won’t step out of place.
-Good girl. Now, why don’t you let mama reward you? – excited you gently laid her legs on the bed, a small whine escaping Avis when you pulled her long and thick cock out, watching her juices drip out of her and onto her linens before she collected herself again, a tired but still sweetly dangerous smile painting her lips while her eyes locked with yours. - You have done so well, and I think you have definitely earned the right to have mama please you.
-Yes, thank you, mommy.
-Come up here. I want to taste you.
Did she mean…? She was making herself comfortable on top of the pillows, gathering part of the blood that had not yet dried around her collarbone and tasting it with a pleased smile and hum. Oh, yeah, she definitely meant what you thought she meant, and you could read it in her relaxed but seductive posture and in the way her eyes lingered on your body while not even considering getting up. You were fast and a tiny bit clumsy in getting the strap off along with your ripped knickers, but you didn’t want to make her wait and end up being forced to sleep or go home all hot and bothered like this, so the rubber cock practically flew off the edge of the bed as soon as you removed it. Crawling up her body was like walking home after a long day, letting her hands caress the sides of your body and pulling you briefly against her when your neck was withing range, her tongue cold but soothing against the bite marks she had inflicted upon your body before, gathering fresh beads of blood on her tongue before the marks began to slowly heal. Scars would be left behind, but she very much knew that. She wanted Lilia to know exactly what she had done to you, to feel her anger in the air when she saw you weren’t her pure little human anymore, perhaps to lure her out of her hiding spot and face Avis, giving her the opportunity to show that witch exactly what she would do to you every single night.
Of course you’d let her lick you, and if she had wanted it you would have let her bite you again, oblivious to every thought that was crossing her mind, her revenge, her sexual haze, her memories, all mixing in a turmoil that she stomped on and crushed when her tongue traced your sternum and her hands gripped your hips, forcing you to move faster up her body. Her fingertips had brushed and caressed your breasts, pushing you from where you rested over her abdomen as her need to have you grew exponentially, feeling every inch of your creamy skin until your soft thighs stelled on each side on her head, your dripping pussy hovering a few inches from her face. Angry red marks followed her nails over the parts of your body that had remained perfectly pure and pale, mostly on your inner thighs, making you shiver as your fingers threaded through her curls while your other hand held onto the headboard, letting Avis kiss and lick and explore as much as she wanted, as much as she needed. The femoral artery was right there, inches away, almost calling her. One bite, that’s all she needed to suck you dry or to let you bleed to your death in seconds, but she had already made up her mind about what she was going to do with you: too sweet and fucking good with your tongue to kill you. Her hands traced the shape of your ass, kneading you and spreading you wider, unconsciously forcing you to lower your body towards her, that gorgeous nose of hers so close to touching you that you were shaking with anticipation.
Her lips kissed and licked her way up to the joint between your leg and your pussy, sucking little marks that only you, Lilia and she would see, bruises that made her crave just a small taste of you before she pulled you down completely. The small groans you were making turned into a loud gasp when you felt her biting down, screaming softly when her fangs pierced your skin and your blood began to seep into her mouth once again. She could consider this primeval need for blood as survival, as a deep hunger that could never cease, but drinking you, as her mouth flooded with the flavour of your being, she could only think that you had become an addiction, and one that she would never ever recover from. This time though it was truly just a taste, a sip of the sweetest wine after a satisfying meal that would keep her full until the next day, floral and earthy tones tainting her tongue when reluctantly she released your skin, beads of crimson liquid settling on her lips for an instant before she wiped them with the tip of her tongue, soothing the irritated flesh and watching it heal slowly. Two thin trails of blood were travelling down your thigh, but she was quick to gather them and clean you until there wasn’t a single trace of red anywhere. Her hands rested around your bruised hips, a hiss escaping through gritted teeth as she pulled your body down slowly, almost at a speed that didn’t make you realise what she was doing as her lips were still kissing and soothing your bruised flesh. Stars filled your line of vision the moment you felt her tongue lapping at you like a starved dog, her nose brushing against your clit at nearly the perfect pace, catching you off guard.
-Oh, fuck… So good.
Avis moaned loud against your pussy, sending vibrations through your body that had you shaking and holding onto the headboard for dear life, trying your best not to pull on her gorgeous curls and end up getting reprimanded in any way. She was methodical, slow with her tongue, sucking on your folds and pulling then with her sharp teeth as her hands kneaded your ass, holding you in place with very little effort, thriving in the mix of flavours that were clouding her senses. You weren’t just sweet in your blood, you were sweet everywhere, a festival of sensations that made her feel like she was having the most delicious chocolate martini she had ever had. Your arousal was like a sharp and burning pour of vodka on her tongue, sliding down her throat with the sugary tones of chocolate that throbbed around your clit when your hips began to move, seeking friction, pleasure, anything Avis could give you. But of course, she wasn’t getting drunk and high on just your juices, but on the noises, you were making, soft mewls and gasps that matched the flavours of your blood that had her lips painted in a deep shade of red, that delicious martini forming in her mouth with the sweetness of the baileys your blood had provided. It was just perfect, sublime, the cocktail mixing with each movement of her tongue, vodka, chocolate syrup and baileys swallowed deep with the garnish of Lilia’s golden sparks, and all poured into an hourglass cup that was your body. She’d sip from you until her senses were gone and your body was begging to cum all over her gorgeous face.
It wouldn’t take long though. She had fucked you so well before and you had been so close to the edge, still were after having watched her come undone underneath you, that every touch and every movement of her mouth had your dripping and moaning with your head thrown back, basking in every sensation. With her tongue she gathered every drop that was pouring out of you, moving her head back and forth to tease your engorged clit, gasps drifting through the open windows whenever a sharp jolt coursed through your veins, the tip of your toes and fingers tingling. Jesus fucking Christ! She pressed you closer, your pussy moulded to her face, your clit twirled and fucked by her nose, flicking it from side to side as her tongue slipped into your entrance, still sore and achy form having taken her seven inches all the way to the base, causing your whole frame to shake and moaning her name loudly, so loud that you could have sworn her mirrors were reverberating to the sound. Who was being blasphemous now Avis thought as her hands slid from your hips down to your ass aiding you in rocking your hips, letting you fuck her face, imagining the way your tits were bouncing and your face contorted in unadulterated pleasure while she ate you out.
-FUCK AVIS!
Her whole palm had collided with your ass cheek in a hard slap, your cunt gushing and clenching around her tongue as pain spread and blended into pleasure in a matter of seconds, your core ablaze, burning in wildfires that were so close to burning you completely. Your hips were losing rhythm against her mouth, lost in lust and passion, forgetting that she could kill you if you stepped out of line and pulling on her hair for leverage to fuck yourself. She knew you were close, so close, begging in pathetic pleas in between pants for an orgasm you were supposed to have had long ago, tears nearly spilling from the corners of your eyes. And she couldn’t quite leave you unsatisfied and needy; Lilia could finish the job when you went home and steal the opportunity of seeing you come undone from Avis. Another slap landed over your reddened skin, a scream ripping from your hoarse throat, but that was only a prelude, the honey she was dripping on your lips before the spoonful of exquisite dessert. Her mouth moved upwards so she would wrap herself around your clit, sucking hard and scrapping it with her teeth as she pushed two fingers inside you, fucking you hard and fast while curling them to hit that marvellous spot inside you without waiting for you to adjust or even grasp what was going on.
-GOD DON’T STOP! YES! AVIS! AVIS!
Supernovas exploded, the universe collapsed in waves of stardust and black matter that came from your body and soul bursting in a tsunami of passion and pleasure. If your back arched any further your spine would break, if you kept riding her face at such speed and with such force, you’d break her nose, but your brain could not form a coherent thought when you were being electrocuted, set of fire and elevated to a whole new state of matter. Avis could no longer push her fingers in and out of you, your walls trapping them in the most brutal orgasm you had ever had, the screams that had left your throat bloody no longer slipping out only silence as your voice had been stolen from your vocal cords, but Avis didn’t mind, she was quite busy twirling your clit softly to help you ride your high while gathering every drop that was pouring out of you, gulping it down so fast that she seemed to not have had a single glass of water in centuries. Your vision had gone black for an instant as your eyes rolled to the back of you head but a few seconds or minutes after your soul left your body it returned, and your hammering heart and hurried breaths could finally take air and slow down, your hips stilling their movements and releasing Avis from your iron grip that had kept her breathless for several minutes, but neither of you had to worry about her choking or suffocating, breathing was pretty much an accessory to her lifestyle now.
Your body trembled and shagged against the headboard, small sparks dancing under your skin, raiding goosebumps when Avis caressed your sore ass and kissed the wound on your inner thigh with a tenderness that had your hazy mind thinking it was Lilia for a moment, but you knew better even if your synapses were still under Avis’s spell. Or were you? In truth she had let you go long ago, practically when you had knelt in front of her like a lost puppy begging for a treat, so every single thing she had done to you and that you had done to her had been of your own free will. You had pushed your fear and terror to the back of your head, you had interlaced the memories of Lilia with Avis of your own accord all through the night, and never, not for an instant had the ginger forced you through magic to do anything, just sheer dominance and power balance, a fact that you clearly liked. You felt the shift in weight on the bed underneath your weak knees and hear the ruffling of linens behind you as Avis slipped from under your tired body and pressed herself against your back, the scratches stinging lightly and almost drawing out a hiss from your lips, but you were still in could nine and couldn’t even begin to form a single word. Her arms snaked around your waist and pulled you into her personal space, your head falling comfortably on her shoulder. The room was a mess, blood staining the carpet, the floor and the bedsheets, clothes spread all over while the strap hung from the edge of the bed along with Avis’s stilettos, rubies reflecting the platinum beams of moonlight as her jewellery rested on the chaise long at the foot of the bed.
-You did far better than I had imagined Y/N. If I had known you could match me this well, I would have done this ages ago, but I shall not dwell on lost time, not when you are going to be with me for a very very long time. - Avis’s bit down on her wrist, rich blood pouring in gentle swirls over her freckled skin, but she did not make you drink. No, she would not be so cruel to herself as to turn you into a vampire, she would be selfish instead. The wounds on your neck were nothing compared to the way her fangs pierced your pulse point this time, your mind collapsing like a sandcastle as the pain radiated only to be set alight when she pressed her wrist to your neck and drop by drop her blood mixed with yours. Voices screamed around you both, souls that tried to steer you away, to make you run and never return but they were nothing, just like the smoke of her cigarettes that faded into the air, like the breeze that brushed your naked bodies. Those pathetic shadows meant nothing, but Avis… Avis was everything. - Lilia will have to thank me for this. A gift of sorts to bury the hatchet. An eternal one.
#avis amberg#avis amberg x reader#lilia calderu#lilia x reader#patti lupone#patti lupone x reader#hollywood 2020#we thank miss lupone simply for existing
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The pantry conversation is fascinating! I think there is also a symbolic layer to the scene which suggests that Sirius knows more than he is letting on. The conversation is bisected by a standout image:
He could only see a sliver of Sirius's face; the rest was in darkness.
Which comes back a few paragraphs later to conclude the scene:
He clapped Harry on the shoulder and left the pantry, leaving Harry standing alone in the dark.
This final line, I think, is both literal and figurative. The pantry is dark, but Harry is also being left "in the dark" (in ignorance) about his visions, both by Sirius in this moment and by the Order, generally.
With this symbolism established (darkness = ignorance), the earlier image of Sirius's nearly-hidden face becomes more interesting to decode. Only "a sliver" of it is visible to Harry, which might suggest to the reader that Sirius is concealing something. Possibly a lot of something.
It's also notable that this image appears at a transition point in the conversation. Prior to the narrator's description of his face — which is emphasized by being set alone as its own paragraph — Sirius deflects Harry's questions, redirecting him to Dumbledore's authority:
When he paused for breath, Sirius said, “Did you tell Dumbledore this?”
Twice:
“I’m sure he would have told you if it was anything to worry about,” said Sirius steadily.
But after his hidden face is described, Sirius pivots to feeding Harry his own (extremely lackluster) explanations, such as:
“It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that’s all,” said Sirius. “You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and —”
or:
"You’re in shock, Harry; you’re blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it’s lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died."
All while doing his damnedest to end the conversation as soon as possible.
Why might the text highlight this shift?
Because this is when Sirius starts lying his face off.
The literal, textual, and symbolic elements of the moment come together very well. The one-line paragraph ("Harry could only see a sliver...in darkness") breaks the text of the scene in half, creating a weighty pause that draws the reader's attention. In that pause, Sirius makes a decision to change his approach, switching away from redirection and into active obfuscation. The darkness of the pantry suggests this symbolically, but it also literally prevents Harry from seeing any expression on Sirius's face which might give his lie away.
At first, this might seem out of character for Sirius, who is usually honest with Harry and is more willing than most to arm him with knowledge about Voldemort. But I'd argue that Sirius's choice here builds on another, quieter plot line from an earlier book: his concern about Harry's scar.
Look at the line directly preceding the transition:
"I thought I was a snake, I felt like one — my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore — Sirius, I wanted to attack him —" He could only see a sliver of Sirius's face; the rest was in darkness.
It's possible that Sirius changes tack at this point because he's realized that Harry isn't being reassured by vague references to Dumbledore's authority and will need a more concrete explanation to help him calm down. But I think it's likelier that, when Harry brings up his scar, he starts veering far too close to a topic that Sirius knows about and wants (or has been ordered) to avoid, prompting the new direction.
We know from Goblet of Fire that Sirius is aware of the connection between Harry's scar and Voldemort's person:
Dear Sirius...A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts.
We also know that Sirius is deeply concerned by this connection:
Harry — I’m flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore...he’s reading the signs, even if no one else is.
And that Sirius and Dumbledore have discussed Harry's scar in private:
“Now, has your scar hurt at any other time this year, excepting the time it woke you up over the summer?” “No, I — how did you know it woke me up over the summer?” said Harry, astonished. “You are not Sirius’s only correspondent,” said Dumbledore. “I have also been in contact with him ever since he left Hogwarts last year.”
And while Sirius usually tries to give Harry the facts, we know from Order of the Phoenix that he accepts Dumbledore's decision to withhold key details about Harry's connection to Voldemort, especially the existence of the prophecy:
“What’s he after apart from followers?” Harry asked swiftly. He thought he saw Sirius and Lupin exchange the most fleeting of looks before Sirius said, “Stuff he can only get by stealth.” When Harry continued to look puzzled, Sirius said, “Like a weapon. Something he didn’t have last time.”
Note that Sirius uses the same tactic here that I speculate he's using in the pantry: first attempting to deflect Harry's question but, when Harry seems unconvinced, pivoting to a distracting lie.
Sirius also pivots from stonewalling to misdirection in at least one other scene:
“But if they do expel me,” said Harry, quietly, “can I come back here and live with you?” Sirius smiled sadly. “We’ll see.” “I’d feel a lot better about the hearing if I knew I didn’t have to go back to the Dursleys,” Harry pressed him. “They must be bad if you prefer this place,” said Sirius gloomily.
What a sneaky subject change!
Hermione may be right that Sirius is chewing on some complex feelings here about wanting Harry to be expelled. But this is also another moment when Harry is circling a subject that we know the Order is trying to conceal from him: the blood protection generated by Lily's sacrifice and, by extension, the details of Voldemort's hunt for the Potters. (At this point, Harry still doesn't know that he, not his parents, was the target of Voldemort's attack...or why). It seems clear that, at some point between the end of PoA and the beginning of OotP, Dumbledore has informed Sirius that he can neither remove Harry from the protection of the Dursleys' home nor provide an honest explanation about why this is. (Whether Sirius agrees that this is necessary, or whether he's been overruled by Dumbledore, is anyone's guess).
And this is before we get into speculation about what details (if any) Sirius may have learned about the prophecy from James.
Viewing the pantry scene in this context, I would argue that Sirius either knows or suspects the connection between Harry's vision, the prophecy, and Harry's scar. This is why he can't give Harry a straightforward answer to his questions, and also why he cuts off the conversation as soon as he can.
Exactly how much does Sirius know? Unclear! Dumbledore is definitely keeping the knowledge that Harry's scar is a Horcrux to himself, but Sirius probably still has more insight than the others. I wouldn't be surprised if, at some point during Sirius's time in the mountain cave, Dumbledore responded to his concerns with some version of the partial explanation he gives to Harry in GoF:
"It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred.” “But … why?” “Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed,” said Dumbledore. “That is no ordinary scar.”
or in OotP:
"...in marking you [as his equal] with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers..."
depending on how much Sirius already knows about the prophecy.
Or, if Dumbledore hasn't already told Sirius about the connection between Harry's scar pain and his visions of Voldemort, the pause in the pantry:
"...my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore — Sirius, I wanted to attack him —" He could only see a sliver of Sirius's face; the rest was in darkness.
might be the moment when Sirius figures it out. In which case, I'd bet he's resolving to bring it up with Dumbledore himself at his first opportunity.
It's a heartbreaking, unsettling scene, because this moment does a lot of damage to Harry's trust in Sirius. (The rupture in their relationship is yet another plot line that is symbolically underscored by Sirius's face, nearly hidden — one might say veiled — in shadow. A haunting visual.)
It's a fantastic example of how much can be accomplished with one image!
Hi! So obvi we didn’t get much time w them together, but do you think w more time Sirius/Harry would have been more physically affectionate? It just kinda seemed like they were holding each other at a distance especially in ootp, w the one armed side hug, hand on shoulder etc.
And what do you think of the scene in the cupboard where Harry is venting his concerns to Sirius and Sirius kinda …sends him to bed and walks out lol do you think that’s more of Sirius keeping a distance?
I think Sirius is keeping a distance in OotP, but he isn't doing it for the sake of keeping distance. Also, that the scene you mentioned isn't quite that. I think keeping distance isn't his intention:
“Sirius,” Harry muttered, unable to stand it a moment longer. “Can I have a quick word? Er — now?” He walked into the dark pantry and Sirius followed. Without preamble Harry told his godfather every detail of the vision he had had, including the fact that he himself had been the snake who had attacked Mr. Weasley. When he paused for breath, Sirius said, “Did you tell Dumbledore this?” “Yes,” said Harry impatiently, “but he didn’t tell me what it meant. Well, he doesn’t tell me anything anymore. . . .” “I’m sure he would have told you if it was anything to worry about,” said Sirius steadily. “But that’s not all,” said Harry in a voice only a little above a whisper. “Sirius, I . . . I think I’m going mad. . . . Back in Dumbledore’s office, just before we took the Portkey . . . for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt like one — my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore — Sirius, I wanted to attack him —” He could only see a sliver of Sirius’s face; the rest was in darkness. “It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that’s all,” said Sirius. “You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and —” “It wasn’t that,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It was like something rose up inside me, like there’s a snake inside me —” “You need to sleep,” said Sirius firmly. “You’re going to have breakfast and then go upstairs to bed, and then you can go and see Arthur after lunch with the others. You’re in shock, Harry; you’re blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it’s lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying. . . .” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and left the pantry, leaving Harry standing alone in the dark.
(OotP, Ch22)
Harry, as usual, seeks Sirius' advice when something is wrong. Sirius is the adult Harry trusts the most, so it isn't a surprise there. Sirius' reaction, though, is much less helpful than he usually is (especially back in GoF). And I think there are two contributing factors to it:
a. Being back in Grimmauld Place.
Being back in his childhood home brings back a lot of unpleasant memories for Sirius. He is depressed, he is imprisoned again in a place he thought he'd never return to, the Order and Dumbledore don't treat him like it's his house, and he knows he has no power over the Order, his own home, or what happens to Harry and he feels lost and scared and is trying not to show Harry any of that.
This scene shows some of it:
“Don’t worry,” Sirius said. Harry looked up and realized that Sirius had been watching him. “I’m sure they’re going to clear you, there’s definitely something in the International Statute of Secrecy about being allowed to use magic to save your own life.” “But if they do expel me,” said Harry, quietly, “can I come back here and live with you?” Sirius smiled sadly. “We’ll see.” “I’d feel a lot better about the hearing if I knew I didn’t have to go back to the Dursleys,” Harry pressed him. “They must be bad if you prefer this place,” said Sirius gloomily.
(OotP, Ch6)
Sirius lets Harry down not because he doesn't want Harry to live with him, we know he does, but it's because he knows he isn't making the decisions. He knows Harry would go wherever Dumbledore sends him, and he doesn't want to get Harry's (or his own) hopes up for something he knows he has no control over.
Not only that, but he knows him wanting Harry to get expelled and stay with him (which he wants) is selfish and would be to Harry's detriment. So, he's trying to not make it an option, neither for himself nor for Harry.
And we see he hides his depression from Harry. We know he drinks enough that Harry smells it on him:
Sirius was hurrying toward them all, looking anxious. He was unshaven and still in his day clothes; there was also a slightly Mundungus-like whiff of stale drink about him.
(OotP, Ch22)
But never in front of Harry. While Harry is at Grimmauld, Sirius doesn't drink and doesn't let himself lose himself, even if he wants to, because he is trying to be there for Harry. Whenever Harry says anything, Sirius immediately jumps to accommodate. Sirius cares, a lot, he's just in a shit mental state.
“Right — yeah,” said Harry distractedly. It was his last chance to tell Sirius to be careful; he turned, looked into his godfather’s face and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so Sirius was giving him a brief, one-armed hug. He said gruffly, “Look after yourself, Harry,” and next moment Harry found himself being shunted out into the icy winter air, with Tonks
(OotP, Ch24)
In the above scene, Harry wants to tell Sirius to be careful and watch out for himself, something Sirius doesn't want to hear. Sirius knows he is being self-destructive when Harry isn't around, and in the above scene, I always read it as him wanting to not promise Harry he'd be careful. Because if Harry asked him, he'd promise, and if he did, he'd feel inclined to keep his promise, which he isn't interested in doing. He wants to self-destruct, and he knows Harry wouldn't like it.
b. Dumbledore's orders.
We know Sirius was told by Dumbledore, Molly, Lupin, etc. that he shouldn't tell Harry the full story. Not only that, but Dumbledore told the Order about some of his suspicions regarding Harry being possessed by Voldemort:
“Yes,” said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded rather uneasy. “You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this. . . .” “Yeah, well,” said Moody, “there’s something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that.” “Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning,” whispered Mrs. Weasley. “ ’Course he’s worried,” growled Moody. “The boy’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake. . . . Obviously, Potter doesn’t realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who’s possessing him —”
(OotP, Ch22)
Dumbledore expected something like it, and even Molly noticed, Moody thinks it's obvious this is a case of possession — you think Sirius doesn't realize it? Sirius probably thinks like them, that Harry was temporarily passed by Voldemort, and he's terrified.
He shuts down Harry's fears in the pantry scene because these are probably his own fears, too. He is trying to convince both Harry and himself that Harry is fine and isn't possessed by Voldemort. That he isn't dangerous or in danger because he would be helpless to help him. And Sirius hates feeling like that. It's how he felt all the time in Grimmauld.
The scene in the pantry always read to me like very aggressive reassurance mixed with denial.
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Wednesday prompt - Clary/Jase/Izzy etc try to justify something by claiming that 'you only met/got together with Magnus because of our decisions so they can't be that bad' only for Alex to fire back about the inevitability of their meeting, even without being institute/warlock leaders & politic meetings, there is no world in which he would look upon Magnus and fall. (Meanwhile, Magnus is either swooning, about to swoon when he hears, or ready to 'prove' how inevitable they are - in bed ;)
i hope you enjoy what my brain came up with, it's been a bit but here it is <3
lumine
whispers in the night
“Oh please, it’s because of Clary that you even met Magnus. You wouldn’t have had your happily ever after if it wasn’t for her! In fact it’s also because of me! Since you know, I found out because of Camille.” Simon’s voice lowers at that last bit and he looks around, as if wary the name will summon her.
Amusing, but it takes at least grave dirt for that.
Izzy winces at Simon’s usual lack of tact but even when Alec glares at her, she just shrugs in a way Alec knows means ‘well he’s not wrong’.
Worse, Jace and Clary agree.
Out loud.
In a bar full of shadowhunters and downworlders both.
Alec is about to be known as the HOTI with the most incompetent family. Especially since his mother’s deruning is public knowledge at this point.
Worse, at least five of the downworlders in the back crowd work for Magnus in some capacity. Alec can recognize how the magic on him reacts to the magic they’re sworn to. They’ll also have noticed the reaction and be keeping an eye on him for Magnus’ sake and probably an ear too.
Every one in the shadowworld knows that Magnus Lightwood-Bane loves to hear what his shadowhunter husband is up to. Magnus has the biggest spy network that crosses both shadowhunter and downworlder lines and it’s centered around gossip of Alec and no one’s even noticed.
“Well I will admit that it’s because of Clary that I met Magnus in combat, twice on the same night. But Magnus and I were always fated to meet, it was just a matter of time.”
“Okay, but Lydia! You would have already been married before you even met Magnus.” Simon points it out quickly but Izzy and Jace both wince. Alec is glad to see that at least they’re smart enough to see the issue of this particular logic.
“I wouldn’t have had to think about marriage for another six years by my original plans if Clary hadn’t shown up. I only even met Lydia when she was sent over because of the waves Clary was making. The very thing that caused our parents to push me for a political marriage was Clary’s existence and presence.”
Alec can do this all day.
In fact he’d be delighted to, if it helps hammer some sense into them.
“Wait, what do you mean all of that happened because of me?” Clary doesn’t sound horrified, she sounds vaguely defensive and Alec sighs.
“Well you showed up and insisted on dragging with you a mundane who had no business in a world that ended up killing him. You got over a dozen of my shadowhunters killed because you didn’t follow orders. Not to mention how many on behalf of the Clave. I know you didn’t understand those orders, but that’s exactly why you should have listened. To at least learn what you shouldn’t do, if you were still going to disobey.
“It’s the same reason that dozens of downworlders are dead because of you. Perhaps not your direct actions all the time, but even just your presence has caused death. The main New York pack alpha changed because of you and Simon. It happened through Luke but it was because of you. The power structures recentered themselves, dozens of vampires died because again, you brought Simon along. True, they shouldn’t have kidnapped him but unlike you, they didn’t have the ability to defy orders so defiantly and they were under orders. You were not. In fact you often ignored orders, suggestions, commands and even begging at times. If you hadn’t insisted on dragging Simon with you despite repeated warnings, none of that would have happened.”
Jace is beginning to glower at him but there’s also red high on his cheeks and his ears and Alec has a feeling that the year he spent with his grandmother before Clary got her memories back was good for his self-restraint. Shocking as it is to think that Imogen has any, let alone the ability to teach it. Alec feels like the old politician is just too stubborn and Jace too happy to have a family.
Izzy is looking at the table, the ceiling, her bracelet... anywhere but Simon, Clary or Alec’s own face.
Simon looks disturbed, as if he’s only just realized quite a few things and also like he might lose his dinner.
Which Alec will not forgive.
If Simon ruins Alec’s new shirt — that Magnus picked out for tonight — then Alec will sit Simon down and point out every single instance in which Clary either deliberately put him in danger, ignored him, or the times Simon himself created chaos and then cried foul about it.
It’s been almost a year of being back after two years gone and things are still in the fond memory stage of things regarding Clary. Alec is happy to stir up bad memories before he will let anyone start pulling ‘Clary saved the world’ bullshit again.
By Raziel, Alec barely handled not starting a massacre the first time it popped up and he knows for a fact that it was either Izzy or Simon or Jace who started it.
Thankfully, while she’s quick to believe any accolades and praise of herself, Clary is less quick to claim such a great feat after all she’s lost.
That doesn’t mean Alec won’t keep an eye on her though.
“My point is—” Alec says, because he actually does have one. “Is that while Clary certainly caused enough disaster for me to meet Magnus several times over, her actions could have just as likely kept us apart. It certainly didn’t help us get together. What was always going to bring Magnus and I together is the Institute’s wards. Even discounting my eventual full promotion to Head, I was already a Commander. The wards were due for a touch-up even before the experimental forsaken invaded, it just got delayed because of all the waves Valentine and Clary were both making. And Magnus has been the holder of the Institute wards for decades, our meeting was set into fate since before you were born.”
Clary is frowning at him, but her face has been like that since he finished pointing out all the shit she pulled.
Simon looks like he wants either the booth to swallow him whole, or to sink under the table and melt into the shadows like a rat.
Perhaps literally.
“But the whole reason you and Magnus are together is because you met when you did, right?”
Alec blinks at Simon because really, he’s trying way too hard to win this. Alec suddenly has a suspicion that perhaps it’s either because Simon wants downworlder credit for helping introduce them, or it's for a bet.
Simon’s been notorious at betting with Maia, Lily and Gretel and while it’s kept on the downlow who wins and who loses, Alec’s heard the stakes are intense.
“I mean, while watching Magnus kill a rogue shadowhunter certainly charmed me, it wasn't the best setting to get to know each other.” Alec smirks, “I would have been just as charmed to see him come check the wards. I don’t think there’s a universe or setting imaginable where I wouldn’t be interested the moment I saw Magnus.”
“I can assure you darling, I feel the same.”
Magnus' voice comes from beside them and Alec gets up automatically, turning to find Magnus there, arms ready to come around him.
There’s a moment where they greet, lips meeting in casual tenderness before parting and Alec lets himself relax into the possessive hands of his husband. Fingers dip greedily beneath his shirt as Magnus palms the small of his back and then trails his fingers further still.
“Alexander and I were always going to meet eventually.” Magnus looks at the table with the same amount of aloof boredom he exudes around Lorenzo Rey and his ilk. “In fact I believe I could have wooed him within a day, if your presence and actions hadn’t backed him into a corner. In fact he never would have gotten engaged if he’d made drinks with me, I can assure you that. However, why did he miss drinks? Oh, because you and Simon ran off and then got yourselves kidnapped.”
Ah.
Alec had forgotten that Magnus is still nursing quite a grudge about the whole thing. Especially when Alec had also admitted that if it hadn't been for Clary, he probably would have been in Magnus' arms if not his bed very quickly.
Clary’s presence had brought both the eye of the Clave and the focus of Alec’s parents and that is why he’d backed off and been so hesitant.
However, if Alec had a chance to have an actual date or night with Magnus, like the drinks they never got, he probably would have enough of a taste to stand up for what he wanted. As it is, Alec hadn’t been willing to risk everything on just a possibility, but if Magnus and he had gotten that opportunity before the wedding kiss.
Well, anything could have happened.
And Magnus knows it.
Alec presses another kiss to Magnus' jaw to hide the smirk tugging at his own lips.
“At least I invited you to the wedding.” Izzy offers, as if trying to deflate the entire debacle.
“Izzy. I really don’t think you want to hear mine or Magnus’ thoughts about the wedding and why it was even brought up.”
Izzy seems to remember then that she was a part of the cause and she shoves a handful of colorful candy in her mouth.
“As delightful as it is to hear you all try to take credit for mine and Alexander’s relationship—” here Magnus gives them all a cold, steady stare. Because while not entirely caused by them alone, almost every hurdle in their relationship has been caused or started by his siblings and Clary or Simon. Even if it was just the situation they found themselves in. “I’ve already let you have him for longer than agreed upon. I’d like my husband all to myself for once.”
Alec gives a polite nod and just steps closer and away with Magnus, that’s as much as a goodbye as they’re getting from him tonight.
“You’re early.” Alec murmurs once he’s sure he’s been touching Magnus long enough for Magnus' sound-muffling ring to encompass him as well.
“Well they didn’t notice and someone texted me. They seemed to think there was about to be a brawl if I didn’t come to collect you.”
“I wasn’t about to start a fight.” Alec is offended, he was using his words. Not his fists or weapons.
“Not you darling, the topic of conversation was bringing up some bad memories. Hardly your fault—” well actually, it technically is since Alec normally keeps this kind of discussion behind sound-proofed walls.
However they implied things about him and Magnus that Alec couldn’t allow. As if their relationship is contingent on anything other than instinct and want combined with effort.
This might make tensions for Clary a bit rough again but she’s handled and inflicted worse. Maybe this will finally teach her and Simon to be more careful with their words, but Alec feels like that’s just wishful thinking.
#lumine writes#writing wednesday#writing wednesdays#whispers in the night#alec lightwood#magnus bane#malec#shadowhunters
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"You, Me & Malaysia," - k. nanami
❛ ❜ kento nanami x f!reader - Part Two
❝Being married to Kento Nanami, meant a lot of sleepless nights, worried if he would come home in one piece, or if he'd come home at all. “Kento… What happened?” you whispered, trying to slide down to inspect it, but he held you tighter. “Shoko patched me up,” he said gently, brushing your hair back with a knuckle. “I just haven’t had time to take it off.” Shoko wouldn't be able to patch up a burned man, and neither could he.❞
cw ; mdni • 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. hurt. consent. smut . anxiety. almost death.
word count ; 2.5k
additional tags ; sorcerer au. married. kento almost dies in Shibuya.
main masterlist | part I | part III -end

The moment you stepped off the plane, something shifted. The air was warm and humid, fragrant with salt and jasmine. There were no sirens, no cursed energy vibrating beneath your skin. No heavy footsteps behind you. Just the sound of cicadas, waves in the distance, and the slow, unhurried rhythm of a place untouched by war. You moved into a modest but beautiful coastal house—a rental, white-walled and open, framed with dark wood and soft yellow lanterns that swayed in the breeze. The sea was five minutes away. Sometimes you could hear it from your bed at night. It was the farthest place from everything you’d known. And Nanami never complained. He didn’t say goodbye to anyone. He simply packed what little he wanted to keep, took your hand, and followed you here.
Nanami didn’t look like the man you remembered—not entirely. His face had changed. One eye was gone, the socket covered by a pale, smooth patch of scar tissue and a strip of black gauze. His body, once so precise and untouched, now bore fire-kissed reminders of the Halloween battle—up his back, down one side of his torso, and over the tops of his shoulders. But it wasn’t the physical change that made the silence between you ache. It was the way he moved. Measured. Cautious. Like he didn’t trust his own presence anymore. At night, you sometimes found him standing in the hallway. Staring at the wall. Or outside, barefoot in the sand, the moonlight kissing his scars while he lit a cigarette and stared into nothing.
He rarely touched you—not because he didn’t want to, but because he wasn’t sure if he could. He’d look at you sometimes like he was remembering something lost, something unreachable. The quiet hurt in his one remaining eye said more than words ever could. You loved him fiercely. But love didn’t always fill the space where grief sat.
Still, the two of you carved out new rituals. He woke up early to make you breakfast. Simple things—fruit, rice, eggs with soy and scallions—served on the shaded back patio. He brewed coffee strong and bitter for himself, you green tea, and brought it to you with a kiss to your temple, every day without fail. You started journaling again. He read more. Long afternoons would pass with both of you in the hammock together, your belly against his side, a book in his lap and your feet in his hands. He was quiet. But he was there. Present in a way that made your chest ache. “I never thought we’d have this,” you said one evening, curled beside him beneath a mosquito net as the waves whispered beyond the walls. “This peace.” He was silent for a long moment, then murmured, “I don’t think I deserve it.” You lifted your head, cupping his cheek. “You do. You always have.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, nodding once—but he didn’t answer.
You were eight months pregnant now. The weight of the baby made it hard to sleep, but the quiet tension between you and Nanami made the nights even harder. You hadn’t been intimate in months. Not since before Halloween. Not since the scars. The baby was conceived in a different life—before fire and loss, before hospitals and breathless panic in the dark.
You knew he wanted you. You saw it in the way he looked at your lips sometimes, in how his hand would linger a moment too long at your waist when he helped you out of the bath. But there was distance between want and action. And that gap grew heavier each day.
Some nights, your body ached—not just from pregnancy, but from need. From the weight of being touched only softly, platonically, when your heart screamed for more. For closeness. For the man who used to press you into the mattress and kiss every inch of you until you couldn’t breathe. One night, while he was drying your legs with a towel after a bath, you let out a soft, broken sigh. His hands stilled. “Is something wrong?” he asked, voice low. “I miss you,” you whispered. His hand twitched around the towel. You could see it—how he closed himself off. A protective instinct. “I’m here.”
“You are,” you agreed, gently. “But not all the way.” He set the towel aside and stood, jaw tense. He was fighting something inside him. “I’m not what I was.”
“I never asked you to be.” He turned toward the window, arms folded, as if ashamed. “I don’t know how to be close to you without feeling… like I’ve ruined it.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” you said, getting to your feet and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “You survived. You’re still you, Kento. I love you. I want you.” He bowed his head. His breath stuttered.
“I’m afraid I won’t be enough for you anymore.” Your chest cracked open at those words. You moved to stand in front of him, cupping his face gently. “You’re already enough,” you said, tears in your throat. “You just have to let me see you again.”
That evening, you took a walk down to the beach. The sky was navy and violet, the stars soft and scattered like salt. The moon glowed full above you, silver and bright. You held his hand. He didn’t let go. When you sat in the sand, he let you rest your head on his shoulder. His breath was calm now. The kind of calm that took months to learn again. “You’re still the only person I trust,” he said, his voice warm, deeper than before. “Even when I can’t trust myself.” You turned to look at him.
“And you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted. Still. Even now.” He reached for you. Touched your belly. Kissed your lips so softly it broke your heart. That night, you went home and undressed slowly, together. No expectations. Just rediscovery. Scars and softness. Tenderness in silence. You let him explore you again—not with hunger, but reverence. And for the first time in a long time, he let himself be seen.
The bedroom glowed in the moonlight, filtered through the gauzy curtains that fluttered with the ocean breeze. Everything smelled like clean linen, salt, and the sandalwood oil you’d started using to soothe your skin. The moonlight cast silver over the sheets, and the rhythmic hush of waves beyond the open windows made the silence between you feel sacred rather than tense.
Nanami stood by the doorway, quiet, his broad shoulders tense beneath the open collar of his linen shirt. He had just helped you change into your cotton nightdress—loose, soft, clinging slightly to the swell of your belly. But neither of you had moved since then. You watched him, heart thrumming, and finally reached for the hem of the dress. His hand caught yours gently. “Let me,” he murmured. His voice was softer than you remembered it being. Lower. Roughened by time and silence. You dropped your hand and let him take over.
Nanami pushed the dress up slowly, knuckles brushing your thighs, your hips, the underside of your growing belly. His touch was reverent, almost cautious, as though unwrapping something fragile. His breath hitched when the fabric slipped over your breasts. You were bare beneath it. You hadn’t worn underwear in weeks—partly for comfort, partly because you had hoped. Hoped for this. Hoped he would want to look at you again like he used to. And now, he was.
His one eye drank you in. Not greedily. Not lustfully. But completely. As if memorizing every new curve, every soft swell of your pregnant form. His hand lifted slowly, then rested on your belly, thumb brushing the place where your skin stretched the most. “You’re even more beautiful now,” he whispered. Tears stung your eyes. “Kento…” He looked up at you. “I’m sorry it took me this long.” You shook your head. “I was never waiting for the perfect version of you. I was just waiting for you.”
Something cracked in him then—softly, like a window being opened after a long winter. He leaned forward and kissed you.
And this kiss was different than any before.
There was no rush. No buried urgency. Just mouths rediscovering the warmth of each other, slow and molten. His lips moved against yours with a softness that made your thighs clench. His tongue traced the shape of your lower lip before slipping between them, coaxing, exploring. You gasped into his mouth when he lifted you carefully into his arms and carried you to the bed, laying you down like something holy. “I’ve missed you,” you whispered, hands stroking the sides of his neck. “Touch me. Please.” He shed his shirt slowly. Then the rest of his clothes. You had seen his scars before, but this was different. He let you look. Let you touch them—one hand tracing the burn that curved over his collarbone, the old wound by his ribs. His muscles jumped slightly under your fingers, but he didn’t flinch. He watched you. You whispered over his skin with your lips, your nose, your hands. And he let you.
When he leaned over you again, he was trembling slightly—not with fear, but restraint. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said against your jaw. “You won’t,” you promised, breathless. “Just go slow.” He kissed your neck, then lower, down the curve of your chest. When his mouth closed around your nipple—aching and swollen—your back arched off the bed. The gentle suction, the flick of his tongue, sent shocks through your core. You felt alive. Touched. Worshiped. He trailed kisses lower, pausing to press reverent ones across your belly. “You’re carrying so much,” he murmured, voice thick with awe. “And still you want me.”
“I’ve only ever wanted you.” His hands slid between your legs—gentle, firm, practiced. He parted you carefully, eyes locking onto your face as his fingers dipped between your folds. You were wet.
Soaked, actually—months of unspoken desire pooling between your thighs, your body greedy for him. Nanami inhaled softly through his nose, and you saw his restraint waver. “Touch me,” you begged, hips rising into his hand.
He did. One thick finger traced the length of your slit, circling your clit before pressing gently inside. You moaned, hands fisting the sheets. Another finger followed, curling just right. He moved slowly, pumping into you with care, listening to your sounds, watching your face, adjusting his angle until your moans turned into soft, broken pleas. And then he knelt between your thighs, his head bowing low.
You gasped when his tongue touched you—slow, broad, unhurried licks over your clit, drawing pleasure out of you in waves. He feasted on you with quiet reverence, groaning low in his throat at your taste, your warmth. When you came, it was with your hands in his hair and his name on your lips. He kissed your thighs gently after, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rose up over you. His cock was hard and heavy, flushed dark with need, but he didn’t move until you cupped his face. “Please,” you whispered. “Make love to me.”
He closed his eye and let out a shaky breath. Then nodded. You opened your legs wider for him, heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and tenderness. Your thighs trembled slightly as he lined himself up, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. He took his time—watching your face, gauging every breath, every shift of your body. And then, he began to push in. Slowly. Inch by thick, aching inch.
You gasped as your body stretched to accommodate him, the months of absence making you feel the fullness even more. The pressure was intense—but welcome—like he was re-carving space inside you that had always belonged to him. You instinctively wrapped a leg around his waist, needing him closer, deeper. Nanami braced himself on one elbow beside your head, his free hand cradling your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek as he sank fully into you.
“God…” he whispered, voice trembling. “You feel like home.” You whimpered beneath him, arms clutching his back, nails digging softly into his skin. “Don’t stop. Please.” His hips began to move—slow, deep rolls that made your breath hitch with every stroke. He was careful, reverent, as though rediscovering you with every thrust. His pelvis pressed against yours, slow friction sending pulses of pleasure up your spine. Every time he bottomed out, you felt the weight of him—his length dragging deliciously against your inner walls, his skin warm and damp against yours.
“I missed this,” he murmured into your ear, his voice low and wrecked with feeling. “Missed you. Your warmth. Your sounds…” You moaned louder when he angled his hips just right, brushing your sweet spot with a deliberate thrust that made your toes curl. “Yes—right there, Kento…” He shuddered at the way you said his name—like a prayer, like a cry.
He kissed your forehead, then the soft trail down to your cheekbone, your jaw. His lips found your mouth again, and this kiss was different—hungry, aching, a little desperate. He sucked gently on your bottom lip as he thrust into you again, the rhythm building with quiet intensity.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently. His lips dropped to your neck, tongue tracing over your skin before he bit down just enough to make your breath hitch. “You’re mine,” he whispered, hips grinding slowly, purposefully. “All of this… still mine.” You cried out, your body tightening around him, eyes fluttering closed as the pressure inside you built.
“Y-Yes, Kento—yours… always yours…” His hand trailed down your side, over the curve of your belly, then between your thighs. His thumb found your clit with practiced ease, circling in slow, perfect pressure. You jerked under him, body arching into the touch. He was whispering to you as you spiraled higher—soft, filthy things said with so much love: “Let go for me… I want to feel you… so perfect like this…” “Been dreaming about being inside you…” “Want to see you come with my name on your lips…” You were trembling, breath coming in fast, shallow bursts. His thrusts stayed deep and steady, his thumb moving just a little faster now, the tension in your body coiling tight and hot. And then it broke.
You came with a cry, your walls clenching around him, your thighs squeezing his hips. Pleasure rolled over you in waves, shattering and beautiful. Nanami groaned above you, burying his face in your neck, his pace faltering as your orgasm pulled him over the edge with you. “Fuck—” he choked out, thrusting once, twice more before burying himself to the hilt and coming inside you. You felt the warmth of him fill you—thick and hot—and it made your core flutter again, sensitive and overwhelmed. He didn’t pull out right away. Instead, he lied there, still joined with you, cradling you as your heartbeats slowed in tandem. His forehead rested against yours, breath brushing your lips.
“I love you,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Even when I couldn’t touch you… I never stopped.” You cupped his face, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I know. I never stopped either.” And there, tangled together with the sound of waves outside and the scent of sex and salt in the air, you held each other like two people finally finding their way back home.
#anime fanfic#fanfiction#kento nanami#nanami kento#kento nanami smut#nanami kento smut#nanami smut#nanami x reader#jjk nanami#jujutsu nanami#nanami x you#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x reader#kento nanami series
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Roblox; Last man Standing (1 v 3)
Drawing one of my best experience ever in Roblox


This was around 3 years ago I guess. I was playing a game in Roblox called Blood and Iron, it's a napoleonic battle game, it' like Guts and Blackpowder but without the zombies. Despite only having very few players in the game yet the community's chaotic nature of their playthrough what made the game feel so enjoyable.
So here's a short story. We were on a map called “Halberstadt” where two churches are facing to each other. My teammates made a plan on fortifying a specific room in the church where all of us teammates would be hiding in there. And so we did. While a moment of waiting for the enemies to come as they are trying to find us. We were trying to get ready, aiming our muskets on the doors and stairs, sappers(builders) holding their axes, literally everyone on their butts taking ready for themselves for the enemies to invade the room.
One of the enemies notice all of us being in the room, and so he called all of his teammates and told them to invade the church, quickly as they did, we did our best defending the doors and stairs only til every single one of the enemies went inside, and from there we all fought inside the church.
I was the most farthest from the stairs and was behind from everyone when we all fought inside. But I don't really remember exactly what I did from there, but I remember being distracted fighting an enemy and managing to kill it by effort.
And so after the fight, I later looked at the chat and all I see was everyone was screaming my name, and I was like “what???” and so I looked at the stats to see who is still alive, only to find out everyone from my team's side is all dead except me, meanwhile the enemies still has three. And so I panicked. The enemies side were all celebrating and laughing while mine is all stressed out and screaming.
And so one moment, an enemy officer went upstairs and wanted to finish me, pulled his flintlock and fired at me but he missed. Then, charged with his saber, while I'm with my bayonet. I got damaged by him with one slash, reducing half of my health, but over all I managed to stab him thrice and killed him. The fight was intense and everyone was paying attention watching at me, as if I'm in some sort of an action movie. After that, I tried to reload my musket first before I went outside.
After leaving the church, the place felt so peaceful and quiet that made me feel so nervous because of how too quiet it was. Not until I encountered two lasting enemies on the center of the map. Both if I remember correctly are holding muskets. And so I hold my gun targeting one of 'em while both of em were running in circles trying to avoid my shot. I was trying my best to feel concentrated while aiming at them, despite my hands are already shaking because of how intense this is. And so I clicked, and made a shot. One died, and now it's a 1 v 1. His musket is still not loaded yet, and so we both spent our 13 seconds reloading our muskets, stared each others like cowboys waiting for us both to finish our muskets to reload. The chat was all screaming, literally everyone. And so once our muskets are reloaded. The enemy tried to fire first, while I was running in circles, took many seconds to take a shot but missed afterwards and so I pulled mine next. And shot him with great hesitance.
Thus, we won the game.
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I did some light research
(that's to say, I read this; https://www.reddit.com/r/40kLore/comments/no3dv8/godblight_summary_spoilers/
summery of the god blight novel)
and this certainly puts some things into perspective.
Also let me bring up the Emperor-Guilliman parallel again because it occurred to me that in the Western hemisphere, swords are typically associated with Kings (think king Arthur, Peter from the Narnia books).
The flame aspect in particular reminds me of the titan Prometheus who stole the fire from the gods and gave it to the humans (as punishment, he is chained to a rock and has his liver eaten by an Eagle only to regrow and repeat the circle ad nauseum). This brings to mind Guilliman's title as the avenging son as a defender of Mankind, and specifically his role in this au (letting himself be collared by the sons for their piece of mind and thus the good of the Imperium)
(It also totally slipped my mind that Guilliman's flaming sword, *wasn't* just some very powerful sword and not, you know, *literally* having belonged to the emperor, who fought with that same sword ten millennia ago.)
And like, i was under the impression that the part, were the emporer helped revive Guilliman, was to wake Guilliman up from his coma. But no, he *literally* revived Guilliman from the *dead*.
So (now that I actually have the context) a point of order on the timeline for this au (of what we established so far that is);
The Gambit was caused by the sons witnessing (and *faling* to protect) Guilliman get mortally injured by Fulgrim ten millennia ago.
After the events of the Godblight novel (say about a week later), the sons mad with fear,
(Guilliman *died*, they **failed** a second time, their second impossible chance *wasted*, and that would have been *it* if it weren't for the literal divine intervention of the emperor. They cannot under *any* circumstances fail for a *third* time)
decide 'enough is enough' and after hatching a plan they forcefully collar Guilliman (the fact that this was mediated and after the crisis was already over, fucks with Guilliman the most).
An indeterminate amount of time passes and the Lion and Guilliman reunite.
The lion agrees to help Guilliman escape the sons and after Guilliman returns to the sons (who are *loosing their minds* and were preparing to go full renegade), Guilliman and the sons negotiate a new arrangement (the threat of the lion taking Guilliman away vs the sons threat of going renegade)
(Jesus, like, the fact the sons listened is a bloody miracle. There was about a 50/50 chance that the sons were going to try and get to Guilliman even *with* the active threat of lion taking Guilliman away.)
Guilliman let's himself be voluntarily collared (within limitations).
The lion gives Guilliman the Escape button in the case the sons try and go overboard again.
With the assistance of one of the sons in the home Guard (who got corrupted by chaos trying to make the galaxy Safe)
(I vote we make that son part of the victrix guard. The sons are horrofied that it was one of their own, part of the victrix guard even, that did it.
This would give Guilliman the leverage he needs to have the sons agree to have the victrix guard manned only by gambit-resistant sons
'*Emperor* our geneflaw is the reson for this *nightmare* scenario, we can't be trusted to guard father if we can't think *rationally*)
Agents of lorgar steal the escape button (help. this desperately needs a better name) and use it to lure the lion into an ambush.
The lion gets captured and the enduring conflict between the forces of the Imperium and chaos takes *years*, turning into a war of endurance.
The Imperium is slowly getting ground down in the many conflicts it already fights in addition to this and they would loose eventually if it weren't for Mortarion (plus death guard) turning coats and joining the fight on the side of the Imperium.
With Mortarion freeing the lion at the end.
And speaking of Mortarion;
I imagine that he sees the Imperium loosing,
(part of the reason why the Imperium is loosing is because the dark mechanicum uses their hold on the lion to pump out lots of mostly pestine choas astartes made from geneseed they extract from lion )
and knows that he either has to act *now* if he wants to make a difference or there won't be anything left *to* affect.
(I'm thinking he essentially switches patrons [Nurgle to Emporer], by making a deal with the Emporer by becoming the Emporer's paladin oposed to Guilliman's warlock (Guilliman gets some boons because of their connection, but he is no *willing* vessel).
There wouldn't be a whole lot of a difference between a paladin and a deamon prince, seeing as a paladin basically acts as a willing instrument for their god and a deamon prince changes over time such that their desires and wishes come to align with that of their patron.
Mortarion had the choice to kill his father taken from him, he also was coerced into joining Nurgle. So now he gets to make a choice under his own power by choosing to become the emperor's paladin.
This also allows those of the death guard that have up to that point fully embraced the ways of the grandfather [yes they are corruped after ten millennia but they didn't choose to join nurgel willingly either] the choice to join Mortarion)
On lorgar;
Quite frankly he can cry me a river. Lorgar sold Angron like the slave he is,
(first the high raiders, then the emperor and finally khorne, he just exchanged one master for the other)
to Khorne, who basically went 'eh, why not' because he actually wanted Sangunius (who almost accepted the deal to free his sons from the red thirst but backed out at the last minute) but he's taking angron as a consolation price.
More to the point, with Angron *dead* and Mortarion turned coat this actually puts the Imperium at something of an advantage for once.
(Fulgrim, Perty and Lorgar on the side of chaos [undivided or otherwise] vs Guilliman, the Lion, Mortarion and at some point also Dorn for the loyalists.
I'm excuding any of the missing primarchs and apharius omegan (even the alpha legion is devided *literally* on if they are on the side of chaos or the imperium) from that list )
The Death guard are smart enough to give Ultramar a *wide* berth.
(if they get close to Ultramar within a certain radius its on *sight*. Though there probably would come a point where the sons and DG are forced to work together in close proximity [tyranids anyone?])
Guilliman and Mortarion thus communicate solely via the employer (they skype) for the sons piece of mind (that's their father's *killer*, it doesn't matter that Guilliman got revived), though the sons are more then displeased by this.
Guilliman himself for that matter will be on edge every time he has to interact with Mortarion, but he will bear it with gritted teeth if it means the Imperium has one of ally.
Also Guilliman's death sets whatever process cawl might have had trying to breed out the gambit by *centuries*.
(the gambit becomes more intense for a long time afterwards. Because this is like someone who almost died in a car crash, then loosing a family member to a car crash whilst they were passenger.)
Got an angsty idea:
-In Short-
Yandere ultramarines binding/caging/disabling Guilliman at all costs for his own safety. Even if they must hurt him, even break him to do it. No more fulgrim/mortarion incidents.
-In Long-
Basically, what if after witnessing his reckless personal behavior towards personally fighting his brothers and his "death" at the hands of fulgrim as well as his LITERAL death at the hands of Mortarion (regardless of the fact he was brought back, he fucking DIED), the Ultrabois just fucking go full Yandere and try to keep him out of battle and under watch as much as they possibly can to ensure his absolute safety from ANY harm, even himself? And what if this desire, this NEED to keep their primarch, their FATHER, safe went to the extreme as he inevitably tried to get back to business, including personally fighting? He's a primarch after all, weapon first, human second, and his duty is to guide and safeguard the Imperium...
My brain basically had an idea of a gilded bird-caged and bound Guilliman and spun a background around it. Some mental images even include a blindfold and gag for the Ultrabois benefit cuz you know Guilliman's words are some of his best weapons (best way to talk them out of it- to a point).
Very OOC, I know, but with the way the Ultrabois were willing to die in droves to get him away from fulgrim as he was dying AND to protect his stasis before his revival, it seems it could very easily become a possibility via Slaaneshi influence, Lord of Excess and all...
GOD I wish I could draw bodies or write 😭
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❝Thread of red❞ – Giyu Tomioka
~demon slayer



Synopsis: you're a hashira along with giyu. The two of you are close and one day before the final fight you propose a silly theory
Content: angst with a bif of fluff, mentions of death, giyu x female! reader
~3.3k words
The fire was small, just enough to keep the cold at bay. You sat shoulder to shoulder with Giyu on the edge of a cliff overlooking the dark forest below, where mist clung to the treetops like ghosts. It was quiet—too quiet for a night like this. The kind of quiet that pressed into your bones and made you feel like the world was holding its breath.
Tomorrow was the final battle. There would be no second chances.
You tilted your head back and looked up at the stars, scattered like old wishes you never made. A thousand thoughts pressed against your skull, none of them urgent enough to say aloud. Not at first.
Until one broke through the silence.
“I read something stupid once,” you said, softly, like it might shatter the air between you.
Giyu didn’t move, but you knew he was listening.
You kept your eyes on the sky. “It was about soulmates. Some old superstition. Supposedly, every person is tied to their soulmate by an invisible red string. No matter how far apart you are… the thread pulls you back together. It gets tangled sometimes, stretched to hell, but never breaks.”
You let out a dry laugh, one without joy. “Unless you die, of course. Then it snaps. Just like that.”
Giyu finally turned his head, gaze flickering over to you, unreadable as always. He didn’t say anything. He never did until he’d mulled every word over like it might be his last.
“I don’t know,” you murmured. “I used to think it was romantic. The idea that you’re destined to find someone. That no matter what, there’s one person meant for you.”
Your hands twisted in your lap, fingers fidgeting with the loose threads of your uniform. “But now? I think it’s just cruel. What’s the point of a thread that leads you to someone, only for time—or fate, or demons—to rip you away before you can even tell them what they mean to you?”
The fire cracked. Still, no answer. Just the night, and the wind, and him.
You glanced over at him. “Do you believe in that sort of thing?”
His brows furrowed slightly, and he looked back toward the trees. “...I don’t know.”
He didn’t shut you down. But he didn’t offer comfort, either. He just sat in the quiet with you, letting the weight of your words hang heavy in the air.
And maybe that was enough.
“Do you ever wonder who it could be?” you asked. “Your soulmate?”
His lips parted slightly like he might answer, but instead, he exhaled through his nose and said, “You talk like we won’t make it.”
You smiled then, but it was weak, trembling at the edges. “What if one of us dies.”
“Don’t,” he said, sharper than he meant to. His voice softened immediately. “Don’t talk like that.”
You finally turned to face him fully, your knees brushing. He looked tired. More than usual. Like the weight of everything he hadn’t said was wearing him down.
“I’m not scared to die,” you said.
He met your gaze. “You should be.”
You shook your head. “I’m scared of dying before I get the chance to say what I want to say.”
The words hovered, so close.
But then you hesitated. You’d both been through so much. Lost so much. What right did you have to hand him another burden the night before the world ended?
So instead, you forced a grin. “But hey. If I die tomorrow, and I’m someone’s soulmate, I hope they don’t hold it against me.”
Giyu’s eyes were on the fire, but his jaw clenched tight. He didn’t speak.
You felt the thread between you stretch, thin and fragile.
In another life, maybe it would’ve been different. Maybe you would’ve had more time.
He finally said, barely audible, “I think… if there is a thread, it’s already tied.”
You blinked, stunned still by the softness in his voice. You searched his face, heart thudding hard in your chest.
But then he stood, pulling his haori tighter around himself. “You should sleep now”
And just like that, the moment slipped away.
You watched him walk toward the tents, disappearing into shadow. Your pinky twitched at your side—empty. Alone.
You never got the chance to say it.
And neither did he.
.
.
.
The battle was over.
The sun rose with a cruelty Giyu couldn’t understand—golden and soft, spreading light over the bloodied ruins of a night that should’ve ended everything. It should’ve stayed dark. The sun had no place shining down on a world where you didn’t exist anymore.
People moved around him—Healers, Kakushi, Hashira still standing, even the wounded crawling to find some corner of rest. Voices called for aid, orders were given, tears were shed. Giyu heard none of it.
His knees were pressed to the scorched ground, one hand stained with your blood, still damp and sticky between his fingers. The other hand held your limp wrist. Your pulse had long faded, but he held on like he could will it back.
There was a gaping emptiness where your body had once burned with life—your laugh, your voice, your impossible ability to bring warmth into the coldest corners of his silence. Now you were still. Hollow. And so was he.
Your final breath echoed in his head.
“I wasn’t scared to die…”
He wanted to scream. You should have fought harder to live. You should have stayed back. You should have let him take the hit.
But instead, you smiled through the blood. You looked at him and smiled.
He didn’t remember who pulled him away. Maybe Kanao. Maybe it was Tanjiro with blood in his hair and tears streaming down his cheeks. Maybe it was the wind. He didn’t know. All he knew was that one moment you were in his arms, and the next, there was only cold.
“Don’t.” He’d whispered when someone reached for your body. “Don’t take her yet.”
But they had to. The world kept moving. Even when his heart didn’t.
He should have said it that night. You were right there, talking about soulmates and stupid red threads and your fear of dying without saying what mattered. And what had he done? Sat in silence like a coward. Told you to sleep.
Giyu closed his eyes, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked. He saw you there, beside the fire. Your voice echoing,
“Do you ever wonder who it could be?”
It was you. It had always been you. From the moment you stood beside him as a Hashira—quiet, stubborn, endlessly kind. You understood his silences, never pushed too hard, but stayed anyway. Like gravity.
You were the only one who never looked at him like he was broken.
And now he was. Again.
When they buried you, Giyu didn’t speak. He stood beside the others, eyes fixed on the dirt being shoveled over your body like it might crack open and reveal this was all a mistake. That maybe the thread wasn’t broken—just lost.
But it didn’t.
It stayed buried.
Like you.
He didn’t cry. Not there. Not when the others left offerings. Not when Tanjiro wept and blamed himself. Giyu just stood there, a stone in a world that wouldn’t stop moving.
That night, when he finally returned to what was left of the Butterfly Estate, he sat on the porch in the dark, your sword in his lap. It was cracked, stained—but it was yours.
“I loved you.”
The words trembled into the air like smoke, like they weren’t ready to be said aloud.
“I loved you,” he repeated, quieter. “Since the day you challenged me without fear. Since the day you sat beside me in silence and didn’t try to fill it. Since the night you asked about soulmates and laughed like it was all just a joke.”
His grip on the blade tightened.
“I thought we had more time.”
He bowed his head, shoulders shaking. Not with sobs—but something worse. The silence that came with mourning a lifetime you never got to have. A future that never arrived. A thread that snapped mid-tug.
“I should’ve told you.”
But he didn’t.
And now he was alone again.
Just like before.
.
.
.
The world was faster now. Brighter. Neon signs blinked like constellations in the city’s heart, and trains came and went like heartbeat pulses. But for Tomioka Giyu—now a quiet literature professor at a university tucked near the edge of town—life remained slow.
He wasn’t one for crowds. Or noise. Or connections. Not because he hated people—he didn’t—but because something in him always felt… like it was waiting. For what, he didn’t know.
A face.
A voice.
A feeling.
He saw it sometimes—in dreams. A battlefield drenched in fire. A hand reaching for his. A scarf fluttering in the wind. And a smile, warm and fleeting, slipping through his fingers like sand.
He never remembered the details. Just that when he woke up, his chest ached like something had been ripped from it.
You ran into him on accident.
Literally.
You were balancing two iced coffees in one hand, your phone wedged awkwardly between your cheek and shoulder as you apologized to whoever was on the line. The city sidewalk was packed, and you weren’t watching where you were going when you turned the corner—and crashed directly into someone.
“Ah—shit!” you gasped as one coffee cup slipped. It would’ve hit the pavement if a hand hadn’t caught it with precise timing.
“Careful,” came a low voice.
You looked up—and froze.
He was taller than you expected. Dark hair, tired eyes, dressed simply in a navy sweater and slacks. There was nothing remarkable about him at first glance—except something in your chest lurched. Something deep. Something ancient.
Your breath hitched.
He blinked down at you, still holding the coffee cup he’d caught. His eyes were… unreadable. Calm. But also, somehow, like he’d just seen a ghost.
“Thanks,” you said awkwardly, reaching for the cup.
Your fingers brushed his.
And something cracked.
It wasn’t pain—it was more like a memory that didn’t belong to you pressing at the edges of your mind. A wind-chime sound. The smell of rain. The weight of a sword in your hand.
You pulled your hand back quickly.
He still hadn’t moved. “Have we met?” he asked, softly.
You stared at him. “I… I don’t think so.”
But your voice wavered.
Because how could you explain that he felt like home? Like silence in the middle of war. Like warmth in a lifetime of cold. Like you’d known him before you even knew yourself.
Giyu’s eyes narrowed just slightly, not in suspicion—but recognition.
And you both stood there, on a busy street where the past and future blurred, hearts pounding with something neither of you could name yet.
A red thread, tied long ago, tugged softly at your souls.
And neither of you moved.
It didn’t end there.
You bumped into him again at the university library two weeks later. It was raining outside—soft drizzles against the glass—and the scent of books, old and new, lingered in the air like incense. You were curled into the armchair by the window, nose buried in an anthology of modern poetry, when a familiar figure passed by.
You looked up.
He was there—Giyu. Professor Tomioka. Navy sweater again. A satchel slung over his shoulder.
This time, he noticed you first.
“…It’s you,” he said quietly.
You smiled, surprised. “I swear I’m not stalking you.”
Something flickered in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or quiet curiosity. He stood there a second too long, shifting the strap of his bag.
“I was going to get coffee,” he offered, voice low but steady. “If you’re not busy.”
You weren’t.
Not for him.
From there, it was slow. Natural.
You exchanged book recommendations. Spoke over late-night calls that always started with casual topics and ended with you both on the edge of sleep, murmuring about dreams and regrets neither of you could name. You saw the way his hands stilled when you laughed. How his expression softened when you looked at him with that knowing, gentle gaze.
He never rushed it.
But one night—beneath a sky veiled in stars, your fingers brushing as you walked home together—you kissed him.
It was tentative. A question.
He kissed back like he already knew the answer.
.
.
.
The wind outside had picked up, brushing against the windows like fingertips tracing glass. In the quiet of Giyu’s apartment, everything felt still—timeless. The overhead lamp gave off a soft, golden hue, casting long shadows across the floor. The low hum of the jazz playlist, barely above a whisper, tangled itself with the sound of rain falling in rhythmic patterns.
You were curled on his couch, your body draped lazily across the cushions, legs resting comfortably across his lap. One of your hands idly flipped the pages of a dog-eared paperback he’d loaned you. The other nursed a warm mug of tea he’d made—his specialty, though he never said what he put in it. It always tasted like quiet comfort.
The book was... cheesy.
An overly dramatic romance where soulmates were bound through scars and tragic lifetimes, marked by matching swords and moonlit promises. You’d rolled your eyes more times than you could count—but you kept reading it anyway.
Because he’d read it.
Because it smelled like his bookshelf and made you feel closer to him.
You turned another page and snorted. “Seriously? They recognize each other by matching sword scars? What is this, a fanfic?”
Giyu glanced at you, a small tug at the corner of his mouth. “You’re still reading it.”
“Out of morbid curiosity. I’m too deep in to stop now.”
You flipped the page again, reading aloud in your best dramatic voice: “Their eyes met across the battlefield, and in that moment, their souls remembered each other. She had died in his arms once—but not again. Not this time.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, but—hear me out. What if that actually happened to us? Like, in some other life?”
Giyu looked up from his tea. “Hm?”
You smirked. “You know. What if we were soulmates or something? Warriors. Fighting some epic battle. Maybe I died protecting you. And now—plot twist—we meet again in this life, over coffee and overdue library books.”
He paused, looking at you for a beat longer than necessary, his expression neutral. But you could see the flicker in his eyes. It wasn’t surprise. It wasn’t shock. It was something else.
“…I don’t know,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping to his hands. “It feels familiar. But I don’t like the idea of you dying..”You blinked, taken aback by the weight in his voice.
“So, do you think it’s possible?” you asked, almost carelessly. You weren’t expecting an answer. But you found yourself speaking the question anyway. “Do you believe in soulmates?”
Giyu’s fingers paused. His breath caught—just for a fraction of a second.
You looked up, half expecting a quip, a witty remark, or even an indifferent shrug. But what you saw was different.
His eyes—those dark, unreadable eyes—were studying you with something close to an understanding, something deep and quiet, like he was holding onto a piece of a memory that didn’t quite belong in this lifetime.
"Giyu...?"
He cleared his throat, shifting slightly as if gathering his thoughts. “Yeah, I believe in soulmates.” His gaze softened as he looked down at your hand still nestled in his, fingers entwined. “Because of you.”
Your breath caught in your throat. “Giyu…” you whispered, your chest tightening in an unfamiliar way.
He met your gaze again, and this time, there was something stronger there—something resolute. “I don’t know how, or why, but I’m never letting you go. I’ll always protect you. In this life, in any life. I won’t let anything take you from me.”
The intensity of his words hung in the air, but instead of saying anything more, he exhaled slowly and let out a short laugh, breaking the tension. “Guess I got a little dramatic there.”
You blinked, the weight of his promise still lingering between you, but now—finally—you found yourself laughing too. “You? Dramatic? Never.”
Giyu’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, and you nudged his shoulder playfully. “It’s okay. I’m dramatic, too. Guess we’re both a little… tragic.”
“Tragic,” he repeated, his voice warm, the tension finally melting into something more familiar. Something comfortable. “Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.”
The sound of your shared laughter filled the room, the air suddenly lighter, the words between you both no longer heavy but full of something stronger—something unspoken but understood.
The past—the life that felt so distant yet so close—was still there, hidden beneath the surface of your conversations, lingering in the way his touch felt like déjà vu. A promise made long ago that, for the first time in so long, felt real again.
You glanced at him, heart still racing but no longer in fear. It wasn’t a fear of losing him—it was a recognition. A silent acknowledgment of a bond that had survived time itself.
In this life, he had found you. And nothing would tear you apart again.
As you both sat there, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other, you couldn’t help but smile. Because no matter how many lifetimes had passed, no matter how many battles had been fought, you would always find your way back to each other.
#demon slayer giyuu#giyuu tomioka#giyuu x reader#kny giyu x reader#giyu x reader#kny giyuu#kimetsu giyuu#kny x reader#kny angst#giyu angst#demon slayer tomioka#demon slayer#honeyscara works
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any Steve angst??? Perchance dally acting like an older brother to Steve??

note: idk what to call this one. But I LOVE this idea so much don’t PLAY
(Also. This is STRICTLY platonic)
💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
Dallas was having a ROUGH day. His dad kicked him out again, him and Sylvia just broke up, and buck was on the verge of firing him. He needed space. He needed to go to his special area. The quiet, secluded place no one else knew about. It was near a river. Just a patch of land, not belonging to anyone (that he knew of). It was quiet, all you could hear was the light flow of the river. Dallas made his way there. He needed to calm down
As he made his way there, he kicked a rock down his path. Eventually, he lost the rock. It just made him more angry. (BAHA) He finally got to the land, but it was different. Someone else was there. A boy. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his forehead was resting on them. His arms were wrapped around his legs and he seemed to be….crying?
“What the hell?” Dallas said as he saw the boy. He noticed the familiar tattoo on his arm. It was Steve.
“Steve?” Dallas said in pure confusion. The boy didn’t look up. He just kept crying. Finally, he spoke. “Hi, Dal” he still didn’t look up
“The fuck you doing here, man?” Dallas asked while walking over to him. “I don’t know” Steve sniffled. It was rare to see him cry. Hell, it was rare to see ANYONE in the gang cry. Steve looked a mess. Dallas wasn’t good with things like this. He kneeled down and awkwardly placed a hand on his back. “Hey…..buddy. It’s alright…uh…what happened?”
“My fuckin dad, man. Always hittin me and shit. I left. I couldn’t take it.” Steve said, his voice shaky though his tears
Dallas had a similar problem. His mom died back in New York when he was only 9, leaving him with his father. Steve’s mom left them, leaving Steve with his father. Neither of them had any motherly figure in their lives. “Man…” Dallas said, unsure of what to do or say. “Um…shit, I’m not good at this…uh” part of Dallas was annoyed, this was his spot, but the other side of him felt sympathetic for his friend. So he’d let him stay. “I’m sorry, man” he finally said. Steve lifted his head from his knees and looked at Dallas. His eyes were bloodshot and his breathing was heavy.
“I miss her” Steve said. Dallas immediately knew he was talking about his mom. He hadn’t seen her in 10 years. “I know, man, I know” Dallas said, his hand gently rubbing Steve’s back. Steve just sat there, crying.
They didn’t get along the greatest, who did with Dallas? But in that moment, they shared a connection. A common thread. Something they could bond over.
Maybe they weren’t t so different after all
🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹
Okay.
Now I’m not sure if I cooked here
HOPE SO‼️
But I thought this was so cute shut up
Hope you liked🕺💃
#dallas winston#steve the outsiders#johnny cade#the outsiders#the outsiders ponyboy#sodapop curtis#the outsiders darry#two bit mathews
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Rest in Peace 🪦 Kermit the Frog
Beloved by the Joker, the Croaker, God
Wrongfully imprisoned in the meat closet, murdered by emos and died in agony. Taken too soon.
Hear the cries? The howls? You are hearing the brotherhood.. sisterhood… nonbinary hood (ally!) of the Muppet Joker.
May you and The Croaker be reunited in the afterlife once the time has come. And may sex in heaven be awesome.
Amen.
(written in my break room at work.. stay on that grind)
#dark kermit#rest in peace#funeral services#the muppet joker#taken too soon#rip#FUCK IM SO SAD#GRRRRR#kermits funeral#muppet hole in heaven#look at me being a little bitch and tagging this so people can see it#i’m a glutton for peoples approval#no ones even going to look through these tags so i can talk about whatever i want in them#am i satisfied? being this complicit in my own life#allowing others to dictate how i feel?#are you satisfied?#i bet you aren’t.#i don’t think any of us are#i’m sorry#i’ll go back to being a silly tumblr man#rest easy kermit. rest easy#if only it were me. if i only i died in a fire#hm#FUCK i meant to stop with the melodrama my bad#i hope you become satisfied#goffick posts
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Gen Z Coachella Fit as per request by the awesome @primroseduck 🔥🔥🔥 Enjoy your meal Jerry fans
I have more Gen Z sketches I might do an art dump this week ✅
#the eltingville club#welcome to eltingville#gzeltingville#jerry stokes#bill dickey#pete dinunzio#I mean they're hardly there but yknow yknow#my art#Ngl I might draw the others more.... I hate that Bill has to legally be in each of my posts...#Finally got to make digital art because the last few days my phone dies and I'm awkwardly outside drawing in my notebook waiting#I hope you like this Primy Prim I'll make more 🌈🐬‼️‼️#🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻#he totally got baked during the concerts#ofc his rich boy ass went to Coachella#I actually saw some of the stages it was alright#the Misfits Green Day and Yo Gabba Gabba one were fire#I forgot which other ones I saw it'll come to me#also yeah only on YouTube I'm too broke broski#why is he money spreading#💀
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OUGH call me Big Shane Silva the way that episode had me falling over and torn into pieces fuuuuuuuuuck oh the Trudy and Francis heart-to-heart... The group hug... The gunkata... The middle-aged witch yuri... The hole in the stars... MAN.
#dndads#the peachyville horror#GAHHHH TAG RAMBLE AS ALWAYS THIS SEASON IG#Also sidenote I kinda needed to relax a bit after work to get into the episode so I grabbed a beer from the brand ''good robot''#in Trudy's honor hehe#Anyways yeah I always love going through the tag and reading everyone else's impressions afterwards#And like a lot of you I mean fuck that episode was SO funny but those last few minutes almost had me in tears of the sad variety#Almost! Agh that was so good#But the bits this episode were insane#Unfortunately I'm a really big sucker for jokes getting beaten into the ground so I'm really weak to Freddie's shit#And truly only laughed harder each time he did a BIG SHANE SILVA quip#Fuck on that note lowkey too bad that he died I was kind of curious what would come of his whole deal#But! Definitely a win for Francis that he's out of the picture#Speaking of Francis- YIPPEE HE LIVES!#Fuck the wrack sisters part was so good (also guys the spell is wrack with a w haha but I mean. 😏 in our hearts it's rack)#Matt's so real for making up a version of Kamonwan through a bit and growing attached to her he's just like me fr#Also not to ship Kelsey with everyone she meets but. 👀 I'm looking respectfully.#Oh but MAN the part about Kelsey temporarily switching with another version of herself from a world where the hour of the hole comes to pas#That was FUCKED oh man now *that's* the juicy cosmic horror shit that gets me#Also loved the more direct nods to this mysterious god from below and the confirmation of its ties to fire/burning-#I can't remember what I wrote on that many episodes ago in my pure conspiracy theory rambles but I've lowkey been waiting on this#<- But that's just for me. I'm excited about the pantheon getting fleshed out is all.#Still waiting on the maggot wh0re to make an appearance... *I* haven't forgotten about you maggot wh0re...#Fuck okay anyways I think that's it for now lmao good episode good episode AH AND SALLY DOG IN 2 WEEKS YESSS#dungeons and daddies#spoiled peaches#francis farnsworth#trudy trout#kelsey grammar
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Sorry can't be horny too busy playing DOOM mods after myhouse.pk3 got updated
#yes i know that there are aspects of myhouse taken directly from the creator's divorce#(which we only know of because his ex-wife posted pictures of the real house abt the mod which got found and spread and people pried)#but like. i understand how you can interpet “It wasn't meant to be” to be about the divorce#admittedly i havent thought about it too hard#but the airport bathroom is just like. very clearly about hrt to me#i suppose it could be an allegory to abortion but that's disregarding the change in restroom signage#really what i'm interested in is how childhood plays into the overarching themes#like the daycare the large brutalist house and “The kid needs a milkshake” all feel like they should point to something#but are all fairly disconnected outside of vague “childhood”#iirc the airport flights spell HELP ANNA#which would be the A seen in S+A#S being Steven. the dead guy#but then what is Thomas Allord's place#does the new TV area mean anything about the story itself or is it some sort of meta commentary about the reaction to myhouse?#is the mirrorvile a representation of the grim reaper?#what were the quarter and payphone intended for?#i suppose that Thomas/Anna could have gotten pregnant with the pills signifying birth control - the abortion maybe from being transmasc?#hence the signs#i saw a theory on doomworld i liked#the different houses signify different choices#there IS a child in the mirrored world. but there isn't in the original#there's a crashed car near the gas station. it didn't crash in the mirrored world and a crime happened at the gas station#maybe - Steven (Veddge) only dies if you CHOOSE for him to. you have to burn the house down to see his obituary.#by “different choices” i really mean “different realities”#where things are changed - some choices some accidents#at the fake beach you choose to accept a fake win. one that isn't real. an act. the real beach you fight for a true happiness. S without A#but still content. happy. in a real life that isn't perfect.#Happiness has to be fought for.#perhaps the house fire is simply Steve choosing to die with Tom#how heavily does House of Leaves play into the story of myhouse? what can be learned from it to apply to the story?
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Something I've been thinking a lot about lately is how everyone thought Egon had gone insane. What Happened that made them think that. They've fought a gigantic Stay Puft Marshmellow Man TWICE (counting the 2009 video game because iirc it's canon? Correct me if I'm wrong), fought an interdimensional god, fought a blood thirsty ruler that killed thousands and was hated by all that was trapped in a painting (and managed to get in to beat him by making THE STATUE OF LIBERTY start walking down the street with slime that reacted purely based on vibes), found an underground abandoned transit system full of the moodslime, had a bathtub try to eat Dana and her baby, fought a giant murderous black widow lady, fought the fisherman ghost who turned an entire hotel floor into the bottom of a ocean, and that's not even mentioning them getting trapped on an island that randomly raised up from underwater that had been abandoned for decades created by Ivor Shandor who worshipped Gozer. So what did he do or say that made everyone else think he'd gone insane?? All I can think is maybe he was acting strange / eratic before, but he's always been like that to some degree.
I don't know. It's something that I've been thinking about. The correct answer is 'it's not that deep and they needed a reason that the others weren't together anymore and weren't aware of Egons death or know what was going on,' but also. What Was He Saying that prompted everyone, including Ray, to think he lost his mind when he'd been right almost every time before that.
I'm genuinely so curious as to what he was up to before this. What was he doing. What insane idea was working on prior to this or was he even working on anything at all??
Also want to clarify this post isn't negative 😭 I really love the newer movies and their lore / the newer storyline / characters, I just like thinking about small stupid things like this. Gives me something to think about / speculate about / figure out an answer to.
#ghostbusters#egon spengler#nikolas posts#I have so many thoughts on it because I've just been rewatching the two movies on loop for the past few days.#All we got was Ray saying that he'd started talking about the end of the world (IIRC) and that he went insane and took everything#when he eventually left to deal with it on his own#which for the record it's extremely impressive that he would've stopped Gozer from returning BY HIMSELF. The only reason it hadn't worked#was because of the electricity issue#Hiding all the traps and setting up the proton packs to fire at the hell pit?? Insanity. He's just on a complete different level of existin#Like they were aware of Ivor Shandor and his plans long before??? They found his ISLAND DEDICATED TO GOZER who had full intention of#BRINGING THEM BACK#it's really Really REALLY not this deep but I have thoughts and I wanted to share them. Maybe someone else might have an idea I#couldn't think of or might have something to add.#I guess it could be a 'they beat Gozer once and assumed they were gone' but that wasn't the first time Gozer 'died' so??#if I missed something Please tell me. I haven't watched the newer movies as much as the older ones (I grew up watching them / playing#the game so I'm more familiar with the older lore and haven't had the chance to rewatch the newer ones 1000 times over unfortunately)#so it's entirely possible I missed something#I'd think maybe it was just because they were older but I really don't think thats the case. I have reasoning for it but I need to do#the math to make sure I'm getting the ages right by the time AfterLife happens.#really need to make a chart / timeline of all the events that happened and what year / month / day they happened. That's a project#for tomorrow perhaps.#anyways if anyones reading this sorry for the insane rambling and congrats for making it to the end#also this post isn't negative I adore the newer movies so much. I love them a lot and I genuinely don't really care about this at all#just a thing to think / ponder / speculate about if that makes sense#I enjoy thinking about stupid irrelevant stuff like this#so so so many thoughts
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Fengcui are ridiculous. They're fully making out at this point but they REFUSE to acknowledge it out of pure spite they NEED to get the upper hand the other one must be the one to confess first!!!! Can you imagine? Sticking you tongue 5 inches down someone else's throat and still have the guts to say to THEIR FACE that they're coming onto you and you don't get it- have they fallen for you? Ooh how interesting, maybe elaborate on that? No? Well fuck you then. And then they do it again. And then they sacrifice themselves for each other MULTIPLE TIMES. Only to share the most disgustingly sweet romance that is CLEAR to everyone around them yet it remains!!!! Unspoken!!!! Even to each other!!!!
#it's like. no matter how much they progress in the relationship#the game between them never ends#it only takes on different flavor#book seven has been quite 👌 good#I think the decrease in quality in the boling and guangqian arcs were in fact real#but rn book 7 feels a lot like the initial arcs#which to me is delicious#I think either the translator or the author was lost in the transitional stage of the protag's relationship#like Cui buqu#at times#I think he showed an amount of deliberate vulnerability that wasn't worth the gains? then again this is par for the course#I wasn't yelling when they were fake kissing for the job cause it was obviously the only logical way to distract the enemy#so this actually follows the same logic but in that instance I felt like it was detrimental to the integrity of the character's personality#like it felt too indulgent I guess? as a private person myself#I couldn't help but be like 'noo girl your secrets!!!' in the boling arc#also too many characters that were there for no reason#look it wasnt very good ok the villains were all over the place#decision making skills suddenly vanished#also feng xiaolin died?? for no reason at all like why would you kill a beautiful woman.#it made no sense and fhe stalling to get feng ciao agter her body was discovered?? like as a reader#that felt like a disastrously failed mission for both cbq and fx#and then they're like 'they took all of them down!!' bro when??#all they did was run around#tell lies#and kiss#and they're so correct for that but don't go telling me this was a job well done cayse it wasn't!!#that final speech cui buqu gave yang yun? like 'you lost. I set fire to house' like they shouldn't have let him utter a word!#IMMEDIATE arrow launching. like the plot doesn't need to be complicate for me to be believe they're smart. just needs to make sense!#peerless#wushuang
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hi
just as a little disclaimer
mw3 didnt happen to me i simply refuse to acknowledge it what so ever
shit writing, half of the game isnt even fully rendered it just wasnt it and i like the story from the first and second games and dont want the third to ruin it for me
ty!
#dont come for me#honestly#debating writing a fanfic redoing it#idk if itd be good or like me wildly overestimating my writing skills i dont want to make an ass out of myself#bit also so much love for the dev team not their fault thwy were under the time crunch they were and just sm was against them#forever love for the people who actually worked on the game so no diss to them what so ever#but it was bad#like it was just such an ass game#storyline made no sense#and if ur gonna kill soap give him a death that has meaning and also makes sense#like when farah was iust like trust me bro to price when she said she was working w the shadows like bro what???? they never explained it#either#also can we talk abt how preventable soaps death was and he only died bc of the team’s incompetence#which doesnt make sense bc theyre supposed to be the best of the best???#like makarov shot him twice before ghost opened fire???#how did no one see him????#what???????
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