my new account is : @ justajinx00

it's saturday afternoon, the air conditioner on full blast, the car garage empty for the heat. it'd been a slow kind of day, the kind where ennui tickles at the summer-stained corners of the imagination, threatening to set in. and when it does... well, there's only one thing for it --

"please, vi -- i'm gonna --"

she lets out a low groan, leaning down to suck a sloppy hickey against your shoulder. even though the pair of you have been together more than a year now, she's still as insatiable as when you'd just met her.

"that's it, c'mon princess -- cum for me, cum all over this strap like the good little girl you --"

the phone rings; her pace stutters.

you keen, squeezing your thighs around her hips, your heels digging into her back as she reaches for her cellphone and frowns down at the caller id. you shake your head vigorously, tugging at her arm.

"vi -- vi -- no don't --" you beg, because there's a dangerous smirk cresting her lips even as she presses a finger to them.

"shh... quiet princess, unless you want someone to hear," she murmurs, before swiping up and pressing the phone to her ear.

"heeeyyy silco, what's up? y'lookin for vander? he's out at a show in kansas -- oh yeah -- sure, we should still be good for dinner -- 7, at the bar, right?" vi rocks her hips down into yours and has to press her palm over your mouth to muffle your squeak.

"huh? no nothing -- just uh --" vi cocks an eyebrow down at you, swirling her hips, the feel of her strap dragging inside you nearly makes your eyes roll back. you clench down around her, biting down hard on your own lips to keep from making noise. she nods her approval before letting go of your mouth and straightening back up, resting her free hand on your hip to hold you still as she tugs back for a particularly hard thrust.

"-- doin' some maintenance work," she chuckles, "some of these screws are in a bit tight," she winks, pulling back and thrusting forward once more, "y'know how things get when they're not... worked out properly once in a while."

you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the coil tighten inside you with every soft shallow thrust of her hips, the tip of the silicon strap nudging up against your g-spot till it's all you can do to keep from falling apart. you scrabble for her wrist, giving her a warning tug as she laughs at something silco says, glancing down at your with dark, blown-out eyes.

"yeah, i know, i know, you've always hated the shop talk -- kay, we'll see you at dinner -- yep, she'll be there too," vi says, before bidding her goodbyes and clicking off her phone. she sets it face down on the bedside table and before returning to the shape of you pinned beneath her.

"f-fuck vi... th-that's not --" you try to force out a coherent sentence, but vi only coos as she reaches down between you to flick playfully at your clit. immediately, your mouth falls open, and you jerk up against her. she laughs.

"mmm... i really do love it when you're tryna keep quiet for me princess..." she says, leaning down to brush her lips against yours. you yank her down for a kiss, fingers fisting in the choppy pink hair at the base of your skull. she groans into the kiss, fucking into you now with the kind of wild abandon you've come to know all too well.

within a minute, she has you shuddering apart, coming hard enough for the world to blink out for a few seconds, the air in your lungs to taste sweet and bitter all at once. she holds you down and chases her own climax, muttering the entire time about how hot you look, how much she loves it when you soak her strap like this. you keen as she collapses into you with a long breath, groaning into the sticky skin of your shoulder.

you run your fingers through her hair.

"really?" you ask, after a few steadying breaths, "a few tight screws?"

vi chuckles, pulling back with a lopsided shrug.

"what? wasn't exactly a lie."

"yeah? you really wanna compare our sex lives to car maintenance?"

vi pulls out and you crinkle your nose at the sudden loss of feeling. she leans down to press a kiss to the side of your knee before reaching for a napkin to wipe you down.

"'s not that different -- good, timely maintenance gets you a good, healthy, long run with your car," she says, tossing the napkin into a bin in the corner before offering you a mug of water. you take a sip before holding the mug up to her lips. she lets you tip some into her mouth, licking her lips as she works the harness off from around her hips.

"thanks princess," she says, leaning forward for a kiss. you watch her pull her tanktop back on, shimmying back into her boxer shorts.

"oh, you're good for dinner at silco's right? at 7?"

you cock an eyebrow, "you mean the dinner you already agreed to for me on the phone right now? while we were fucking?"

vi shoots you a cheeky smile.

"so... 7?"

you roll your eyes, tossing your underwear at her with a huff.

"get me a new pair of panties."

vi laughs, snatching your crumpled up underwear from the air and considers them for a brief second before pressing them into the back pocket of her cargo shorts.

she looks at you when you light up the joint and the air is quickly filled with the intense smell of weed, a subtle fruity and citric aroma as you passed her the joint. indirect kissing. indirect kissing when vi's smoking from the very same spot you did, sitting close to you after selling you a good amount of weed and accepting a sudden invitation to stay for a while and smoke, make the journey at least a bit more worth it and not leave after five minutes with you.

it doesn't have to be just pure business.

you're oblivious to it, but her gaze lingers in your legs and the subtle way your shirt rides up showing more and more skin without you noticing, worried you'll find out she's right there high and dry in your sofa.

stoner!vi who laughs at your jokes, leaning forward when talking to you cause even high she just thinks about how beautiful you are, eyes red, half lidded, relaxed in the comfortable of your small apartment close to the uni.

and like a good stoner she forgets about she's holding the joint at some point, too busy with the conversation, your company and the atmosphere you’ve so easily created, the ashes falling to the ground now. she has sold you marijuana for months, yet she's not able to talk to you for more than explaining you what strain she's carrying to sell until well — now.

liking your photos, flirting but not at all, it's absurd the amounts of times you appear on her mind without even trying to, messy haircut, she's sure you have a tattoo hidden under the winter clothes cause she can be a proud stoner, but she pays attention, at least when she wants something, when it comes to you.

"are you ever going to make a move on me, vi? cause i'm getting tired of waiting for you to snap out of it."

and maybe it's the weed, that dizzy and nice sensation on her chest that makes her smile, cause she's sure you're pulling her closer even when she's the one moving on her own.

"a move, you want me to make a move on you?"

you're taking the joint from her fingers and she swears it's the hottest thing she's ever experienced, the way you were suddenly so close to her only to pull away after, letting the smoke linger in the air when you light it again: she has felt that very same thing before, the awful need of pulling you into a kiss.

"i thought it was obvious when i texted you in the middle of the night, but you don't seem to get it much" the music seems to drown her unsteady breathing, the loud guitars by the speaker in the table while your bratty attitude only seems to turn her on even further. "should i spell it out for you? send a formal invitation?"

stoner!vi who's really bad in controlling her force when high, cause her hand fist in the fabric of your shirt and she's finally erasing the distance she was once polite to keep, moving you without much effort across the cushions to pull you closer to her, make you lay on the sofa to pin you down beneath her.

her muscles flex on top on you and she's finally aware of the effect she has on you, when she's finally kissing you and you're responding to her even when she barely touches you — so maybe it's not as lame as she thought, cause her kisses travels down your throat, messy, sloppy open-mouthed kisses she places as she holds you there, still and where she wants you to, not lame at all when you cannot control yourself either, squirming, already asking for more.

and fuck it's good. she can smell the subtle smell of weed in your clothes, and swear could choke 'cause you're parting your legs for her, a silent invitation she just gets with no need to spell it out for her now.

"gonna smoke it all by yourself?" vi's messing with you at first, watching you take the joint you forgot in your fingers to place it over your lips — "or are you gonna share that with me?"

stoner!vi who fantasizes with the thought of spitting right over your parted lips when she's helping you smoke, lighting up the joint as she sits on top of you. she's slower, but her hips press down against yours just right, and trapped in between her thighs is a damn sight. her blushed cheeks match her cherry hair who's much longer now since the first time you meet her, and you, a demon as always, let your hand find the skin beneath her shirt, the pad of your fingers roaming against her hip bone, trailing it down her pants.

with two fingers, she places the joint over your lips. your breathing collides against her hand, and she can feel the softness in your lips for a moment before you're blowing the smoke in her direction, slightly and for nothing more than five seconds but enough to make her think about kissing you again, yearning when she's stealing kiss after kiss, taking away the joint to have you pay attention to her instead. needy.

the weed makes her like that she'd say, but in reality vi's going to pieces even before her eyes become glassy. shambles when the music on the speaker is not enough to muffle your gasps, the irregular sound of your breathing after she slowly begins to ask you for more — hungry even when she's full fed.

she's building you up, taking her time since she dreamed about this a lot, and she desperately wants it to make it last, savor it as long as she can have it, so vi's dragging your shirt upwards, enough so she can see the obvious lack of a bra, latching on the skin of your breast until it's bruised and sensitive, purple because of her.

you do have a hidden tattoo, only for her to see.

yet it's her name on your swollen lips what she enjoys the most, how she's there in your lungs inside you, the sound of your moans when you ask if she could keep going. your always perfect hair lays now messy, and god she just want to imprint the sight of you in her brain, how your skin shiver when she's kissing the expanses of your belly, that flirty look on your face she can see even when she's completely on her knees for you already.

"you forgot about the joint again, peach" vi mutters against your navel, her chin presses against your stomach and the mere contact makes your skin burn "you okay up there? 'cause last time i recall i was invited to smoke with you love, you're making me feel a little betrayed here."

stoner!vi who likes the fact you're smoking from her weed. may seem stupid but she damn prides on knowing you choose her every time even when uni is fucking plagued with providers all around: you praise about her quality, chanting about how good your high was, how she never disappoints.

the world seems to stop against your skin, the time dies between your thighs, the intense smell of your arousal clouds her with longing and her mouth waters at the compulsion to lean forward.

"it's not fair, making me feel so- fuck so-" the words die on her tongue, cause your panties are soaked through, clinging to your folds and she's already drunk on it, lost in the haze as she looks up to you, barely illuminated by the lights in the apartment, the ember of the joint lighting every once in a while.

"talk to me," your voice is rough as your hand reaches down to her hair, taking the long strands of the mullet between your fingers — "how do i make you feel, huh? tell me vi."

stoner!vi who's a chaotic eater. she whimpers at your praises as her tongue laps from over your slick underwear, drool escaping from the corners of her mouth as her nose rubs against your sensitive cunt and she doesn't really care if she stinks like pussy after, if you're gushing all over her cheeks as she's making your underwear to the side; she's surrendering entirely, spreading you with her fingers and sinking her face in your puffy, swollen lips already sticky with a sheen of arousal.

she cannot seem to have enough, one arm tangled around your leg as she's comfortable enough to gather a good amount of saliva on her mouth so she can let it fall against your already leaky pussy, scooping it with her fingers to use it as lube when her digits are forcing themselves against your entrance, opening you up for her as vi's mouth sucks greedy around your clit.

so you forgot about the joint laying between your fingers as you hold her face against your sex, moving your hips against her mouth until she's looking at you through half lidded eyes and you can see how her face seems to glisten thanks to you. vi seems to be hitting all the nice places when her fingers scissor inside you, rubbing on your walls as you become pliant in her touch, inviting as you seem to suck her in deeper.

stoner!vi who pays attention, cause she's fixated in your face when you fall apart, dissolving into pleasure, splintering in lust for a brief moment she prolongs as much as it's possible, slowly pumping her fingers inside your tight entrance to keep seeing that pretty face all constricted in need, babbling about how good she's eating you, how full you are when her fingers fuck you dumb like that.

stoner!vi who shoves her fingers in your mouth right after fucking you, using her thumb to trace them along the seam at first, coaxing you to open them for her, pushing down on your tongue as soon as she's granted permission.

The two of you aren't together. Yet. Though Silco is perfectly aware of his feelings towards you, and he trusts you as much as he thinks he is able to trust anyone at this point in his life, he is still somewhat hesitant to make a move. Both because he isn't sure about your own feelings towards him and because he doesn't really... He doesn't really do this. Date –more than a casual fuck–. Have a partner. He doesn't like stepping into the unknown; so he's got no rush.

It's still clear the relationship between you isn't exactly just friendly. There's this energy simmering below the surface; this... carefull expectancy. Rumours, too; as Silco's behaviour around you hasn't been unnoticed either. It can't be; for the second time this month, he's carrying you like a ragdoll up to his bedroom, grunting under his breath at the effort of climbing the creaky stairs with the aditional weight on his knees.

As soon as he sets you down on his bed, you start clawing your clothes off; a task amusingly difficult for your half sleeping, half drunk state. Silco tries not to watch your grumpy effort to get under the soft covers; but it's not an easy thing to do. He's hard –the first glimpse of your smooth naked skin already enough– and he's atracted to you. And you're now completely naked in his bed, twisting around so that you can sink your face into the pillow and inhale. You mumble and sigh, muscles relaxing under the covers, and Silco throbs at the knowledge that is his scent what caused that. Or a promise of a good night's rest.

You fall asleep, and Silco lingers in the bedroom picking up the disaray of your clothes from the floor and putting them into a pile to ease the headache you'll surely have tomorrow. He hovers in place when his fingers close around a black, lacy, pantie; groaning at the thought of seeing you in it. It's almost too pretty to belong to the Underground. He wonders if you only use it on special ocasions –he doubts it's comfortable to wear in any of your spy misions–; and if that's the case, why is he the only man to be lucky to see it. Perhaps you really weren't waiting for anyone else.

He's not proud of it –he doesn't feel guilty either, though, after all, you're invading his space– but he takes it. He pushes it into the safe private darkness of his pocket and leaves the room, resigned to spend the night twisting around in the sofa of his office.

The pounding headache you wake up with the next day quickly reminds you of the –admitedly– too large amount of alcohol you had ingested the night before. You groan all the way through getting dressed, frowning at not finding your underware but too tired to worry about it. You exchange a few words with Silco on your way out –relieved and gratefull that he had been considerate enough to let you crash in his private rooms once again and mortified at the same time–, and return home to shower and go about your day.

You find out all about the dissapearance of the one particular item of your clothing a few days after that. It's just another working day, and you're leaving a stack of business papers on the drawer of Silco's desk when a bunch of suspicously familiar lace calls your attention. Surprised and confused, you grab the fabric and examin it; confirming your initial suspition. It is your pantie. What the hell is Silco doing with this?

As if summoned by your thoughts, Silco chooses that exact moment to pop out of his bedroom, walking down the stairs towards his office in a dark wine red shirt that makes your mouth water. His eyes –still holding a trace of sleep–, inmediately fall upon you; eyebrow silently arching in question at your unexpected visit.

You raise up your hand to show him your discovery with an expectant pop of your hip to the side. Silco's expresion morphs from surprise to recognition to a sort of careless guiltiness. He shrugs as if this were a daily occurence –and a totally normal thing– and you can't help but laugh.

"You fuckin' sociopath" you chuckle while he approaches you. "I was wondering where the hell did my underware go".

Silco stops right in front of you and hums uncomitedly.

"You have a tendency of getting naked when drunk, it seems" he replies with a deep, calm tone.

You tilt your head to study him.

"If you liked me, you could have just told me, you know" you decide to risk it, though you hate to be vulnerable. "Surely it isn't a secret I have a crush on you by now".

Silco can't mask the sincere surprise that travels through his face quick enough. He smirks, then, a single side tug of his lips that shouldn't look that attractive –but it does–.

"I see" his eyes roam through your figure in a sugestive way with undeniable interest. "Come back to my office after work then, darling, and I shall compensate you for my cruel robbery".

The promise of a good time with this man sends a rush of excitement through your veins; and you give him a single firm nod with a victorious grin on your face.

NSFW

• Not a fan of quickies. He wants to take his time, he wants to please you. But, on the rare occasions that it happens, he’s mean. Hitting and caressing all the right places, knowing you have to be quiet. He’s like “I’ll be quiet… *Process to smash the pussy so hard, his penis went to jail*”

• Knows exactly how foreplay works. Oh, you guys planned to have sex tonight? BAM, Breakfast in bed! Shoulder massage! KABOOM, favourite dessert! Foreplay starts right when the new day begins.

• Spanks you with his cane 100000%. It’s more tame in public, a quick tap to get you to fix yourself. Alone? On all four, whacking that shi on your ass over and over again. If he’s feeling extra mean, he’ll make you count or say thank you in between each spanking

• Loves marks. Bites, makeup stains, hand marks, scratches. If you have nails, please please drag them down his back

• favourite kinks: power play, brat/brat tamer, ropes, leashes, sensory, candles, edging, guns and knifes, fire, roleplay

• favourite nicknames: love, darling, sweetheart, toots (ironically), angel, beloved, sweet