𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎

Mikasa had chosen her path with Eren and the others, and you had stayed behind like always. Friends since you were kids running through the streets, sharing bread and secrets under the old oak tree. You were never as close to Armin or Eren, which made it easier to feel that quiet anger when she left. Why them? Why risk everything when she could have stayed here, safe with you?

Then one afternoon, you were wiping down the counter when shouts echoed from the main street. Survey Corps return. You dropped the cloth and stepped outside without thinking as people crowded toward the gate. And there she was, sliding down from her mount with graceful strength, but something was off. She moved slower, favoring her left side. Blood stained the edge of her uniform jacket, dark and fresh.

“Mikasa,” you breathed, pushing through the crowd before you could stop yourself. 

She turned at the sound of your voice, her dark eyes meeting yours across the chaos. For a second everything else faded. She looked exhausted, strands of black hair sticking to her forehead, but she gave you a small nod that told you everything.

You didn’t wait for permission, you slipped an arm around her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the torn fabric. “You’re hurt. Come with me. Mom’s shop is right there, and I’ve got supplies.” 

She didn’t argue, just leaned into you a little as you guided her away from the noise. Her steps were steady but you could tell every one cost her.

Inside the back room of the pharmacy, you cleared the small table where you usually mixed medicines and helped her sit. “Take off the jacket, please,” you said, already pulling out clean cloths and the jar of salve you kept specially mixed for deep cuts. Your hands moved quickly, but your heart was racing. She had been gone for so long. Too long.

Mikasa winced as she shrugged out of the jacket, revealing a nasty gash along her ribs and another slicing across her upper thigh where her pants were ripped. The sight made your stomach twist. You had seen plenty of injuries working with the doctor, but this was her. Your Mikasa. The one who used to braid your hair when you were little and promise she’d always protect you.

“You’re such an idiot for going out there again,” you muttered.

You soaked a cloth in warm water and started cleaning the torso wound first, kneeling close so you could see clearly. Your fingers brushed her skin as you worked, gentle circles around the edges of the cut. She was alive, right here after all those nights you spent staring at the ceiling wondering if she was cold or bleeding somewhere beyond the walls. 

“I missed you. Every single day I missed you,” you said without thinking.

She stayed quiet at first, watching you intensely. The tension between you two had been there for years, unspoken words piling up. You loved her in a way that went beyond childhood friendship, sometimes you thought she felt it too in the way her eyes lingered or how she always found you first when she returned. But neither of you ever said it out loud. Not with the world the way it was.

“I’m fine,” she finally said. You saw the way her breath hitched when you pressed the cloth a little too close to the raw skin.

“You’re not fine. Look at this.” Your free hand rested on her knee without thinking, thumb rubbing small circles.

After months of nothing but wondering, you needed to touch her, to make sure she was real. You leaned in closer to apply the salve, your shoulder brushing hers. The scent of her, sweat and blood filled the small space. “What happened out there? No, don’t tell me. Just stay still.”

You moved to the leg wound next, rolling up the torn fabric carefully. Your fingers trembled a little as they traced the edge of the cut, cleaning it thoroughly before spreading the cooling ointment. Her thigh muscle tensed under your touch, you glanced up to find her staring at you, lips slightly parted. You wanted to hug her tight and never let go, to bury your face in her neck and breathe her in until the fear went away. Instead you kept working.

“I thought about you too,” she admitted quietly after a long pause. Her hand came up, resting lightly on your arm as you bandaged the gash. It was such a small touch, but it sent warmth spreading through you. “When things got bad. Your voice... it helped.”

Your eyes stung. You finished tying the bandage and didn’t pull away, wrapping your arms around her middle, careful of the fresh wrap on her ribs, and held on. Clingy didn’t even cover it. You pressed your cheek to her shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. 

“Don’t scare me like that again. I hate not knowing if you’re coming back. I get so angry at Eren sometimes, dragging you into all of it, but mostly I just miss you. So much it hurts right here.” You tapped your chest lightly.

Mikasa’s arms came around you then, strong despite her injuries. She didn’t say much more, but she held you back just as tight, her fingers threading through the ends of your hair. 

You pulled back just enough to look at her face, searching her dark eyes. “Stay tonight? At least until the bandages need changing. Mom won’t mind.”

In all the brightest thinkers whose lectures you’d sit in on in secret, without exception, they would follow their prattling of human independence and prowess with an excerpt of a hero or patron god alike. Even the academics would rather choke on the pride they’d swallow down as they thanked the gods for their glory and generosity. Capricious as it was, it was a measly failsafe in case a lingering god was listening in on their blasphemy.

Himeko was also a god—a major one, at that.

She stood over eight feet tall, the picture of perfection as she guided those in both wisdom and navigation with the pass of her hand and the flick of her finger. Her epithet, too, was as mighty as her feats: Hodegetria. She who guides the Way.

She made the impossible tangible, something that she alone could lay into your palms for you to dig your fingers into and understand as reality. And so, with the same leisure of a fleeting summer breeze, you released the truth of her godly sovereignty from your mind—one that ruled over you, the land, and everyone else that inhabited it.

And, in those fleeting moments, she was naught but a human woman who’d keep you clasped in her never-ending embrace.

Himeko would do this in shrinking to size as often and as easily as breathing. She met you halfway. Casually. As if she were only leaning down to bring her line of vision to yours and not morphing herself into an entire form anew. 

She rendered your breath laborious and heady quickly thereafter, leaving you no time to linger on the feat by way of locking your lips with hers in a greedy hunger. She’d nearly devour you, only ceasing once your mouth was slick, matching the ruby hue of her tresses and cheeks.

In those moments, the seemingly impossible reality she’d remedy you with was the weight of her breasts, soft and pliant in the catch of your hands. They felt no softer than the sighs she’d breathe into you, filling your lungs with stardust that only she could collect with another brush of her lips against yours.

Cruel as her true nature, Himeko would curse you thereafter with her disappearance, off to complete the duties of a goddess that no human could comprehend the importance of. You often wondered if the excuse was an honest one, as it was so often paired with a foxy smirk that’d plague your thoughts and dreams—each growing more salacious than the last.

You were a sinner, you thought.

What sacrilege could that man even have done to have ten of his kinsmen brought to slaughter by the divine?  Whatever it was, it did not so much as hold a candle to how filthy your imaginations sullied Himeko’s picture.

In the oblivion of sleep, you ruined her the same as you worshipped her. You kissed her until she burned brighter than a star and exploded her essence into the net of your mouth. In the same way nymphs dipped themselves into the heated pools of their springs, you bathed in the pleasure you presented her—the same that she’d return to you in tenfold, almost drowning you entirely.

No human should dare to imagine a god in such obscenity. But you did. Every night that passed.

Oh, that’s right.

Himeko was indeed also a god.

You remembered it now as you stood barefoot in a looming temple of the same marble and limestone reserved for the gods. The structure curled over you in carved beams and pillars, a ribcage leading you to the heart of its chamber.

It must have been her hieron, all the way in her patron city of Thalassia. She must’ve brought you there herself, having wrung you out from the profoundest of sleep to the most alert wakefulness with the same ease that she moved mountains with. You shivered at the mere notion of her knowing your dirtiest of thoughts and bringing you here regardless of them—or rather because of them.

You pressed further inside, the smooth stone cold beneath your sweeping strides. A familiar strain of energy buzzed through the map of your nervous system, intertwining itself with your very essence and pulling you deeper into the temple. It was the same, sparking a buzz that prickled against your tongue whenever you’d lick into Himeko’s mouth. She was calling you further, and you answered in antiphony, stepping into the cella of the building.

The usual grand statue of her was nowhere to be seen. Instead of towering over any human that entered the room, the plinth stood empty safe for Himeko, who replaced the marble depiction of her holiness herself.

She sat in the centre of the room like a stroke of colour, splattered against a blank canvas. The rushing waterfall of rouge spilling over her shoulders stood out brightly in the enclosed space of marble, and with a hook of her finger, beckoning you closer, her magic encased you. You flew like a fairy through the air as she brought you to the foot of her pedestal.

The statue itself would’ve been big, but she outclassed it in size and beauty, taking on a larger form than you had ever seen her appear in before. Up the slope of her chin and nose, you stared like a reverent follower as moonlight squeezed through the carvings in the ceiling. It pierced through her hair, providing the ends of her locks with an amber halo to lose yourself in.

“Hello, my sweet,” she greeted, a slow grin stretched across her painted lips. You swallowed, able to taste the mulberry spread across them with just the sight alone.

“My goddess,” you breathed, still feverish from the rush of your dream and the sight of her before you.

Your hands stretched upwards to her in a base instinct, a small creature reaching for the embrace of Olympus. Himeko’s hands wound gently around your wrists, capturing them entirely with more to spare before she lifted you. Her skin was soft as velvet in the casual display of her strength, and she welcomed you in with the partition of her legs, her dress splitting like clouds in a blue sky above.

You could smell her before you saw her, ripe and sweet as her cunt just barely peeked through the white layers of the dress’ chiffon. You parted the fabric like a curtain on your own initiative, and she glistened with want before you. Her clit had already revealed itself on its own, a button eager for your press.

“Again, so formal,” she chuckled. It was the first time you had heard her voice so airy. It echoed throughout the chamber, rich with power, yet soft with a vulnerability that she alone allowed you to bear witness to.

Her head tilted between your glances, which remained in conflict of settling on her face or on her pussy. It amused her so as she leaned back into a lounge, dipping her chin coyly.

“Please,” she intoned, in a voice less than desperate.

She was teasing, not begging. That was below her. You figured as much when she followed up with the words you had once presented her with from so long ago, turned against you like a blade to your throat.

“Accept this gift of mine with a favourable mind and heart. Let me experience the warmth that is your attention.”

You had offered this prayer to her not long after your first encounter with the goddess, when she’d erased herself from your life to draw you out and render you desperate for her presence.

If you could flush any further than you were now, you did.

“Himeko,” you whined, correcting your previous formality. It was a knee-jerk reaction to her overwhelming presence that she did not fail to correct you upon. “Don’t be cruel.”

“Cruel?” She repeated. “I offer you such an opportunity, and you call me cruel? Do you wish for me to return you home?”

Himeko’s knees twitched, flickering closer to one another as if to fall shut in threat. Even if your strength were but a brush of an eyelash in comparison to her own, your hands flew between them, bracing them open.

She did not really mean to shut them. She was truly cruel.

“No, no,” you rasped. Your brain rattled with how quickly you shook your head, desperate as you pulled yourself closer. “I’m sorry. I want to—can I…?”

Her lips pulled back into another smile as she watched you, revealing rows of perfectly straight and pearly teeth. Entertained by your fickle and lusted nature, a droplet of desire escaped her hole, but it did not escape your attention. You watched it drip onto the stone pedestal below her.

“May you…? What, I cannot read your mind, dear one.”

She could, she has, and she will forevermore. And each time you grew aware of that fact, she plucked it clean from your mind.

“M-May I… taste you? Please, Himeko?”

She sighed at your voice curling into such a delicious sentence. You were meek in your address, but the hunger in your eyes was visceral. Himeko nodded once, sliding her fingers over the top of your head as she spread her thighs further.

Her hands dwarfed your head, and you wondered if her cunt would do the same.

“Yes, dear, you may.”

In that same breath, Himeko brought your face just before her wetness. Her hole clenched with anticipation, and somehow, you held enough patience to stand still and breathe in deeply. Her scent flooded your nostrils and rendered you dizzy with desire, your eyes fluttering shut automatically as you were brought to ecstasy by the whiff alone.

Himeko tasted better than she smelled.

With your tongue unfurled, you licked up her cunt, starting at her fluttering entrance and scooping up her essence until you reached her clit. She sung out like a songbird, and a shiver wracked musically through your spine like she had dragged a mallet down each of its grooves.

“Himeko,” you muffled into her, and her hands tightened on your head at the sound.

Your tongue laved desperately, like you had found an oasis in the centre of a desert. She was certainly wet enough for you to mistake her for one, leaving your chin soaked and a puddle slick beneath her.

“Oh, heavens above.”

She even cursed like a divine being, canting her hips up into your face as she dragged your tongue from her clit to her hole, offering you to drink from her sprout.

You did so eagerly, moving a thumb up to meet where your tongue could no longer reach, slathering smooth circles onto her pearl. It was already so slick with your saliva that your finger nearly slipped off a few times, only to redirect itself and provide her with more pleasure than you previously did.

“Good. You’re so good for me. Sweet little thing—so small.”

She seethed the last few words through her teeth like she could barely fathom how well you ate her. Even her eyebrows knit with this apparent frustration, more a reflection of how tightly you were winding the pleasure within her belly. It was a flame ready to burst into a fire in a moment’s breath, and you chased that heat desperately.

You continued pressing your tongue into the wet clutch of her hole. She was so large that you couldn’t imagine that you reached too deeply, but she cried out nonetheless, back curling into a glorious arch.

You wondered if rainbows were modelled after her likeness as you licked into her. You wondered again if whether morning dew was a reference to how perfect she appeared with perspiration shining along her forehead. Your mind could not afford to wander for long, not with the marble beneath you biting into your knees and the sound of her cries flowing into your ears.

Each taste of Himeko bloomed revolutionarily against your tongue as you licked and suckled, despite having been lapping for quite some time.

She was as sweet as the honey you’d once offered her, but she supplied you with a certain tang all the same, keeping you hooked as she ground herself up and down your face. You were certain that nowhere was left dry with how raggedly she humped. You were off the wagon with her, and you never imagined boarding once more.

“Do you enjoy this?” She breathed out, taunting even in her depravity.

Golden eyes settled on the swivelling motions of your hips, jerking mindlessly for some sort of friction. When you reached a shaky hand to relieve yourself of your agonizing desire, she did not allow it, only pulling it up to press into the plush of her breast.

You groaned as her tit practically spilled through between your fingers, moving you to pinch her nipple absentmindedly. Her sounds made your crotch grow even hotter with need, but you didn’t dare to pull your hands away from where she wanted you.

“Yes—” you slurred, moving back up to pull her clit between your lips in a suckle. You dipped your fingers into her, needing four to provide her with any sort of pleasure. “Yes, yes. I do, Himeko. Please. Tastes so good.”

Himeko tossed her head backwards on her shoulders at the slight stretch, her hair falling like the most carefully draped gown. Any thoughts of shrinking to a more accommodating size disappearing when you provided her with exactly what she needed.

Your words, however, fuzzed through her ears, barely registering as her jaw dropped. Drool seeped down her chin and dripped over your fingers that still fondled her chest.

You wished so deeply to be able to lick her face clean, but you sufficed with the addiction that was her core. The feeling of rolling your tongue along her hardened clit was satisfying enough, and you curled your fingers with each push inside to emphasize your dedication.

“Oh, Flower, I am so close.” She whispered the words like she’d shatter with anything louder, and she nearly did when you moaned into her at the pet name.

She only ever called you that when she was particularly enamoured by you, wishing to lick the dew off your every petal. Though, you supposed that this night, that was your purpose.

If you had pressed any further against her, you were certain you would’ve moulded into the shape of her folds. Still, you would not complain about such a fate when her heat clenched so tightly around her fingers. She was close and crashing so strongly that your fingers struggled to continue their pumping into her.

Himeko’s velvety walls fluttered violently, pulsing like a second heartbeat before providing a final choke, holding your hand still as her climax washed over her. Your fingers and palm grew soaked up to your arm, yet you continued to lap until she divorced you from her heat, blearily blinking down at you as she examined your ruined appearance. You couldn’t say she was ruined the same, not when she looked so ethereal.

Your eyes dropped back down, swallowing whatever blend of saliva and slick that remained pooled in your mouth as you pulled your fingers free from the cold of her cunt. You missed her warmth already, but her apparent satisfaction soothed your woes entirely.

“Good?” You questioned, though you knew her answer just by how heavily her chest heaved.

Another one of her gorgeous smiles graced you with a response as Himeko pulled you up to her level. She panted, taking you in one final time before kissing the taste of herself right off your tongue.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ SENTINEL

Sentinel's breathing is louder than usual, her jaw clenched tight as she crosses the room with short, quick strides.

"Mon cher..." She rasps, tossing her rifle aside before she grabs at your shoulders. Sentinel pins you back against the wall, mashing your lips together with a muffled groan. Her hand comes up behind your head, her tongue delving into your mouth.

Sentinel pulls back with a harsh grunt, her chest heaving with each intake of breath. Her eyes are wild while she fixes them onto your face, loosening her grip on your hair as she presses your forehead against yours.

"I've been thinking of you all day." She whispers, letting out a surrendering breath. She retreats for an inch, slowly dropping down to her knees. Her eyes flutter for a moment while she lets your fingers card through her locks of hair, gazing up at you while you do so.

"Allow me please you tonight." Sentinel insists.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀MARSHA

You're looking over the map sprawled across the spacious table, rubbing your eyes with your thumb and forefinger. You hardly register the sound of the tent flap rustling when Marsha's footsteps sound behind you, the action of her bulky arms wrapping around your waist suddenly snapping you awake.

Marsha grins and rests her chin on your shoulder. "Sorry for scaring you." She begins, voice light at first. "...Can I have you?" She requests, her voice lowering with intent.

At your approval, she boldly shifts her forearms and runs her palms along the sides of your waist. Her head lifts to bring attention to your neck, peppering your skin with soft kisses. Her hand trails beneath your shirt, fingers spreading out as a shiver travels through your spine at the contact.

Marsha steps forward, your hip pressing against the edge of the table. The sudden imbalance causes you to lean forward, prompting your hands to plant firmly on the rough surface. Marsha ceases for a moment, her chest pressing against your back.

"Hold still for me, alright?" She demands, slipping one hand out of your clothing to cover one of yours on the table whilst the other remains on your stomach, gradually traveling lower.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀BRUME

Brume swings the door to the rear end of the car, watching you step inside with a silent swallow. With every ounce of courage she has left in her, she dives in with you and slams the door behind her. You shift to lay on your back against the seats while Brume crawls on top of you, panting softly.

"I apologize!" Brume stutters. "This is rather inappropriate, I should-" She blurts, but her words cut short as you interrupt her with your lips. Brume emits a soft whimper, pressing you further against the seats with her hands framing your face.

Her kisses become sloppy, her fingers twitching with the restraint of holding you too hard. She briefly pulls back from each kiss for a breath just to dive back in, your teeth just narrowly clashing with hers.

A frustrated groan leaves Brume's throat, forcing herself to snap her head back from the heated kisses to straighten herself. She impatiently tosses her jacket aside, moving to straddle one of your legs.

"You've been teasing me all day..." Brume’s cheeks are fainly flushed from the boldness of her own actions, yet she has no intention of backing out. She leans her head down once more, pressing a trail of kisses down to your chest while her thighs tighten around your leg.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀PAPER HERON

The sun hadn't risen, yet Paper Heron's sigh sounds from beside you before she unexpectedly rolls on top of you wih languid grace. You blink up at her while she presses tender kisses to your face.

"Couldn't sit still." Heron admits once she pulls herself away, instead pressing her face into your neck with a hoarse grumble. "I've been up for hours." She bites at your skin gently, a pleased hum leaving her throat as your hands grasping at her shoulders. Heron rolls her hips, groaning quietly while she presses her body flush with yours.

She releases her teeth from your neck to glance at the hickey she made on your neck, a slack-jawed look written all over her face rather than her usual smug grin.

The expression on her face looked almost foreign. Yet, without having the time to register Heron's face, you were suddenly flipped onto your stomach.

Heron pins you down on the mattress with her body weight, kissing your neck before straightening up. "Let's get this over with, eh?" She rasps, her hands traveling toward your hips to lift them up.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀VILA

Vila returns home, yet instead of a warm greeting like you've expected, she seizes one of your wrists and drags you toward the bedroom.

Upon entry, Vila takes no time into initiating a kiss. She slams the door with her foot, holding still for just another moment before deciding to pull away. Vila's pupils are blown wide as she gazes at you with an apologetic stare. "I apologize, I'm aware it's late, but..." She begins, but for once, she finds herself at loss for words.

Instead, Vila guides you backward until the back of your knees come into contact with the edge of the bed. You fall back onto the mattress, with Vila crawling on top of you. She kisses you again, softer. She takes her time, flicking her tongue against your lips timidly.

You part your lips, allowing for her tongue to delve within the wet cavern of your mouth. Her hand comes up to frame your jaw, moaning into the kiss the more she tastes you.

Vila retreats for a breather, a shaky exhale leaving her lips. While you take the time to catch your own breath, Vila’s lips find your collarbone, making her way downward. You blink and gaze down at Vila, her head now hovering over your stomach. She meets your gaze, smiling wryly before traveling further down.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀WINDSONG

The door to your room abruptly bursts open, with Windsong holding onto the handle for dear life. Her breathing is labored due to her sprinting through Laplace's corridors, chest heaving from the effort. She slowly shuts the door and makes her way over toward you, lifting her head and meeting your eyes.

She grasps your neck and reels you in, kissing you hard. The sudden action catches you off guard, yet you reciprocate her kiss with equal intensity. Windsong pulls away quick as oxygen became a problem, taking slow breaths while lowering her head to rest it against your shoulder.

"I didn't mean to be so sudden." Windsong murmurs, arms looping around you while she keeps her hold tight.

She eventually lifts her head again, but without allowing her to speak, your lips were already slotting with hers. Startled, she makes a sound that becomes swallowed up anyway.

You step forward until Windsong's back meets the wall, pulling back from the kiss to breathe again. You lean your head down to kiss her neck, Windsong's grip tightening on your back just enough to bruise. Her head falls back against the wall, letting out a submitting whimper.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀TOOTH FAIRY

Tooth Fairy parks her car at the side of the road, shutting off the engine. She cranes her head to glance at you, adjusting her braces while she speaks.

"Come here." She commands, and you immediately unbuckle your seat belt. You lift yourself from the passenger seat, now moving to straddle Tooth Fairy's lap. Her gloved palms find your waist, reeling you closer as a means to press your bodies flush with eachother.

"I couldn't wait until we drove back home." Tooth Fairy whispers. She starts with a soft peck to your jaw, then your cheeks.

"I've wanted you all day." She utters and shifts her position, faltering as your hips ground down against hers. "Ah!" The sound slips from Tooth Fairy's lips, a steadying exhale sounding from her afterward.

"I won't last if you tease me like this." She hisses, mashing her lips against yours.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀MOLDIR

Moldir climbs onto the couch and settles on top of you, her head resting on your chest. She glances up at you while her arms loop around your back, embracing you tightly.

"Long day." Moldir did not need to say more. She props herself up with her hands planting on the cushion, your fingers working with the buttons of her uniform. Moldir watches you do so with rapt attention, her mouth agape from the underlying tenderness at the simple action.

She blinks, clearing her throat as you finish with the buttons. She removes her jacket, but was quickly dragged into a kiss initiated by you after the discards the garment.

She melts in an instant. Moldir's eyes flutter shut, a low hum leaving her throat while your fingers tangle in her hair. She tenses when your legs wrap around her waist tightly, prompting her to pull back from the kiss.

Moldir slides her hand up to tilt your head back, exposing your throat. She lowers her head, her teeth grazing your neck carefully. Moldir hums, tilting her head while peppering your skin.

Amidst it all, she whispers, "...May I please you?"

.

In hindsight, maybe watching Pretty Woman was a bad idea. Edward Lewis wins Vivian Ward's kiss by climbing a fire escape with a bouquet of roses in his mouth when your companion knocks you completely off your feet.

"I want to kiss you."

Fami sits beside you on your tattered, peeling couch, scarfing down her third apple she'd plucked from your fruit basket without asking when she tells you this. Droplets of apple juice linger on her lips while she chews; shiny, pink and dewy looking.

The credits roll on your TV, Roy Orbison blaring from your speakers, while your brain falls horrifically blank. Your head twists so fast, you barely hear the snap of a bone in your neck to face the Devil noncommittally munching on one of your apples, staring at you with that same impassiveness you've grown oddly fond of.

"...I'm sorry?" It takes several seconds for you to realize you've yet to grace her so eloquent demand with an equally as eloquent answer.

"I want to kiss you," she repeats easily, finally sparing you of her desolate stare, facing the TV, watching as the blooper reels and alternate takes of scenes play amongst the credits. She flickers to your VCR and the collection of VHS tapes encompassing it. "Like them."

Your heart betrays you, speeding up within your chest, pounding so furiously against your ribcage that it surely would have killed you had you been as humanoid within as you were without. It's laughable, really, how easily heat floods the tips of your ears, an intense burn that almost worries you, lest you spontaneously lose your sense of hearing. Distantly, beneath the silent pitch, you hear the obnoxious crunches of the apple between Fami's teeth, periodic in their rhythm that is almost periodic, until the wet chewing finally registers much too loudly, and you realize that you've once again left her hanging for seveal seconds.

You're frozen; suspended in time. Lost in the moment that this beautiful Devil tells you that she wants to kiss you, and when you subsequently lose nearly all cognitive function. You're utterly stuck on how the words ft in her mouth, and how her lips curve around the apple when she bites down, until the thought morphs into soft lips on yours and a tongue that tastes of apple in your mouth.

The heat kisses your cheeks now, your very cells buzzing underneath your skin, but your tongue feels impossibly heavy. Fami returns her gaze back to you, unabashed yet enticingly indecipherable, pink ringed pupils unraveling you.

Amidst your silence, she merely tilts her head— slowly, until her earring caresses the fabric on her shoulder, eyes fitting downward and back up again. If you didn't know any better, you'd almost think her to be undressing you with her stare.

"Have you ever even kissed anyone?" You sputter, breathy and unsure, after your brain reboots. You firmly remind yourself that this is not an ordinary girl expressing a desire to kiss you, but a Devil— Fami, who is entirely uncaring to even conceal her identity; all the more reason you shouldn't trust her, much less fall for her esoteric charm.

"No." She answers so simply, "But I want to try. With you."

Frustration burrows deep into the crease of your brows. How could she be so calm given what she's asking? You're not even sure you're friends, let alone close enough to kiss. "Well, I don't."

Fami doesn't falter, "You don't?"

"No," you cross your arms, pointedly ignoring the part of your mind that demands of you to face her again. When that doesn't feel like enough, when the mere thought of her being this close is too much, you decide to remove the tape from the VCR— anything to keep yourself busy.

"Not like that, at least."

You feel her eyes on your back as you crawl across the carpet to your TV stand and pluck out the tape. You toss it to the side and sift through your selection, pausing for a moment, then adjusting your position to sit on your heels when you become uncomfortably aware that you're basically giving her an unearned opportunity to stare at your ass.

Behind you, Fami quirks a brow, a slight movement of her face, at your behavior. You're a fidgeter, that she knows quite well with how much you touch her both unconsciously and consciously, but you've never been... nervous before.

"Like what?" She asks.

Rather than digging yourself further into the hole you've already did well to create for yourself, you opt to search for another movie, pretending to read over the titles of movies you've long memorized; two of Denji's favorites, three of yours, and three of Nayuta's, enough to hold the three of you over until the next time Denji manages to scrounge up enough change to purchase another. But it's not nearly enough to rid yourself of the churning in your stomach, the pounding in your chest, and the all-encompassing feeling of Fami's eyes on the back of your head.

It quickly becomes humiliating, however, how many times you've swiped your eyes over the same eight titles, your facade of nonchalance slipping with every sitting second of silence.

"Do you not want to kiss me?" She asks again, putting you out of your misery, yet you curl into yourself as you read over Guinea Pig: Mermaid in the Manhole for the fourth time.

"It's not that I—" you sputter, on the brink of malfunction, "I mean, I— I'm not saying I don't... want to."

"Then what is it?" Her head cocks to the side again, just barely inquisitive.

"It's... complicated."

Fami hums, an inscrutable tone that does little to betray her thoughts. "I want to kiss you, you want to kiss me. That means we should kiss, no?"

You scoff, "Not when you say it like that."

Only then does Fami's expression visibly change, a soft, nonplussed furrowing of her brows, "...I don't understand what you mean."

"Of course you don't."

It's a mumble under your breath that you normally know better than to have said out loud. Everyone else in your home, yourself included, has heightened hearing, you should know better. And you would have kept it to yourself, but the current of biting bitterness that rips through you nearly overwhelms you with its intensity.

You hear the couch shift underneath her as Fami leans forward, "Help me understand."

"No, Fami, let's just watch another movie."

"But I want to kiss you," she argues resolutely, infuriatingly earnest that it makes you want to scream.

"Yes, you've made that clear."

"And you want to kiss me."

Even more anger-inducing is that she doesn't even sound smug; persistent, yes, unfaltering, and stupefying correct in her assertions. "Your words, not mine."

"So we should kiss," she decides again, and you have to bite your lip as hard as you can to keep from physically screeching.

"Is that how you'd intend to ask?"

Again, Fami pauses at the surprising bite in your tone. "Edward Lewis didn't ask Vivian Ward when they kissed," she rebuts dispassionately.

"That's different," you argue, but it comes out more like a petulant whine, and you growl lowly, frustration bubbling.

"Different how?"

"Different, as in they already knew they were in love with each other, and she leaned in first. It was implied. And romantic."

There's another pause. The ruffling of fabric turns your head, and you find Fami having quickly made her way over to you. On her hands and knees, her skirt brushing loudly against your scratchy carpet, until she's next to you; her lanky legs knock against you as she twists to mimic your stance. Even with her lower half scrunched, she looms above you.

On the balls of her feet, she leans toward you, tilting her head the same way she had seen during the film, and attempts to kiss you.

You let her lips just brush yours before you pull away. Fami doesn't pout, but you catch the slightest purse of her lips, and the seemingly frustrated reluctance with which she opens her eyes to find you.

"I want to kiss you," she repeats lowly, dare you say almost huskily if not for her nearly completely vacant tone.

Your eyes flicker down, counting the beauty marks underneath her eyes, then even further down to the one just under her mouth. "Well, I'm not going to kiss you, so... if you want to do it..."

When you find her eyes again, there's something different in them. Her normally contracted pupils, voids of haunting emptiness, are now half a size bigger, almost encompassing the first ring around her eyes. There's faintest shine glimmering in them, enrapturing you completely.

She shuffles closer, lips fully brushing against yours, and sighs at the gentle touch. It's almost tender, the way she takes in every breath you release. Slowly, she moves to press her lips to yours, and you let hers touch yours for the tiniest moment— just faintly, you can taste her and the apples she devoured on her lips— before you pull away. Just slightly, so she can linger on the feeling, taste the temptation herself.

"I want you to ask," you whisper.

Her pink eyes are as intimidating as they are breathtaking at this distance, and it is only now that you can detect the slightest twitches of her face. At your words, and the feeling of your mouth so, so close— just a hair's breadth from touching hers, she wavers. Her tongue pokes out, dragging over the parts of her lips that you touched, as if savoring the faintest taste of you.

"Ask?"

You lean in almost greedily, deliberate in your teasing now— she leans in, you pull away. "Ask me if you can kiss me."

She takes several agonizing moments to linger in this closeness with you. Her eyes flutter back and forth from one of yours to the other, almost hypnotically. Then, they flicker down to your lips, an oddly human expression that makes her cross-eyed. It only reminds you once more that she is just as inhuman and inexperienced as you, yet unwittingly, your breath hitches.

She nears closer until her bottom lip brushes yours, exhaling into the shared air. And she whispers your name— reverently, your traitorous mind supplies, and asks against your lips, "Can I kiss you?"

Your lashes flutter, eyes rolling back involuntarily, as if the words alone give you inconceivable pleasure, and you barely muster enough agency to nod your head. The smallest motion for fear that you'd break the trance you both seem to entice each other into and widen the miniscule gap separating you. The very idea seems excruciating now.

She rewards you quickly, her lips descending upon yours with an urgency that is frighteningly reciprocated. The buzz beneath your skin brightens, a newer, more intense sensation at your point of contact. It burns pleasantly, like an intch finally being clawed it, and it's delicious.

You're the one who moves first; your fingers press delicately up her shoulders, against her neck, momentarily distracted by her earrings, before resuming their mission until they reach her face. Your grip tightens, squeezing her cheeks together to pull her closer.

An unexpected observation: she lets you do as you please. Rather, she sits almost morbidly corpse-like while your hands touch for every piece of her you can reach. Her hair, her earrings, her cheeks, her neck— your fingers leave their mark on her pale skin, but she doesn't make a single move. Discouraging it would be usually, and you would have taken this to indicate her visceral disinterest had it not been for the sheer vigor she responds with against your lips.

Gluttonously— desperately, even— your hands let up on their grip on her cheek and in her hair to caress down her arms to her hands situated in her lap. Her skirt is clenched tightly between her fingers, which only spurs you to continue. You practically rip the fabric from her fingers, and guide them to your waist, pressing them against you until they squeeze similarly at your own skirt. The fabric creases taut under her grip, but it's as if her fingers have burned them away with how clearly you feel her skin on yours.

Impossibly cold and rigid, like a dead body, until it's not. Like you've never seen in all your time of knowing her, Fami comes alive; what belies her endlessly stoic disposition is an invigorating passion. She clings to you, pulling you closer and closer, like she wants you to climb into her skin and become one with her.

Enticing is the way she lifts one of her hands, your skin cooling upon the loss of her grip, and clutches your cheek. The pads of her fingers press into your cheekbone; her thumb reaches under your chin and presses deliciously against your throat, and then she moves again.

Once more, you find yourself further impassioned when she curls the same hand around your nape, fingers tangling within the soft baby hairs there. You can't help the groan that leaves your throat, which she swallows greedily, tightening her hold until her hand all but palms the back of your head and she tugs.

She readily eats your sounds whole, tongue prodding into your mouth, licking everywhere she can reach. Your teeth, your tongue, your lips. It's messy, spit pooling on your tongue and she slurps it up ravenously. Insatiable, as though your saliva were ambrosia itself. When the hand still pawing at your thigh through your skirt reaches up to the curve of your spine and presses deliciously, you move without a single thought, right into her lap.

Kissing Fami is complete and utter bliss; it's unconventional, a little awkward, but bliss nonetheless. Making out with Fami is unlike anything you could've imagined. You dreamed about what it would be like to kiss Makima, then Himeno, and then Reze, but none ever came to fruition— they all died before you actually got the chance.

But Fami... is unlike any Devil or Hybrid or whatever else you've met. You used to think Makima was unfathomably powerful, the thought ironically gave you a sense of safety even when things went... bad. You have yet to uncover all of her secrets, but you are certain that if Fami really is a Devil, then she is a much more powerful one than even Makima.

You really, really like kissing Fami, you decide fairly quickly. And perhaps she enjoys kissing you too, what with how she dominates you, encompassing your lips and your tongue like she very well is attempting to actually eat you. She's not the vocal type; she sighs, gasps, into your mouth but doesn't make much more noise than that. Her passion lies in her body, in the way her mouth responds so vigorously to you, the way her fingers twitch and clutch until you feel the blood spreading rapidly when her grip finally relents.

You like kissing Fami so much that you don't even realize you're pushing her down and rhythmically pressing your lower half down against hers. Your hand itches when it presses against the carpet below her, but you couldn't possibly care less when Fami lifts the leg you've encompassed between your thighs and presses against you.

Another blissful sigh leaves you at the pressure, and your nails dig deeper into the carpet. You fall deeper and deeper into her spiral the longer her mouth dances against yours, and the easier she follows your gestures.

She moves as though she's normal— a normal girl making out with someone in your home. For a moment, you could believe that this was normal, that you were normal, that she was normal. The sighs shared between you make way for moans; your fingers curl into the carpet again only to find them tangling in her hair and mapping every point of her body you can reach.

She groans, low and husky, against your mouth when your hands grab onto her wrists and press them down against the carpet. Merely an anchor for yourself as your lower body slowly begins to move. The leg between your thighs shifts, flexing against the sensitive parts of your inner thighs, and you jolt, squeezing her limb and tightening your hold on her wrists.

"Is this okay?" She asks when you finally decide that breath is necessary and lift a fraction off of her, though even a second away from her leaves you in a frenzy, craving more, more, more.

"Mhm."

Her lips are distracting. She is distracting— and surely you distract her because as soon as you nod, she's on you again, craning her neck to get a taste of you.

.

You finally break free of the daze she has you under with a gasp. You're not entirely sure how much time has gone by, but your lips are swollen and you have to stop soon, or you will find a way to shag Fami right on this very carpet. Separating from her, your lower half sits idly on top of hers and you crane your head to find the clock on your wall. "What time is it?!"

Fami pants beneath you, her breaths in sync with the pounding of your heart in your chest. It's a sight to behold, one you simply do not have time for when you find that the clock reads a quarter past 1.

"Crap!" You scramble off of her with as much reluctance as urgency, "I have to go!"

Fami watches your legs tremble as you get your footing, mumbling under your breath about how Denji should've been home by now, which then spirals into worries of how he'd react if he had been on time to find you making out a girl on the living room floor. Slowly, she props herself up on her elbows, watching you with a return of her ever so dispassionate thousand-yard stare.

"Where are you going?" The last syllable doesn't even leave her lips before you're dragging her to her feet and pushing her towards the couch.

"I have to go pick up my little sister. She's not exactly the most patient person," you huff, sitting her down and scrambling over to grab your jacket.

You're halfway out the door when you finally turn and direct your full attention back to her, "Um... I would say you can stay, but.. I'm pretty sure you'll eat everything in my kitchen, and also Nayuta-chan doesn't really like visitors, but... um, I'll see what I can do. Make yourself at home, if you want."

With a shaky smile, you avert your eyes, heat bubbling to the tips of your ears once more and practically sprint for your front door. But then you pause again, deliberating. You turn, make your way back to her side and press the gentlest kiss on her cheek, and then her lips.

"I'm glad you asked to kiss me," you whisper, nipping at her bottom lip. She feels the sudden urge to grasp the nape of your neck and drag you back down under with her, but you pull away before she can. She pretends not to notice the smile you fail to hide, bottom lip burrowed under your teeth, and before she knows it, you're out the door, and Fami sits alone in your apartment.

A second later, you're prancing back inside, snatching her wrist and leading her out the door. "On second thought," you say as your fingers wrap around her wrist, "Nayuta-chan's definitely not as forgiving as I'm making her sound."

You linger outside the door, almost giddy at how she looms over you, "I'll see you at school?"

There's an endearing hope in your tone, a shine in your eyes that Fami finds absolutely adorable.

"Yes," she answers simply, then bends, tilting her head so that her earring brushes your cheek as she kisses you one last time. On the cheek, then on your mouth, as you had done just a minute ago. She nips at your bottom lip all the same, then stands up straight and watches you sputter, reaching up to soothe the sting of your bottom lip. It's exceedingly adorable how catty you get when you're flustered, especially when it's because of her; you huff petulantly, then stomp away, grumbling about how unfair it was that she managed to get the upper hand.

Again, her head dips to the side. Her lips still tingle with the taste of you, but she resists the urge to lick it all up before she gets the chance to taste it again. She savors it, in fact, while she waits until the squeaks of your shoes against linoleum stairs get softer and softer.

- catherine is dominant whether she's the one giving or receiving; she'll take on the submissive role very occassionally if she thinks her partner can pull it off, but she'll still be a brat about it. and she will turn the tables if they're not careful

- likes having her hair pulled. during kissing or when she's going down on her partner, feeling them grip onto it turns her on even more and makes her speed up whatever she's doing

- she likes kissing a lot and can easily get worked up through it alone. catherine's lips are very well taken care of, soft and warm, and she easily dominates the kiss, coaxing her lover's mouth open with slow kisses and licks, her tongue sliding against theirs as the kiss turns deeper. she could go for hours just tasting and exploring her partner's mouth

- as for positions, i think she definitely enjoys riding, having a pretty, breathless woman straddling her strong thighs, catherine gripping her hips and thrusting up into her if her legs get too tired to go on... it provides her with a very satisfying view she can't get enough of

- she probably enjoys being the one on top, too, being able to set the pace and tease her partner as she gets off. her stamina is certainly above average, so even if she's the one doing most of the work, her partner might end up more exhausted than catherine herself </3

- she's generally pretty indulgent during sex, focusing on her lover's needs most of the time. their body is like another battlefield for catherine to claim, and she learns every weak spot, silently making plans on how to advance as she goes. her pace isn't usually too fast, she's more likely to fuck them deeply and thoroughly. she likes dragging out her partner's pleasure and seeing their body react to her; she's not downright cruel, but she gets her satisfaction seeing them squirming and needy for her, so she might tease them a bit before giving them what they want

- quite smug during sex and will talk through it most of the time. she'll have full on conversations with herself while her poor partner is too wrecked to get a full sentence out </3

- she has a high sex drive, so the moments when she's away in the whitesands with her troops are like torture. likely the first thing she does when she comes back home is drag her partner into the shower with her so they can make up for the lost time

- she likes toys with metal elements because she can manipulate them without using her hands, such as nipple clamps or vibrators; with her ability, she can do it from far away, too, making it possible to toy with her partner while she's away on business so they don't miss her too much

- catherine Definitely owns a strap that matches her uniform. actually, she probably has multiple to match her outfits, all custom made

- her prefered way of getting off is having her partner eat her out. she likes being treated like royalty, having them kiss their way up her legs and thighs before she pushes their head against her pussy. she gives them some freedom at first, but it's likely for catherine to just end up holding them in place and fucking their face if they go too slow

- she's vocal when she's the one receiving, she isn't ashamed of it at all. the more aroused she is, the more her breathy moans turn into deeper groans and gasps. also, she has an insane back arch when she cums. trust me

- massive car sex enjoyer, she likes the scandalous feeling of it — her car windows are heavily tinted, so no one can see inside, but the semi-public setting still gets her off.

- she's possessive as hell and likes showing off, so she enjoys leaving her mark on her partner, preferably in visible places. that might include some lovebites, but what she prefers are hickeys and lipstick marks (either on their skin or clothes, like the collar of their shirt)