Lynsinterlude

and he is, gentle as he kisses your neck and chest with sloppy lips, using his teeth to mark just barely that he was there — groans out loud in satisfaction at every noise you make. he slips down your body until his head can bury between your legs, long fingers pulling your panties to the side and displaying your wetness, your neediness, to him.

“you’re so fucking pretty here,” he sighs, licks a stripe up your centre, a guttural, primal noise leaving him as he tastes you — bites your inner thigh to stifle himself — “m’gonna ruin you for anybody else, i promise.”

one hand grips under your ass to hoist you up and the other smothers your thigh as he licks and sucks at your clit, gathering your fluids and drinking them down with breathy moans. your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling, desperate to cum, knowing you’re close, so close, the sounds he’s emitting from between your legs edging you closer.

he sinks one finger into you with ease, then two. worshipping your clit with his lips and tongue, and gently stroking his fingers against that spot you could never reach yourself. you look down, see he’s thrusting gently against the mattress, desperate for relief and that’s what does it for you, has you pulling his hair so hard he growls and nips your clit with his teeth, but you’re so caught up in your release it just makes you tug harder.

he’s stripped and looming over you before you can register it — “you’re ready for me baby, you’re so wet, you want me — your pussy wants me, god let me in—“ he’s whining, slipping the head of his dick through your folds as he leans his forehead on yours. you nod and he pushes in, only an inch or so, gasping and shuddering, “so tight, shit, you’re made for me, baby, baby.”

“oh fuck,” you moan, high and needy, and he’s reaching blindly for your hand, lacing your fingers together beside your head as he works his way in, splits you open and moulds your bodies together. you brush your lips against his and he’s surging down to lick his way behind your teeth, his roman nose crushing into your cheek.

content: smut drabble - voyeurism, masturbating, mixed power dynamics, stalking ofc

i mean fuuuuck she’d be such a pervert, wouldn’t she? veiled under a hood, lurking down your street in the dark hours of the night. stopping just a few feet outside your house. of course she’d like to take it all in first. silently gloat to herself for a minute or two - over how easy it is. so fucking easy to find your address, and to merely stand outside the window, pouting at just how stupid you are for choosing to leave your curtains every open every night. silly you, you’re lucky it’s her outside and not some other creep.

you wanna know why she’s so drawn to you? because every night, around 11 to midnight, you touch yourself to sleep. it’s a habit you haven’t been able to fix yourself out of. an easy rub, and then straight to bed. it’s quick, it’s pleasurable. yet lo and behold, vi seems to have taken a compassion for your pattern even more than you have. a desire that does not know its limits: stretching beyond far horizons. vi dies for it. as the day nears to its end and it’s pitch black outside, she dies to see you nestled above your bed covers, fingers down your pants to gently press tight circles against your twitching clit again, and again, and again.

a nightly routine. vi approaches the window, sees you stimulating yourself, her breaths get heavy, pupils dilate. then her hand is flying to her own zipper, rushing to pull it down so she can hurriedly shove her hand down her underwear, joining you in your dance; jaw slack, breaths palpable and shaky. fantasising about what she’d do if she’d just slide open your window with ease and take you right there and then — all with her eyes open, so she can see you climax. and oh, how you reach that point so beautifully.

what’s funny is that vi gets so lost in her own self-indulgent haze, that she hasn’t realised how you’ve gotten more and more obscene and bolder within each night.

before you started to notice her coming to your window every night, you masturbated like many people do; under your covers. but since then, you’ve been changing it up a little. not even bothering to slink under your covers, shamelessly spreading your clothed legs, lifting your shirt up so a sliver of your under-boob can be shown whilst using yourself in the neediest of manners. you like to discreetly open your eyes, just to make sure she’s watching. but she never notices that you know. sick little pervert relishes over the fact that she can easily see through your window not knowing that you do it on purpose. let her watch. let you give her a show.

one night, just one night, vi will have enough: take matters into her own hands and shove her way inside your room. you’re prepared to let that happen.