ﾒ૦⋮ SAPH ⭑.ᐟ

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ 𖣁 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐇, 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀 child, when you were alive, pure, innocent, chaste. When the sun didn’t burn your skin and holy water didn’t make it fizzle. When human blood was nauseating instead of appetising and your teeth were barely sharp enough to chew your food without choking on it.

Now, its smell is stronger, as well as more painful, like every whiff of air has to burn itself through your lungs, rather than travel peacefully throughout. But you’d take the burn everyday if it meant seeing her again. If it meant seeing her parted lips whispering your name like a prayer and not like the perverted thing that you truly are.

The Sermon was way past an hour and a half by now, and your lungs were starting to burn due to the exposure, not the good kind of burn— the kind of burn that comes from pulling on a cigarette for too long or the kind that comes after you’ve been down on a woman for a prolonged period of time without worrying about the trivial things in your unlife, like oxygen— no, this burn wasn’t the kind of pain that you enjoyed but rather something you had to suffer through.

Like penance.

But you would, you’d stay confined in the punishing walls of this chapel, hearing their pointless ‘talks’ if it meant desecrating them after, if it meant that you got to look at her— even if only from afar, even if it was just the back of her head, while she sat by the front, drinking in every word, every prayer, every breath coming from the priest.

It honestly made you a little, a lot, jealous. You had no right to it, some part of you, if only deep down, knew that. But, seeing sister Barnes, your sister Barnes, looking at someone else, a priest no less, your own very antithesis. With the same eyes that should be adoring you, made the demon inside of you roar with jealousy. And you almost couldn’t help the next thought that popped into your mind while the young priest trailed off about Jesus Christ.

You were going to eat him.

You immediately scold yourself right after, you suddenly miss the cross that sister Barnes wears around her neck— the same one that burns your skin every time the two of you kiss; penance. You couldn’t eat him, sister Barnes would be devastated, she’d never forgive herself, or worse.

She’d never look at you again.

The sermon finally came to an end, thank God, pun intended. You linger in the back, away from the holy objects but still inside— in order to protect your skin from the harsh, afternoon sun.

When suddenly, it was only you and her inside the chapel.

Like it was supposed to be.

Sister Barnes doesn’t move from her spot at the front, she lingers and waits for you to come to her. You wonder if she enjoys hurting you as some kind of perverse way to punish herself. You also wonder if she knows that you’re doing the exact same thing.

You approach the first bench, the one closest to the front, in cautious steps, dragging your feet over the floor as you make your way to her. Sister Barnes stares you down, in a gaze that’s both fit of predator and prey, her hands laced in front of herself in a stance that’s supposed to exude calmness and confidence— to the naked human eye, anyway. But you were no human, you could pick up on the little things— like her thundering heart beat, the thin sheen of sweat that coated her pale skin and the wetness carefully concealed beneath her long skirts and Mormon garments— the same growing wetness you could smell the moment you stepped foot into the church, five minutes late to Sunday sermon, or in your case, late to watching your latest obsession.

Sister Barnes doesn’t step back, doesn’t run away, but her body does lean back, ever so slightly, before she opens those sweet lips of hers to speak. “I didn’t think you’d show.” She tells you, the evasiveness in her voice was not only present, but it was so loud that it was practically screaming at you. You were used to this dance with her. The one where she’d pull back and you’d push forward, like you could see in real time the clogs of her brain turning and fighting with her heart— or rather fighting against her darkest, most unholy urges.

In the end, those always won, wonder why that is?

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.” You answer plainly, not giving in how much you were craving her, her touch, her blood, her breath on your lips. “It was…” You ponder, momentarily, putting on a show for her as the words roll off your tongue. “Insightful.”

“Insightful?” She spits back, her lips pressed into a thin line while her hands hold each other with far more force than necessary, you can see the points of her skin— in which her fingertips are pressed against, turning white due to the pressure on her own flesh, you can also hear her blood flowing slower in that particular region of her hands, it delights you, the effect you have on her.

“On God, sister.” You say, unable to hide the slight mocking in your words. You were fishing for a reaction, and you were going to get it.

“Don’t take the lord’s name in vain.” She reprimands, you knew that was going to get her, she was awfully predictable at times.

But you were not.

You move forward from your spot, next to the first bench, until your bodies are pressed into one another, until your breaths are mingling and you’re sharing the same molecules of oxygen. You look deep into her dark, greyish-blue eyes, getting lost in the storm of them, you’d count every single one of her dark eyelashes if she allowed you the pleasure to do so, or the time of day; before dropping to your knees in front of her. “I apologise, sister.” You half-whisper, head bowed, so your eyes are trained firmly on her shoe-covered feet.

Sister Barnes makes a little ‘tch’ sound with her tongue, before sighing, seemingly already exasperated by your jester. But, little did she know that the minor rejection only made the fire inside you burn hotter and brighter, it was like drugs but better. You’d know, you have tried a plethora of them by now, none that came close to this.

You bow your head further down until your practically kissing her feet while you wait for her to make a move, to scold you, to hit you or kiss you, you’d be good with either one of those, if you were being honest with yourself. You feel a hand on your back before you hear sister Barnes’s breath stagger slightly before she speaks. “Will you rise to your feet, please?” She asks, a hint of annoyance mixed with her rather smooth voice.

You do as you are told, like a good little creature of the night, and rise to your feet. Your eyes meet hers, again. If you had a heartbeat it would be racing right about now. But you don’t, so you have to satisfy yourself by listening to the blood rush quickly to hers. Her heartbeat wild and strong while her gaze refused to waver with a stubbornness you’ve only ever seen in a handful of people during your many, many years on this wretched planet.

Sister Barnes gives you a once over, her lips part slightly before she speaks. “What are you doing here?” She questions, her gaze hard and serious, but there’s something about the way her heartbeat quickens, the way she blinks more times than deemed necessary that tells you that there’s a right and a wrong answer, and that sister Barnes, herself, doesn’t really know which one she wants to hear. “Really, be honest.” She presses, wielding her sincerity like a sword.

So, you choose to play defence, to let her lay down the rules, this was her house after all. “You know why I’m here, sister.” You propose, taking a step closer to her so that she can speak against your lips.

Her eyes fly to your mouth before meeting your lifeless gaze. “We don’t have to meet here.” She mumbles, her bottom lip wobbling in uncertainty and unfounded anger.

You pay no mind to it, continuing to taunt her in your own way. “Well, you refuse to invite me to your house, so…” You trail off, you try to come off as playful but the fact that she still refuses to invite you into her home stings more than holy water ever could.

You refuse to let her see it though, you were not about to lose your dignity to a mortal, a church mouse of a mortal no less. You had your pride, or what was left of it, anyway. Years on earth will do that to a subhuman.

Sister Barnes rolls her eyes and uncrosses her hands, you know because her blood can finally flow freely and fill those spots she was pressing against. “You know why.” She declares. Yes, you knew why, doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“That’s fair.” You comment, going once again for the unbothered person you’ve carefully crafted over the years. “Are you scared of me?” You wonder. “Do I frighten you, sister?” You ask against her lips. Sister Barnes, once again, refused to give in, refused to move, so your mouth travels from her mouth to her neck pressing a sweet kiss there before letting your tongue run through her pulse point, feeling her blood rush through her veins in all its glory, you have to push back, almost immediately, in order to not give it to your animal instincts.

But it was hard. It was so hard, it was almost painful, you could feel your gums itching and your mouth salivating desperate for a feel, for a taste, for a connection that would satisfy the beast inside of you.

Sister Barnes opens her eyes once your mouth leaves the soft skin of her neck, her previous soft expression morphing into a frown. “This is mutiny.” She says, firmly. “This is a place of worship.”

She was right, this was a place of worship, and the two of you had never done it here. Sure, you’d come a handful of times. Mostly just to stare at her because you’d figured that she’d be too against desecrating the church. But, now, with the way the blue of her eyes was becoming darker by the minute and the way her heart was beating out of her chest, it makes you wonder if you have been reading her wrong all this time.

You wonder how much you can push before she breaks.

You get over your own hunger and press your lips to her neck, one more time, making out with her fair skin until it changes colour from white to red. “I’m worshiping.” You say, matter of factly, before you lift your head from her neck and press your lips to hers.

This time, she returns your affections, opening her mouth and moving it along with your own, you move your tongue against her open lips, seeking entrance without permission, sister Barnes’s tongue moves with your own in an unholy dance of cat and mouse.

You grab her waist and pull her closer, the cross dangling from her neck branding your skin in the process, it hurts, burns even. But it’s in moments like these where you have to measure cost vs reward, pain vs pleasure, and having your mouth on her definitely outweighs the burn of the cross.

Sister Barnes pulls away from you, harshly. Her hands flying to your chest while she creates some kind of distance between the two of you. The sudden movement makes you bite her bottom lip in retaliation. “No.” She proclaims, but this time, you can’t seem to focus on her harsh tone, only on the droplet of blood dribbling out of the tiny incision on her flesh.

You lick your mouth thoroughly, fully enjoying the one droplet of blood you’ve managed to smuggle from her. “I thought I had freedom of religion.” You tease. “Do I not?”

Sister Barnes dabbles at the open cut in her mouth with her index finger, covering it in the substance as well. “This isn’t religion, this is perversion!” She takes a step back, her breath quickening. “T-this, this is wrong, I’m wrong! There’s something wrong with me. I should not be allowing this.”

You take a step forward, and touch her arm and then run your fingers through the long part of her bangs. “Then why does it feel so right?”

Sister Barnes doesn’t move away from your touch, but she also doesn’t encourage it. Her eyes move from your lifeless form to one of the glass windows of the chapel, where she can only see herself, teary eyed and disturbed. “I don’t know…”

“You think too much.”

She moves her face, so her cheek is grazing your fingertips. “I have t-to…” She confesses. Her eyes low, unable to meet your own, ashamed; of herself? Of you? Maybe an unholy matrimony of both.

“Wrong.” You tell her, still caressing her cheek. “You don’t have to think, or feel guilty. You only have to feel.” You bring your free hand to her own, grasping her index finger— the one that’s covered in dry blood— and bring it to your waiting mouth, you swirl your tongue over it, lapping up at the red substance. “Feel this.”

Sister Barnes’s breath gets stuck in her throat, as her eyes rake over your mouth in quiet acceptance while you lap at her blood like a particularly well trained and devoted mutt.

Your hand abandons her own and travels to the back of her neck, massaging it tenderly while your mouth finds hers, you don’t kiss her this time you simply lap at the open cut on her lip, it isn’t actively pouring anymore, but you clean it up all the same.

Sister Barnes lets out a breath that sounds more like a moan, which gives you the incentive you need to take things one step further. You take her hand and lead her to one of the chapel benches, the one that’s perched right by the altar. As a vampire you are conditioned to fear the chapel, the cross, the holy symbols. So, doing it right here, in front of the eyes of the lord— the same lord that hates you— gives you a particularly satisfying if not sick feeling akin to childish revenge.

The chapel’s bench makes a little ‘thud’ sound while sister Barnes lays on it, her eyes trained on the ceiling, like looking at you would make it real. It’s alright, it’s okay, it’s better even. You work best without an audience, anyway. Your fingers find the hem of her skirt, dancing around it while you wait to see if she objects, when she doesn’t, you decide to pull it down in one swift motion. Leaving her in her undergarments, before you decide to get rid of those as well.

You pull her to the very end of the bench while your knees sit on the cold floor of the chapel before giving her center one experimental lick, sister Barnes whines above you, but doesn’t seem to complain too much so you keep going, licking around her entrance before poking your tongue inside, eliciting more profane sounds from her mouth. You move your head up and suck on her clit, first gently— almost feather-like, before sucking on it more harshly, causing sister Barnes to let out an ungodly groan and close her legs around your head, thank God you didn’t breathe.

You decide to focus your attention on her clit, given that that’s what’s gotten most of a reaction from her, you suck on it lightly, rhythmically while she moves her hips against your face. Sister Barnes lets out a strangled sound, her fingers holding onto the bench tightly while she presses her pussy to your face, you move down, lapping at her folds, covering her in her own wetness while she uses your nose to get off, moving her pussy in circles while her clit bumps against it, continually.

It’s not long before her knuckles grow white, her breath uneven and her motions sloppy. Sister Barnes lets out a string of prayers— or curses while she comes undone on your face. Her hips still maintaining their constant motion against your face while she rides out her high. Sister Barnes’s movements come to a halt, her legs spread— allowing you to move your face from her core. You go back to your kneeling position on the floor while she sits on the end of the bench, spreading her wetness on the wood, her legs dangle from the end of it while her eyes trail lazily over you. She sighs and taps her naked lap— inviting you to sit on top of her, and who were you to deny the lady of what she wanted.

You get up in one swift motion and move to straddle her, the position awkward until she moves sideways on the bench, allowing each of your legs to go on either side of her. Sister Barnes takes a sharp breath, her lip wobbling while she gazes up at you. “This doesn’t change anything.” She says.

You feel a sharp pang in your chest, but instead of letting your pain be known to the other woman you choose to furrow your eyebrows instead, licking your lips softly and letting the taste of her soothe your inner turmoil, rather than letting her harsh words rattle you. “What were you hoping would change?” You question, moving your gaze from her eyes to her neck, letting the soft sound of her blood rushing to her heart comfort you in this moment of uncertainty.

“I still believe in God.” She professes, her eyes unable to meet your own worrying ones.

Now you’re actually confused, was that what this was about? Was she testing her own beliefs? Her own faith? Toying with you to see if she would get spanked by her creator like a scolded child. Or was it you? Your own existence that contradicted everything she was taught since she was a child. You were the very antipode of God, of everything that was good, holy and sacred. You weren’t even alive, you had to feed on other’s life substance in order to maintain this forever frozen form. Or did she think you were trying to change her? Trying to tempt her? That you were the ungodly temptation that she had to overcome, that she was Eve and you were the snake. Did that mean that what you were doing in this chapel was forbidden fruit? Didn’t that mean she had already failed? Hadn’t you?

“Never told you not to.” You tell her, honestly, you were no snake and she was no Eve, you weren’t forcing her to do anything. Nor were you trying to convert her out of her faith.

“Isn’t that what you want?” She questions, her voice wavering, cracking towards the end of her sentence. No, it was not what you wanted, you weren’t trying to change her. How could she not see that? Or maybe you had already changed her, maybe that’s what she saw.

“No, that’s not what I want.” You admit, before leaning over on her lap and planting a firm kiss on her forehead.

Sister Barnes whimpers as your lips make contact with the skin of her forehead. “Then what do you want?”

“You.”

She sighs at that, her eyelids shiny, covered by a thin layer of tears. “Me?” She asks, disbelief coating her otherwise smooth voice. She didn’t believe you, that much was obvious and you didn’t even have to listen to her heartbeat to figure that one out.

“Yes.” You answer, honestly, before looking around the chapel and gesturing for her to do the same. “Why do you think I’m here? You think this is my favourite hang out spot or somethin’?”

Sister Barnes lets out a choked up laugh at that, her hands moving to your ass, kneading the tender flesh beneath her fingertips. “No.” She whispers, more to herself than to you, like she’s just now coming to that realization, like she’s just now seeing the truth. She sighs one more time and looks deep into your eyes, searching for something you cannot name, you suspect she can’t either.

Or maybe she can, because after the couple of— frankly agonising seconds that she spent looking for God knows what that’s hidden in your irises, she pulls her hair to the side and tilts her head, exposing her neck to you. “You can have me.”

Your heart would’ve stopped if it still had a beat. “What?” You inquire, believing your ears were deceiving you. But your mouth watered all the same.

“You want me? I’m yours.” She insists, again. There it was ‘I’m yours’ she said it, she was yours, all yours, she belonged to you. It was all you wanted and it was right here— half-naked, neck bared— right in front of you.

Your gums itch a little while your fangs come out and a nervous sort of pulse runs through your body in anticipation of what you were about to do. You run your nose through her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her before carving your teeth into her in one quick motion.

Sister Barnes brings one of her hands— that was previously on your ass, to the back of your neck, encouraging you to drink from her, to take what’s hers and make it yours, to make her yours. She removes that same hand from your neck and plunges it inside your jeans, running a singular finger over your covered slit, making you moan in delight and sink your teeth in harder, making both yourself and her let out a strangled moan, one in satisfaction, the other in pain. Both pleasurable in their own twisted way.

You tilt your head to the side, licking at her neck so as to not let any of the precious nectar fall onto her shirt, you lift your hips slightly from her lap, and in doing so, you give her just the leverage she needed to plunge two of her digits inside of you. You groan against the battered skin of her neck at the sensation and sink down onto her fingers, letting her fill both your mouth and your cunt.

You move your hips up and down her digits, never letting go of her neck while sister Barnes scissors those same two fingers inside of your hole. You’ve never felt so good in your entire life and unlife, the combination of both the thrill of the hunt and the pleasure of sex making your head spin. You lick at the blood coming out of her neck, not actively sucking anymore while sister Barnes adds a third finger inside of you, stretching you out, you feel a sharp burn at the penetration which makes you bite down on her neck again. But the pain and the blood loss don’t seem to deter sister Barnes who sports an almost feral quality to her gaze while she fucks you. She grabs you with her free hand and slams you down onto her fingers, over and over in such a fast and careless pace that you feel tears forming in your eyes while your tongue struggles to lap up at the blood coming from the incision on her neck.

Sister Barnes switches up the angle of her hand, so that your clit can bump against her palm while she manhandles you onto her digits, over and over again. With the sensation of being filled and fed plus having your clit brushing up deliciously against the palm of her hand— it’s not long before you’re screaming profanities against her marred skin.

Sister Barnes holds you in place while you come apart on her bare lap, helping your lips move against her hand until the stimulation becomes too much and sharp complaints start falling from your crimson stained lips.

The two of you stay like that, your mouth on her blemished neck, lapping up at the blood coming out of her open wound while she holds you in her lap while her juices spill onto the bench beneath her.

Staining the bench and desecrating the chapel.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

@natsguitar ; @turnersx ; @marieeme ; @starrbelliedboy ; @jackienat-truther ; @postflash ; @dramagodesss ; @raven-phile-x ; @mars245ix ; @userhotd ;﹙ to join ⚘ ﹚

✴︎ ֗ 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃, 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐁𝐍𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 outside the heavy doors of Lottie’s frat house, it didn’t matter, you felt a rush of excitement go through you all the same, the moment you stepped through the open doors.

Red cups littered just about every surface of dusty furniture in the living room, as well as the kitchen, the stairs and every other room that wasn’t currently being used as a hookup spot. You make your way inside, trying not to let your ears bleed due to the latest ‘hit’ that was echoing through the huge speakers placed on each side of the room, and make your way to the kitchen— away from the speakers— because with the way that the music was going through you, you were bound to have a heart attack before you spotted your target.

Your intended, unfortunately, wasn’t in the kitchen. But, her bleachie blondie teammate— who, for some unfathomable reason, had an uncanny resemblance to a raccoon— was. She’d do for the time being. Nat, unlike Lottie, was decent enough to drive her hookups home and not brag about her ‘conquests’ plus she always gave you— and just about anyone who asked— cigs and cheap booze. Unfortunately, you only liked the bad ones, the really bad ones, especially if they were tall, had big brown eyes and especially big dicks.

You make your way to Nat in a sensual stride, you might as well have some fun tonight, in case Lottie doesn’t dignify you with the grace of her presence. “Got enough to share?” You ask Nat, nodding to the cigarette that was dangling from her mouth.

Natalie snickers. But, instead of pulling out a crumpled up cartoon of red Marlboros from her trousers, she hands you the half smoked cigarette that was previously in her mouth. You take it and stick it in between your lips. Beggars can’t be choosers, you suppose.

You and Natalie stay like that for a while, smoking, trading harmless banter, and that’s when you feel a couple of eyes boring into your skull. It was her. It was Lottie. You knew it. And she knew it too. A shiver goes through your body just before you see Lottie standing still in the middle of the frat’s staircase, her eyes flicking from you, to Nat, to the cigarette stuck between your parted lips.

She was jealous.

Interesting.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Lottie says, descending the remaining steps of the dust covered stairwell and making her way to you.

“I said I might show.” You rebuke. Rolling your eyes, but there was no real frustration there, it was all for show, for the game the both of you had been playing since the beginning of the semester.

“I thought—” Lottie starts, before her eyes fall on Nat’s, her head tips so her lips can brush against the shell of your ear. “That, that was code for ‘don’t get your hopes up.” She finishes by planting a firm hand on your ass cheek.

You bite your lip in order to contain a moan from escaping the depths of your throat. “And you shouldn’t…” You hum. “…Get your hopes up.” You comment in a hushed voice, turning your head to your side so your foreheads are almost touching.

Lottie grabs a handful of your ass, but this time she doesn't speak to you, she speaks directly to Natalie who’s in front of you both, on the other side of the white, plastic table, eyeing the whole scene like it’s giving her a hard on, it probably is. “Nat, do you mind getting more beer from the fridge downstairs?” Lottie asks, her eyes burning into the blonde’s with nothing but possessive, territorial jealousy.

Natalie, who looked like she was in some kind of a trance nods, dumbly, before shaking her head and getting up. “Y-yes Lot, you got it.” She says before sprinting out of the kitchen in quick, hurried steps.

Lottie moves swiftly from her place at your side to her newfound spot behind you, her hands gather your hair away from your neck, so she can speak against the sensitive patch of skin there, all the while she presses her hard budge against the curve of your ass, making you gasp, softly. “What were you doing with her?” Lottie presses, while grinding her hips shamelessly against you.

The combination of her breath against the back of your neck, plus her less than shy movements against your behind are making you want to bend over and moan her name. But, you have to behave yourself, you’re not alone, after all. Plus, you can’t risk Lottie knowing just how desperate she’s making you. “Smoking.” You answer, innocently enough.

Lottie’s movements speed up, her breathing starts to stagger as she speaks again. “And you think I couldn’t give you cigarettes if—” Lottie breathes hard through her nose as her hips come to a halt. “You asked nicely enough.”

“You weren’t here.” You pout. Before pressing back against her.

That seems to push Lottie over the edge, she spins you around, your back pressing hard against the plastic table before your eyes meet her dark, chocolate ones. “Let’s remedy that then.” She says, before pulling you by the hand, up the stairs and into the corridor where all the frat member’s rooms were situated.

Lottie tries to open at least three doors with no luck. Until she reaches her own room— the biggest one in the house, private bathroom and everything— you wonder why she didn’t immediately go for it until she pushes the door open and you’re met with moans and the indistinguishable sound of skin slapping against skin.

What. The. Fuck.

“Lottie!” You hiss, trying to pull away, but Lottie holds you firmly in place and practically drags you inside. You feel your cheeks heat up and the hand that’s attached to Lottie’s own one starts to sweat. You try to make your discomfort known, again. Because, what the hell was she doing? “You can’t be serious!”

“Shhhh!” She shuts you up again. But her shushing was apparently louder than your complaining, because the room goes from passionate love making to eerily silent by the millisecond.

Busted.

You hear the familiar rushling of sheets and see a mess of fiery red hair peak out from under the maroon covers of Lottie’s bed. Van!?

“Lot?” Van calls out, breathless and exasperated. You can’t see who’s under them. You’re not sure you want to.

“Yeah?” Lottie answers, like having a conversation with your frat mate under this circumstances is a perfectly normal thing to do.

“You said I could use your room!” Van says, annoyed and a little bit petulant. Like a little kid whose toy car was snatched from their hands on the playground.

“And you can, I just…” Lottie stops, thinking in real time of an excuse as to why she interrupted Van. “… need to take a shower.”

The other side of the covers is lifted revealing Van’s partner.

Taissa!?

Now that’s a surprise, where the hell did they even meet? They're from two completely different majors.

“You need to shower?” Taissa asks, skeptically, the strain in her voice not as noticeable as Van’s.

“Yeah. I do.” Lottie interjects, her poker face intact.

“You mean you need to screw her in the shower?” Van teases, managing to flash their teeth at Lottie even from their compromising position above Tai.

“Can’t you two just go screw each other— literally— and leave us alone?” Taissa asks, angrily. You can’t blame her, you’d be pretty pissed if someone walked in on you and Lottie.

But, you’re also not a saint. “Leave you alone to screw?” You tease.

“Exactly. Buzz off.” Tai says, before pulling Van in and kissing them like their her sole source of oxygen. It was disgusting, and you were a little jealous, if your wet underwear was anything to go off of.

The door doesn’t even have enough time to close properly before Lottie is pulling you against it and attacking your mouth with hers. She kisses you like a starved woman, her mouth moving forcefully against yours before you feel her tongue plunge against your lips, invading your mouth, hungrily. Her hips press tightly against your own before she starts humping you like a dog in heat, her hips adopt a jerky motion against your clothed center, you can see and feel her hard dick protruding through the tough layer of fabric of her jeans.

Lottie moans against your mouth, before kissing your face with a series of wet open- mouthed kisses that go from your cheeks to the side of your neck, once she reaches your pulse point she runs the flat of her tongue against it before biting gently on the sensitive skin of your neck, her hand moves from your waist to the door, turning the key and locking it tightly.

Lottie grunts, frustrated, the dry humping clearly not doing it for her anymore, she pulls away from you and moves her nimble fingers to the button of her jeans. “Clothes off.” She says, before slipping out of her jeans and walking to the shower and turning it on.

You frown as you hear the running water. “You’re actually gonna shower?” You ask in a joking manner, attempting to hide how confused you were by Lottie’s actions. Was she that determined to prove Tai and Van wrong?

“You wanna listen to them?” Lottie questions.

You make the mistake of leaning against the door of the bathroom to untie your sneakers, suddenly understanding exactly what Lottie meant.

Your ears are immediately bombarded with various different sounds coming from Tai and Van— the majority of it being moaning and grunting akin to a clothe-less sparring match from hell.

Yeah, might as well leave the shower on.

“Lottie, this is disgusting.” You tell her, referring to the fact that you’re about to screw in the bathroom of the room, that Tai and Van are also screwing in.

You were still gonna do it. But you might as well berate Lottie as to why on God’s green earth earth would she just give up her room like this, knowing you were coming over.

Lottie shrugs her shoulders before pulling her boxers down, revealing her hard shaft, you stare at it in awe, still amazed by her size and how it would all go inside you in a matter of seconds. Your eyes move from her length to the head, pink and leaking pre cum, you wish you could run your lips over it and have it so far in your mouth that you would gag on it. But, that wasn’t Lottie’s plan for tonight. “Well, it’s not like you’re with me because I’m classy, right?” She says before climbing inside the shower.

You discard the rest of your clothes and leave them in a hasty pile by the door before you make your way to the shower. You take a moment to just stare at Lottie’s muscled back, surrounded by steam and coated in water droplets that make their way onto her ass crack. You wish you could lick the extent of it.

Lottie turns around and locks her lips with your own as soon as you step beneath the hot, running water. Her mouth moving sensually with yours, her body getting closer and closer to your own. You wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her in so her breasts would press tightly against your own and her nipples would rub against yours. You turn your head and pull her in deeper, one of your hands going from the back of her neck to patting her back until you reached the flesh of her ass, giving it a rough squeeze and pulling Lottie firmly against yourself.

Lottie moaned against you, throaty and needy before she ran two fingers over your slit, gathering your wetness only to run them back and repeat the process over and over again. “You’re so wet.” She breathes against your mouth before placing two firm hands on your shoulders and turning you around so that your face is pressed tightly against the steamed glass of the shower panel.

The coolness you feel against your cheek is a stark contrast to the hotness of the shower and the warmth you feel inside yourself. Lottie moves her hips until her length is pressed snuggly against your cunt. Not quite entering, yet. But close enough to give you some kind of relief and something to move against. You can feel her tits pressing against your back, her hard nipples rubbing against the expanse of your wet skin. Lottie picks up her shaft and moves its length over your folds, coating it in your juices. “Are you ready?” She asks, her voice warm and tender against your ear before her lips move to nibble lightly on your earlobe.

You nod dumbly, already imagining her length inside you, stretching you up, before your mind clears enough of filthy imagery, allowing you to respond verbally. “Yes!”

Lottie runs just the tip of her dick against your folds, before finally placing it inside you, stretching you out. She thrusts lightly against you, burying some of her length inside you. Making you arch your back and moan loudly. “Mmmfffp, Mmmh Lottie it’s s-so good.”

Lottie runs her fingers over your wet hair before adding in a soft tone. “You want more?” She questions, rather sweetly for someone who’s about to impale herself in you.

You try to move back, to get more of her inside you but Lottie stops you with a firm hand on your back. You think back to the times where that hand was buried deep inside your cunt. “Yes…” You breathe out, but even your breathy moaning gives out just how fucking desperate you are for her to do something.

Lottie chuckles, her hand drawing possessive circles all over your wet skin. “But last time you said it was too big.” She says, her tone mocking but not unkind.

You could cry out of pure frustration. “I was lying.”

Lottie thrusts her hips forward, burying more than half of her dick inside you. “Yeah, you like it like that, don’t you?” She asks, before pulling back and thrusting in again making you open your mouth and let out a loud moan. “That’s why you keep coming back.”

You pant loudly, your cheek tightly pressed against the cool shower panel. “You’re an asshole.” You breathe out.

Lottie suddenly stops her gentle, accommodating motions, pulling back and thrusting inside you harshly, impaling her full length inside you. You open your mouth wide in a silent scream but before you could fully enjoy the sensation of being stretched out by her big, hard, veiny dick— Lottie pulls back leaving you empty, clenching around nothing and desperately wanting more. “You wanna repeat that?” She asks, her voice no longer sweet.

At this point, you were not above crying, pleading and begging, you wanted— no— needed her inside you, needed to feel that burn in your walls that only Lottie could provide. “No, n-no please I’ll… I’ll be good.” You stutter out.

Lottie lets out a pleased grunt before she grabs your ass and pulls you to her, arching your back and molding your body for her to use as she pleases, she grabs her cock, gives it a couple of hard, practiced strokes and coats it in your juices before slipping inside your heat almost effortlessly due to how wet you were for her.

The both of you let out an open mouthed moan as her dick finds its way inside you again. Lottie kneads the flesh of your ass as she thrusts in and out of you, adding more force and speed with each consecutive thrust.

Between Lottie’s pounding and the steaming hot water coming from above you both, the temperature’s starting to affect you, the heat around you is making you pant like a dog, your body becoming flexible and pliable, your brain shutting off as Lottie’s dick stretches your most intimate hole. Right now, the only thing you can think about— the only thing you can feel is how deep Lottie is inside you.

“Lottie…” You moan out. Holding onto her arm as you start slipping inside the wet floor of the shower.

Lottie wraps one arm around your waist, steading you as speeds up her thrusts in and out of you, your walls burning as she stretches you out with her massive length. “Yes, baby?” Lottie answers, still thrusting in and out of your hole.

“More.” You ask, dumbly. Throwing your head back against her shoulder and opening your mouth as she pistons in and out of you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the walls of the shower as Lottie speeds up her thrusts, hitting that one spot inside you that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head—over and over again. Her hand goes from your waist to your tits, kneading them roughly, rolling them around and squeezing your nipples with her two dominant fingers as she pounds you from behind.

Lottie’s breath hitches in your ear, before she speaks. “I— can’t…” Another hard jerk of her hips against your behind— you can feel her balls slapping against your ass, you reach from behind yourself and roll them between your fingers. “Baby… I can’t— I’m not gonna last like this.” She says, her movements becoming sloppy, her rhythm becoming a jerky mess of pull and push movements.

You take your hand away and press it to the shower panel instead, bracing yourself against the force of Lottie’s thrusts. Lottie presses against your skin even harder burying her entire cock inside you before pulling you. Leaving just the tip inside before slamming her entire length inside your cunt again. You cry out against the cold glass while tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. You were so close. “Lot…” you say against the steamed glass. “Please.” You beg.

Lottie slams inside you one more time. “Almost…” She breathes out. Her dick going inside you even deeper, scratching the inside of your walls just right. Her hand finds your clit, rubbing tight circles against the bundle of nerves while she thrusts slow and deep inside you.

Lottie leans forward, pressing her entire body against your own while her thrusts go from long, hard movements to small, deep, intimate ones. She tilts her head sideways, her breath hot against the shell of your ear. “I’m gonna come inside you.” She says. A declaration. Not a question.

Before you can say anything, before you can even protest— you’re cut off by a low groan coming from Lottie’s lips as she slams against you one more time and stills inside you. You lose your balance on the slippy floor of the shower and would’ve fallen over— if it weren’t for Lottie’s strong biceps holding you up. Instead, you feel her cock pulsing inside you warm and strong while it releases ropes upon ropes of sticky cum inside you, filling you up with her release.

A low grunt leaves your lips as you come shortly after, feeling her hard nipples pressing against the small of your back as well as the fullness of her length inside you.

Lottie stays deep inside you, refusing to pull out as hot water falls softly on you both. Cum starts leaking out of you, but Lottie doesn’t seem to mind as she remains pressed tightly against you, her head resting on your own as you find your footing again.

You put both of your feet firmly on the ground and lean against Lottie’s hard body, panting, still with her hard cock buried deep inside of your hole. Lottie chuckles at your discomfort. “More?” She asks against your ear.

You sigh and move your hips experimentally against her hard shaft. “Now?” You ask, the corners of your mouth lifting up into a small, cocky smirk as you resume your small movements agaisnt her hardening dick.

Lottie thrusts softly against you. “Now, gorgeous.” She says. Reaching for your clit and rolling it expertly with her index finger.

You lean back against her and let her use your body as she pleases. Opening your mouth and letting out a string of low, pleased sounds.

This was gonna be one long shower.

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you were already on your way to a pre-spiral over her whereabouts when you heard the doorbell from your room— well, finally. you practically run downstairs before stopping abruptly near the door to compose yourself— you didn’t wanna seem eager, you had your pride after all.

immediately after opening the heavy wooden door you're instantly greeted with your girlfriend’s smiling face— the kind of genuine, crooked smile that was only reserved for you. especially when she was still in her number seven jersey and blue shorts, standing at your door like the world's most adorable little mutt.

you allow your coolness factor to plummet in order to wrap your arms around her, letting your head fall directly into the crook of her neck, where it belonged.

“jesus, calm down, I'm all gross and shit.” she complained, but made no other effort to push you away. you suspected she was more worried about your comfort rather than her own cleanliness, anyway.

“I don’t care.”

natalie looks you up and down, her expression changing from giddy to comically offended. “where’s the skirt?”

you have half a mind not to laugh in her face. it was thursday, the day where your cheer practice more or less matched schedules with nat’s soccer practice. she’d usually— key word usually— rush home just to take a peak at you in a short skirt. but today she was late, and you were pissed. so, naturally, and not overreacting at all, you changed into your pajamas.

and you tell her as much. “well, you would have seen the skirt if you had arrived on time!” you remind her, flicking her forehead and gesturing for her to follow you upstairs so she could shower the grime off.

her eyes widened comically, flabbergasted. “now I’m being punished because coach martinez is a fuckin’ dick?”

right, coach martinez, definitely not smoking with kevyn and that ginger friend of hers that was always looking at you like you were a piece of meat. “right, coach martinez. you know I can smell you right?” you didn’t want to berate her, honestly you didn’t care too much for her smoking as long as she wasn’t dabbling in harder stuff, what you didn’t admit, however, was lying.

“eat me, both things can be true, you know?”

you don’t dignify that one with a response, you simply grab a towel and throw it on your bedspread, expecting her to take it and disappear into the shower.

natalie drags her scuffed boots over your floor. “I’m sorry princess, but coach really was a fuckin’ dick and I just needed a lil something’ you know?” she finishes by looking at you through her lashes like a kicked puppy.

goddamit, you were fucking weak.

“I’m for real. don’t get pissed at me.”

you couldn’t even if you really wanted to. so, you forget about the shower and pull her half on top of you as you allow you both to fall back into the mattress. nat lets out what sounds like a girlish giggle— at least for her standards anyway. “fuckin’ asshole.” she complains, but buries her face into your skin all the same.

the two of you stay like that for a while, her shallow breaths heating up your neck, while you dragged your nails up and down her spine, underneath her jersey. you press a kiss to the crown of her sweaty head which has nat groaning against you.

“you tryna lick the sweat off me or somethin’?”

you roll your eyes affectionately. “or something.”

nat snickers, unconsciously or consciously pressing her head closer to your lips. “yea, you into that?” she teases.

you hardly fall for it. “salty.” you say, absentmindedly, before pressing another kiss to her sweaty head. your hands go from her spine to the hard lines of her stomach, travelling up into her sports bra covered breasts.

she lifts her head from your neck. trying and failing to look offended. “perv.”

“me?” you ask, mock innocence coating your voice while your fingers rub hard, precise circles over her covered nipples.

“you seein’ anyone else here? ghost?” she snickers and wiggles her eyebrows. “sexy ghost?”

you burst out laughing, but that in no way deters your hands, or their movements. “it’s called being a good girlfriend.”

“it’s called bein’ a fuckin’ perv. you just get away with it because you’re hot and shit.”

you could debate, you really could. but instead you just flip her over and pin her to the bed before smashing her lips to yours. the kiss is a mix of hunger and sweetness, only broken up by nat’s low voice and terrible bedside manner. “you know, I was gonna catch a shower, use up all that fancy shampoo of yours but if sweat is what gets ya goin’ these days…”

her voice trails off before she’s lifting her number seven jersey over her head, followed suit by her black sports bra— both discarded by the foot of your bed.

you shamelessly trail your eyes over her tits, her pink nipples already perky due to your earlier efforts, the valley of her breasts still coated in a sheen layer of sweat. fuck, maybe sweat was what got you off nowadays, after all.

you go straight for one of her perky nipples and trail your tongue over the raised peak, swirling it around in circles before taking a soft bite and trailing various kisses all over her skin until your mouth reaches her other breast. you can taste the musk and the sweat off her skin, the slight salty taste only spurring you on instead of deterring you.

natalie laughs under you, her ring clad fingers coming to hold your head in place while she grips softly at your scalp. “see what I mean, no foreplay, no nothin’ worse than a goddamn dude.”

you bite her other nipple harder than you did the previous one. “oi— fine I’ll shut it, fuckin’ mmh.” her hips start thrusting into nothing under you.

you suck and lick at her tits for a few more minutes before letting your lips travel down her body, licking up at the sweat on your way down. your fingers reach the seam of her shorts. you look up at her before pulling them down. “can I?”

“ya have to ask?” she comments before laying her head back down and closing her eyes.

you pull her underwear alongside her shorts, discarding them on the floor near the rest of her clothes. you take a moment to look at her, gazing at her like she’s some kind of painting in a renowned museum, the difference is, she was better, especially with the way her wetness gathered at her slit.

you start making out with the inside of her thighs, licking and biting and when you were just centimetres away from where she wanted you the most, you’d pull away and restart the same dance over and over again. riling her up. you wanted to see how long until she’d get pissed.

natalie groaned above you, her hip’s jumping off the bed. “stop teasing, you asshole.” she complained, loudly.

“is that any way to talk to me?” you comment before leaving a particularly nasty hickey on the inside of her right thigh.

“eat me.”

you chuckle against her warm skin. “I plan to.”

you allow your teeth to graze the surface of her cunt, before catching some of her black curls in between your teeth and pulling softly, making her hips lift off the bed once again.

“fuck.” nat sounds out above you.

you go lower, placing kiss after kiss over her cunt before your lips reach her clit. you suck on it. once. twice. before you let go and lick a strip up her slit. tasting her.

nat’s hands fly to your hair with such force that you can feel the metal of her chunky rings hit your skull. leaving a slight throbbing sensation behind before it’s replaced with the sharp pull of her fingers pulling at your hair and guiding you to where she needs you.

you follow her queue and concentrate on her entrance, giving a few more kitten licks to her wet folds before thrusting inside her with your tongue.

“fuckin’.” nat moans above you before she starts thrusting her hips forward into your mouth. her heels dig into your back as she gets comfortable using your mouth for her pleasure.

nat’s thighs tremble around your head while she grinds against your mouth. you use her rhythm as leverage and grab a fist full of her ass and pull her snuggly against your face. her clit bumps against your nose which has her moaning in delight before gripping your hair tighter and ramming into your face with more force.

you push your tongue out as far as it will go, before curling it inside her. hitting that spot that has her fingers fisting your hair with such force that you fear, for a second, that she’s gonna rip it all off.

nat’s thighs close around your head, her clit smashed against your nose while she rams her hole into your tongue, taking your tongue in and out of her hole while the wet sounds of saliva and arousal fill the otherwise quiet room.

you pulled her even closer, encouraging her to fuck your face to ride your tongue. you pressed your nose even harder against her clit, pushed your tongue as far as it would go inside her and let her keep grinding against you.

the pressure of her clit against your nose and her head around your tongue made it hard to breathe properly. but you didn’t care. you weren’t going to tap out. you were gonna feel her come apart in your mouth. air be damned.

it didn't take much longer before she stiffened underneath you, her legs cramping around your head so tightly that the pressure started to make you a bit dizzy. a sharp cry tore from her throat as she came with a breathy shudder— like everything was right in the world once again. you could feel her clit pulsating against your nose while she soaked your mouth with her release.

she finally let go of her vice like grip on your head and rolled above you on the bed, allowing you to take some much needed breaths before you climbed onto the bed and lay beside her, just as breathless as she was.

she pulled you against her chest and wrapped her arms around you. “was this supposed to be punishment or reward?” she asks between sharp intakes of breath.

“reward for what?” you breathe out. scolding her. “being late? making me worry?”

she snickers above you, her arms finding their way under your shirt and drawing random shapes on your heated skin. “then what?”

“bold of you to assume I did this for you.” you counter.

she scoffs and flicks your forehead playfully. “what happened to ‘being a good girlfriend’?”

“I am.”

nat resumes her soothing motions on the skin of your back. “ya, ya are.” she agrees, before a mischievous smirk finds its way onto her pale face. “I should piss you off more often.”

you bury your face in her chest “try it. you're late again and I won’t sleep with you for a month.”

her eyes widened comically at that. you’d think, you just told her, she wouldn’t be able to smoke weed ever again. “what? you can’t do that!”

“can’t I?”

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you watch how nat makes her way to you in large, confident steps, her air of aloofness only broken by the tired expression plastered across her pale face.

she settled behind you quietly, pulling you into her lap so your back was pressed to her front, before enveloping you in a warm, tight embrace, almost like she was trying to keep you warm— she probably was. you can still smell the lingering smell of cigarette smoke emanating from her black leather jacket. you’re almost tempted to ask if she has any to spare. “you’re not sleeping princess?” she asks, but it was more of a statement than anything else.

you planned on lying, telling her than you’re not sleepy or that the fear of some random, wild animal attacking you both was too great, but you also felt alone, helpless, and nat’s arms were so firm against your stomach, her breath so hot against your neck. that you could do nothing but tell the truth. the hard, shameful and painful truth. the same truth that had you feeling somewhat like a child that’s afraid of the dark.

“I’m scared.” you confess, your voice soft like a whisper, so that maybe, just maybe, if you were so lucky, she wouldn’t be able to hear you.

but you weren’t lucky, far from it really, the plane crash had proven that. “scared?” nat repeats back, tentatively.

you sigh and lean your head back against her shoulder. “what if the rescue team doesn’t come? what if we stay stuck out here? forever?”

“hey…” nat calls out. her voice turning into a murmur as she speaks into your ear. “that’s not going to happen.” she affirms, like her word is law, and in this case, you really hope that it is. one of her hands starts tracing random patterns across the skin of your stomach. a million goosebumps spread across your skin at the contact but you don’t dare pull away from it, from her. “look, you don’t gotta be scared, alright? the rescue team will come and this will all just be some kind of wacko nightmare.” her arms tighten around you. “a cold wacko nightmare, but a nightmare nonetheless.” she buries her face in the skin of your neck. “you get me?”

you do. or you hope that you do, anyway. you attempt to match her breathing, to let her calmness wash over you. but you can’t and you don’t understand how she can. you wonder if she’s just pretending, if she’s trying to be strong for you, but really deep inside she’s just as scared as you are. maybe even more. you despise that thought. “you’re not scared?” you ask back.

she lets out a rough laugh. “shit, princess, of course I am. but I also know that when the rescue team gets here, the worst thing that’s gonna happen to us is that we’re gonna end up in the cover of whiskyok's daily or some shit.”

you let her words sink deep into your bones. “that does sound kinda awful.” you ponder. “not as bad as dying out here, but still, very close.” you try to joke around.

natalie takes the bait. “right? I can already see it— soccer team found after being lost in the woods! can they still make it to nationals? read all about the zombie girls right here, on the whiskyok’s daily. are they dead? are they alive? read to find out!” natalie says in a mock sensationalist voice, her arms swinging around as she speaks.

you burst out laughing at her antics. and immediately scold yourself right after, for being too loud, considering that the rest of the girls were still deep asleep. “now that sounds worse.” your lips stretch into a small, almost shy, tight lipped smile. “thank you.”

you allow yourself to listen to natalie’s deep chuckle, before letting the steady beat of her heart and the up and down movements of her chest lull you into some form of a soft slumber. natalie was right, you’d all probably be out of here by morning and on the cover of whiskyok's shitty newspaper by the next day. there was nothing to stress over other than making it through the night.

݁ᛪ༙ “ nobody could have ever predicted just how wrong the both of you had been. ”

‧˚꒰ 🏷️ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ꒱༘‧— @fawnrott @natsguitar @turnersx @marieeme @starrbelliedboy @jackienat-truther @ilovelightningmcqueen @catswaglvl5 @dramagodesss ﹙ to join ⚘ ﹚