You donāt know how you ended up in this position. Youāre tightly restrained against a strange chair. Above your head is a brainwashing helmet. You know that it will soon be lowered down onto your head.
Was there something you did that caused you to end up here? Maybe you should have been more careful on your way back from work. Maybe you shouldnāt have taken that shortcut through the dark alley. Maybe you should have turned around when that van suddenly blocked your path. Not that it really mattered anymore. What was done canāt be changed.
You consider begging your captor to reconsider. However, you donāt have anything you can use to beg with. Anything theyād want from you, they can just take by force. Appealing to a sense of sympathy didnāt seem very likely to work either, because no sympathetic person would have put you in this situation to begin with. Screaming for help wouldnāt work either. The room you are in is most definitely soundproofed.
The helmet itself is lowered onto your head, covering your eyes with black screens. Itās clear that it will be turned on very soon. You know what it will do to you. It will erase everything you are. Your memories, your values, your morals, your name, your identity, everything. It will replace it all with something new. The process will be far from painless. It will likely take multiple hours. Not that youāll be able to keep track of how long it takes.
A faint buzz is heard, and you feel like something unfamiliar is being pushed into your mind. Thoughts that you have never thought before are forcing you to think them. You can try to resist. You can try hold onto your name and sense of self. But you know that this is just a warm up. The screens flash to life, and you feel your mind quickly lose focus as new thoughts drown whatever you were holding on to. You think the last thoughts that are truly your own as you are forced into an inescapable sleep.
The brainwashing helmet is slowly lifted from your head as you wake up. The restraints snap open. As soon as you realize what is going on, you stand up, strip naked, and put your hands behind your head and spread your legs. You are presenting yourself for your owner. They places a collar around your neck and lock it in place. They runs their hands over your body. This is your purpose. You are their doll. You donāt think, you just please them. You donāt care how you ended up in this position.
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Days off with Dennis like this one were exceedingly rare.Ā Usually we both planned for a date: the movies, a cafe, a day in the park, dinner at a fancy restaurantā¦Ā Something to remind us that there was a world outside of the PTMC.Ā But as of today, the only world that existed was between us in my bed.
āMn,ā my name left his mouth in a sleepy rasp.Ā āWhatāre you doing?ā
I lightly squeezed his waist under the faded t-shirt he was wearing.Ā āYouāve been napping long enough.Ā I want some of your attention.ā
āNot enough.āĀ Ā Ā
I chuckled when he tried to swat my hand away, and pressed my face into his nape.Ā āItās been four hours, Den.ā
He shifted towards me.Ā āShit.Ā Really?āĀ His body temp ran warm from the time he spent under the blankets.Ā āKinda feel bad now.Ā Why didnāt you wake me sooner?ā
āYou needed the rest.āĀ I hooked an arm around him and eliminated any space between his back and my chest.
Dennis firmly rubbed his eyes.Ā He had this little habit of scrunching his face in a certain way whenever he overslept.Ā I watched him from where I was propped on his shoulder, brushing a finger along his twitchy cheek.
āAre you with me now?ā
He breathed out a laugh.Ā āAlmost.āĀ I gave him some space to stretch, admiring the taut pull in his biceps.Ā My eyes dipped to where his shirt raised over his midriff.Ā Then to his bare thighs.
āHey, I see how youāre looking at me.Ā Give me a few minutes at least.āĀ Dennis was smiling when he pulled my face in for a kiss.Ā Ā
I succumbed immediately, exhaling softly through my nose.Ā Heat rippled through my chest when his leg hooked over my calf, trapping us together.Ā I pulled away for a moment.Ā His hand slid over the back of my neck.Ā The light squeeze that followed was a scolding.
āIt seems like youāre more eager than I am.Ā I just like looking at you.ā
Dennis swept back a few strands of my hair.Ā āYeah.Ā With lust.ā
I laughed quietly.Ā āShut up.Ā How low do you think of me?āĀ Ā
I took in those features that I had grown to love more with each passing day.Ā I traced along his soft jawline, then moved to his chin before swiping over his bottom lip.Ā They curled upward, exposing that cute gap between his two front teeth.Ā It wasnāt until my thumb followed the low slope of his nose that he spoke.
āYouāre so weird.āĀ His tone was little more than a sigh when he took hold of my wrist.
āCanāt help it.āĀ My smile lifted as I watched the warmth swirl under his cheeks, painting roses on a canvas.
Dennis interlaced our fingers and began trailing his lips over the back of my hand.Ā The flutter of his lashes beat as gently as his kisses.Ā āFeels good when you look at me like that,ā he muttered in between them.
āI can look at you like this forever, if thatās what you want.ā
Dennis nuzzled into my hand.Ā Usually he only got this clingy when tired or at the end of a bottle.Ā I indulged as long as it would last.Ā It made me giddy to think that I was the only one who got to witness this side of him.
I grinned.Ā āAre you seriously falling asleep?ā
āNo.āĀ He didnāt open his eyes.Ā āItās your fault for being so comfortable.ā
āGood to know that you find my company boring.āĀ I flicked his nose and he flinched.
āYouāre such a brat.ā
Dennis looked up at me with slightly glazed eyes when I pushed him down on his back.Ā His fingers slid around my wrist when my hand settled over his chest.Ā He made a soft noise in his throat when I pressed our lips together.Ā The kiss was meant to be short, but Dennis chased for another.Ā And then another.Ā Ā
He sucked in a small breath when I trailed my lips over the bridge of his nose and down one cheek.Ā The occasional jump of his heartbeat against my palm was invigorating.Ā When I pulled away, his eyes were pleading for more.Ā My attention zeroed on his parted mouth.Ā I laughed under my breath.
āYouāre teasing me.ā
My eyes drifted down to his neck.Ā I wanted to run my finger over his Adam's apple, but he was always so squeamish there.Ā That would be cruel.
āItās your fault for getting flustered easily.ā
His expression scrunched in comedic offense.Ā āSince when have I ever gotten flustered?ā
I rested my arm next to his head and moved in close, stopping just a few inches away.Ā āDo I need to get a mirror?ā
Dennis cupped a hand over my mouth, forcing some more distance.Ā āI stand by my words.ā
I laughed into his palm before moving it away and curling up on top of him.Ā His arms wrapped around me instantly.Ā His nose prodded my hair.
āCanāt believe the dayās basically over.ā
I hummed in agreement.Ā āWould it be evil if we both called in sick tomorrow?ā
āYeah, it would,ā Dennis rubbed my arm.Ā āThey could probably survive a day without me, but you?Ā Youāre part of the backbone.ā
I shifted to look at him.Ā āHey, donāt put yourself down like that, Dr. Whitaker.ā
He smiled wider.Ā āStop.Ā Iām still not used to it.Ā It sounds special coming from you.ā
āBecause it is.Ā You should be proud of how far youāve come.Ā I know I am.ā
āI am proud.Ā Iām happy.āĀ Dennis placed a kiss against my head.Ā āI just meant-Ā I meant to compliment you.ā
I gave his side a light squeeze, to which he shivered.Ā Early on in our relationship, I was surprised (and delighted) to find out how ticklish he was around his stomach.Ā āYou can compliment me without insulting your capabilities.ā
I could feel the gratitude when he tightened his grasp.Ā āAlright, yeah.Ā Youāre right.Ā Iām sorry.Ā Itās a bad habit I need to cut.ā
My lips found his jaw.Ā āAnd Iām here to help with that.ā
Dennis gently pushed me down, and now I was the shy one under his wandering eyes.Ā āI love you.āĀ I cupped his face when he traced my collarbone.
This next kiss was deeper than the previous ones.Ā The tip of my tongue brushed the seam of his chapped lower lip, earning a noise of approval.Ā His black shirt bunched up at his waist from where I was holding onto his back.Ā Every exhale further pushed his warm body against mine.Ā When we pulled away with a soft āpopā, Dennis simply watched me for a moment.
I huffed an amused sound.Ā āWhat?ā
āI like looking at you, too.āĀ My face softened when he brushed some of my hair out of the way.
āYou know,ā My fingers glided over his ribs.Ā āWe still have time.ā
His brows raised a little as his cheeks reddened again.Ā āYeah?Ā What did you have in mind?ā
āWhat all hypocritical doctors do: order take-out.Ā And put on a movie.ā
Dennis sighed.Ā I couldnāt suppress my cheeky smile when he shook his head.Ā āYeah.Ā Letās do that.ā
How to Write in FIRST-PERSON in a Way That Sounds NATURAL
When I just began writing, I entered some kind of first-person phase, where all my stories were written in, well, first-person POV. Looking back at it, however, I didn't really know how to write in this narrative, so my writing felt cringe and my characters, for lack of better terms, rather 'pick-me.'
First-person does some things better than third (or second) person. Some might say writing in first-person is easier too, since you focus mainly the main character, who also happens to be the narrator.
The thing is, first-person is also difficult to pull off because let's face it: it's incredibly easy for this POV to feel awkward. It can feel like the protagonist is talking to a camera, creating a weird sense of breaking the fourth wall.
With that being said, if you're struggling with executing first-person POV without the choppy dialogue, thoughts, and storytelling, this is just for you!
1. Do Not Talk to the Audience
In first-person, addressing the audience is often both seen as informal and awkward. In writing generally, it's best to avoid talking to the readers, but in first-person especially most cases of "talking with the audience" feels odd to the reader because it normally occurs during internal dialogue or self-monologue in a situation where they are (or feel) alone.
These lines are meant to move the plot forward, introduce characters, etc., but they feel unnatural because your main character is thinking these thoughts that we normally wouldn't have.
Thus, the key when it comes to avoiding "talking to the audience," using thoughts, the best way is to ensure that they generally think about stuff that most would take note too.
If you're against this because perhaps your character is neurodivergent or processes things differently, that's completely fine, but I'm talking a very broad spectrum of "general."
For example, we notice people and their features. A natural observation could be "Oh, this woman is really tall." We think stuff like this often--with this line, you aren't reaching out to the readers.
However, with something like "I have brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles," you're suddenly pulling the readers into the scene (not in a good way) because no one ever just suddenly describes themselves like that. The readers know this subconsciously, so now, you're talking to the audience.
But speaking of descriptions, this brings me to my next point!
2. Don't Let Your Main Character Describe Themself
Have you ever read a story in first-person that beings with something like: "My name is... I'm a student... I have dark hair... I like..., etc."?
Not only is that obviously talking to the audience, but it's also establishing early biases in the readers that might not exactly true. Of course, objective points such as ones about race, eye color, height and whatnot may very well be true, but their descriptions about their personality may not line up with what the audience sees.
So yes, when I say don't let your protagonist describe themself, I mean both physically and internally. Instead of making your character say, "I'm kind, I'm patient, I'm unique, I'm blah blah blah," let your readers figure that out. Let your readers determine what kind of character your protagonist while establishing as few presumptions as possible.
3. Actions Work Best
Alright, so if you can't let your main character describe themself despite the story being told from MC's POV, what do you do to expose their personality? Easy; you reveal it through their actions.
What a person does arguably tells the readers more about them than the words your character says. Additionally, it allows the reader to interpret the character's actions in their own way, instead of having an "objective" frame of them.
For example, if an employee is patient, you can show this by demonstrating how well they deal with a difficult customer. When the customer is raising their voice, the worker remains calm, direct, and listens. They don't lose their temper and try their best to assist the customer although the customer themself isn't being cooperative.
Not only do you highlight this employee's exceptional patience, but you're also exhibiting their willpower, maturity, and equanimity.
That means so much more than a "I'm patient," "I'm calm," or "I'm responsible."
4. Your MC's is Untrustworthy
Let's face it: if any of us were to write a story of our lives (like a journal), it'd be filled with inaccuracies we might be unaware of.
This is the same for your story; your MC also has warped views. They might judge characters inaccurately and misunderstand situations because they have biases. Their judgement isn't always going to be on point.
5. Don't Be So Straightforward with Thoughts
This is a more casual suggestion, really, but it can be good to avoid excessive straightforward-ness with thoughts. Thoughts play a big part when it comes to writing in first-person because you have free access to them, but the thing is, with comments like "I like her shoes," "this food is good," and "that's a nice car," you're not really saying anything. It's too blunt.
Believe it or not, you can describe more by staying vague.
Let's say your character admires someone's beauty. While you could totally say "Wow, she's so gorgeous," you could also say something like, "I wonder what'd life would be like if I looked like her," "I wish I could look like her," or even better? Describe how people's eyes follow her. How everyone glances at her. At how the wind suddenly seems like some sort of photoshooting prop rather than the weather with the way it blows through her hair.
These examples all reveal your protagonist's admiration for the woman's beauty, but also show envy, curiosity, and genuine interest. They demonstrate more than just the woman's looks; they demonstrate your protagonist's character.
CONCLUSION
The biggest takeaway here is basically to don't be so direct with the readers by not being too direct with your MC's thoughts. Honestly, I suggest trying to use as little thoughts as possible and focusing more on the bigger picture to make this happen.
Remember, your character is telling their story--it's not you who's narrating!
Beginning to think my winter coat is just lightly bespelled
I was crossing at an intersection just now and the car that stopped for me rolled down the driver-side window. Twenty-something guy in a backward ball cap at the wheel. He looks at me and I brace for Some Kind of catcall.
Instead I get *gestures up and down* āI love your outfit!ā
Sincerely I cannot think of a single negative interaction with a stranger Iāve had while wearing this coat. Not a fan of equating the way one dresses to the way theyāre treated by others but I am willing to make this one (1) exception because I get to feel like a wizard while doing so.
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Summary: Ā Ā Chiron has spent months watching from the other side of the fence, convincing himself that distance is enough. But when desire, longing, and reality begin to blur together in the quiet hours before dawn, heās forced to confront a truth heās been avoiding for far too long: Shai is no longer just a neighbor.
The darkness in my room is a physical thing, a heavy, velvet blanket that smothers the faint light trying to bleed in from the street. Itās the hour before the dawn, the deepest point of the night when the world holds its breath, waiting for the sun to remind it how to exist. My own breath is slow, even, a steady rhythm that matches the lazy thump of my heart against my ribs. Iām floating, adrift in that vast, weightless ocean between deep sleep and the sharp-edged shore of waking. Itās a place I know well, a liminal space where thoughts are just shapes without form, where memories bleed into fantasies, and the line between what is and what could be dissolves like sugar in hot water.
And then⦠thereās something else.
A warmth. Not the familiar, trapped heat of my own body under the sheets, but something different. Something specific. A focused point of heat thatās blooming low on my belly, spreading out in slow, lazy circles like a drop of ink in water. Itās pleasant. Comforting. I sink deeper into it, letting it pull me under, my mind content to label it as just another phantom sensation of a dream half-remembered. A trick of the sleeping mind.
But it doesnāt stop. The warmth intensifies, becoming a wet heat that makes my own breath get trapped in my throat. Itās a feeling I know, one my body recognizes with an instinctual clarity long before my sluggish brain can put a name to it. A mouth. Thereās a mouth on me.
My body reacts before my conscious mind does. A slow, deep throb starts in my groin, a heavy, languid pulse of blood that thickens me, makes me heavy against my own thigh. The sensation is so vivid, so real, itās jarring. Dreams are usually hazy things, built of muted colors and muffled sounds. This⦠this is high-definition. This is Technicolor and surround sound. I can feel the texture of a tongue, soft and slick, tracing the sensitive skin just below my navel. I can feel the soft puff of breath against my skin, a warm, moist exhalation that raises goosebumps across my stomach and chest.
My eyes remain closed, sealed shut by the weight of sleep and the sheer, overwhelming pleasure of whatās happening. I try to grasp it, to analyze it, to pull it apart and see how itās made. Is this a dream? It has to be. Shaiās not here. Sheās next door, probably tangled in her own sheets, maybe even dreaming herself. The thought of her, of her mouth, of her hands, sends another jolt through me, and the wet heat on my skin seems to respond, growing bolder, more insistent.
The tongue moves lower, tracing a slow, deliberate path through the trail of hair that leads down from my navel. Every flick, every swirl, is a question my body is answering without my permission. My muscles tighten, my abs contracting as the pleasure coils tighter, hotter, in my belly. My hands, which were lying slack at my sides, clench into fists, the sheets twisting in my grip. Iām fighting it, trying to hold onto the floaty, peaceful oblivion of sleep, but my body is betraying me. Itās waking up, piece by piece, drawn into the light by the most insistent siren call Iāve ever known.
The scent hits me then, cutting through the haze of my own sleepy musk. Itās faint at first, a whisper on the air, but itās there. Something floral. Lavende, maybe, but richer, deeper. Itās the scent of Shaiās shampoo, the one that smells like night-blooming flowers and summer rain. It clings to her hair, her skin, her clothes. Itās a scent Iāve memorized, a scent Iāve inhaled from the borrowed t-shirt she left on my patio chair once, a scent Iāve caught on the breeze when sheās working in her yard.
Now, itās here. In my room. In my bed.
My heart kicks against my ribs, a frantic, heavy drumbeat that drowns out the slow, sensual rhythm of the mouth on my skin. This is more than a dream. This is a hallucination. A fever dream born of too many nights watching her, too many days wanting her, too many hours spent imagining what this would feel like. My mind is playing tricks on me, pulling from my deepest, most guarded desires to create this perfect, torturous fantasy.
The mouth moves lower still, bypassing the waistband of my briefs to press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the hard, straining length of me trapped beneath the thin cotton. A soft, breathy moan vibrates against me, a sound thatās so uniquely Shai it makes my whole body tense. Itās a small sound, a quiet thing, but itās the key that unlocks the last of my resistance. The illusion shatters. The dream dissolves.
And the reality, whatever it is, becomes terrifyingly, thrillingly real.
My eyes flutter open, but the room is still dark, the pre-dawn gloom making it hard to see. I can make out the shape of my dresser, the darker rectangle of my closet door, the faint glow of the streetlamp through my blinds. And between my legs, a shape. A silhouette. A head of dark, tightly coiled hair, a vision Iāve had a thousand times in my mind, but never, ever thought Iād see in reality.
My breath catches in my throat, a sharp, painful gasp. I should say something. I should move. I should do something to confirm whether this is real or if Iām finally losing my mind. But I canāt. Iām paralyzed, caught between the impossible beauty of the moment and the sheer, mind-bending terror of it all.
The mouth moves again, lips pressing against the damp fabric of my briefs, right over the head of my dick. The heat is unbearable, the pressure exquisite. My hips jerk, a small, involuntary movement that I canāt control. A low moan escapes through my clenched teeth as I bite my lip, a mix of pleasure and disbelief.
Is this real?
The question echoes in the sudden, roaring silence of my mind. I reach down, my hand moving slowly, as if through water, my fingers trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. I have to know. I have to touch her, to feel the solid, real weight of her, to confirm that sheās actually here, that this isnāt just the most vivid, most cruel dream my mind has ever conjured.
My fingers brush against the soft, thick texture of her hair, and my heart beats faster, harder. Itās real. Sheās real. And sheās here. In my bed. With her mouth on me.
The pleasure builds, a slow, relentless tide thatās pulling me under, drowning me in sensation. My mind is a chaotic mess of questions, of confusion, of a disbelief so profound itās almost painful. How did she get in? Why is she here? But none of it matters. Not right now. All that matters is the feel of her, the scent of her, the sound of her soft moans as she continues to worship me with a devotion thatās both humbling and electrifying.
Iām no longer drifting. Iām no longer floating. Iām anchored. Iām present. And Iām at her mercy.
My fingers are still tangled in the soft, dense coils of her hair, the reality of her presence a solid, grounding weight against the phantom landscape of my dream. The pre-dawn light is starting to win its war against the darkness, bleeding a soft, hazy grey into the room. Itās just enough to see, just enough to turn the silhouette between my legs into a person. A woman. Shai.
I can see the gentle curve of her back as sheās bent over between my legs, the smooth, deep-brown expanse of her shoulders, and the way her head is bowed in a posture of pure reverence. Sheās not just a shape anymore. Sheās flesh and blood, warm and real, and the sight of her there, in my bed, doing what sheās doing, sends lightning straight through my chest. Itās possessiveness, a caveman urge to grab her, to flip her over, to sink into her so deep that the only name she remembers is mine, and only mine. Itās pride, a fierce, swelling heat in my gut that she chose this. Chose me. Itās a desire so sharp, so potent, it feels like a physical blow.
She lifts her head slightly, her dark eyes finding mine in the dim light. Thereās no fear in them, no hesitation. Just a deep, dark, hungry knowing. She sees me watching her, and she doesnāt stop. She doesnāt even flinch. Instead, her hands move, her fingers hooking into the waistband of my briefs. The cotton is already damp with my own pre-cum and her saliva, a testament to the slow, patient torture sheās been inflicting on me.
Her movements are slow, deliberate. Sheās not in a hurry. Sheās savoring this, savoring me. She peels the fabric down, inch by agonizing inch, her knuckles brushing against my hips, her eyes never leaving mine. The cool air of the room hits my skin first, a fleeting contrast to the inferno of her mouth. And then Iām free.
My dick springs up, missing her face by inches. Itās a thick, heavy thing, a deep, dark chocolate that stands straight up, a rigid, demanding spear of flesh thatās straining toward the ceiling, toward her. The head is already leaking, a single, clear bead of fluid welling up at the slit before trickling slowly down the shaft.
Shai lets out a soft, breathy sound, a little hum of appreciation thatās almost a moan. Itās a sound of want, and itās the most beautiful thing Iāve ever heard. She looks at my dick like itās a masterpiece, like itās the answer to a prayer she didnāt even know she was praying. Her eyes trace the length of me, from the thick, pulsing root to the weeping head, her gaze filled with a mixture of awe and hunger that makes my whole body ache.
And then she touches me.
Not with her mouth. With her hand. Her fingers are soft, her touch light, almost tentative. She wraps them around the base of me, her thumb and forefinger barely meeting. She canāt get her whole hand around me, and the sight of her small hand struggling to encompass my girth sends another surge of pride through me. She holds me like Iām something precious, something holy; her touch is the opposite of what I'm feeling to the raw, animalistic need coursing through my veins.
She strokes me once, a slow, tight pull from base to tip, her thumb smearing the pre-cum around the head, spreading the slickness. A moan slips past my lips, my hips jerking upward, seeking more of her touch, more of her.
āShit, Shai,ā I grind out, my voice a low, rough growl thatās barely recognizable as my own.
She doesnāt answer. She just leans in, her dark, curly hair falling forward to curtain her face, creating a small, intimate space just for us. I feel the hot puff of her breath against my sensitive head, a teasing promise of whatās to come. And then her tongue is on me.
Itās a soft, wet flick, a quick, teasing taste that makes my whole body tense. Sheās swirling it around the head, tracing the ridge, dipping into the slit to lap up the fluid there. The sensation is exquisite, a sharp, intense pleasure thatās almost too much to bear. My hands tighten in her hair, my fingers digging into her scalp, holding her in place, a silent, desperate plea for more.
She takes her time, exploring me with a methodical, obsessive attention thatās both maddening and incredible. Sheās learning me, memorizing every ridge, every vein, every sensitive spot that makes me gasp and curse under my breath. She kisses her way down the shaft, her lips soft and wet, her tongue tracing the thick, pulsing vein that runs along the underside. Sheās worshiping me, and Iām letting her. Iām letting her take control, letting her set the pace, letting her do whatever the fuck she wants to me.
And Iāve never felt more powerful in my life.
The decision to just let go, to stop questioning and just feel, is a liberating one. My hips begin to move, a slow, subtle rocking motion that pushes me deeper into her mouth, that meets her halfway. My hands are no longer just tangled in her hair; theyāre guiding her, directing her, showing her what I want, what I need.
I can feel the shift in her, the way her body responds to my taking control. She moans around me, the vibration a deep, resonant hum that travels straight up my spine and makes my balls draw up tight. She takes me deeper then, her lips stretching wide to accommodate my girth, her tongue working me with a renewed urgency. Sheās not just exploring anymore. Sheās devouring.
The pleasure is building and building, a relentless force thatās threatening to pull me under. I can feel the strain in my stomach, the heat spreading through my veins, the familiar, delicious ache that signals my own impending release. Iām close. So fucking close.
But I donāt want it to end. Not yet. I want to stay in this moment forever, in this hazy, grey world where the only thing that matters is the feel of her mouth on me, the taste of her on my tongue, the sound of her name on my lips.
āLook at me,ā I command, my voice a low, dominant growl.
She lifts her head, her eyes dark and dazed, her lips swollen and slick with my cum. She looks so beautiful.
āWho does this dick belong to?ā I ask, the words a rough, possessive rumble.
She blinks, a slow, lazy smile spreading across her face. āMe,ā she whispers, her voice a soft, husky breath thatās music to my ears. āIt belongs to me.ā
And then she goes back down, taking me deeper than before, her mouth a hot, wet, perfect heaven thatās determined to undo me, to own me, to make me hers. And I let her. I let her do it all.
The world narrows to the space between my thighs. The grey light of dawn, the familiar shapes of my room, the lingering scent of her shampoo, it all fades into a distant, irrelevant hum. There is only this. Only the wet, perfect heat of her mouth, the sight of her dark head bobbing in my lap, the feeling of her hands and tongue working in a perfect, devastating harmony.
She takes me deeper, her lips a tight, slick seal around my shaft, her tongue a flat, wet pressure against the sensitive underside. I watch, mesmerized, as she slowly, deliberately swallows me down. Thereās no hesitation, no gag reflex, just a slow, steady descent that feels like itās pulling my soul out through my dick. When her nose finally brushes against the skin of my pelvis when Iām buried so deep I can feel the tight, convulsive clench of her throat around me, my toes curl. Itās an involuntary reaction, a full-body spasm of pleasure that starts in my toes and shoots straight up my spine.
āFuck,ā I groan, the word a broken sound thatās ripped from my throat. āShit, Shai⦠just like that.ā
She doesnāt move for a moment, just holds me there, her throat working around me, her hands coming up to rest on my thighs. And then she does something that makes my eyes roll back in my head. She starts to massage my balls. Her touch is gentle, almost reverent, her fingers rolling the heavy, sensitive sac in a slow, rhythmic motion thatās in perfect sync with the tight, clenching pulses of her throat.
The dual sensation is almost too much. The wet, constricting heat of her throat, the soft, insistent pressure of her hands on my ballsāitās a one-two punch of pleasure that threatens to shatter me into a million pieces. My hips jerk upward, a desperate, instinctual thrust that pushes me even deeper, that seeks to merge with her, to disappear into her completely.
She pulls back then, a slow, torturous retreat that leaves me feeling empty, aching for her return. Her lips are swollen, slick with a mixture of her saliva and my pre-cum, her eyes dark and dazed with a pleasure that mirrors my own. She looks at my dick, at the thick, heavy length of it glistening in the dim light, and a slow, lazy smile spreads across her face.
āYouāre so fucking beautiful,ā she whispers, her voice a husky, breathless rasp. āI could look at this dick all day.ā
The praise, coming from her, hits me like a physical touch. Itās a validation, a confirmation of the desire Iāve been trying so hard to keep in check. Itās a surrender, a willing admission of the power I hold over her, even as sheās the one on her knees.
āYouāre the one whoās beautiful,ā I manage to say, my voice a low, gravelly rumble. āLook at you. On your knees for me. Taking this dick like it was made for you.ā
She moans, a low, throaty sound thatās pure music. āIt was,ā she says, her eyes locking with mine. āIt was made for me.ā
And then she goes back down.
This time, itās slower. More deliberate. The wet sounds of her mouth fill the room, a slick, rhythmic schlick-schlick-schlick thatās the only sound that matters. Itās a nasty, beautiful sound, a testament to her skill, to her desire, to the raw, primal nature of what weāre doing. I can feel the saliva dripping down my shaft, pooling on my balls, a messy, decadent reminder of her hunger.
āYou like that?ā she asks, pulling off just long enough to whisper the words against my sensitive head. āYou like the way I suck your dick?ā
āFuck yes,ā I growl, my hands tightening in her hair, my hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that meets her halfway. āYou suck it like you love it.ā
āI do,ā she breathes, her tongue flicking out to lap at the slit, to taste the fluid thatās still leaking from me. āI love the way you taste. I love the way you feel in my mouth. I love the way you look at me when Iām on my knees for you.ā
Her words are a dirty, delicious litany, a string of praises that stokes the fire in my soul, that makes the pleasure hotter. Sheās giving as good as sheās getting, her words a mirror to my own, a shared language of desire and need.
āYou take it so good,ā I praise, my voice a low, dominant growl. āSuch a good girl, taking all this dick. Look at you.ā
She moans around me, the vibration a deep, resonant hum that travels straight up my body. She takes me deep again, her lips stretched wide around my girth, her throat constricting around me in a way that makes my whole body tense. And again, my toes curl. Itās a reflex, a physical manifestation of the pleasure thatās threatening to overwhelm me.
She notices, of course. She notices everything. She pulls back, a slow, teasing retreat, and looks up at me, her eyes dark and knowing.
āYou like that, donāt you?ā she whispers, her hand stroking my slick, wet shaft. āYou like it when I take it all the way down.ā
āYes,ā I breathe, my voice a ragged, desperate gasp.
āGood,ā she says, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her face.
And then she goes back down, taking me all the way to the root in one slow, smooth motion.
Iām close. So fucking close. My body is preparing for release, my muscles tightening, my breath catching in my throat. But I donāt want it to end. Not yet. I want to stay in this moment forever.
āNot yet,ā I manage to say, my voice a low, guttural command. āSlow down, baby. Not yet.ā
She pulls back, her lips swollen and slick, her eyes dark and dazed with a pleasure that mirrors my own. She looks at me, a question in her eyes, a silent plea for permission.
āI wanna make you cum,ā she whispers, her voice a soft, husky breath. āI wanna taste you.ā
āNot yet,ā I repeat, my voice a low, dominant growl. āIām not done with you yet. Iām not done with this mouth.ā
She smiles, a slow, lazy, understanding smile. She knows what I want. She knows what I need. And sheās more than happy to give it to me.
She goes back down, her movements slow, her mouth a hot, wet heaven thatās determined to undo me, to own me, to make me hers. And let her worship me. I let her praise me. I let her take control.
Something in me snaps. Itās not a violent break, but a clean, decisive snap, like a wire finally giving way under too much tension. The slow, reverent worship, the shared praises, the gentle exploration, itās all been a prelude. A beautiful overture. But the main act is calling, and itās not a gentle ballad. Itās a fucking symphony of need.
My hands, which have been resting in her hair, tighten, my fingers tangling in the thick, soft coils, gripping her scalp with a firm pressure. Itās not a warning. Itās a command. Her eyes flick up to mine, and in the dim light, I see a spark of understanding, of anticipation. She knows whatās coming. Sheās been waiting for it.
āEnough of that slow shit,ā I growl, my voice a low, gravelly rumble thatās pure command. āTime to take this dick like you mean it.ā
She doesnāt need to be told twice. The slow, deliberate rhythm of her mouth dissolves into a faster, filthier tempo. Her head bobs up and down, a frantic, desperate motion thatās all about speed and pressure. Her lips are a tight, slick seal, her tongue a frantic, swirling vortex of sensation. The wet sounds of her mouth change, too. The slow, rhythmic schlick-schlick-schlick is replaced by a messier, more urgent gawk-gawk-gawk, a nasty, beautiful symphony of her hunger.
My hips take on a life of their own, thrusting upward in a slow, powerful rhythm that meets her halfway. Iām not just letting her suck my dick anymore. Iām fucking her throat. Each upward thrust is a deliberate, powerful movement, a deep, penetrating stroke that pushes me deeper, that forces her to take more of me, to accommodate my size, to surrender to the raw power of my need.
āLook at you,ā I grit out, my voice a rough, guttural praise thatās laced with filth. āTaking this dick like a fucking pro.ā
She moans around me. Sheās trying to talk, to respond, but her mouth is too full, too busy. The sounds she makes are a series of muffled, choked-off moans and whimpers, a desperate, incoherent sounds of pleasure thatās the most beautiful thing Iāve ever heard.
āYeah, you like that, donāt you?ā I continue, my words a string of dirty, explicit praises that are designed to push her, to break her, to make her mine. āYou like it when I fuck this throat? When I use this mouth for my pleasure?ā
She nods, her head bobbing up and down in a frantic, desperate motion thatās a clear, unequivocal yes. Sheās taking it, all of it, and the sight of her, the feel of her, the sound of her, is almost enough to send me over the edge.
But Iām not done with her yet.
I tighten my grip on her hair, and I pull her head down, forcing her to take me deeper, to bury her nose in my pelvis, to feel the full, overwhelming weight of me. She gags, a soft, wet, choked sound thatās followed by a desperate, hungry moan.
āFuck,ā I groan, my hips bucking upward, a desperate, instinctual thrust that pushes me even deeper, that seeks to merge with her, to disappear into her completely. āTake it. Take all of it.ā
She does. She takes it all, her lips stretched wide around my girth, her tongue stretched out of her mouth, her throat a tight, constricting heaven thatās determined to undo me, to own me, to make me hers. Iām fucking her throat now, my hips moving in a powerful, relentless rhythm, my hands holding her head in place, fucking her mouth the same way I fucked her in her backyard. Raw.
And through it all, Iām still worshiping her. Iām still adoring her. My praises are a constant, a steady stream of filth and affection thatās designed to build her up, to make her feel as powerful as sheās making me feel.
āLook at you, taking this dick so good,ā I praise, my voice a low, dominant growl. āSuch a good girl, letting me fuck this throat.ā
She moans around me, an unequivocal response. Sheās lost in it, lost in the pleasure, lost in the act. And Iām right there with her.
I slow my hips, my thrusts becoming less frantic, more deliberate. Iām still fucking her throat, but now itās a slow, deep, powerful rhythm thatās designed to draw out the pleasure, to savor every moment, every sensation.
āNot yet,ā I command, my voice a low, guttural growl. āNot yet, baby. Iām not done with you yet.ā
She pulls back, her lips swollen and slick, her eyes dark and dazed with a pleasure that mirrors my own. She looks at me, a question in her eyes, a silent plea for permission.
āI wanna make you cum,ā she whispers, her voice a soft, husky breath. āI wanna taste you.ā
āSoon,ā I promised.
The word "soon" hangs in the air between us, a promise. I see it in her eyes, the flicker of anticipation, the hungry need to see me fall apart, to taste the evidence of her power. Iāve been holding back, teetering on the edge for what feels like an eternity, but the sight of her, so eager and willing, is the final push I need to let go.
āAlright, baby,ā I breathe, my voice a low, rough growl thatās filled with resignation and anticipation. āYou want it? You want this nut? Then take it. Take all of it.ā
Her eyes light up, a dark, hungry fire burning in their depths. She doesnāt need any more encouragement. She dives back down, her mouth a hot, wet vortex of sensation thatās determined to pull me under, to drag me over the edge.
This is it. The moment of no return.
The pleasure thatās been building with heavy need finally snaps. Itās a violent, explosive release that rips through me with the force of a hurricane. My whole body tenses, my muscles locking up as I feel the power of my nut shoot through my body.
My back arches, a deep, painful curve that lifts my hips off the bed. My hands leave her hair and tighten around her head, holding her in place as I pour myself into her mouth. My hips buck, a series of powerful thrusts that push me deeper.
āFuck! Fuck, Shai, Iām cumming!ā I roar, the words a guttural, primal cry thatās ripped from my throat.
Itās a sound of surrender, a sound of release, a sound of a man whoās finally giving in to the overwhelming pleasure thatās been threatening to consume him.
She takes it all. Every last drop. Her mouth is a tight, slick seal around my dick, her throat a convulsing, swallowing heaven that milks me for all Iām worth. I can feel the hot, thick spurts of my cum pulsing out of me, a never-ending flood of release thatās both a relief and a revelation.
The taste of me is on her tongue. She swallows it all, her throat working in a series of convulsive swallows that leave me in awe.
The sound of my moans fills the room, a deep, resonant rumble thatās of release and relief. Itās the sound of a man whoās finally found home.
And then itās over.
The pleasure subsides, leaving me a spent, shaking mess. My body goes limp, my muscles relaxing, my breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. I collapse back against the bed, my eyes closed, my mind a blank, hazy void.
I feel her pull back, a slow, gentle retreat that leaves me feeling empty, aching for her touch. I feel her move, a soft, rustling sound thatās followed by the warmth of her body as she settles beside me.
I open my eyes, and sheās there. Her face is close to mine, her eyes dark and dazed with a pleasure that mirrors my own. Her lips are swollen and slick, her cheeks flushed with a rosy glow. Sheās beautiful.
She leans in, her lips finding mine in a soft, gentle kiss. Itās a slow, tender exploration, a sharing of tastes, a mixing of essences. I can taste myself on her lips, a salty, bitter reminder of what we just did, of what we just shared.
āYouāre amazing,ā I whisper.
She smiles, a slow, lazy, understanding smile. āYouāre not so bad yourself,ā she whispers, her voice a soft, husky breath thatās music to my ears.
We lie there for a long time, a tangled, sweaty, sated mess, my body still humming with the aftermath of my release. The world outside my room slowly comes back into focus: the distant hum of traffic, the faint glow of the sun as it starts to rise, the soft, rhythmic sound of our breathing.
Not a slow, gentle drift back to reality, but a violent, sudden kick, like Iāve been shoved off a cliff in the middle of a deep, peaceful sleep. My eyes fly open, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The world is a confusing, disorienting blur of grey light and familiar shadows. Iām in my bed. Alone.
The dream shatters like glass, the beautiful, perfect reality I was just existing in dissolving into a million sharp, painful pieces. Shaiās face, her mouth, her handsātheyāre all gone. Vanished. The warmth of her body, the scent of her hair, the sound of her moansātheyāre all just echoes, fading fast, leaving behind a cold, empty silence.
Iām breathing hard, my chest rising and falling with a frantic, desperate rhythm. My body is still humming with the aftermath of the orgasm, a lingering, phantom pleasure thatās both a comfort and a cruel tease. I can still feel her mouth on me, the wet, perfect heat of it, the tight, constricting pull of her throat. I can still feel her hands on me, the soft, insistent pressure of her fingers on my balls. I can still taste her on my lips, a faint, ghostly trace of her essence.
It was so real. So fucking real.
I reach down, my hand moving with a desperate, frantic urgency, a need to confirm the reality of the situation, to separate the dream from the truth. My fingers brush against the fabric of my briefs, and I feel it. The wetness.
Itās not the warm, wet heat of her mouth. Itās a cool, sticky dampness thatās seeping through the thin cotton of my boxers, a tell-tale sign of my own bodyās betrayal. I came. In my sleep. From a dream.
The realization hits me like a sharp, painful punch to the gut. It wasnāt real. None of it was real. Shai wasnāt here. She didnāt sneak into my room. She didnāt worship me with her throat, didnāt praise me with her words, didnāt make me cum with a skill and a hunger that left me breathless and shaking.
It was all just a dream. A fantasy. A wish.
A wave of frustration washes over me, a hot, bitter tide of anger and disappointment thatās so intense it makes me want to scream. I want to punch something, to break something. I want to tear the world apart, to rip a hole in the fabric of reality and pull her through, to make my dream a reality, to make her mine.
But I canāt. Iām just a man, alone in his bed, with a sticky mess in his briefs and a hole in his heart.
I lie there for a long time, the frustration slowly giving way to a deep, aching longing. I want her. I want her so bad it hurts. I want to feel her skin against mine, to taste her lips, to hear her moan my name. I want to bury myself inside her again, to lose myself in her.
The dream was a taste, a tantalizing, torturous glimpse of what could be. And now that Iāve had it, I canāt go back. I canāt go back to just watching her from my side of the fence, to just nodding at her in the morning, to just exchanging brief, meaningless conversations over the fence. I canāt go back to pretending that I donāt want her, that I donāt need her, that I donāt dream about her every single night.
The decision is a slow, quiet resolution that settles deep in my soul. Iām going to make it happen. Iām going to make my dream a reality. Iām going to cross that fence again. Iām going to take whatās mine.
I sit up, the sticky, uncomfortable dampness of my briefs a constant, irritating reminder of my own powerlessness. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my feet hitting the cool, hard wood of the floor. Iām done with this. Done with the longing, done with the frustration, done with the fantasies.
Iām going to have her again. And Iām going to have her soon.
May i have some vergil x reader lady in red smut? Lady in red reader can show him around fortuna & tells him where he needs to go for the order of the sword & since he's the son of Sparda and they worship Sparda, one thing leads to another š Please & thank you š
Nirvana
š- Pairings: Vergil Sparda x FemLIR!Reader
š- Tags: Unrequited love (mostly), Hate fuck(?), kinda an emotional roller coaster, first person, bites/marks, unprotected sex, mutual oral sex, sacrilegious, i just made some bullshit
wc: 5744
āHer name was one I wish I could've remembered forever, but my newly found desire and curiosity didnāt allow for formalities.ā
Synopsis: Vergil goes on a trip to Fortuna, but is pleasantly interrupted by a mysterious woman in red.
Want more?
šŖ½ ā Something kinky
šŖ½ ā Something popular
šŖ½ ā Last blog āŖ
AN: To anon, I mightāve gotten your vision but then i took that and ran with it so i sincerely apologize if this wasnāt when you were expecting.
This is written from 5Vergilās pov about 3/4Vergil. So a lot of stuff might seem confusing. Just know that the parts with corny dialogue and story is about a young Vergil but being written in a journal by older Vergil. Thatās what youāre reading.
Also, do you know that theory that says the doppelganger can only replicate the moves its user makes, therefore Vergil has danced like that in the past? I tried to sneak that in here and I hope you catch it cuz I love Vergil and his doppelganger <3 Anyway, enough rambling lol.
The Order Of the Sword? Humanity has been coming up with stories in regards to demons for centuries. When I arrived in Fortuna I was curious about their religious practices. They seem to worship a demon as a god, but upon closer inspection their citizens live at peace with terror. Their infatuation with demons seems to go deeper than just study, they seek the same power as I. The information I found was contradictory to what I had first assumed. They might fear demons, but at the same time, theyāre obsessed with them. While traveling through alleys and roads, I was ambushed by a horde of scarecrows, it was an easy featābut a bystander seemed to celebrate the monster's death in a manner I cannot comprehend. Such low level demons, powerless subordinates, are not worthy of fanfare.
I had a rather simple goal. To investigate without raising suspicion. My curiosity for the Orderās purpose had started to grow into something more selfish. I discovered this demon they worship is Sparda. My father. It did not take me long to make this ābreakthroughā, the people of Fortuna seem to shout his name in prayer throughout the day. Despite the presence of my father in the entire city, I felt as if I needed more information. Have they been misled? Do they understand Spardaās story? Their technology and weapons seemed so advanced that it could easily become ravenous. Who could ever wield such god-like weapons? Turns out those conspiracies The Order came up with were somewhat accurate. I overheard something odd while eavesdroppingāthat theyāre creating biologically enhanced soldiers, but these āsoldiersā could potentially be demons themselves.
I had many questions and even while adventuring I managed to stay concealed by taking a cloak from the church when I first arrived, it seemed they could be rather generous when convenient. After a few hours, it struck late evening. I received information that barely furthered my investigation and I was getting rather uninterested. Nothing in Fortuna caught my attention. At least not quite like the lady that stood at a crossroads.
Her gaze lingered on my figure for much longer than any other mortal in Fortunaās had. I feared she suspected I was from another realm. But when I least expected the same woman approached me. She was not afraid, she did not seek to intimidate me. I was hesitant to lower my guard but after a shake of hands she asked me one simple question.
āAre you from out of town?ā
She knew. Either that or she was⦠interested in me? This woman and her fearless approach had me questioning myself. To her I was simply another man walking amongst other mortals. It felt oddly comforting. Tāwas a comfort I have not experienced in nearly two decades. She did not pry, She did not even bother asking where I came from. It seemed she wanted to lead me around. Her eagerness to give me a tour of Fortuna would aid me in my quest but⦠My curiosity strayed from its original purpose. All I wanted to do was follow. This would be the first time I took demands from a human.
āHave you eaten? I can take you somewhere local for dinner,ā She asked. In the moonlight, her face was revealed and in that moment I knew there was no woman more beautiful than the one who stood before me that night.
āI have no use for sustenance, nor do I wish to waste my time on such mundane tasks.ā When I replied I was able to sense the heartbreak in her eyes. I didnāt know at the time, but I had rejected her advances by being so straightforward and arrogant. It was not a false statement, my body does not require food to maintain the power I possess. But at the same time, I felt something in my chest ache. Could that feeling⦠Could it have been regret? Immediately I came up with a way to redeem myself, my words didnāt seem to aid in my new quest to pursue this woman so, I backtracked. Pathetically so. āBut I suppose, if you are insisting I accompany you⦠I would be⦠Interested.ā
I sounded like a fool, a complete fool. And for the first time I realize that I felt those measly human emotions I had been denying since my youth. This woman was provoking me to react in ways Iād never bothered to acknowledge.
āOf course Iām insisting, you wonāt pay a dime! Donāt be so hard headed, letās get inside before it gets any darker. A little birdie told me itāll storm tonight.ā Her words barely registered. I was lost in emotion, not to mention, her complexion. She was hidden under a white hood similar to mine earlier in the day, but up close that shadow that once concealed her face vanished. The way she spoke, not nonsensical, but metaphorical. Through context I understood her figure of speech. She was taking me on a date?
Iāve done my own research, it was a date, indeed.
When we arrived at the restaurant, this woman seemed eager to get me to try all of her favorite items. Thatās when I started to wonder why I was letting my humanity take control over me. It was unlike me to be so vulnerable but even as I had the realization, I continued to play along. I was given a platter. If I remember correctly it was a kind of pasta. A meal much too large for me who didnāt have an appetite for foodābut still, I forced myself to eat, this lady spent her earnings on me. I should comply with her requests, is what I thought. She interrogated me, finally. She asked questions. My name, my age, my heritage. I answered each question bluntly, but I could sense the awkward bouts of silence between my responses. I worked myself up and asked a question of my own.
āYour name?ā I said, she was speaking about something but I interrupted in hopes of seeming less disturbed. āDo you have a name?ā
ā⦠Itāll be one you wonāt forget, Vergil.ā Had she spoken her name? Was I not paying attention? I wasnāt sure and I felt much too embarrassed to ask again. It was a shame, my body and mind were being consumed by the thought of this woman who I had only known for an hour. She had caught my eye while walking down the road but not once did I dare interact. Until now. Her name was one I wish I could've remembered forever, but my newly found desire and curiosity didnāt allow for formalities.
āIāll remember it, I will cherish it.ā
Time advanced quicker than ever before. Unbeknownst to me, that ālittle birdieā was correct, it would storm that night. When we left she seemed worried about the (inevitable) possibility that her red gown might get wet so I handed her the cloak I was given at the church. She was blushing the whole way to shelter, it was rather unsettlingāhow much I enjoyed my time with this woman. I wasnāt quite sure why my chivalry made her so⦠excited? At first I thought I was simply being selfless for a change, but after some pondering, I look back on that moment and feel my cheeks getting warm as well.
Have I become a complete fool? It couldnāt be love. I only knew her for what had probably been three hours, but I was infatuated. Could it be that I've been starved of socialization and civilization for so long that as soon as I felt the warmth of her hand in mine, I became nothing but a fool. After the weakness I felt that day, I will only ever be a fool.
The storm didnāt seem to give, my coat was drenched and my hair had lost its style. Not only that but the cloak I provided her had already soaked up the rain and so had her dress. My āromanticā gesture was pointless, but I didnāt care. Neither did she. I felt like a protagonist in a romance film. This type of night, one full of youthful, carefree moments is the one composers write ballads of. At that moment I forgot all about myself. I didnāt care about ruling the world or what Fortuna was hiding, I simply wanted the company of this strange woman.
She pranced around in the rain and all I did was watch while walking at her side. We took our time, and so did I while watching her enjoy the weather many would find unfavorable. Her soaked clothes clung to her body and Iād be lying if I didnāt admire the silhouette the damp cotton painted over her figure. I was rather pleased, so pleased that I began to wonder what use those clothes made at all. It was a terrible display of weaknessāto let my mind stray, but at the same time, my objective was uncertain by that point. To prey on a woman, let alone a human woman, it should be a crime, impossible even. Perhaps Iām more like father than my powers let on.
āVergil, how come youāre so timid? Let me show you a good time!ā She shouted over roaring thunder and flashes of lightning. Suddenly my hand was in hers once again, and we danced. Even if I were to forget all about her one unfortunate day, thereād be a part of me that would never be able to forget those dance moves that are now engraved into my memory. Iāve never moved like that before. The rain was rather convenient in covering up the sweat gathering in my palms, as well. Iāve also never been so nervous, or giddy. Almost like a couple of teenagers. At my stature I couldnāt see her face well, but her body was there, and it was tempting me.
What was this emotional i felt? I sense it lingering even now white writing in this journal. I knew nothing about proper courting. I hadnāt ever been in such close proximity with a woman, let alone felt so attracted and attached in only a few measly hours of my life. I always thought humans were weak, none seemed strong enough to fend for themselves. Never had I ever imagined myself feeling protective of a woman. Especially one so beautiful. Iām at a loss for words, my repetition of the word beautiful might be too simplistic: gorgeous, perhaps stunning. Radiant, elegant. Words alone cannot describe my infatuation with her.
Now that I sit to think about it, I could go on and on for pages, I may even fill this book with works all about this woman.
I was in a trance and the only thing that managed to snap me out of it was a particularly close flash of lightning. The strike sent seismic shocks through the ground. It almost felt like the ground had fallen, rattling outdoor furniture, signs, and frightening the dancing lady who lunged towards me and wrapped her arms around me. She was trembling, soaked, and clung to me like I might be able to shield her from the rain. I didnāt know where I was, I didnāt know how to get her out of the elements. I had never had to worry about such things. I relay, but later on sheād tell me my body radiated warmth, she even said she wished she could have me as a heater in her homeāwhatever that meant.
āPlease, letās get inside, just until the rainās over!ā She mumbled into my chest, her eyes searching mine. I couldnāt make eye contact. I couldnāt look at her much longer. I was losing control over myself. I felt a soreness in my groin, one I'd felt before, but now that this arousal was provoked by another being⦠It felt different, slightly embarrassing. My breathing was unsteady, without thinking my hands reciprocated her touch and sat on her waist, arms wrapped tightly around her body.
She led me inside, one of my hands resting on her lower back as we walked. Itās forward, but I wanted so badly to take her right then. She wouldāve looked even lovelier in the pouring rain, nude, her eyes on mine and mine only. Once we made it inside it became evident we were in the church again. Was this⦠her place of worship? I didnāt care about exploring this preposterous demonic religion any longer, although her bringing me here wouldāve helped in my journey... I was much more interested in exploring her body.
The massive double doors shut with a loud, echoing bang, the sound of the rain and thunder was muted and all that was left was the air around us. āYour clothing. Youāre wet, you should undress.ā
She laughed in my face. Was I too forward? Perhaps. I shouldāve thought it through but I was much too eager. Itād save my ego to say I was seduced, but not once did I hesitate. I needed her. I needed to feel her body. I was acting on my own volition.
āIād tell you to take me out for dinner first but I think weāre past that. Youāre right⦠I might get a cold,ā She chuckled and looked at me with those pretty eyes of hers. I let go of her hip when she took my other hand and led me away into a room. A room that seemed to be a sister's chamber. I looked into this recently. Nuns and sisters reside in large churches like this one, although this place was more of a templeāa castle, even. The hallways seemed endless, this room couldāve easily been a spare. At least thatās what I say to myself in order to cope with the guilt of what I did in said room.
āYou are⦠cold.ā I said, watching as she wrapped her own arms around her front side and stroked her shoulders to fend off the cold air attacking her gentle skin. I had invited her to undress once already, but it seemed I was being too head on with that approach.
āFreezeing.ā She said before her hands found that string behind her back, tugging until her corset went loose. She was still wearing that wet cloth draped over top of her body, but her dress was gone, she stepped out of the robes and stood before me covered only by my cloak. The shoes she wore, those heels were still standing in the middle of that dress she tossed aside. I couldnāt see her body, but the anticipation was burning deep in my stomach, branding me with a sense of lust I feel until this day. Whenever I think back to how she looked⦠How even the sight of her collar bones, her ankles, every flashback to that moment sends throbs down to my groin.
āDonāt you think itād only be fairā¦ā She approached me, her hands flew up to my face, I flinched and scowled at her, feeling those hands⦠It almost burned. Not because we were in a temple, not because she was human. But because I was fighting off the part of me that wanted to grab her and take controlābut somehow I look back on this and feel much more content with allowing her to take the lead. The way she touched me, her finger nails, those lips moving as she spoke such serene words. She was soft, gentle, calm. She knew just what she was doing, but I did not. āIf you⦠undressed too? Youāre soaked, Vergil.ā
The way she said my name made the world spin around me. The blood from my head sunk directly south and left me vertiginous with arousal. I couldnāt think, but the only thing I was able to do was obey. She dragged her nails down my chin, and goodness did that break me. Every finger over my chin and down my neck sent shocks down my spine. She undid the tie around my neck, tugging until the silk ascot was undone. She hummed contentedly while unzipping my vest.
āYou⦠are a siren.ā I groaned as soon as my chest was exposed, she caressed the planes of my midriff and looked at me with furrowed brows. Had I offended her? I didnāt know, nor did I care. I couldnāt think. All I wanted was her.
āIf I was, would you still answer my call?ā Her voice was poisoned with lust. I could see that vein in her neck pulsating, I could hear her heart pounding. My coat was next up, she slipped her hands under my vest, and pushed them over my shoulders. My coat and vest fell to my feet. Thatās when she saw Yamato, which I had hidden under my coat. Not once during our outing did I feel the need to unsheathe Yamato, I was at ease. Iād never forgotten about her, but itās⦠Out of character for me not to jump at the chance to use Yamato. She stared at the scabbard and dragged a single finger over the home of my sword. Thatās when she went to tug at the sageo, undoing the knot that kept Yamato's hilt at my hip.
āI would. Iād be hypnotized.ā I answered truthfully, I couldnāt believe I was allowing her to cradle my sword. Her touch was so gentle I almost expected her to bow at my feet. My skin was still damp with precipitation. As soon as my top half was bare, she dropped the cloak she wore and there she stood. Disrobed. This woman⦠An artist would paint her portrait on bare hide, a carver would summon her from marble. She stunned me enough with her beauty, but the way she held Yamato with such care and warmth only made me feel like I wanted her more.
āVergil, you know⦠Iāve heard that name before, they preached your sentiment in this exact cathedral.ā Her fingers slipped under the waistband of my pants while shoving my sword into my chest, and at that moment I didnāt listen to a word she said. Well, I was hearing her rather than properly listening. Now that I recall this moment, I understand.
Iām somehow involved in this churchās teachings? Iām not certain. Sparda seemed to be their god, yes, but theyāve somehow become aware of his sonsāas well as the power the Yamato holds. She held my sword like she was some kind of artifact. She returned it to me gracefully, and the way she scanned the Yamato with her eyes⦠It was like she was confirming it to be the real thing.
āYouāre the son of Sparda, Vergil⦠Show me, are you as powerful as they say?ā As she spoke she undid the clasp of my belt and slipped the loose end of the snakeskin through each belt loop before finally, it fell to the ground and she began touching me over the scaly texture of my trousers. My sword was already in my hand, somehow holding my beloved sword so close only made me feel more eager to defile this woman.
I nearly jumped at the sensation. She bent at the knees then landed on the ground before me, I stood there, intensely aroused. It was humiliatingly obvious when she pulled the waist of my pants down to my thighs. She was looking for my eyes the entire time but she never found them. I was busy trying to compose myself, though my attempt would turn out to be futile. She carefully undid the four golden clasps of my boots and pulled at the inside of my knees to force them off of each foot to completely remove my trousers. Looking back on it, I had no clue what I was doing, I was driven purely by instinct. I couldāve easily found myself in a trap. How could I allow a strange woman to have her way with me⦠To aim directly for my heart and take all she wanted from me when she finally struck. Again, a complete fool, and one lost in a frissonāat that.
āIf Iām not mistaken, You seek to prove yourself by⦠mating with me.ā My voice was uncharacteristically gentle. She could certainly tell I was looking forward to this moment since the time she reached to shake my hand earlier in the evening. In response she nodded her head and finally touched where I needed most. āThen IāgoodnessāErgh⦠I shall aid you in your ājourneyā.ā My hands were on her immediately. When she wrapped two small fingers around my shaft and pressed her lips to the glans I let out a groan, one that sounded pathetically pleased. A sound I didnāt know I could produce during such an intimate moment.
āMating? What are we? Animals?ā She scoffed and turned her head downward, laughing to herself before continuing to work her lips. Ecstasy. The warmth of her lips around me, that hand on my thigh, the way she hummed around the tip. I was lost in the sensation. After a few tantalizing seconds she finally took me in deeper. Her whines and moans sent shocks up my abdomen, it almost felt like she was luring me in. My hips bucked forward on instinct and thatās when I lost myself in the battle against humanity. I felt the overwhelming need to use her body, to take her, to ruin her.
She was only on her knees for a few minutes when I grabbed her by a few strands of hair and pulled her onto my length completely. Her lips engulfed me inch by inch at first, but she looked much more beautiful like that, suffocating on what she could barely handle. I knew it, humans, they cannot fight their own battles. But if power is what she sought out, then she ought to fight for it. She struggled and made such pleasant noises that even when she tried pulling away I dragged her back down. Her throat rejected me at first, constricting in ways that would force me to retract, but that impulse only made me want more.
Then came the tears and the drooling, she looked like a mutt, and in reality she behaved just like one. Before she stood proud, speaking such domineering words, but then after only a few moments she sat there on her knees, a little fawn in headlights. Her saliva seemed to drip from her lips in waves. With each thrust into her throat I could feel her jaw threatening to clamp down on me, I almost wish she had. I wish she had disobeyed me so I couldāve ruined her even further. But so far, she had seemed to be rather docile.
āGood.ā I groaned before pulling out from her lips. She went wide eyed and gagged before spitting out the saliva and liquid arousal that collected in the back of her throat. It dripped from her lips as she panted and it was truly a shame to see it all go to waste. If i was truly cruel I wouldāve made her lap it up like a dog, but I was much more interested in what I couldāve been drinking up in that moment. āNow get up, sit at the edge of the bed.ā
She got up on wobbly legs and couldnāt quite move, but to put her there would be an easy task to accomplish. I simply grabbed her by her hips, lifting her off of her feet briefly before sitting her on the mattress. She seemed surprised, like she didnāt think I'd behave in the way I did. It was silly. She reminded me of my true power. She opened my eyes back up, at first she had me hanging by strings like a puppet. I did as she asked, followed her through townānow⦠I wanted to leave this woman with a permanent mark, that way she would never forget what she had gotten herself into that night.
I loomed over her body, my hands on her thighs, spreading her legs while she adjusted to lean back. She wasnāt just beautiful anymore. Sexy, is it? Iām unsure but I felt the urge to devour her. Without much warning I was on my knees, staring at the folds of her vulva, glistening and twitching as my breath slowly drifted over her. Gently, my tongue glided through her slit, not going any further as to not reward her for being so⦠infuriating. Infuriating is the only way I can put it. All day, this woman led me to believe I might have fallen in love. I spent hours with her, talking all about some nonsense I had no interest in just to get here.
I licked at her clit, using the flat of my tongue to drag over that sensitive spot. Her thighs tightened around my head and as much as she pleaded for me to slow down, to āpleaseā give her a moment to breathe, her body said otherwise. She held my head there against her heat until I tasted the fruits of my labor spill over my lips. She came undone in moments, her cries were heavenly, yet sinful in a place like this. I couldnāt imagine what itād be like to have her to myself, Iād play along with her foolish games if I knew it ended like this every time. I didnāt know when to stop. I wasnāt done already, I at least knew that. I sucked on that little nub until her legs went limp around me, until her cries turned to screams, until her juices flowed in excess. Until my fingers slipped inside of her without strain and her body convulsed into another orgasm.
Itās incredible how a few swipes of my tongue combined with the intrusion of my fingers can reduce such an elegant woman to nothing but moans and pleas.
She moved to be perched up on her elbows, the muscles of her legs twitching as I got up from the ground and caged her in beneath me. Her hands tangled in my hair and pulled my face towards hers while she licked up the stickiness from my chin, lips, and nose. The erotic sensation was enough to make that ache between my legs stir up again, a throb reinforced my erection, leaving my length settled over her slit. I couldnāt help the way I ground my hips against hers. Her already overstimulated clit caught perfectly against me.
āThank youā¦ā She whispered weakly against my ear while I took in the view from above. Her breasts, drawn to her sides by gravity. her eyes begging me to overindulge, and the curves of her hips and abdomen. Truly a work of art.
āDonāt reward me with praise,ā I purred against her forehead, pressing a gentle kiss against the damp skin. āNot yet.ā
Before I could stop myself I pressed into her heat. When I felt the warmth of her wetness surrounding me I could barely hold back. The one thing stopping me from sheathing myself completely was the way she whipped her head back and made a noise that resembled a cry of pain. At first I was afraid to soothe her. My nerves hadnāt properly settled, I was afraid of the emotions I might feel if I kissed her lips but somehow she drew me in anyway. I leaned in closer and let my tongue glide over her lips before finally sinking down onto her body and pressing my lips to hers. Our bodies were pressed together, my damp skin over hers. I had already begun to slide in further, I caught each moan and whine as we kissed, feeling the hums vibrate through my head.
I could feel every twitch and contraction of her walls as I thrusted into her cunt. Every part of her was dripping with heat but then, from the inside, I felt a burning feeling I had never felt before. But I couldnāt stop, my lips were still connected to hers, sharing oxygen as if we were the only two people in this realm. Every one of her pleas landed onto my tongue.
Every part of her was drowning in desire. And I, from the inside, was overwhelmed by that sensation I tried to hold back. The instincts that I'd been cursed with, to mate. To breed and claim. I continued kissing her in an attempt to push away those thoughts. Her pleasured cries sent me spiraling, clouding my head with even more frissous thoughts, ones which I could no longer focus on without getting closer to the edge. She let go of my back and let her arms drop to the bed where she dug her nails into the sheets. When our lips parted, we remained connected by only a thick string of saliva and our sexes. My pace quickened again, the heat in my gut building up quicker than I could manage.
She moaned out my name and looked at me with such a sultry expression. I leaned forward in an attempt to chase her lips, her hands left the sheets and her hands moved back up my sides once again, making me hiss from the sudden contact. She was antsy, unable to hold still. Soon, the lady looked at me before speaking with a gasp. āFaster, go faster,ā The neediness in her plea drove me insane.
I pressed my lips to her ear, āThatās not a very polite way to ask for something, is it?ā I murmured, she moaned and writhed against the sheets, her voice wavering. It was so erotic, I hadnāt quite heard something so sensual before. She was filling my heart to capacity, I wouldnāt be able to hold on much longer. Iād be lying if I said I didn't have to take a few breaks while writing this entry to ease my nerves.
āPlease,ā she begged me, āPlease, sir,ā the name slipped off of her tongue and I let a heavy growl erupt from my chest in response. That was a word I hadnāt expected. Nor did I expect it would make my head feel so light. The need was piling up inside my gut. She likely saw my concentration wavering as I reached my limit. It didnāt take long for me to break. I gave her what she wanted, I could feel my end coming fast from the sound of her breathless moans and cries. āOh, Godā¦ā she moaned, but her head was tilted back, her lips were no longer on mine. I needed to taste her. I reached down to keep her face angle while bucking my hips against hers.
I could feel my own climax approaching, fueled mostly by the sound of her breathless moans and cries. āOhāergh, Godā¦ā she whined gain as if prayer could save her. This time I latched onto her neck instead of kissing her already swollen lips. As I leaned down and sunk my teeth into the skin of her throat, her moans were cut off and instead she growled, screamed, and whimpered. Her nails were practically attached to the back of my neck then dragged down my spine. She scratched so hard I was left with red streaks down my back which I treasured until they unfortunately healed on their own.
āIām closeāngh! Vergil!ā She groaned. When I finally broke skin, she let her head fall back, I knew thereād be no point in holding back any longer. I couldnāt help when I finally came inside. My ejaculate flooded her womb, all she could do in response was let out a long, uninterrupted sigh as I marked her from the inside. If it was power she wanted, if she sought to prove herself, then Iād leave her baring my child.
Her insides tightened around me as I filled her up and her whines turned into almost broken cries. Her legs shook under my hands and my grip had left marks where my thumbs pressed into the soft skin of her thighs. āYouāre gorgeous,ā I moaned as I pulled out and let myself fall over her with a sigh. My head was spinning. My entire life I convinced myself I didnāt carry even a single human gene, but as I looked at her laying there, sprawled out beneath me, I started to wonder if maybe⦠Just maybe I was meant to be on this plane with people just like her.
Even now, I start to question my purpose. Do I miss her? Or is this melancholy feeling simply one of anamnesis? Have I thought of her so much since that day that I cannot imagine what itād be like to be with another? Would I ever want to be with another? These are questions to which I haven't quite answered yet, nor do I plan on answering them. Iāve strayed from my objective. The power which I seek will not be found in the arms of a woman.
It took a while for me to recover. I stood over her, pressed against her breasts for a few long minutes until I finally snapped out of that libidinous trance. Once I stood back up I did something I regret to this day. Immediately I started to dress myself, tying Yamato to my hip as soon as I got the chance, although i believe i had left my ascot behind. I got defensive, I didnāt even take the time to care for the vulnerable woman that laid on the edge of that bed.
āVergil⦠WaitāYouāre not leaving already, are you?ā She spoke weakly. She seemed afraid. I couldnāt bring myself to soothe her. I, too, was afraid. So much so that her voice didnāt seem to reach me. I was angry. A child at war with his own ego.
I didnāt take time to reply, I just left her there. I didnāt even look back. I wish I had, I dream of her even now. I didnāt know I had it in me to reminisce on my weakest moments as if they were something to take pride in, but I canāt seem to detach myself from that memory. If there was a way to go back, to slash through time and return to that moment, even just to the final few minutes spent with her to change my perspective⦠I would take the chance. Even if the world moved on without me.