#leerilwrites

Spills

Tobias Rogers x Reader

Bitchy reader, weird guy Toby, college au

Banner credit- @cafekitsune

One / Two / Three

~ Toby watches you when you’re in class, hiding himself in the far back from your glowering face. He watches you in the halls, your steps unhurried and deliberate, pink backpack swinging unapologetically as you practically shove past everyone in your way

~ He’s seen the way you were quick to berate anyone for so much as breathing wrong in your direction, his eyes always trained on the crease between your furrowed brows, the scrunch in your nose, and especially the downturn of those pouty glossed lips

~ He was more than aware how creepy he must seem to anyone looking in, but he couldn’t help himself, its like there was a magnetic pull to you, one he didn’t even try to fight.

~”watch where you’re fucking going-!”

~ His heart stuttered, so deep in thought he didn’t even notice he had bumped into you. Eyes panning down, hands clammy and clenched on the sleeves of his hoodie.

~ “S-sorry.”

~ Your scowl deepened, arms lazily laced over your chest and chin lifted. And his eyes stared at you, unblinking and wide. You took a deliberate step closer, eyes narrowing and all he could do was hold his breath. “Tch.” With a shove to his side you walked around him.

~ He was rooted to his spot, head violently whipping around to watch your retreating figure, eyes focusing in on the sway of your hips as that tiny jean skirt rode up.

~ “fu-uck..”

~ After that small interaction it was like a switch flipped, he was more infatuated than before, no more glances and stares. He was now full blown following after you like a lost puppy. For the next two weeks he was like your shadow, always close by but just far enough for you to not take notice.

~ And you didn’t notice, you were completely oblivious. Why would you notice that tissue, that narrowly missed the bin, was gone? And your pink glitter pen? Well obviously it must have just rolled under someone’s seat, you did always have a spare.

~ Toby could not have been more glad for your lack of awareness, the small shrine in his dorm growing exponentially. Printed candid shots, vanilla and strawberry scented candles, was that your missing gym sock?

~ See Toby wasn’t delusional (not entirely at least) he knew what he was doing was.. unconventional. But he couldn’t stop. As soon as he realised he was in a bind, he was already too far gone. The small hole he had started digging himself into was now closer to the size of a burial ground.

~ Toby wasn’t even sure what about you had captivated him so much. Was it the small glint in your eye when talking down to someone? Maybe the way you were so confident and snarky when even debating the professors. Whatever it was, it had lead him to here. To now.

~ Camping outside of the cafe on campus that you frequented, phone in hand and mindlessly scrolling as out of the corner of his eye he watches the door. The monotonous bell ringing and ringing as more people move through it.

~ Then as if by luck, or chance. (Definitely not preemptive) You walk out, paper coffee cup in hand, eyes glued to the book in the other, the shortest frilly skirt Toby had ever seen, a white cami clinging to your chest like a second skin. And Toby swears he sees an angel.

~ His shoulder jerked, excitement coursing through him, feet working with him for once. He stepped closer, directly into your path. Lukewarm coffee spilt everywhere. Shirt? Stained. Book? Ruined. Toby? Ecstatic.

~ “Are you fucking kidding me?”

~ There it was, that melodious screech, and directed just at him. He had to hold back a swoon. Hand grabbing onto your elbow to steady you, feeling a surge of electricity bursting from the contact. His other hand twitched, almost dropping his phone.

~ “I’m so s-sorry! L-let me get yo-ou a new one!”

~ He could not even hold back the grin that had crept on his face, teeth all on show. And sure, now he’ll have to pick up a few extra shifts at the diner or perhaps beg his darling sister. But in the end it’s worth it, you spoke to him.

~ “A new one? A fucking new one? This is Isabel Marant- do you have any clue how much I spent on this?”

~ Your eyes wide, disbelief all over your face. Almost laughing at the sheer audacity. You pull your elbow out of his grasp and look him up and down. Ripped, baggy blue jeans, a faded band tee you couldn’t quite make out the name of, a head of bushy brown hair and a big gauze band on his cheek.

~ “Wait… it’s you again. Are you stupid and blind? Or do you make it a habit of just shoving into people all the time?”

~ “yes.”

~ You blinked a few times, lips parted and an eyebrow raised, before slowly, your mouth curled up and a loud unabashed laugh erupted. Entire body curling forward. The book, top and spill completely forgotten.

Tobias Rogers x reader

Short and sweet, not proofread

Banner credit- @cafekitsune

Her schedule was ingrained in my mind, from how long it took her to brush her teeth in the morning, to the late night cram sessions in the library. I knew she woke up extra early every Wednesday before class, the exact bus route she took just to miss the early morning traffic on her way back from the gym. I had her days down to the minute.

I could always tell the exact mood she was in from the small pin in her hair, each colour a different emotion. A small gateway into her mind.

I had her coffee order memorised like I was the barista who worked the till from 08:12 to 08:17. I knew the exact amount of syrup pumps, whether she wanted it iced or hot, or when she had that yellow pin in her hair- with extra sweet foam.

She was perfect, truly. She was perfect for me.

So why did she have to go and ruin our routine? Why did you ruin it?

Did I not pay you enough attention? I even stood closer to you in the grocery store. Slightly too close in the parking lot. But I was there wasn’t I? You knew I was.

It started with those extra 5 minutes while you were in bed. That wasn’t part of the schedule. You were running into your sleep. Was it him you were texting? Or something else? The once gorgeous and open smile you held, was now tainted. Did you direct it at him? Did he make you smile?

My favourite times together were always the ones where it felt like you saw me. Really saw me. Not just the dark shadow in the corner of your yard.

You needed me. It was so much easier to love you, cause I knew, I knew you needed me. Did you need him?

Those extra 5 minutes really were the turning point for us, weren’t they? After that you changed even more.

How dare you coil around my bleeding heart, squeezing and squeezing. And fucking squeezing. Till the last drop painted your perfect lips. My hand can still feel the wetness. Was it my blood that night? Was it yours? Did we meld together? Did you taste how sweet you really fucking were? Was mine copper? Was it bitter? Did you feel the love?

Those late night cram sessions quickly just became an excuse to sit on your phone, laptop idly staring at you, screen completely black. It gave me the perfect chance to observe you. I’m sure you didn’t see me- you were too busy of course. Still on that goddamn phone. Our reflections looked so perfect together, if only you had just lifted your head.

I remember the first night vividly, your pink pin in your hair, that yellow worn out cardigan on your shoulders, preparing for an English literature exam. But you just couldn’t keep your eyes on your notes, could you? Every few minutes, your eyes, your wandering eyes, they kept drifting to your phone. Was it his notification you were hoping for?

You really made me sick that night.

I forgive you now. It’s in the past after all. I know you won’t do it again. You’re perfect.

Thursday was always our day. The late lie in bed. The slow pace of you reaching for your phone, laughing at whatever was on it. It was your friends, right? Katie and issy? Your face entirely relaxed, hair slightly messy, curtain open just enough for me to savour how the sun shined against your skin. French toast with an excessive amount of powdered sugar, a cup of earl grey with honey, if it was raining- chai.

He doesn’t bring you flowers you know. I do. Amaranthus, daisies and anemones. They make a beautiful bouquet. I’m sure you think so too. I deliver them on our day. Do you like them? Do you see how much I still care?

You always did have a floral scent. The smell of rot doesn’t suit you. But I still bear it. Because I love you.

I loved the sound of your laughter, how it always seemed to cling to my skin. You had a way of filling any uncomfortable silence with ease. Are you laughing now?

I remember the last look you gave me. There was no fear. No surprise. It was like you anticipated this all along. Like you carefully shifted the routine to fit me in. Made all the correct advances for weeks just to feel the cold blades imbed your bones. You didn’t fight it. You didn’t scream. You just looked at me with that innocent smile. Those knowing eyes. And they told me all I needed. You loved me too.

Diner Date

Tobias Rogers x Reader

Bitchy reader, weird guy Toby, college au

Banner credit- @cafekitsune

One / Two / Three

~ Toby, leaning against the greasy counter, cheek lazily perched on his palm, fingers twitching. His eyes darting between the booths but always drifting down to the coffee stained book in his hand.

~ ‘A woman looking at men looking at women’ none of it made a great deal of sense to him, but hey, he was willing to give it a try. Maybe if he could remember a phrase, an artist, then he could strike up a conversation with you. But first, he needs to make a mental note of looking up the words. No point using them if he couldn’t even pronounce them.

~ Toby sighs to himself, finger tracing the jagged outline of the stain before bringing his face down and sniffing at the pages deeply, the mark a reminder of your connection, and if he inhales deep enough- he could almost make out the vanilla perfume you always wear. Did it smell that strong this morning?

~ “What, the, fuck are you doing?”

~ Shit. Shit. Shit.

~ “Are you always this freaky?”

~ Terrified would be an understatement. Too terrified to lift his head. Too terrified to breathe. In his mind he was an opossum playing dead, yeah he knew it wasn’t working, but can you blame a guy for trying?

~ “Oi! Tics!”

~ Toby hated the nickname, an under the belt attack on a disorder he couldn’t control. But from your mouth? You may as well have been professing your love. He lifted his head quickly, loose curls bouncing, honeyed brown eyes meeting your sharp ones.

~ “S-so, Koon-ning. He’s a-a-a cunt.”

~ You pursed your lips, rubbing at the bridge of your nose and exhaling deeply. And Toby, sweet, jittery Toby, watched with an exaggerated grin. He truly thought he had said something remarkable, he was eagerly awaiting the praise.

~ “Did you just call Willem De Kooning, a great lead to abstract expressionism, a cunt?”

~ Gauging by your deadpan tone, Toby knew, he may have made a teensy error. His eyes were quick to glance back down at the page. ‘Aggressive’. ‘Brutal’. He was beyond confused. He looked back up, looking like a wounded animal, and you couldn’t help but sigh.

~ “Forget it. Just get me a strawberry milkshake, tics”

~ You waved your hand in dismissal, rolling your eyes and walking back to the booth you were in. Toby had his eyes glued to your form the whole way, eyes focused on the ‘too tight’ thigh highs, hand subconsciously clenching, imagining rolling the plush between his fingers.

~ It took him a moment to register your command and when he did he rushed to work. Quickly mixing the ingredients, with somewhat minimal spillage, topping with extra cream and the pinkest heart shaped sprinkles. Milkshake on tray, he rushed to your booth.

~ “St-st-strawberry milksh-shake.”

~ You gave him a Quick Look, frown on your pretty lips. You leaned back and crossed your arms as he stood there with a dopey grin. He looked at you with stars in his eyes and twitching hands, almost expectant.

~ “Well? Get lost already, sheesh.”

~ He held up a hand and opened his mouth, then promptly shut it, nodding along with that same grin. He scurried back behind the counter as you watched him with a quirked brow.

~ Looking down to the milkshake you noticed the messily scribbled on napkin. The words hardly intelligible. ‘Extra strawberries and sprinkles just the way you like.’ Odd. Very odd. But who are you to question it. Free toppings isn’t a bad start to an apology for a ruined top.

~ Toby’s eyes glazed over as he watch those rosy lips wrap around the straw, he took in how your permanent scowl softened slightly before hardening again and your fingers going back to typing away at your laptop. He bathed in the knowledge that he clearly did well. Your milkshake already comped and an extra weekend shift sorted, in preparation for the perfect cami he found to replace yours.

~ He sighed dreamily, watching the way you carried yourself with an effortless grace. But something caught his eye, that same napkin he left was getting scrunched up by your perfectly manicured hand and getting messily stuffed into your tiny Vivienne archive orb bag. Yes he knew the name. And yes he would deny researching your favourite brands from stalking your insta.

~ Toby was beyond ecstatic, only now he wished he had also left his number, but he’ll settle for the small victory. After all, he’s still got plenty of opportunities to look forward to. Like the weekend trip you’re taking to the lakes, funny thing is him and Lyra are also taking a trip there too!

~ Your laptop was long shut now, slurping up the last remnants of your milkshake and lazily scrolling your phone. Maybe he should take the chance and come over to talk to you- wait.. you’re coming over.

~ “Right, how much.”

~ Yet again he found himself mesmerised, taking a deep breath to help calm down.

~ “On-on the ho-house”

~ You stared at him, a bored expression on your face before letting out a small ‘Hmph’ and a nod. He was hung up on every little movement, memorising it and replaying it.

~ “Thought so.”

~ “So abo-bout the-“

~ “Save it, tics.”

Tobias Rogers x Reader

Alternate universe to last one lol, still not proofread!! Short and all over the place, not used to writing in 1st person so just a lil practice

Banner credit- @cafekitsune

A deep breath as I open my eyes, your earthy scent draping over me like a thick veil. The curls on your chest, tickling my cheek, pulling me closer in. My eyes would lazily watch the slow rise and fall, ears counting the weary beats as they drummed against my face. I’d press a gentle kiss to your bare skin, holding it there for a moment too long.

You’d stir. A small exhale through your dry lips. The hands that cradle me would tighten. I don’t fight it, I’d simply lift my head up, craning my neck, just for a small glance of that peaceful stare.

I’d trail my fingers down, touch feather light, slowly, across your shoulder. The pads of my fingers pressing in and easing your muscles. I’d feel the small rumble in your chest as you hummed, satisfied, and I’d continue to stare up at you like you hung the moon and stars.

Your oh so tense body was always much more relaxed in the mornings, making it easier to admire, and admire I did. My fingers still tracing down, going over the bumps and scars, touching them so tenderly. Each one told a story and I was hooked to every page.

Your eyes would slowly open, the adoration in them so clear. Rich pools of brown almost daring me to drown in them. I’d falter for a moment, the intensity in your gaze making everything around us disappear. And then the corner of your mouth would lift, subtle, the gash would crinkle and your eyes would relax.

Such a small gesture, but it flustered me all the same.

Mornings together were always filled with a quiet intimacy, a sacred bubble that was almost impossible to leave. Such simple gestures amounting to something much more monumental.

Parting always felt like sin, like committing a horrible crime. The many lives that were ruined at your sullied hands seemed almost inconsequential in comparison. For your hands had been nothing if not gentle when it came to me.

You’d study me then, eyes tracing my shape with a natural ease, your stare still intense but softer; fonder. Almost sizing me up like prey. And I’d relent. Because if I was to be the fly in your web, I’d fight with all my might to get your ropes around me faster, tighter, I’d find all the prickles and imbed them into my soft skin.

I’d let you tear off my limbs one by one, staring at you with the same tender look. Doting on you even as you clip my wings. I may even beg you for more. Because. Those eyes, those gorgeous, beautiful eyes- hold such affection and warmth that even the pain would fill me with a sense of safety and love.

They say people do crazy and unspeakable things when backed into a corner. Would you think less of me if I pleaded for more?

My leg would sprawl over your thigh, your coarse hairs scrubbing against my skin like sandpaper, and I’d pull you closer. I’d take another deep breath, breathing you in like air, because you may as well have been.

My eyes would study your face with easy precision, drifting from your relaxed bushy brows, to the small scar on the corner, down the slopes of your crooked nose from a few too many brawls, to the sharp Cupid’s bow waiting to be marked by my arrow. I’d take all your features in like confessions, hoping you’d continue to transgress.

I’d take a moment and unravel your arm off me like string, lifting it closer, sweeping my lips along the freckles. My eyes shut, your heart hammering faster.

“thank you.” I’d say. My tone would be soft, but firm, loving, but needy. I wasn’t sure what I was thanking you for, but I thanked you nonetheless.

Tobias Rogers x Reader

Bitchy reader, weird guy Toby, college au

Banner credit- @cafekitsune

One / Two / Three

~ It had been a week, a whole gruelling week since your date with Toby. Were you aware of said date? Well.. no, not really. But it’s all good, Toby would make it known soon. In the meantime he had kept up with you from a burner account on insta. Too scared to interact on his main, afraid you’d find a flaw that you couldn’t overlook.

~ He was currently in his dorm doing the same thing he had been doing, staring at your insta story. Some literary quote layered over a picture of today’s outfit; a tiny pink skirt, white frilly bra and a mesh light pink cardigan. He was almost certain you were posting such teases for him to see. And would it be so wrong of him to indulge?

~ His hand began to sneak across his torso, faded grey tee rustling as his fingers inched under his waistband. Slow. Tentative. Relishing in his own sudden gentleness. His eyes stayed glued to the screen, tracing over the soft curve of your hip, up the exposed skin of your stomach and landing on your pushed out, doughy tits. He let out a soft breath. Hand quickly pulling back out of his boxers as he shook his head.

~ He couldn’t. He hadn’t. Allowing such a thing while thinking of you was almost forbidden. Teasing himself was enough- for now.

~ He instead turned to look to his drawers, or more specifically what was atop those drawers. A cute Sanrio gift bag, decked out all in pastels and holographic stickers, that he was sure you’d love. Inside a brand new Isabel Marant Mecelia top. Sure it wasn’t as extravagant as the one you were wearing, but he had seen it posted to your story once.

~ This weekend will be his chance to give it to you. It was the long awaited girls trip he had been counting down the days to. He had done a lot in preparation. His hands- though still scarred- no longer were covered in bites and cuts and grazes. He had stopped picking at them. He knew you deserved better. And he was going to be that better.

~ He sighs to himself, locking his phone and letting it drop to his chest, fingers impatiently tapping the cracked back. Staring up at his ceiling, face switching from a scowl to a warm smile repeatedly. It pained him to be away from you, but being away gave him more time to think… about you…

~ With a final exaggerated sigh he jumped up, phone slamming onto the carpeted floor without a care, his feet moving faster than his brain, carrying him to his door, down the hall, out the entrance, straight down the path to your building, and somehow finding him outside your lecture hall.

~ Arms crossed, shoulder twitching, foot tapping. He craned his neck through the small window on the door, eyes scanning the view for less than ten seconds before landing on you. There you were in all your beautiful, ethereal glory. Chin in your hand, hair in loose curls, bubblegum hypnotising him as you chewed and legs swinging beneath your chair, each tiny movement pushing that pretty pink skirt up, panties almost fully on show.

~ Okay- Alright! He may not have fully thought this through, but did he ever when it came to you?

~ He gritted his teeth subconsciously, thanking whatever gods made him wear loose sweats today as he felt the strain in his boxers. How much longer must you torture him? He closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the door, hand dramatically slamming against it and dragging a path down.

~ It took him a moment to realise what he had done, well.. no, it took him an awkward stumble into the lecture hall as the professor opened the door and cleared his throat, to realise what he had done. And when he did- his eyes automatically panned to you.

~ Your perfect scowl on your face but he could have sworn he saw the twitch in your lip, fighting hard to keep it from turning up, and that was beyond enough for him. Shooting you a dopey grin and a corny finger gun before straightening up and happily turning on his heel, prideful strides all the way back to his dorm.

~ Seeing you was enough, his heart felt full, he knows what he saw. The flicker of amusement in your eyes, the slightly raised brow and curling lip, the perfect view of your cherry thong.

Craig Tucker x Reader

Synopsis~ battling temptation, Craig requests the aid of a demon.

Content~ oral (m receiving), cowgirl, p in v, pretty mild, religious words but nothing in depth, creampie

WC~ 3.5k

Banner credit- @cafekitsune

His stiff figure stood in his faintly lit room, the modest flicker of the candles warped contours across his steely face. Hushed whispers of conjuration echoed against the 4 walls, as his eyes bore deeply at the chalk drawn pentagram amidst the candles.

With each crackle and burn of the wick he could feel his shoulders grow more tense, eyes never once daring to peel away from the carefully constructed cinquefoil. The muzzled mantra spewed from his lips, until he finally reached the end most syllable.

His breath stilled among the charged atmosphere, his anxiety palpable as it nestled itself in his stomach. His nerves allowing it to fester and grow with every torturous second. His heart beat wildly, a drum trapped beneath a cage, a punctuated electric tension, wound itself along his ribs, pulling and tugging harshly with each laboured inhale. Until finally. Just a small flicker of the light, it went dark.

Earlier than his eyes could begin to adjust, the candles blazed themselves again, a deeper red hue. The moonlight weaved its way through the diminutive vents of the curtain, finding solace on the faded chalk outline.

A burned scent quickly unfurled itself, travelling with snake like precision straight to the young man’s nostrils, travelling further down and nesting itself in his lungs. A cement like hold pressed cruelly a top his chest, hurling his built body like a tonne of bricks. The wooden boards let out an unforgiving creak beneath his weight as his hand flew to his chest, clawing at anything he could grasp, his breathing grew rugged, begging and screaming out for something more. And as though god had shown mercy, the cierges flickered again.

The air much cooler. Much more tranquil. His lungs much lighter. His breathing more restful. But his eyes, those same unblinking eyes, stayed still, for now the image of the pentagram he couldn’t bear to part with- was covered. A shield of red smoke had dispersed itself among the sharp edges, never wavering, just splaying stagnant. Though the colour faded and the particles diluted, it was still there, sending him into a mocking trance.

The air lay pacified till the reticence was broken by a low snuffle. The smoke had been an unwelcome sight, this was even more unsightly. Craig had known chanting those incantations could yield results, and he had duly prepared himself for an ominous presence; he, however, was woefully disappointed. He felt ridiculed. There, on the floor of his childhood room, was a figure, sprawled out unabashedly, two rosy arms pleated beneath its head. The irony he felt was almost comical, seeking guidance from a more influential entity, to only find a lazily stirring pink blob of body parts.

A breathless sigh escaped his lips, silent- calculated advances to the figure, stopping just at the threshold of intentionally mapped out chalk. With an arc of his knee, he lowered himself closer. A sharp bend in his neck, craning his face a smidgen nearer. Orbs squinted and raking over the entity. He wasn’t sure what to think, what to do- should he move her? Perhaps wake her?

No worry, his questions didn’t need reply, for the demoness herself began to stir. Lazily fluttering lashes, a soft exhale through her nose and an almost inaudible yawn from her parted, silky lips. Her eyes languidly followed around the surroundings, a singular eyebrow cocked. Craig didn’t dare breath, completely enthralled by the motions. So simple yet so captivating, his eyes completely glued and unblinking.

She turned her attention to his statuesque form, checking him over. Not once. Not twice. But closer to four times. A sly upturn on her lip and a knowing glint in her eye. He kept still, feeling a slight self consciousness creeping up his spine and around his throat, mouth dry and scratchy. And oh how she noticed- revelled in it too. His fingers twitched at his side and his shoulders grew tense.

She rose to her feet with a languid grace, popping her joints with a mighty stretch and yet another yawn, eyes blinking slowly. Warning bells were ringing, he was growing intoxicated by her mere presence, even the mundane tasks held a certain allure. Her smirk grew wider, she could almost smell the lust off of him. She circled him slowly and then leant down. Her slender hand graced his neck, her touch hot and invigorating, already stroking at his unrestrained desire. Her senses picked up the spike. The tiny, subconscious lean into her hand, the twitch of his eye and the hitch of his breath.

“You called?” Came a sultry drawl, voice like silk. And Craig was just about ready to fold there and then. He swallowed thickly, pushing down the remnants of guilt and shame.

“Yes.” He replied, voice barely above a whisper. He began to rise, her hand still planted on his neck, nails scratching lightly at his tender skin.

Her other arm was slow, so slow and deliberate as it encircled his shoulder. The air between them grew warmer- tantalisingly so. Craig felt disoriented and terrified but he couldn’t bear to pull himself away. Another wave of desire crashed and rattled in his skin as she leaned in closer and took a deep inhale. He knew this was wrong, but even the thought of such forbidden impurity made his heart beat wilder.

“What seems to be the problem?” Her voice low and seductive, coaxing him in. He couldn’t form a single coherent thought, unable to articulate the thirst, the hunger, and oh god the shame.

A small snicker found its way out of her lips, an amused glint in her eye. She could sense his internal struggle- could see how his hands clenched and she loved it. She found herself entertained while Craig struggled between his beliefs and this enigmatic temptress. The pit in his stomach grew, the frustration and embarrassment boiling and brewing, but the undeniable attraction still weighed him down.

Her nails traced his neck, small patterns in the shape of ‘LUST’ and he was none the wiser. Far too busy trying to contain the buckle in his knees.

“Well? Not gonna talk?” The delight was clear in her tone. Though the question was blunt, it was refreshing. He was forced to confront the reasons she had made an appearance.

“I.. I have questions.” Try as hard as he may, his voice was not as steady as he had hoped, a slight stammer causing his lips into a frown, a clear cut sign of the inner turmoil he was experiencing.

She leaned in closer, placing her soft cheek on his trembling shoulder, her nose pressing against the pulse point on his neck.

“Yes?” She mumbled. The emotions within him were heightened, and the actions of his body were uncontrolled- responding to her touch with heat.

“I.. need guidance..” he managed to utter. Thick like honey, laced with desire and completely unbridled. Her eyebrow rose up at his words. She took another deep inhale of his scent, his blood rushing so close to her, and let out a small content sigh.

“So you seek out a demon to help?”

The irony was not lost on Craig, summoning such a wretched creature while being deeply religious- even he was aware of how stupid that would seem. He fidgeted nervously before replying.

“I didn’t know who else to turn to.” A confession, filled to the brim with vulnerability, desperation and most importantly; shame.

Within a second her grasp on him was gone. With the blow of the wind and a thick layer of smoke, she materialised behind him. A jolt shot down his spine as he felt her hand trail down the front of his chest, the other gripping his jaw. The potent mix of tension and desire grew, swirling around in the dust and burrowing in his nostrils. His mind was swilled with the sensations crashing through him.

“I need help- I’m conflicted. My beliefs, my desires. My faith…. You..” each word came out in a strangled whisper.

“Give in.” A warm breathe.

A spark of rebellious defiance shot through him. And for a moment he wavered. His body leaning into her involuntarily, seeking her touch.

“I.. I can’t- I’m a .. man of faith.” He tried to protest, a weak attempt at best, lacking any real conviction. This made her smirk deepen, and her eyes hazed over with greed, she had him right where she wanted him.

“Do you.. not crave the sweet release from desire?” She searched, her tone sweet- coated in a sugary layer of feigned sympathy. His guard lowered further.

“I.. I do..” admission. She knew she was getting closer and closer to her prize. All throughout his mind, her tantalising whispers echoed. Her grip on his jaw loosened, one nail tracing steadily up his cheek, her face came closer to his own.

“Then show me.” Her voice held no urgency but her body was practically brimming.

Craig gave a shake as he felt her burrow her nose against his neck, his body arching into her. Her smirk stayed plastered against his flesh as she gave his neck a long wet kiss.

“How?” He mumbled. She could see the war she had so easily incited within him- fuelling her own need effortlessly. Her lips continued their course up his neck, teeth grazing gently. He was practically pulsing at her ministrations, completely and utterly under her spell.

“I just need your go ahead, your permission- I’ll make sure this won’t even cost you.” With her words the candles flickered, an aggressive dance emitting the flames. His eyes fell shut- thump! Thump! Against his heavy ribcage. She could practically taste the strumming desire oozing off of him.

“Yes.” Slightly broken but completely filled with need, that was all she needed. Her smirk widened drastically. The hand that was trailing his chest coming to rest atop his waistband, a singular finger teasing the hem. And just like before her touch was gone; the scorching heat from her still stinging but no longer present.

Mere seconds later she was in front of him, lidded and sultry eyes meeting his gaze, both hands in his waist band, a teasing grin on her face and a sudden tug down. Her touch was commanding and what was Craig if not always a devout follower, following every command.

His cock springs up, hitting against his Sunday best with a small thud. Swollen tip leaking puddles of precum already as her eyes drink him up. He shivers- maybe from the cold, maybe from her starved gaze. But that’s all it takes before she’s hastily dropping to her knees, tongue already darted out and pinning to his seeping head. Lapping up his essence with a small moan- eyes focused on his features. Eyebrows tightly knitted and teeth grinding as he, too, stared down at her. His nails forcing into his palms, knuckles pure white.

Her tongue was incessant; relentless. Circling round and round the divot. Salty, bitter and oddly addictive. She took him deeper, humming out in pride as his breathing grew heavier. He was burning. Aching. On the verge of tears. And she had merely just started, he wasn’t even sure if he could continue- hand flying up to her hair, gripping harshly as he pursed his lips and tried to control the tremble in his body. But she noticed. She always noticed. His thighs flexed, his eyebrows twitched and his fingers were shaking. She followed his reactions with a hollow of her cheeks, pushing herself further around him.

“O-oh God-“ his eyes dilated and fingers grasping her hair harsher. She holds back her scoff. She’s up and down his long shaft greedily. Thlep. Thlep. Thlep. Up and down. Nose buried in his curly pelvis, a mixture of his precum and her saliva dripping down her chin, his cock entirely engulfed in the wet cavern. He swore he was about to pass out. The air was filled with his musk and arousal, coiling round her hunched frame and soaking into her soft skin, clinging to her.

She abused his tip reverently, drawing shapes with her tongue, writing numbers, scribing sigils.

His knees trembled once more. Stomach almost imploding in. Tingles and shakes running up and down his body as his hairs stuck up. He’s completely unable to conjure up a single thought, rendered speechless and reduced to a heaving mess.

His hips stutter when she continues the same pace but sucks much, much harder. Now teetering right on the edge, every muscle coiled with tension, his entire body rigid. Taut. Her presence, once an origin of his inner tumult, now a never ending sea of pleasure.

His nails now pressing against her skin, knuckles white and she hums. He pushed her head down his length entirely, feeling her throat constricting around him and he let out a choked moan, spilling his cum deep in her throat.

She pulls off slowly, her tongue still running laps around his cock. Pop! And she lets out a small whine of her own as she swallows, the salty flavour coating her lips. She stares up at him, licking the remnants off. She offers him nothing but a pretty smile and lust filled eyes.

He looked down at her with narrowed eyes, beneath them there was a small flicker of something almost tender. His vision still white stained as he tried to catch his breath.

Her body elegantly rose, hands tracing slowly, deliberately up his thighs and quickly pressing against his toned chest.

“How was that, my little lamb?” She cooed. Her eyebrows scrunched up in mild interest, her stare calculated and almost sadistic. He took in a deep breath from the proximity.

“It’s.. it was-..” His words failed him. Small shocks still veering up and down his spine- equal parts pleasure and pain.

A low sultry laugh snuck its way past her glossy lips, one hand hovering above his cheek, nail mapping against his strong cheekbone.

“Catch your breath, little lamb. There’s plenty more fun to be had.” She drawled out. Voice thick like honey, syruped in enticement and promise.

She guided his shoulders back, and he allowed her. Fringing closer and closer to his bed till the backs of his knees came in contact with the plush. His body was still swaying, but these tremors were mixed with trepidation.

A smirk on her lips. Eyes roaming his form.

Her hand slinked down his frame, teasingly tugging at the hem of his shirt, beckoning it higher. And like a dog, he obediently obliged, sliding the thin fabric over his smooth, sinewy body. Breaths growing more shallow, small shudders from the air, yet a path of fire from where she had touched.

She began her assault on his bare thighs, sloppy, wet kisses planted against him, hand gripping at his side. Paving a path up his stomach, nipping, winding up his chest, licking, and settling on his neck. A gasoline line forged against his skin, igniting with a silent crackle.

Her gaze was unwavering, soaking in every little expression on his face, holding him captive. A fresh bead of precum had already began its descent down his throbbing cock.

Their lips met in a messy and careless kiss. Jolts of arousal coursing through the intertwined tongues. Her body eagerly pressed against his, hips bucking down on him and the flimsy dress she wore doing nothing to hide the pooling of arousal. Instinctively, his hands shot up to her waist, his touch desperate, pulling her closer and deeper against him, against the kiss.

A small whine passed her lips and straight into his awaiting mouth, his body instantly reacting as his fingers urgently dug harder into her waist. Her sharpened canines teased at his bottom lip, blending the pain into carnality. Touches grew more feverish, the thin barrier of the dress only adding to the building tension. Both bodies writhing. Squirming. Burning.

Her hand snaked down to his aching member, teasing it against her soppy slit. She shuddered at his warmth. With a tantalising largo she pressed him to her entrance. Steadily, she lowered herself onto him and he felt himself set ablaze. Twin gasps mixed into the kiss. Craig struggled to catch his breath, feeling entirely overwhelmed by the tight squeeze.

He was the first to break the kiss, sweaty forehead coming to rest on her shoulder, a flood of sensations coursing through his body. His grip on her waist was almost bruising now.

Her own eyes tightly shut as she adjusted to the stretch. Cunt pulsing around his thick cock. She lowered herself more, another wanton whine passing her lips. She let out a shuddering breath and focused her attention to him once more, reveling in the burning pink of his cheeks.

Her hands greedily ran down his sculpted body, raking her nails against the ridges. His own eyes fly open, taking in her form, the moon now high in the window behind her, illuminating her like a goddess. He almost has to squint.

She lifts her hips before pummelling down harshly.

“F-fuck..” he all but whimpers, and her lips curl into a small knowing smirk. Her swollen folds spread against his aching cock and his eyes drift down. A small groan rips from his throat as she repeats the action. Lifting. Pummeling. Lifting. Pummeling.

His stare is starving as he looks between them. Travelling down to the dress, one shaky hand grabs the bottom of it, pulling it higher. She’s quick to tug the fabric from his grip, placing it between her teeth, her entire body now on display. His calloused hand slides to her breast, thumb running over her pointed nipple, eyes glazed over and mind in a haze.

She continues bouncing, splitting herself open on him. Her chest slick with sweat. A loud filthy squelching echoing through the somewhat barren room. Precum and arousal mixing together, a creamy white ring at the base of his cock.

Smoke exuded from her skin, filling the room with an almost aphrodisiac like scent.

“Are- are you still fuck having doubts, little lamb?” Her coo came as a breathless whine. Hips bucking down to meet his in a harsh rhythm.

He could do nothing but instinctively grind himself up, one hand tugging harshly at her breast, head fallen slack against the bedding.

“Please… don’t stop-“ his voice finally came, cracking with emotion. She smirked down at him, rolling her hips more. His hands roamed her plush skin, exploring her curves and dips, drinking in her softness.

With each sink down, she could feel the way he hit so deep, the rotund tip of his cock kissing at her cervix. His heavy lidded eyes met her lustful ones, a quiet exchange.

Beautiful, needy whimpers streamed out of him with each jolt of her hips. His eyes wandered her body once more, noting the hairs that stuck down to her sweat coated forehead, the hypnotising bounce of her breasts, the greedy way her cunt seemed to swallow him whole.

“You’re doing so good-“ she moaned, hand coming up and stroking his wet cheek fondly, hips unrelenting in their pace, chasing the thick stretch of him inside her.

“Please..” he shivered from the praise, the words hardly audible over his ragged breaths. His eyes glossy as he looked at her, sinking deeper into a blissful oblivion. His hands left no inch of her body uncharted, completely and utterly at her mercy.

She clenches like a fist around him, his winded moans fuelling her, and he twitches. His cock pulses inside her as he lets out a strangled gasp.

“Too- too tight” he manages to wheeze out, the hand on her thigh pressing firmly, nails leaving furrows on her supple skin. His pelvis reaching higher and higher as he drove into her, cock pressing snugly against her mushy walls.

The thrusts grow more urgent and needy as the room spun around him; a searing white mist cast over his vision. He’s desperate to absorb every sensation as his patience begins to dwindle, chasing after that world shattering high yet again.

Shes not oblivious to his pursuit, slamming down against him as a means to help, she could feel how his thighs had clenched, how his cock thudded against her spongy walls. And she too was nearing her peak.

“Let go for me, little lamb.” She coaxed. Squeezing down on him with surgical precision, and his breath catches in his throat.

The command. The vice grip she had around him. Pushed him further to the overwhelming edge, far beyond his limit, his body trembled as his hands held her rigidly. A strangled choke propelled from his lips, hips jerking into her violently. She followed right after, insides painted a milky white, her vision nothing if not a blur. Body convulsing against him, slumping down. Her pupils were blown wide with sensations.

The room filled with breathless heaves, both slowly relaxing, still connected. She continued small grinds onto him, leaving him sensitive and vulnerable. He felt himself grasping at her, seeking out her touch.