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i know it's getting cold out ,
but it's not frozen.
W★RNINGS ⋆ smut, drug and alcohol usage, smoking, impaired consent. ⸻ SYN★PSIS ⋆ you sent your ex an impulsive text—but now that she's on your doorstep, where will it get you? ⸻ AUTHOR'S N★TE ⋆ 3.3K WORDS!! loosely based on folded by kehlani, enjoy <3
so come pick up your clothes ,
i have them folded.
All she did was stand there, awkwardly. Hands pressed into her pockets with her pretty, perfect eyes cast to the ground—she stared down at the porch, the notch in the doorframe, but not at you. Anything but you.
You swallowed. You didn't mean for this shit to happen. Texting her 'come pick up your clothes, i have them folded' shouldn't have brought her to your door, on your porch—silent and uncomfortable. Especially after everything that happened.
It was warm—familiar, just like the faint flicker of the candle you always lit. Set on the coffee table as she impulsively scanned over it—Winter's Warmth. Fuckass name for a candle.
"Hey," You hummed as you locked the door. You turned to her, staring for a moment while she narrowed her eyes down at the label. It was stupid. Your warm house and obsession with stupidly-named candles was fucking stupid. Still, she turned her head—not to look at you, though. Just to look at something else that would make her stomach twist with familiarity that would piss her off. Mumbling out a dry, "Hey."
God, you didn't know how to fucking deal with this. You shouldn't have sent the text to begin with. Because now? You and your ex were uncomfortable. Great.Â
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Classic Nae. "What do you want?"
"Nah, I'm fine, actually," She shrugged passively. Dismissive.
Right. You sighed and nodded. May as well get this shit over with. "Cool. I'll go get your clothes, I guess." No nod of confirmation, just more nosing around like a fucking landlord before you went to go get her shit.
"Shut up," She bit, and you did on instinct. After setting another bottle out, she found it. A half-finished Don Julio bottle. She held it up, scanning the label, smirking. Then, she flicked her eyes to you. "Want a drink?"
"Okay, I need you to be so fucking real right now," She scoffed. "You cannot tell me Finding Dory doesn't fuck. Like, bitches aren't giving Ellen enough credit. It's Ellen."
You blew the smoke out between your lips, sighing out. "I literally told you I've never watched that shit. Did you drink too much, Nae?"
"Barely," She hummed. "And did you drink enough, bitch? You don't have to be drunk to have taste, y'know."
You rolled your eyes. "Are you saying I don't have taste?"
Fuck—what were you supposed to say? That you missed her? That you missed this—having fun and talking shit and getting high together? That you missed her handling you like you belonged to her, because you did? That you misse—
"Get on your fucking back," She snarled. You immediately leaned back and within seconds, she was on you—claiming your lips with hers and pressing her hand against your chest, shoving you down harder on the cushions. You slid your hands up to grip at her flannel with the hope of pulling her down on you. Her teeth sank mercilessly into your bottom lip, her hand that was once flattened on your chest now moving to grope at your tit. Sucking on the lip she just bit and soothing it over with her tongue before shoving it back into your mouth, only breaking away to pant against your lips. Her hands moved to grip the bottom of your shirt, and you let out a whine. "Is this okay?" She whimpered. "Fuck—yeah, please," You nodded eagerly. Her hands worked with a swiftness, shoving your stupid fucking shirt that was in the goddamn way up and over your head. Fuck. No bra.
"Fuck," She groaned out, pressing her thigh harder up against your cunt. She chuckled softly. "Feel that, baby? How you're fucking yourself on my thigh?" Her voice broke into a whine. "Fuck, you're perfect."
Your eyes lazily flitted open, chest heaving as you found air again. She let you breathe—two, three, four—and she fucking broke again. Her hand sealed tight around your throat again, lips hot on yours before her tongue was shoved into your mouth again. You groaned low and squirmed a bit as her free hand worked to find your waistband—sliding over your stomach and down your navel until she felt for it. Your noses clashed as she kissed you harder and until you couldn't breathe—only then did she pull away, breath coming out in quick pants, as she shoved her hand down your sweats.
You nodded, whining. "Yeah, Nae," You groaned. Her lips clashed with yours again, noses bumping as she slid down to your entrance. Hers. She was gonna make this hers again.
"Fuck, baby," She choked. "You wanna fuck yourself on my fingers? You like that?" She teased. You whined with a nod. Her hand squeezed tighter around your throat. "Use your fucking words."
"You're not," She snapped. "You wanna come for me, baby? Make a mess while you fuck yourself stupid on my fingers?" She spat, curling them. Tears pricked your eyes and you whined, hips bucking. "Fuck—please, please, please!"
You'd dozed off before she did—but even when you woke up later that night, all you would remember is that you were still hers—and she'd remember that you were still perfect. Always have been, always will be.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming