#vanity writes

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

Needed some Ricolas, stepped in CVS

Saw you in the corner, I was lookin' a mess

You didn’t notice Jason was instigatin'

I wanna bring you closer, tired of waitin'

Tired of waitin’, ooh

The forgotten AI speaker plays faintly in the background. The Bondage Sex & Cheerios playlist featuring Ari Lennox’s sultry voice was the perfect soundtrack to Lyric’s current task. Breathy moans slip past her lips as her burgundy curls stick to the back of her neck, damp with sweat and satisfaction. The air is thick with heat and the heady sweetness of her latest fragrance obsession: KAYALI Sparkling Lychee. The scent of juicy lychee, sweet vanilla, and sugared amber clings to her skin like the satin sheets tangled around her thighs, a testament to the work she’d been putting her body through for the last 30 minutes.

She exhales deeply, her fingers gliding down her stomach like they had a map to a hidden treasure. She needed this. A recalibration after surviving another week of being the smartest bitch in every room she entered.

Monday had been back-to-back labs. Tuesday, a grown man had cried over a broken grow light like it was a dead pet. By Friday, she’d survived two pop-up dispensary events, a tense meeting with her supplier, and a DM from a Tinder fling that read simply: “you up?”

She was not then.

But now she was. Wide awake. Lit up from the inside out, toes curling and jaw slack. Her breathing syncs with the pulse in her ears. She doesn’t rush the finish. This is a slow burn. A drawn-out love letter to herself written in soft gasps and low whimpers.

Said listen, baby, I know that I'm speedin' up this vibe

Is you gon' judge me if I fuck you 'fore I catch this flight?

No freakin' worries, I just want to get you comfortable

I need you now, but I don't wanna get your feelings broke

Her latest sex toy haul had proven successful. She’d finally given in to temptation and purchased the viral rose toy she’d seen all over Twitter. Its soft petals press snug against her clit, gently suckling her pearl with deadly percision. Not too much, not too little. Just enough vibration and focus to make her thighs tremble and her toes curl. She squirms against the sheets, hips grinding ever so slightly, like her body was trying to meet the toy halfway. Every nerve in her body buzzes like static.

She was right there. So close she could taste it, feel it rising in her like a heatwave. Her stomach clenches. Her spine arches. Her thighs start to shake. And then…

Let me tell you ‘bout this

Super fly, dirty, dirty

Third coast muddy water

Shawty pop that pussy if you wanna

Alexa springs to life without warning, her chirpy tone slicing through the air like a blade. Lyric groans dramatically, regretting every life choice that led her to this moment. The bass to Big K.R.I.T.’s Country Shit thumps hard like it knew what she’d been doing seconds ago.

“Bitch,” she mutters, dragging the back of her hand across her flushed chest as she sits up. Her mound still aches, lips swollen and begging. Her fingers hover over the screen like it is a landmine, and like an idiot, she answers.

“Whaaaaat?” she whines, voice thick, breathy, and unbothered by the fact that she is still glistening between her thighs.

Stack’s face fills the screen, lips twisted in a smug smirk. The glow of the streetlights cast him in shadow, but she could still make out his outfit. Signature maroon hoodie, gold chain, and that eternal ‘fuck-you’ confidence only 93 years of immortality could breed.

“Well hello to you too, Sunshine.” His tone drips with faux annoyance. The sound of heavy boots echoes through her speakers. He’s walking, eyes still that deep violet, evidence that he’d just finished feeding. “What took you so long to answer the phone?”

“I was busy.”

His smirk deepens as he climbs the steps to her building, moving like the night bent around him.

“Doing what?”

“Why?” she screeches, sliding a hand between her thighs in an effort to discreetly finish her mission. It wasn’t discreet enough.

“Babygirl if you was playing wit ya pussy just say that,” he teases, silver fangs glistening in the moonlight.

Lyric rolls her eyes so hard they nearly get stuck. “Goodnight, Elias.” She hovers her thumb over the red button, eager to return to her unfinished masterpiece of self-care.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he laughs, voice crackling with heat. He could see it. Her pouty lips, barely-there robe, the look of irritation and arousal bleeding together on her face. His dick throbs in his jeans. This woman would be the death of him, and he was already undead.

“I wrote something,” he says quickly, walking faster now, determined. “I want your opinion.”

Lyric’s interest flickers, but barely. Her thighs shift as her hand inches toward her rose toy, pink and blinking like a tiny little haloed demon.

“Can it wait until morning?” she pouts, grabbing the toy like it was a lifeline. “I really need to finish this.”

“It’s a poem,” he says, now right outside her apartment. “And it ends with me tongue deep in your soul.”

Her thumb freezes. He couldn’t be. Goddamn him.

“If you’re at my door, knock once and shut up.”

“If?” he grins. Then, black. A second later. Knock. Once. Just like she’d instructed. She stares at the door, toy still humming in her hand. This man was about to ruin her night. Again. And she was going to let him. Because sometimes self-care means letting the vampire in.

–

Do you think of me when you touch yourself?

The question is barely audible, but Lyric heard it loud and clear. Echoing in the back of her psyche like a never-ending song. She wants to curse herself for being here in this moment, trapped in his powerful gaze once more. She watches almost helplessly as he stalks towards her, fangs twinkling in the dimly lit space. He’s since ditched the hoodie, allowing her to stare at his bare, tattooed chest lustfully. His chest had always been one of her favorite things about him.

Do my words caress your mind the way my hands used to caress your body?

Committing every dip, curve, and dimple to memory

His voice is hypnotic, slowly luring her back into her most vulnerable state. He was the flame and she the moth, constantly drawing her into his aura, to use anyway he saw fit. 

I’ll ask again, do you think of me when you touch yourself?

Do your thighs still shake at the thought of me diving in

Plunging deeper and deeper into the abyss 

Exploring parts that you didn’t even know exist

Do you think I can still make you cum from just a kiss?

Do you?

Her eyes flutter closed, and she’s instantly transported back to their last sexual encounter. His body towering over hers, Cuban link chain thumping against his chest as his member thumped that sweet spot inside of her. 

“Stack..” 

Her moans were breathless as he continued to do the Lord’s work on her body. He looked down at her and flashed a devilish grin. 

“That’s not my name, Sunshine. Now say ‘ahh’.”

Do you still taste me on your tongue?

Does my essence linger on your senses?

Triggering earth-shattering orgasms as your mind replays all that I’ve done to you between those sheets

Her breath hitches, palms sweating the same way they did when he crossed her path for the very first time. He was different now. His once smooth, chestnut skin was now riddled with tattoos, a testament to how much he liked the way the times had changed. Instead of the slicked down do of old, he now sported a low, tapered fade. Immortality had been good to him.

“God he’s beautiful,” she muses to herself, finally opening her eyes to see him standing directly in front of her. 

Do you still scream my name as you bring yourself to completion time and time again?

Willing your fingers to work double time to make your love rain down the way I used to 

Do you?

He smiles and she freezes, knowing full well he meant what he’d said about being tongue deep in her soul when he was done. Before she could process the action, he catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up until their eyes lock. 

“I asked you a question, Sunshine.”

Do you think of me when you touch yourself?

Her throat is dry and wanting. She doesn’t answer with words, instead, she kisses him like her body had been aching for this exact chaos. She bites his plump lower lip hard enough to taste a hint of copper. It was different, but she liked it. He groans. Loud. Animalistic. He walks her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the couch. She falls with a gasp, and he follows, kneeling between her thighs, spreading them like scripture.

Where you been baby?

Waited for you all day

Waited for you to use the key

That opens my place

My heart starts trembling

As I hear your footsteps pace

Lock opens, doorknob turns

There appears your face

Beyoncé’s siren-like voice coos from the speaker as Stack presses kiss after kiss to her inner thighs like he’s laying offering to his goddess’s altar. His grip is rough, possessive. One hand anchors her leg over his shoulder while the other is splayed possessively across her stomach, holding her still because he knows she’ll try to run once he gets started.

His tongue flicks against her skin in lazy, teasing circles, dragging hot trails over the sensitive crease where thigh meets pelvis. Her hips twitch, desperate for contact, but he just chuckles against her. The vibrations make her shiver. Her fingers clench the couch cushion behind her head.

And when he finally reaches her dripping center, tongue dipping into her like a starved dog, Lyric sees stars. Not metaphorical stars. Not cutesy cartoon ones. Real ones. Galaxies behind her eyes. Pulsars in her chest. A blinding cosmic explosion behind her ribs as his tongue circles her clit, slow and deliberate, like he’s drawing sigils for a spell only her body can complete.

Speechless, all I can say is

Yes (Yes), yes (Yes), yes (Yes)

All I can say is

Yes (Yes), yes (Yes), yes (Yes)

He groans into her, and her hips jerk.

“Fuck, Stack!”

Her voice cracks, high and breathy, one hand flying to the back of his head to push him deeper into her sex. He grabs her thighs tighter, grounding her, eating like she’s the last meal before a century-long famine. Her legs fall open wider, trembling. Her eyes roll back, mouth slack as his tongue works her with surgical precision, lapping, sucking, flicking until the coil in her belly is so tight it feels like she’s going to spontaneously combust.

Then, without warning, he does it. Stack sinks his fangs into the supple flesh of her thigh, eyes fluttering closed at the sweet taste of her blood on his tongue. Lyric explodes in his mouth, clutching his head with both hands like she’s drowning, legs shaking as her orgasm rips through her like lightning. He doesn’t stop. He slows down just enough to ride the wave with her, kissing her through the aftershocks like he’s sealing a promise in the mess between her thighs.

He stands, admiring the sight beneath him. Lyric lay on the couch, beautiful sable breasts heaving as she pants. Her soft curls now a mess of frizz atop her head. He licks his lips, relishing in the delicious cocktail her blood and cum made. He presses a soft kiss to her temple before taking her spot on the couch. He allows her to rest against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down her back to ground her.

“Still think of me when you touch yourself?” he asks again, voice low and smug.

She doesn’t answer. She’s already asleep. Dripping. Dreaming. And completely ruined.

New Orleans, 1942

“What’s the matter, Cécile?” Angélique asks, noting her sister’s rigid posture in the rocking chair beside her.

“I smell sum.. Sum dat ain’t human,” the tiny witch replies, gaze fixed on the trees across the street from her house. 

“That ain’t good,” Angélique says, following her sister’s stare. Angélique takes a big whiff of air, nose scrunching at the scent. “That blood smell immortal.”

Cécile’s face soon turns from confusion to anger, her tiny body bolting from the rocking chair like lightning. Angélique quickly grabs the shotgun that rested between them.

“Who is it, Cile?” she exclaims, pointing the gun at the trees.

“There betta be a damn good reason why ya coward ass in at my gate, Elias Moore!” she fusses.

Stack winces at the harshness of her tone, but it was to be expected. He did just leave without warning. And he took Smoke with him. 

“Now you know I couldn’t stay away from ya too long na’ baby,” he coos, hoping his honeyed tone would soften the blow a little. He was wrong.

“Boy fuck you! Ain’t seen ya in 10 yeas, na’ ya wanna show up like ain’t nothin’ happened.”

“Fuck me? Shiiiit, you do that very well, Suga. And there’s a reason fa my absence. Na’ ya gone open da gate or do the Smokestack twins gotta sit out here all night?”

“Smoke is welcome hea, you ain’t,” she seethes.

“Told ya,” Smoke’s deep baritone calls from the shadows.

“Shut yo ass up,” Stack growls to his brother. “C’mon na’ Suge. You gone do ya ole man like dat?”

A blade similar to the one on his hip whizzes past his head, landing in the tree mere centimeters from him. 

“Next time, I won’t miss.”

“Wait a damn minute! He did what?!” Alexandria screeched, nearly choking on the smoke of the freshly pearled blunt she’d rolled. Her eyes were wide with excitement and mild disbelief at what I had just told her.

“You heard me, bitch,” I replied, sipping my glass of wine. This was girl’s weekend and what better way to kick it off than spilling the details of the day’s freaky deeky adventure.

“How the fuck did that even happen?” Kenya inquired, crossing the threshold to the kitchen. I smirked, biting my lip at the memory of what had happened only a few hours prior.

“Chill out,” I giggled. “I’ll start from the beginning…”

**

The day started like any other. After my morning meditation and journal session, I grabbed my phone, smiling wide at a particularly generous tip on my latest CamSoda release. Public masturbation was the theme this week and everyone seemed to love the clip of me in the back of the music hall, including my music professor.

“Thank you, Dr. Turner,” I said aloud as I ventured to my bathroom to begin my skincare routine. Once my face and body were squeaky clean, I slid over to my perfume wall to pick the day’s scent.

“Champagne Toast or Sunrise Woods?” I mused before settling on the Sunrise Woods. I’d picked it up during my latest mall adventure. Upon smelling it, I fell in love with the way the sandalwood and cashmere notes complimented my mocha skin as well as the way it layered with my cocoa vanilla shea butter. For it to be a Bath & Body Work scent, the combination was very grown and sexy. I then slid over to my closet to pick the day’s outfit. I was working from the office today so I needed something that was sexy, but still professional. I decided on a white mid-length blouse with a black pencil skirt and sheer black thigh highs with my favorite pair of So Kates.

The commute to work was surprisingly short, given the amount of traffic on the freeway. I parked in my usual spot and made my way to our shared office suite.

“Good morning, Ms. Baptiste. You look stunning as usual.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stevens,” I replied in the sweetest voice. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll have your schedule ready.”

“Take your time,” he replied, his voice laced with mild seduction. “I have something to handle before I get my morning started.”

“That sounds nasty, but I’m gonna let you have it,” I said with a chuckle. “Did you still want me to organize your email inbox?”

“Would you please? Every time I try, I get overwhelmed and frustrated and shut down the whole damn system,” he admits.

“No problem, I can get started on that right now. Would you mind bringing me a coffee since it looks like you were headed down to Starbucks?”

“Sure, caramel macchiato, right?”

“Look at my boss, remembering what I like! You get brownie points for that, Mr. Stevens.”

He huffed a laugh before turning on his heels to leave the suite. After compiling his schedule and sitting it on his desk, I began the gruesome task of organizing his emails. I compiled everything into folders based on importance and was about to click off before another tab caught my attention.

“What is this?” I ask aloud, clicking the folder. My eyes grew to the size of saucers when I saw the contents.

**

“So you are a freak.”

I lift my eyes slowly to meet his gaze. How he managed to get to Starbucks and back so fast is beyond me, but here he was standing in front of my desk.

“Did you like what you saw in the video, Ms. Baptiste?” he asked, seeming to stare directly into my soul.

I nodded as he began stripping out of his suit jacket and tie.

“Good, because I wanna see if you can do better.”

He casually strolls to my side of the desk, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the most beautiful body I had ever seen. Each ab was perfectly sculpted and riddled with intricately placed crocodile scars. When he was within arm's length, I reached out to touch, rubbing my hands along each scar. The sensation was electrifying. He grabbed my hand, sliding it down to the growing bulge in his pants, licking his lips when he noticed my mouth watering.

“Wanna taste?”

“Yes Daddy,” I moan.

“Good girl. Pull him out.”

I wasted no time undoing his belt, taking his dick as far back as my throat would allow. The moan I got in return sent the blood rushing to the apex of my thighs. He was bigger than I was used to, but that didn’t faze me as I continued to lick and slurp.

“So how do you wanna do this, baby girl? You wanna be cute and suck this dick like a lady, or can I fuck that face like the slut I know you are.”

I pulled off with a pop, lifting my head to meet his gaze.

“First of all, I’m a Princess and you will address me as such. Second of all, I’ll take the face fucking for $500 Alex.”

He grins slyly before his hand fisted my hair, using that as leverage to fuck my face at a ferocious pace. Spit dripped down my chin and onto my shirt as he pushed past my gag reflex. I groan, sliding my hand between my legs to ease the pressure building at my core.

“Who told you to touch my pussy?” he growls softly.

“N-Nobody, Daddy,” I whine, stroking his balls with my free hand.

“But you're doing it anyway. Disobedient little girl,” he chuckled darkly. “So how are you gonna make it up to me?”

Before I could answer, a shrill voice caught my attention.

“Lyric!”

My head whipped around at the sound of my name. I didn’t even realize that I had disassociated until I saw Ariana standing in front of me with her hands on her exceptionally wide hips.

“Huh?” I answered after realizing where I was.

“I asked of Mr. Stevens was back in his office. He and I have some things to discuss regarding my internship.”

“Oh yeah, he’s in there. Give me a second and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

She nodded as I walked to the adjacent door.

“Mr. Stevens, Ariana is here to see you. Umm, quick question.. Did you ever bring me my coffee?”

He blinked, before flashing an innocent smile. “You got your coffee three hours ago, Ms. Baptiste. It’s about time for your lunch break isn’t it?”

I checked the time and sure enough, it was 12:30 in the afternoon. Had I really been watching his homemade porn for 3 hours?

What the hell? I thought to myself, trying to wrap my mind around what the fuck was happening and whether or not I was losing my damn mind. He seemed to notice my struggle as he leaned forward on his elbows.

“You aight?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

I nodded quickly, smoothing my hands down my skirt. “Yes I’m fine, I opened the window to let in a little fresh air and it must've gotten too hot in my office. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“See you then, Lyric. You can send Ms. Banks in.”

**

There’s something so hot about doing something spicy where you really shouldn’t be doing it. After finishing my lunch, I made my way down to the employee parking lot. I pulled up the CamSoda app, opting to go live instead of filming a regular video.

“Who wants to see their goddess masturbating on her lunch break?” I asked seductively, pulling my rose toy from my bag. Once the video had a substantial amount of views, I began the show.

“Oooh fuck,” I moaned as the vibrator sucked my clit with precision. With one leg propped on my console and the other on my dashboard, I went to town on myself, occasionally looking around to make sure no one important could see. I imagined that the toy was Erik’s tongue, licking and sucking until there was nothing left. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I remembered one of the videos in the hidden folder. He had one of the other interns bent over his desk while he stroked her pussy with a vengeance.

“Oh shit, I’m about to cum,” I moaned, burying my face in my hair as my orgasm began to build. I squirmed and bucked against the seat and was just about to squirt when I heard a knock on my window. I opened my eyes to see Mr. Stevens staring back at me with a stern look on his face.

“Aww fuck,” I said readjusting my clothes. “Gotta cut this one short, babies. Love you guys!” I blew a kiss at the screen before ending the steam. I tucked the toy back into my bag and stepped out of the car, looking down at the pavement sheepishly.

“My office, 5 minutes,” was all he said before walking away.

“Mr. Stevens!” I called after him but he just kept walking. “Man damn!” I cursed loudly as I followed him. When I made it to our shared suite, I noticed that his office door was closed. I sat my purse on my desk before knocking softly.

“Mr. Stevens?”

“Come in, Lyric.”

I stepped into his office and before I could think, the words began flowing like diarrhea.

“Mr. Stevens, I’m so sorry. Please don’t fire me. It was a stupid mistake and I promise it’ll never happen again.”

He looks up from the legal pad that he had been writing on, twirling a pen between his hands.

“Ms. Baptiste I’ve only said two words to you. Calm down.”

I nodded, sitting down in the chair across from his desk to collect myself. I stared at the floor awaiting my punishment.

“Look at me.” His tone was soft, but his voice was stern. I bit my lip before lifting my head to meet his gaze.

“We’re both grown, Ms. Baptiste. So be honest with me, that’s not the first time you’ve done something like that, is it?”

I sighed softly. “No.”

“How many times have you done it before?”

“Four.”

“So you’ve recorded yourself masturbating on my time in my parking lot four times, correct?” he repeats, almost tauntingly.

“Yes, Mr. Stevens. But--” he puts a hand up to stop me from continuing.

“Do you think of me when you touch yourself, Ms. Baptiste?”

My mind went blank as I stared back at him. He simply chuckled before continuing.

“You know,” he said, scooting back from the desk. “If you’re gonna show the internet how wet your pussy gets from thinking about me, at least invite me so I can show them how messy she can really get.”

I’m sorry, what?

“O-Oh... I .. Umm,” I stuttered, watching him.

“C’mere,” he instructs. I comply, moving to sit on top of his desk.

“Thinking about me fucking you the way I fuck the girls in those videos gets you wet, huh?” He asked, sliding his hands up my thighs as he placed his body between my legs. My words were dead in my throat so I could only nod, but he understood.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he said, stroking my still throbbing pussy through my panties.

“I want it bad,” I replied in a needy tone. In a flash, my panties were pulled to the side and he was stroking me like a prisoner fresh out of a 20-year stint. My moans were loud and uncontrollable, but that didn’t stop him.

“You never answered my question, Lyric,” he teased, licking the shell of my ear. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Yeeesss,” I moaned, digging my nails in his thigh as he plunged deeper.

“You've been dreaming of the day I fucked you, huh? You've been wanting this dick bad, haven’t you?”

Why do men feel the need to ask questions when they’re tap-dancing on your g-spot? As if the answers they’re going to receive will be coherent or make sense. My pussy answered for me, sending a wave of juices down both of our thighs.

“Gushy ass, fat ass pussy,” he growled, sliding his hand up my body to grip my throat.

“Oh shit!” I screamed as I squirted, successfully wetting his entire lower half.

“Oh she’s a Super Soaker,” he laughed. “Do it again.”

He pulls out, slapping his dick on my clit, before diving back in.

“Eriiiiik!”

“Yeah, gimme that shit, Princess,” he encouraged, sending over the edge once more. Once his thrusts became erratic, I knew he was close.

“Where you want it, ma?”

I slid down off the desk and onto my knees, opening my mouth wide. He granted my wishes, releasing his thick load down my throat.

“Good fucking girl,” he moaned, smoothing his hand down the back of my head. I drank his unborns happily, before standing up to fix my skirt. He grabbed my chin, kissing me sloppily before pulling away.