["You certainly did. You will scour for another chance. Even if your relational status forbids, it won't stop your next advance..."]
You didn't expect this.
You didn't know what you expected, truthfully.
You did expect your attempts to miss.
But they didn't. She drug you in—it's lunacy.
"I— We're doing this now?!"
The immediacy didn't really matter.
A month. A year. A day. A week.
But a moment? Oh the flatter.
Before that moment, your attempts were meek.
"I was waiting for you to ask."
Peppermint overwhelms you.
It burns your lips.
Her hands are set to pursue,
and you move with her hips.
"Wear this."
Nothing is in sight.
All is black.
Already, your neck is marked by bites.
Already, she ravages your back.
"A...blindfold?"
"Merry Christmas."
Sheets of silk,
mixed with sweltering skin.
Skin of milk,
churning with that of gin.
"Please—"
"No. No names."
Your wrists were caught in her grasp,
and behind her, you stumbled.
Now, your hands are buried in the bed as you gasp.
And behind you, she mounts, grappled.
"Merry Christmas, from yours truly..."
The whisper still haunts the skin it crawled across.
Hard candy cracks between your teeth.
Her hands continue to dance, aggravation spreading like moss.
Impatience sets you to seethe.
"Just... Fucking..."
She hushes you. So sweetly. So tantalizing.
Your groans and whimpers seep through,
through the candy-cane, so appetizing.
It shatters in your mouth, your thoughts askew.
"You're not begging, are you?"
Your teeth grit.
You want to unravel.
"You fucking tease..." you spit.
You hope the crackle in your voice didn't tattle.
"Do you want this?"
"What do you think?!"
Her voice leaves your ear.
She slides off.
It's too much to bear,
the lack of her touch of Molotov.
"Come sit on Santa's lap."
"You little—"
With a (quite literal) blind ease, you comply.
She guides you to her, lips smoldering.
You've had none better—that you cannot lie.
In a way, her touch in comparison is sobering.
"God...you're perfect."
You purr against her,
rolling your hips against her,
gasping when she enters,
your moan melding into a blur.
"I-I need more."
Against your neck, she grins.
Your nails rake her warm back.
You feel her leave a dark mark of your sins.
If you didn't need to hide it, you'd put it on a plaque.
"Fuck... Fuck, don't—"
Your body swallows.
It shudders with her fingers inside.
As everything surges, nothing is left hollow.
Your heart thumps, fried.
"Is there anything more to this present?"
"Keep that blindfold on, then yes."
Her husk is bewitching.
The fucking gank.
With both of your lips stitching,
your eagerness has her allure to thank.
YOU ARE READING
Jori Collections: 2017-2021
FanfictionOne-shots of all Jori that I've written. These are based off of dates of publication (which I will put), so the writing will see a significant increase in quality as the stories go on. 2021 is (most likely) the last year where I have written one-sho...
