#extradirty
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
macklin celebrini has autism
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RMH
Noah Kahan
Cosimo Galluzzi
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
oozey mess
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KIROKAZE
will byers stan first human second
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@sistermelanie
Ava begging Beatrice to ride her face as Ava is being fucked by Lilith. Ava needing the opposite of Lilith-- to have her agency taken and have it be okay, have it be safe for the first time in her life, to know that she loves and is loved as she's being used for pleasure.
no sex without agency
once again and always thinking about bea using handjobs to get her way about something
bea leaning close, fingers at lilith’s waistband as she scowls and blushes and eventually tips her forehead toward bea’s.
feeling her rise up onto her toes, slipping her tongue in lilith’s mouth and then sucking on her own fingers. licking a long stripe across her palm before curling her wet hand around lilith’s shaft.
lilith already worked up and throbbing and bea smirking, “so, you agree we should stick to neutral colours for the hallway?”
lilith's hips jumping at the contact, pressing forward into bea's hand, but bea letting her fingers go lax, gentle on her shaft, teasing. "lily, the paint?"
breathless between them, panting, "but ava's-"
"idea is beautiful, but will need to be painted over when we move out." fingers running through the trimmed hair at the base of her cock. "it makes much more sense to do a sunrise on canvas so we can take it with us, hm?" palm dragged along her shaft, wet and warm against her skin. can barely focus on anything but the shape of bea's mouth as she speaks.
letting her eyes slip shut, feeling the dampness of bea’s spit, her fingers moving along the underside of lilith’s shaft. imagining her tongue there instead, her face tilted, playful, warm breath curving around lilith’s cock while her fingers tease at her slit.
the taste in her mouth when she surges up, hand replacing mouth and mouth replacing hand and both and lilith rutting into bea’s outline, whining and desperate for friction but beatrice slow, relentless.
staggering with bea, staggered by her, her quick ease and quicker hands, drawing her along forward, backward, her back to wall, her face to bea's, always always searching for her. finding her easy as breathing through the dark.
the wall bare now, pockmarked with nail holes beatrice had meticulously catalogued on move-in day, a folder in her photos app labeled and saved for later, for proof that there had been something lingering here even as they made the space their own. bare now, a blank canvas, and she can see ava's vision, layered through over weeks of early mornings on balconies and beaches and battlements. a new home, a new dawn, appreciated as it comes.
lilith can’t decide if it’s a mercy, how bea presses her hips into the wall, holding her compliant as she moves up and down her shaft.
tracing ridges and veins like she’s painting, like she’s running her palm over a stone at the beach, guessing at the composition. ava taking it and kissing it and trying to skip it against the incoming waves.
the suck and pull of bea's hollowed out mouth at her cock, tongue flattened along the underside of her shaft, heat and warmth and slick. she remembers, infrequently, shamefully, of the stretch of bea's cunt around her cock, the heat of her face, her downturned eyes. how it hurt to see her hurt like that, to see her doubt after so many years of faith.
lilith's scan of her face, less and less frequent in the months that have passed since, searching desperately for a sign that she should withdraw, pull back. never finding one and thankful for it, for the pull of bea's stupid little smirk around the girth of her cock, the quiet aptitude of hand and lips and tongue. for bea's head dipping forward when she rides lilith's fingers, seeking out a kiss, two, three, more, until she comes over lilith's hand.
once again and always thinking about bea using handjobs to get her way about something
bea leaning close, fingers at lilith’s waistband as she scowls and blushes and eventually tips her forehead toward bea’s.
feeling her rise up onto her toes, slipping her tongue in lilith’s mouth and then sucking on her own fingers. licking a long stripe across her palm before curling her wet hand around lilith’s shaft.
lilith already worked up and throbbing and bea smirking, “so, you agree we should stick to neutral colours for the hallway?”
lilith's hips jumping at the contact, pressing forward into bea's hand, but bea letting her fingers go lax, gentle on her shaft, teasing. "lily, the paint?"
breathless between them, panting, "but ava's-"
"idea is beautiful, but will need to be painted over when we move out." fingers running through the trimmed hair at the base of her cock. "it makes much more sense to do a sunrise on canvas so we can take it with us, hm?" palm dragged along her shaft, wet and warm against her skin. can barely focus on anything but the shape of bea's mouth as she speaks.
letting her eyes slip shut, feeling the dampness of bea’s spit, her fingers moving along the underside of lilith’s shaft. imagining her tongue there instead, her face tilted, playful, warm breath curving around lilith’s cock while her fingers tease at her slit.
the taste in her mouth when she surges up, hand replacing mouth and mouth replacing hand and both and lilith rutting into bea’s outline, whining and desperate for friction but beatrice slow, relentless.
staggering with bea, staggered by her, her quick ease and quicker hands, drawing her along forward, backward, her back to wall, her face to bea's, always always searching for her. finding her easy as breathing through the dark.
the wall bare now, pockmarked with nail holes beatrice had meticulously catalogued on move-in day, a folder in her photos app labeled and saved for later, for proof that there had been something lingering here even as they made the space their own. bare now, a blank canvas, and she can see ava's vision, layered through over weeks of early mornings on balconies and beaches and battlements. a new home, a new dawn, appreciated as it comes.
once again and always thinking about bea using handjobs to get her way about something
bea leaning close, fingers at lilith’s waistband as she scowls and blushes and eventually tips her forehead toward bea’s.
feeling her rise up onto her toes, slipping her tongue in lilith’s mouth and then sucking on her own fingers. licking a long stripe across her palm before curling her wet hand around lilith’s shaft.
lilith already worked up and throbbing and bea smirking, “so, you agree we should stick to neutral colours for the hallway?”
lilith's hips jumping at the contact, pressing forward into bea's hand, but bea letting her fingers go lax, gentle on her shaft, teasing. "lily, the paint?"
breathless between them, panting, "but ava's-"
"idea is beautiful, but will need to be painted over when we move out." fingers running through the trimmed hair at the base of her cock. "it makes much more sense to do a sunrise on canvas so we can take it with us, hm?" palm dragged along her shaft, wet and warm against her skin. can barely focus on anything but the shape of bea's mouth as she speaks.
Do you think Lilith will 🍆fuck Beatrice at any point or that doesn't do it for Bea?
there’s a post about that here
need my dick sucked so bad but i have this stupid ass vagina
sorry for always being weird and horny, I would stop but I don't want to
ava and lilith on other mornings, warm under the blankets, ava stirring in lilith’s arms. a sleepy “morning” and her hand in lilith’s pjs holding her.
lilith tense and then relaxing when ava makes the same happy noise as after her first sip of orange juice straight from the carton, after flipping a pancake without dropping it on the floor. ava’s mouth on her neck and this is easy, easy sometimes this is easy
so typical for them, half-awake in bea's departure, to roll over so lilith's spooning ava now, warm against her, cock hard at the small of her back. ava squirming under the blanket to pull her sleep shirt off as lilith frees her cock, slips it between ava's thighs. sheathing herself in ava's cunt then sliding her hand over ava's hip, up her side, palming her breast as she starts a slow rhythm.
bea forgetting her headphones on the bedside table and circling back for them, caught by the slow movement of hips beneath blankets. ava, slow smile, telling her to forego the run, just this once, and stay. watch. lilith pulling back the blanket just enough to reveal her hand on ava's breast, nipple caught between her fingers, ava's back arched to push up into lilith's hand
beatrice, stepping soft around the bed, not sure where to place herself and lilith’s slow smile, making ava whimper as she pulls out, pushes back inside.
creak of the mattress as bea sits, drawn by that flash of… smugness? lightness? that familiar drawling confidence on lilith’s face. chest aching from how she misses it and loves lilith as she is now. full of lines along which she has almost - but not quite - shattered.
her hip at ava's shoulder, and ava shifting, her head to bea's thigh, their tangled hands into the cradle of bea's legs. the backs of ava's knuckles brushing, pressing, against the seam of bea's running shorts, but she shakes her head, guides her away. finds her voice, "not right now, darling. i'd just like to watch you be good for lilith." soothing her free hand across ava's cheek to take any sting from the rejection.
lilith propping herself up on her elbow and that hand in bea's hair guiding bea down to meet her, to shudder into the press of teeth into her bottom lip. nails scraping across bea's scalp as lilith turns her head, their cheeks pressed together as they watch ava work her hips back into lilith's, fucking herself on her cock
ava and lilith on other mornings, warm under the blankets, ava stirring in lilith’s arms. a sleepy “morning” and her hand in lilith’s pjs holding her.
lilith tense and then relaxing when ava makes the same happy noise as after her first sip of orange juice straight from the carton, after flipping a pancake without dropping it on the floor. ava’s mouth on her neck and this is easy, easy sometimes this is easy
so typical for them, half-awake in bea's departure, to roll over so lilith's spooning ava now, warm against her, cock hard at the small of her back. ava squirming under the blanket to pull her sleep shirt off as lilith frees her cock, slips it between ava's thighs. sheathing herself in ava's cunt then sliding her hand over ava's hip, up her side, palming her breast as she starts a slow rhythm.
bea forgetting her headphones on the bedside table and circling back for them, caught by the slow movement of hips beneath blankets. ava, slow smile, telling her to forego the run, just this once, and stay. watch. lilith pulling back the blanket just enough to reveal her hand on ava's breast, nipple caught between her fingers, ava's back arched to push up into lilith's hand
ava and lilith on other mornings, warm under the blankets, ava stirring in lilith’s arms. a sleepy “morning” and her hand in lilith’s pjs holding her.
lilith tense and then relaxing when ava makes the same happy noise as after her first sip of orange juice straight from the carton, after flipping a pancake without dropping it on the floor. ava’s mouth on her neck and this is easy, easy sometimes this is easy
so typical for them, half-awake in bea's departure, to roll over so lilith's spooning ava now, warm against her, cock hard at the small of her back. ava squirming under the blanket to pull her sleep shirt off as lilith frees her cock, slips it between ava's thighs. sheathing herself in ava's cunt then sliding her hand over ava's hip, up her side, palming her breast as she starts a slow rhythm.
ava always sleeping with her hand down lilith's pj bottoms (😏) send ask
lilith waking up and tracing her fingers along ava’s wrist. entranced by the fullness of ava’s palm, warm against her cock through her boxers.
lilith trying to step around the issue of waking up hard but ava “no no i looked this up lil it’s related to, like, REM sleep cycles” and lilith “i thought beatrice went for her morning run why am i on a wikipedia page right now?”
ava retaliating by straddling her in bed, rubbing at her through the fabric of her boxers (they’re soft, “you and your thread count bullshit” and lilith rolling her eyes, gripping ava’s wrist to guide her hand back to where she wants it, needs it).
"fuck you," spat into the pillow.
"not a very polite way to request that."
what hurts the most, as ava lays there with her palms aching, is how gentle it was. her fingers dragging along lilith’s leg as she moved - so deft, so much more used to having her body than ava.
the slippage of her and that downturn of her mouth before she bullied it into a hard line.
so ava looks at her, breathless. sore wrists and her hands dusted cold in the morning air that falls inside the room from where bea cracked open the window on her way out, pulled the drapes back carefully so the chill could only steal inside.
how near she and adriel had stood at the ark when ava walked to her second- third? death. lilith's aborted move towards his side. she wakes up sometimes between them with her hands cupping her eye sockets, tears leaking out from beneath her palms as she whimpers, aborts that sound too, flickers from between them and then the sound of the bathroom sink. the roots at her forehead damp when she crawls back between them in a fresh shirt, both turned towards her but waiting until she presses her face to beatrice's shoulder before they touch her. bea's lips against the side of her head, ava's hand on her arm, a brief touch, retraction.
lilith rarely kneels before either of them, not since ava had put both hands on her head and guided her forward and she'd lost herself somewhere in memory, come back with her head on bea's lap and ava's blood still clotting beneath her fingernails. ava clinical, detached, when she'd given her the rundown after lilith had pressed. no fear in it, just a desire to protect lilith from herself, her actions, and that had somehow stung more.
the conversations, then, and beatrice's research, her folders and binders and the laser printer in their shared office running almost constantly. darker days, when lilith had pressed herself into corners and gaps and tried to disappear without disappearing, to stretch the world thin around her but not break through. watching, sometimes, as ava leaned forward over beatrice's shoulder to feed her a bite of the bruschetta she'd gotten into making almost as a habit, to read something beatrice pointed out to her.
giving her space to think, to ruminate, to choose to stay. she'd realized that after the fact, weeks later, ava four-drink-loose and in her lap, lax against her, the murmur of "I'm glad you chose us" freezing her to the marrow.
taste of white rum and sugar in ava’s mouth when lilith kissed her then. at first she was featherlight, lips parting under the barest tease but hardening, angles changing as she felt lilith sob once, twice. right into her mouth.
spider-creep of ava’s fingers on her shoulder as she pulled away.
hard, then, not to laugh at the fierce concentration on her face and the spit trailing from her mouth. no telling who it belonged to.
her eyes like ink dropped into milk as she stared, lighter as she tipped back close. trusting, though she had bled for it before, told lilith how she’d cut so close to the femoral artery. how lilith kissed that spot later with ava’s legs spread open, every touch holding a note of theft.
(because ava should have walked away. how could she stay after they’d scrubbed the bloodstains to a dark spot on the carpet? lilith working with a knife to cut it away in a stripe from wall to wall that’s still mismatched).
(“there goes our safety deposit,” ava had laughed, sitting on the bed with her nintendo… thing while lilith worked on hands and knees. “sure i can’t help?”
lilith didn’t dare - not then - to pull her expression into a scowl. spoke bleakly to the bare wood, “i can do it. steadier hands.”
“okay.” soft, comfortable. ava staying around her deliberately like every lounging posture, every “FUCK. lilith come fucking over here i found a shiny pokemon!” every “can i kiss you?” and “think fast!” before lilith barely dodged a flying protein bar. all of it another way of saying “i trust you.”
lilith could not imagine why).
that night, she’d watched ava get drunk, slur something about a lap-dance but then just lean into lilith’s chest. probably she hadn’t meant much by it, but lilith could still feel ice sitting in her veins as ava worked back in time, measured her words. hand dropping off lilith’s shoulder, face crumpling into a frown, “sorry i made you cry.”
lilith darted forward, kissed her, felt ava chase her lips briefly before she had to put a hand down on lilith’s chest to steady herself. still almost headbutted her, “oops.”
but of course none of it had been a mistake. all of it a choice, good and bad. hers to live with.
she let ava find her balance, nodded to the question in her eyes. felt ava’s tongue scrape along the roof of her mouth as she licked into her. white rum, sugar.
ava
"okay," she repeats now, rocking into the soft touch of lilith's hand, and "i'm ava," for the thrill that always spins through her when she's able to coax a fragment of a laugh from lilith's chest, before lilith can claw it back. dropping back to serious, because this is how fractures start, if you let them go unchecked. "i shouldn't have pressed, not after the kneeing comment. i should have realized that was a shift towards yellow. i'm sorry."
lilith's shoulders jump in a shrug, subside, her mouth working soundlessly.
it's never easy with them, not the way it is between beatrice and ava, where tempers flare and wane into apologies almost as quickly as they'd first arisen.
it hadn't been like that after, beatrice staunchly claims, always clinging so hard to the pretense that she wasn't so hopelessly enamoured with ava that she'd forgiven her as soon as the ark had spat her back out.
it hadn't been like that after, ava supports, always a bit dimmer for the discussion. camped out on the balcony in the slow early light of dawn, hands tucked in the crooks of her knees for warmth. and sometimes there's this little voice in the back of my head telling me she doesn't trust me not to do it again. it's not easy, lil, but it's worth it.
lilith runs a hand through her hair, growls as it catches on a tangle. it almost makes her cry. ridiculous.
“i can’t speak sometimes,” she admits - as though it’s admitting to anything, ava and bea both attuned to her particular brand of quiet.
beatrice showing lilith a simplified hand-talk she taught herself from youtube videos because there are days scattered here and there when beatrice doesn’t speak either.
ava always sleeping with her hand down lilith's pj bottoms (😏) send ask
lilith waking up and tracing her fingers along ava’s wrist. entranced by the fullness of ava’s palm, warm against her cock through her boxers.
lilith trying to step around the issue of waking up hard but ava “no no i looked this up lil it’s related to, like, REM sleep cycles” and lilith “i thought beatrice went for her morning run why am i on a wikipedia page right now?”
ava retaliating by straddling her in bed, rubbing at her through the fabric of her boxers (they’re soft, “you and your thread count bullshit” and lilith rolling her eyes, gripping ava’s wrist to guide her hand back to where she wants it, needs it).
"fuck you," spat into the pillow.
"not a very polite way to request that."
what hurts the most, as ava lays there with her palms aching, is how gentle it was. her fingers dragging along lilith’s leg as she moved - so deft, so much more used to having her body than ava.
the slippage of her and that downturn of her mouth before she bullied it into a hard line.
so ava looks at her, breathless. sore wrists and her hands dusted cold in the morning air that falls inside the room from where bea cracked open the window on her way out, pulled the drapes back carefully so the chill could only steal inside.
how near she and adriel had stood at the ark when ava walked to her second- third? death. lilith's aborted move towards his side. she wakes up sometimes between them with her hands cupping her eye sockets, tears leaking out from beneath her palms as she whimpers, aborts that sound too, flickers from between them and then the sound of the bathroom sink. the roots at her forehead damp when she crawls back between them in a fresh shirt, both turned towards her but waiting until she presses her face to beatrice's shoulder before they touch her. bea's lips against the side of her head, ava's hand on her arm, a brief touch, retraction.
lilith rarely kneels before either of them, not since ava had put both hands on her head and guided her forward and she'd lost herself somewhere in memory, come back with her head on bea's lap and ava's blood still clotting beneath her fingernails. ava clinical, detached, when she'd given her the rundown after lilith had pressed. no fear in it, just a desire to protect lilith from herself, her actions, and that had somehow stung more.
the conversations, then, and beatrice's research, her folders and binders and the laser printer in their shared office running almost constantly. darker days, when lilith had pressed herself into corners and gaps and tried to disappear without disappearing, to stretch the world thin around her but not break through. watching, sometimes, as ava leaned forward over beatrice's shoulder to feed her a bite of the bruschetta she'd gotten into making almost as a habit, to read something beatrice pointed out to her.
giving her space to think, to ruminate, to choose to stay. she'd realized that after the fact, weeks later, ava four-drink-loose and in her lap, lax against her, the murmur of "I'm glad you chose us" freezing her to the marrow.
taste of white rum and sugar in ava’s mouth when lilith kissed her then. at first she was featherlight, lips parting under the barest tease but hardening, angles changing as she felt lilith sob once, twice. right into her mouth.
spider-creep of ava’s fingers on her shoulder as she pulled away.
hard, then, not to laugh at the fierce concentration on her face and the spit trailing from her mouth. no telling who it belonged to.
her eyes like ink dropped into milk as she stared, lighter as she tipped back close. trusting, though she had bled for it before, told lilith how she’d cut so close to the femoral artery. how lilith kissed that spot later with ava’s legs spread open, every touch holding a note of theft.
(because ava should have walked away. how could she stay after they’d scrubbed the bloodstains to a dark spot on the carpet? lilith working with a knife to cut it away in a stripe from wall to wall that’s still mismatched).
(“there goes our safety deposit,” ava had laughed, sitting on the bed with her nintendo… thing while lilith worked on hands and knees. “sure i can’t help?”
lilith didn’t dare - not then - to pull her expression into a scowl. spoke bleakly to the bare wood, “i can do it. steadier hands.”
“okay.” soft, comfortable. ava staying around her deliberately like every lounging posture, every “FUCK. lilith come fucking over here i found a shiny pokemon!” every “can i kiss you?” and “think fast!” before lilith barely dodged a flying protein bar. all of it another way of saying “i trust you.”
lilith could not imagine why).
that night, she’d watched ava get drunk, slur something about a lap-dance but then just lean into lilith’s chest. probably she hadn’t meant much by it, but lilith could still feel ice sitting in her veins as ava worked back in time, measured her words. hand dropping off lilith’s shoulder, face crumpling into a frown, “sorry i made you cry.”
lilith darted forward, kissed her, felt ava chase her lips briefly before she had to put a hand down on lilith’s chest to steady herself. still almost headbutted her, “oops.”
but of course none of it had been a mistake. all of it a choice, good and bad. hers to live with.
she let ava find her balance, nodded to the question in her eyes. felt ava’s tongue scrape along the roof of her mouth as she licked into her. white rum, sugar.
ava
"okay," she repeats now, rocking into the soft touch of lilith's hand, and "i'm ava," for the thrill that always spins through her when she's able to coax a fragment of a laugh from lilith's chest, before lilith can claw it back. dropping back to serious, because this is how fractures start, if you let them go unchecked. "i shouldn't have pressed, not after the kneeing comment. i should have realized that was a shift towards yellow. i'm sorry."
lilith's shoulders jump in a shrug, subside, her mouth working soundlessly.
it's never easy with them, not the way it is between beatrice and ava, where tempers flare and wane into apologies almost as quickly as they'd first arisen.
it hadn't been like that after, beatrice staunchly claims, always clinging so hard to the pretense that she wasn't so hopelessly enamoured with ava that she'd forgiven her as soon as the ark had spat her back out.
it hadn't been like that after, ava supports, always a bit dimmer for the discussion. camped out on the balcony in the slow early light of dawn, hands tucked in the crooks of her knees for warmth. and sometimes there's this little voice in the back of my head telling me she doesn't trust me not to do it again. it's not easy, lil, but it's worth it.
ava always sleeping with her hand down lilith's pj bottoms (😏) send ask
lilith waking up and tracing her fingers along ava’s wrist. entranced by the fullness of ava’s palm, warm against her cock through her boxers.
lilith trying to step around the issue of waking up hard but ava “no no i looked this up lil it’s related to, like, REM sleep cycles” and lilith “i thought beatrice went for her morning run why am i on a wikipedia page right now?”
ava retaliating by straddling her in bed, rubbing at her through the fabric of her boxers (they’re soft, “you and your thread count bullshit” and lilith rolling her eyes, gripping ava’s wrist to guide her hand back to where she wants it, needs it).
"fuck you," spat into the pillow.
"not a very polite way to request that."
what hurts the most, as ava lays there with her palms aching, is how gentle it was. her fingers dragging along lilith’s leg as she moved - so deft, so much more used to having her body than ava.
the slippage of her and that downturn of her mouth before she bullied it into a hard line.
so ava looks at her, breathless. sore wrists and her hands dusted cold in the morning air that falls inside the room from where bea cracked open the window on her way out, pulled the drapes back carefully so the chill could only steal inside.
how near she and adriel had stood at the ark when ava walked to her second- third? death. lilith's aborted move towards his side. she wakes up sometimes between them with her hands cupping her eye sockets, tears leaking out from beneath her palms as she whimpers, aborts that sound too, flickers from between them and then the sound of the bathroom sink. the roots at her forehead damp when she crawls back between them in a fresh shirt, both turned towards her but waiting until she presses her face to beatrice's shoulder before they touch her. bea's lips against the side of her head, ava's hand on her arm, a brief touch, retraction.
lilith rarely kneels before either of them, not since ava had put both hands on her head and guided her forward and she'd lost herself somewhere in memory, come back with her head on bea's lap and ava's blood still clotting beneath her fingernails. ava clinical, detached, when she'd given her the rundown after lilith had pressed. no fear in it, just a desire to protect lilith from herself, her actions, and that had somehow stung more.
the conversations, then, and beatrice's research, her folders and binders and the laser printer in their shared office running almost constantly. darker days, when lilith had pressed herself into corners and gaps and tried to disappear without disappearing, to stretch the world thin around her but not break through. watching, sometimes, as ava leaned forward over beatrice's shoulder to feed her a bite of the bruschetta she'd gotten into making almost as a habit, to read something beatrice pointed out to her.
giving her space to think, to ruminate, to choose to stay. she'd realized that after the fact, weeks later, ava four-drink-loose and in her lap, lax against her, the murmur of "I'm glad you chose us" freezing her to the marrow.
ava always sleeping with her hand down lilith's pj bottoms (😏) send ask
lilith waking up and tracing her fingers along ava’s wrist. entranced by the fullness of ava’s palm, warm against her cock through her boxers.
lilith trying to step around the issue of waking up hard but ava “no no i looked this up lil it’s related to, like, REM sleep cycles” and lilith “i thought beatrice went for her morning run why am i on a wikipedia page right now?”
ava retaliating by straddling her in bed, rubbing at her through the fabric of her boxers (they’re soft, “you and your thread count bullshit” and lilith rolling her eyes, gripping ava’s wrist to guide her hand back to where she wants it, needs it).
"fuck you," spat into the pillow.
"not a very polite way to request that."
Do you think Lilith always experienced some level of gender dysphoria? Like, she always just ignored it because she was supposed to ignore worldly concerns in favor of halo bearing training 24/7, but I think it was always there and once she gets a minute to stop and really think about it Lilith would just be, “gender? I don’t care for it.”
Bonus points if Ava starts referring to her as ‘hot priest’ and Lilith finds she’s into it lol
so in general i don’t really think of lilith as having gender dysphoria. to me it’s more a case of her… reclaiming her girlhood from the hands that wanted to squash it. stealing it back from the shadow of a cross, a cruciform sword, from every grasping hand that wanted to brandish girl against her.
wicked hearts using it to call death by its other name - duty - and to take her as far from something alive and soft and imperfect to the edge of a blade to the scalding touch of the halo as the only thing that would ever hold her. just look at s2 when she rejects her vows and starts wearing her makeup and her butterfly tee and there’s something so nice about that. so free.
warrior nun is staunchly about agency it’s lilith and ava and bea all rejecting what the world said they had to be. what they were told about themselves.
lilith as a sacrifice, a vessel, dead girl walking carved into the perfect shape and getting so lost without the walls that hemmed her in. then lilith getting to fly and falling in love with beatrice and ava because she’s not a knife or a monster (she is, but it’s okay life is about accepting the monstrous things we carry) she’s herself, belongs to herself and i think getting to feel like a girl… bea kissing her temple and ava holding her and lilith holding onto them in return. the nebulous turbulent beautiful shape of being a girl and exploring that with her hands and her claws and the moon-shadows of her wings. i think that’s good.
sopping wet lilith getting a blanket and a hot chocolate and cuddles, all tousle-haired and sleepy and still pressing into ava's touch as a given
ava turning, tasting her, tongue in her mouth - notes of… lilith, warm sugar.
she steadies lilith’s hand on the mug and feels a laugh touch the back of her throat, “you know that i’m an excellent shot, don’t you? i can hold my hand steady.”
ava, pressing at lilith through her sweats, under the blanket. “not in my experience you can’t.”
the wine stain growing on the sheets the first time ava had fucked beatrice in her lap, fingers going limp on the glass at the press of ava's ass against her pelvis. back before, what feels so long ago, when everything had been new and fragile and it had felt such a miracle that they would even consider touching her. beatrice gathering the glass up half-full, too fucked-out for her usual rapid fire reaction time, the lean line of her throat working as she sipped at the remains. ava reaching back to pat awkwardly at lilith's face when she'd cringed at the mess, at the stain, red spreading like blood at her hip, feeling an intrusion.
"that's why bea got a mattress cover, lily. no harm done."
there’s a slant of that near-grief on her face now. recalling how often she’s slipped right out of ava’s hands and onto the rain-slick tiles of a rooftop, fetched up next to a chimney where she’s invisible to windows, to the ground, bared to the sky.
rain slick tiles and the slick drying between her thighs, the press of ava’s mouth too much because she can still see her claws punched through ava’s flesh and her pleading with her to stop, help, begging lilith to be something good for once in her life.
and feeling ava whimper-sigh against her clit was too much, too close and her close and unworthy of it. ava’s never worshipped anything in her life but the sunrise and beatrice and how could lilith make her scale-haunted body equal to that?
disappearing is easy.
coming back later is not - wet just like today but shying from ava’s attempts to help, letting the inexpertly made hot chocolate grow cold on the coffee table.
too many marshmallows growing bloated and thick and lilith hunched in the armchair willing her wings to stay absent because it would be too humiliating to bunch them out here. to hide behind what she is. a monster with her inside, her truth her ugliness made manifest in the shape of what has killed so many of her friends, sisters, people she was cruel to until they were dead. (so soft with them then, down in the catacombs brushing their hair and laying kisses to their foreheads. would she have treated beatrice the same, if she’d-?)
no. no wings.
then ava, tending close in slow elliptical orbits, shy and softly draped in one of lilith’s hoodies. touching first her jawline like her fingers were moths landing on burning paper. or papyrus - and what had beatrice told her about that? sheets joined side by side and rolled together into a scroll. together, together. lilith’s wings are only part of her sometimes.
“it’s okay lil, hmm? let me touch them?”
(let me touch you?)
looking up, tears streaked on her cheeks but ava didn’t tease about them. leaning down, taking each salty drop onto her tongue. the tip touching her again, again, like a repetition of “safe, you’re safe” and lilith let out a half-sob, tried to hide it in the palm of ava’s hand where it rested down close to her chin.
wings out, papery, rustling like pages in the wind like beatrice reading on the balcony. ava’s hands pressed firm, tracing the shape of divinium bones, of veiny membrane tensed between them.
“they’re so warm,” her mouth a half-smile. her lips brushing on lilith’s wings, tongue following the webbed pathways of veins.
that time, they fell asleep together wrapped in those wings, the bone-tips casting half-moon shadows down. ava tucked into her side, forehead damp against the skin of her neck. breath spilling down lilith’s chest. it took her a long time to sleep, but she did. she did.
now, forehead still pressed to lilith's neck, palm firm where it cups lilith through her sweats. "i thought bea got you a rain jacket for when you wanted to play gargoyle"
"grotes-" lilith starts, but ava shakes her head.
"nuh uh, gargoyle, on account of you carrying all that water away from whatever building you were camped out on." her grin is bright against lilith's collarbone.
"i was under the impression you liked me wet," lilith replies, straining for casual as ava's thumb traces the shadow of her shaft through her layers.
"true, I do." ava's tongue flickering out across a patch of scales before she kisses it, lips scalding. "but I also like you without pneumonia, so."
she feels odd, then, like a teenager overcome with the urge to say in a small voice, “you like me?”
but instead she huffs out a note somewhere between grumpy and in love, feeling ava lick a broader stripe across her throat, where the scales are as familiar as home but less welcoming.
ava moving beneath her sweats, beneath the cup of her palm, something lewd to this, to feeling the touch of her not only along the length of her cock but against the tender flesh of her hand, the combination of slight movements and soft fabric sending lightning burst signals up her arm even as her hips rut up into the press of ava's palm, her hand, her fingers. nerve endings like a firestorm beneath her skin, set ablaze by the friction of ava's touch. can't tell if she's longing for more tinder or to be extinguished. doesn't care, not with the tease of ava's clever thumb at her slit, of ava's clever mouth at her pulse, trying to pull her apart, to consume her.
lilith might be able to tear through space, but ava tears into her with even more ease. it had been embarrassing, before, the weight of ava's gaze on her, no shred of pity to it but understanding and all the worse for it. the way ava had slowed around her, telegraphed her motions, made each attempt at touch so clear and transparent and timed to allow lilith the choice to accept it. clumsy in so many things but not in that, not in the grace she'd so easily given lilith that she'd thought she'd never come anywhere near close to deserving.
soaked through today not from panicked flight but from the common thrill of allowing herself to be caught out in the rain. beatrice's gift of a jacket left hanging in their closet as she flung herself headlong into the elements for the pure joy of the kiss of rain on her skin, of the way lightning tingled through her on its way to the ground, wings capturing the air currents as she bobbed amongst the clouds. ava's calculating gaze no longer an embarrassment when she'd tumbled back through their balcony door with a laugh still clinging warm to her mouth, when she'd darted forward to press it into the cave of ava's mouth, to secret it there in the safety of her lungs.
the towel between ava's hands an undoing in itself, she going up on tiptoes and then aloft to wring water from lilith's hair around the fumbled haste of lilith stripping her sopping wet clothes off and depositing them in the tub. her hand skating across lilith's cock then, brief, promising, before she looped the towel around lilith's neck and tugged her down into a kiss, shoved her gently towards the bedroom.
hot chocolate and marshmallows, warm sweats and ava, in her lap, trying to work out her mood, how to approach this wild and windswept lilith. the ease of it, of them, mouthy and wordless all at once, of ava's hand down her sweats and that promise coming to fruition as ava coaxes her hard in her palm, smirks against her neck.
lilith finds herself rutting into ava’s palm, impatient, head tipped back. trying to swallow sounds before she can make them but ava’s mouth busy at her neck whispering, “s’okay lil. it’s just me.”
and it’s never been just her.
ava, a thief in the night and lilith stealing her through space, pushing her through walls and that stupid skylight in the manor, over her family crest.
ava like a stab wound leaking light, ava like a prayer muttered into the dark.
lilith whines as ava moves - half the time she doesn’t know what words to use. tangled up in language and what is this? a handjob? a quick fuck as lilith’s hair dries and turns wavy from the acidity of the rain?
she doesn’t know the right words, but there is ava’s palm, her thumb at lilith’s slit, sticky-fingered from the precum.
(and that’s another word for thief, right? sticky fingers).
lilith laughs, feels ava pause at her neck but keep right on fucking her. running her hand right up to the base of lilith’s cock to feel it twitch against the inside of her wrist.
she’s hard now and wants more, to feel the tightness of ava’s grip, or her cunt or her clever mouth. hollow cheeks and eyes glassy, choking on her but unafraid, trusting lilith’s hand in her hair guiding her up, down. never letting her get too far away.
ava draws her lips back, laughs after lilith without knowing why. just the sound startles it from her. lilith feels breathless about that.
“what’s so funny?” ava asks, pumping at her shaft. a little faster, a little firmer. presses against lilith, breath fanning up to touch her face.
lilith tries to speak but ava’s tricky. she’s a thief and steals the words away with a brush of her thumb, spreading cum in a quick circle. lilith gasps instead, grips ava’s hand and again it’s so frantic so informal so lewd to feel what ava’s doing in her hand and on her cock. both at once.
“try again.”
“it would take too long to explain.” lilith manages, finally, hips thrusting up into ava’s hand.
“fine, tell me later.” ava shifts her posture, for leverage, fucking lilith faster and faster, pulling her face to the side with the drag of her mouth on lilith’s jaw.
“you look fucked,” she murmurs, licking at lilith’s lips.
“i a-am.” again, a whine dragged into the middle of her words. “no need to-”
another quick swipe of ava’s thumb, “what? rub it in?”
another laugh and she’s there, laughing soft, sore with the immensity of her desire as ava fucks her, making lilith’s hand keep pace with hers.
wet fingers sliding along lilith’s shaft until she’s leaking, hips rutting up of their own accord according to the drag of ava’s fingers. gentle, hard, and ava’s almost as undone by it. breathing hard into lilith’s neck as she takes lilith in her hand and fucks her until she’s burying her face in ava’s shoulder, putting tears into the fabric, gripping her hand tightly to pull it up and down her cock.
she comes with a cry that reminds her of how lightning splits the sky when you’re in it, freezing. that flash of light and sound chasing its heels as lilith chases ava’s hand and the world breaks apart behind her eyes.
and it’s so dark after, but warm. she lets ava drag cum-wet fingers up her stomach, dotting at her throat before she slides one finger into lilith’s mouth.
and just like she did with the chocolate, the marshmallow, ava chases that taste in turn, sighing into lilith’s mouth and she realises all at once that she’s on the ground again. flightless, but as open as she’s ever felt here in the glow ava casts with everything she does.
sopping wet lilith getting a blanket and a hot chocolate and cuddles, all tousle-haired and sleepy and still pressing into ava's touch as a given
ava turning, tasting her, tongue in her mouth - notes of… lilith, warm sugar.
she steadies lilith’s hand on the mug and feels a laugh touch the back of her throat, “you know that i’m an excellent shot, don’t you? i can hold my hand steady.”
ava, pressing at lilith through her sweats, under the blanket. “not in my experience you can’t.”
the wine stain growing on the sheets the first time ava had fucked beatrice in her lap, fingers going limp on the glass at the press of ava's ass against her pelvis. back before, what feels so long ago, when everything had been new and fragile and it had felt such a miracle that they would even consider touching her. beatrice gathering the glass up half-full, too fucked-out for her usual rapid fire reaction time, the lean line of her throat working as she sipped at the remains. ava reaching back to pat awkwardly at lilith's face when she'd cringed at the mess, at the stain, red spreading like blood at her hip, feeling an intrusion.
"that's why bea got a mattress cover, lily. no harm done."
there’s a slant of that near-grief on her face now. recalling how often she’s slipped right out of ava’s hands and onto the rain-slick tiles of a rooftop, fetched up next to a chimney where she’s invisible to windows, to the ground, bared to the sky.
rain slick tiles and the slick drying between her thighs, the press of ava’s mouth too much because she can still see her claws punched through ava’s flesh and her pleading with her to stop, help, begging lilith to be something good for once in her life.
and feeling ava whimper-sigh against her clit was too much, too close and her close and unworthy of it. ava’s never worshipped anything in her life but the sunrise and beatrice and how could lilith make her scale-haunted body equal to that?
disappearing is easy.
coming back later is not - wet just like today but shying from ava’s attempts to help, letting the inexpertly made hot chocolate grow cold on the coffee table.
too many marshmallows growing bloated and thick and lilith hunched in the armchair willing her wings to stay absent because it would be too humiliating to bunch them out here. to hide behind what she is. a monster with her inside, her truth her ugliness made manifest in the shape of what has killed so many of her friends, sisters, people she was cruel to until they were dead. (so soft with them then, down in the catacombs brushing their hair and laying kisses to their foreheads. would she have treated beatrice the same, if she’d-?)
no. no wings.
then ava, tending close in slow elliptical orbits, shy and softly draped in one of lilith’s hoodies. touching first her jawline like her fingers were moths landing on burning paper. or papyrus - and what had beatrice told her about that? sheets joined side by side and rolled together into a scroll. together, together. lilith’s wings are only part of her sometimes.
“it’s okay lil, hmm? let me touch them?”
(let me touch you?)
looking up, tears streaked on her cheeks but ava didn’t tease about them. leaning down, taking each salty drop onto her tongue. the tip touching her again, again, like a repetition of “safe, you’re safe” and lilith let out a half-sob, tried to hide it in the palm of ava’s hand where it rested down close to her chin.
wings out, papery, rustling like pages in the wind like beatrice reading on the balcony. ava’s hands pressed firm, tracing the shape of divinium bones, of veiny membrane tensed between them.
“they’re so warm,” her mouth a half-smile. her lips brushing on lilith’s wings, tongue following the webbed pathways of veins.
that time, they fell asleep together wrapped in those wings, the bone-tips casting half-moon shadows down. ava tucked into her side, forehead damp against the skin of her neck. breath spilling down lilith’s chest. it took her a long time to sleep, but she did. she did.
now, forehead still pressed to lilith's neck, palm firm where it cups lilith through her sweats. "i thought bea got you a rain jacket for when you wanted to play gargoyle"
"grotes-" lilith starts, but ava shakes her head.
"nuh uh, gargoyle, on account of you carrying all that water away from whatever building you were camped out on." her grin is bright against lilith's collarbone.
"i was under the impression you liked me wet," lilith replies, straining for casual as ava's thumb traces the shadow of her shaft through her layers.
"true, I do." ava's tongue flickering out across a patch of scales before she kisses it, lips scalding. "but I also like you without pneumonia, so."
she feels odd, then, like a teenager overcome with the urge to say in a small voice, “you like me?”
but instead she huffs out a note somewhere between grumpy and in love, feeling ava lick a broader stripe across her throat, where the scales are as familiar as home but less welcoming.
ava moving beneath her sweats, beneath the cup of her palm, something lewd to this, to feeling the touch of her not only along the length of her cock but against the tender flesh of her hand, the combination of slight movements and soft fabric sending lightning burst signals up her arm even as her hips rut up into the press of ava's palm, her hand, her fingers. nerve endings like a firestorm beneath her skin, set ablaze by the friction of ava's touch. can't tell if she's longing for more tinder or to be extinguished. doesn't care, not with the tease of ava's clever thumb at her slit, of ava's clever mouth at her pulse, trying to pull her apart, to consume her.
lilith might be able to tear through space, but ava tears into her with even more ease. it had been embarrassing, before, the weight of ava's gaze on her, no shred of pity to it but understanding and all the worse for it. the way ava had slowed around her, telegraphed her motions, made each attempt at touch so clear and transparent and timed to allow lilith the choice to accept it. clumsy in so many things but not in that, not in the grace she'd so easily given lilith that she'd thought she'd never come anywhere near close to deserving.
soaked through today not from panicked flight but from the common thrill of allowing herself to be caught out in the rain. beatrice's gift of a jacket left hanging in their closet as she flung herself headlong into the elements for the pure joy of the kiss of rain on her skin, of the way lightning tingled through her on its way to the ground, wings capturing the air currents as she bobbed amongst the clouds. ava's calculating gaze no longer an embarrassment when she'd tumbled back through their balcony door with a laugh still clinging warm to her mouth, when she'd darted forward to press it into the cave of ava's mouth, to secret it there in the safety of her lungs.
the towel between ava's hands an undoing in itself, she going up on tiptoes and then aloft to wring water from lilith's hair around the fumbled haste of lilith stripping her sopping wet clothes off and depositing them in the tub. her hand skating across lilith's cock then, brief, promising, before she looped the towel around lilith's neck and tugged her down into a kiss, shoved her gently towards the bedroom.
hot chocolate and marshmallows, warm sweats and ava, in her lap, trying to work out her mood, how to approach this wild and windswept lilith. the ease of it, of them, mouthy and wordless all at once, of ava's hand down her sweats and that promise coming to fruition as ava coaxes her hard in her palm, smirks against her neck.
