Her voice trailed off languidly, expectantly, as her eyes flicked up to meet mine. I knew she was taunting me, and she knew I loved it.

Let me dream of her, tonight – A custom Oona Tempest (solo) smut commission for KnittedSoup; written by Oona Tempest & edited by RJMercy.

This fanfic is a spin-off angst x smut story set in the same world and lore as Oona, the Heartbroken, a melodramatic micro visual novel written by Sweet & Spicy founder, Oona Tempest. It originally premiered at their vtuber debut stream, but is now available for free on itch.io, and can be downloaded and/or played within your internet browser.

If you’re interested in ordering a custom commission, you can find our listings via our Ko-fi shop, or subscribe to our Patreon at our UR – Platinum tier for a fanfic commission of your choice each month, plus of all the previous tiers’ rewards!

Let me dream of her, tonight

The slick folds of my labia ache under the gentle tease of my touch. It is silent, for once, save for the wet, sensual sounds of my arousal, and the faint rustling of silk as I make myself comfortable amidst the sheets.

I sink further into the bed and a quiet sigh escapes my lips. I cannot remember how long it has been since I spoiled myself like this, and so I savour every caress while the world falls away and I indulge myself in this moment.

Exhausted, and relieved, I feel all tension melt from my body as I stroke in languid circles, spreading my favourite lube as I tease myself, stopping just shy of my clit, and luxuriating in how soft and silken my skin feels beneath my fingertips.

I flutter my eyes closed and let the blissful flurry of sensations turn my focus inward. I can feel my heart beat in my chest, its rhythm matching the escalating pace of my pleasure. I can hear my breathing, soft and shallow, and, through my eyelashes, I can even see the rise and fall of my every inhale, and every exhale.

I give in to desire and press two fingers inside myself, and it is then that I hear myself moan, gently, but before long, the sodden sounds of my arousal drown out such chaste whispers of ecstasy. 

For in this time and space that I have carved out for myself, and myself alone, my anxieties of how I might be perceived scatter to the storm that now besieges my body, one of sensual sensations that course like lightning through my touch starved skin.

No longer needing lube, I rub my own wetness across my labia in agonizingly slow movements, feeling the heat build until it’s almost blindingly hot, like a beacon guiding my fingers to where I most crave to be touched…

To be touched.

Memories return, unbidden, and relentless. Relaxed, and unguarded, thoughts I would ordinarily keep buried in the deepest parts of my subconscious come crashing unceremoniously to the forefront of my mind.

I remember her face, first. The delicate crease in the corners of her eyes when she smiled. The captivating glimmer of her eyes in the moonlight as she leaned over me, and pressed her lips to mine. The trail of kisses she blazed across my skin, and the heat that lingered on my cheeks, my jaw, and my neck, as she worked her way down to my chest.

The cold night breeze bit at my waist as her callused hands made quick work of my shirt, but any chill I felt was soon extinguished by her warmth. I arched my back as she nipped playfully at my hips, her hands roaming in a midnight exploration of my body, which I gave, readily, to her. 

“More…” I moaned, greedily, my voice raspy with need, “Please…”

I felt her lips curve into a smile as they met the waistline of my pants, “Hm? What’s that? I didn’t quite hear you…”

Her voice trailed off languidly, expectantly, as her eyes flicked up to meet mine. I knew she was taunting me, and she knew I loved it.

“Please…”

Her satisfied sigh tickled my exposed skin as her dark, enchanting eyes pulled me into wherever it was she wished for me to go, so long as it was with her. She closed her eyes, yet the spell was not broken, for though her response was quiet, it was no less powerful when she said, “You’re so cute when you beg…”

I dug my nails into the soft flesh of my inner thighs in an attempt to stop my hands from giving into the overwhelming urge to touch myself where I desperately craved to be touched, instead, by her. She must have noticed, as she placed her hands on mine, interlacing our fingers in a gesture so gentle, and so affectionate, that the wholesome swell of my heart doused the intensity of my desire, ever so slightly. 

And then, she bit the clasp on my pants. As the button popped open and released, so too did my need for her come crashing down on me like a wave. This time, it was her fingertips that pressed into my thighs, pinning my hands in place as she unzipped my clothes with her teeth. 

Never have I felt such all-consuming need – all-consuming love – for another person. 

And never shall I feel that way again.

Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes as cruel, rational thoughts threaten to dispel such sweet illusions. On another day, another night, perhaps, I might let the relentless reality of the present shatter the rose-tinted glass of the past. But, not tonight. 

No, tonight, I allow myself to wallow and revel in bittersweet memories, deluding myself into a fleeting high that can only be found in the past, and an ignorance of the inevitable devastation that only the looming of the future can provide.

I pinch my thigh, and remember the sharp sting of her teeth on my skin, not enough to truly hurt, but enough to cut through all the other sensations she gave me in a way that only made them all the more pleasurable. She always knew exactly what I wanted, and how to give it to me. She knew exactly how hard to bite, and how firmly to hold my hips as she brought her lips to the crease of my inner thighs, both of us now mercifully bereft of clothing altogether. 

And when she kissed my clit, she lit a spark, igniting a fire deep within me that burned so bright, it set my skin on fire. 

“Ah…” I moaned, writhing beneath her grip, “I can’t- I can’t hold on much longer…”

I felt her smirk, which only pushed me closer to the edge.

“Please, be gentle–”

“Hm.. I don’t think so.”

The deep murmur of her response reverberated against my clit as I teetered on the tantalising precipice of release, yet far too soon. I did not want it to end, but I feared, delightfully, that she would give me no choice.

I groaned and tried to tilt my hips to relieve the culminating pressure that continued to build within me against my will, but she held me in place and refused my retreat. I tried to resist, but all my senses were sharp, and focused entirely on her.

The dig of her fingers in my hips, the warm wetness of her tongue against my skin, the wicked sounds of wanton obscenity that tickled my ears and further stoked the fires of my lust… The more I struggled against the surge of pleasure she instilled in me, the more I discovered I loved and craved every part of such decadent lascivity – even the fruitless endeavour to prolong it.

And so, I gave in. I let the wave of sensation crest and pull me under, until I was drowning in the ecstasy of release.

She rode the tides of climax with me, slowing the pace of her lapping tongue to match as I climbed down from the heights of orgasm.

At least, I think she did.

Like a rush of adrenaline, the sudden peak in stimulation brings with it a sudden, unwelcome clarity. As electricity courses through my heightened nerves, it dispels the rosy haze that had blanketed my mind, shielding me from the present so that I might be consumed by the past.

But the blanket has been ripped off and now I am cold, and naked, and alone in my bed. Where her heat had kept me warm now lies my bare skin, exposed and prickling with goosebumps in the frigid night air.

The uncomfortable dampness between my legs is the sole souvenir of what transpired – the sogginess of my fingers providing a cruel reminder that she had never been there at all. Disgusted, I wipe them on my thigh, choosing to ignore the bruises I left behind as I desperately fuelled the immersion of my own, sickening delusions.

Tears well in my eyes as I grab the small towel I had placed beside me earlier, wiping away the evidence as though I might also wipe away the memories that, though they had previously brought an ignorant bliss, now only fill me with shame.

Shame, and grief.

But, I won’t think about that right now.

For if I do, I might dwell too long on the hollowness in my chest where my heart should be. And perhaps then the tears that threaten to spill down my cheeks would turn into racking sobs and pitiful pining for my lost love.

Not that it matters if I wail and whine, of course. For there is no one here to hear me.

And so I fold the towel, neatly, as if to assert the last shred of control I might have on my life as the thinning threads that hold it together pull taut against the swell of pain that threatens to tear them apart for good.

And yet, a flurry of negative thoughts assaults my mind the moment I bury my face into my pillow. I should have known better than to do this again. It had been so long, I had forgotten the torment of the aftermath. It feels beautiful at the time, sure, but as soon as it’s over, I feel wretched, and I’m left wondering… is it worth it?

A fleeting whisper of a memory brushes the back of my mind; the melody of her laughter, and the scent of wild roses drifting on a midsummer night’s breeze.

Absorbed by my pillowcase, I let my tears flow freely into the fabric.

It hurts. It always hurts.

I curl up on my side, clutching my chest in a vain attempt to soothe the pain that sears my heart.

And yet…

It was worth it.

She was worth all the tears in the world.

If I have to choose between this heartbreak and never having met her, I will choose her and all the pain she may bring me. 

Over and over again, I will choose her.

With that realisation, I feel my body relax and my tears slow. My heart calms, and a quiet comfort settles across my mind, bringing with it the promise of slumber.

I give in to that drowsiness, letting it pull me down to the depths of my subconscious.

And, as I feel the last vestiges of my wakefulness drift out of reach, I offer one final, silent plea.

Please, let me dream of her, tonight.

Thank You

~☆ Patrons ☆~

Commissions

If you’re interested in commissioning Sweet & Spicy for a custom piece of your own, we have two options available via our Ko-fi shop. The piece featured in this post is a ♥ spicy ♥ commission, but we also have a ♥ sweet ♥ option, if you’d prefer less smut, and more fluff.

Whether you want a sweet, wholesome moment between two characters you love, or a graphic, kinky, spicy scene with you and your #1 husbando (or anything in between!) let us know, and we’ll be honoured to bring your ideas to life.

About the Author

Contact Us

For all enquiries, please email us at sweetnspicyreviews@gmail.com or via the social media links below:

• Twitch
• Patreon
• Twitter
• Facebook
• Reddit
• Discord

More like this…