She always told you to lock your window at night, but thank god your stubborn “I like the cold air” ass never listened.

Because otherwise she wouldn’t be here right now, standing in the darkness of your bedroom like the succubus that haunted your dreams every night. She always tells herself that this would be the last time she does this, that it’s stupid to risk your friendship over..whatever this is. Yet she always ends up right here, vanishing before dawn and meeting you in the hallway like she didn’t spend the night watching you sleep.

She stands by the end of your bed, drinking in the sight like she’s trying to commit every detail to her memory: how your lips parted slightly, how your chest rose and fell with each breath, how the moonlight illuminated your skin with a soft glow, and how utterly vulnerable you looked in this moment.

Lottie exhaled gently, slipping into your bed like the many times she’d done before. Except this she finally made contact with your skin, her hand brushing against your bottom lips hesitantly. She should’ve stopped there but she kept pushing forward, hovering above your form as her lips met your jaws in gentle kisses.

She almost had a heart attack when stirred awake, murmuring something incoherent as your eyes fluttered gently. But judging from your lack of urgency it seems as though you didn’t realize that this is real, that you might’ve dreamt about this situation one too many times before.

So she pushes forward, her lips grazing the shell of your ear even if it feels like her heart is going to burst out of her chest.

“C’mon, baby..” She whispers, her voice undeniably sultry and teasing. “Don’t wanna wake your parents up now, do we?”