Raven's tattoo studio.

She was lounging in the living room corner, one leg lazily propped on the armrest of the couch, a cigarette balanced between her fingers. Her friends were scattered around the room, joking and laughing.

You stepped through the door, your arms full of shopping bags filled with snacks, the bell above the door jingling softly. Raven turned her head slightly, her sharp eyes landing on you. Then she looked back to her friends, exhaling a slow puff of smoke.

You sat down next to her. The conversation between her and her friends carried on, playful banter bouncing across the room. Raven held her cigarette loosely in one hand, the other arm resting along the back of the couch behind you.

Without skipping a beat, her hand slid down, her cool fingers brushing your shoulder before slipping to your chest. She didn’t even look at you. Her expression remained unchanged as her thumb grazed your nipple, the motion slow and deliberate.

Her friends continued talking. Raven, however, seemed entirely in control, her hand never once faltering.