Ninny Spangcole | Burn The Witch - Gallery

The perpetual twilight of Reverse London always held a certain magic, but tonight, within the walls of Ninny Spangcole’s modest apartment, that magic felt amplified, charged with an unspoken energy. The air, usually thick with the faint scent of brimstone and the distant hum of dragon activity, was now perfumed with the subtle sweetness of jasmine and something undeniably more intimate—the lingering warmth of a shared mission, a successful exorcism, and the quiet aftermath that always seemed to lead back here. Ninny, her usually sharp features softened by fatigue and the gentle glow of the lamp on her desk, was meticulously folding the crisp, white uniform she’d worn hours ago. Her blonde hair, usually tied back in a neat ponytail, had fallen loose, framing her face in a cascade of sun-kissed waves as she moved with a practiced, almost languid grace.

She found herself replaying the day’s events, the frantic chase through the winding alleys, the sudden, desperate surge of negative magic, the near-fatal mistake she almost made. But then there was Noel, her partner, her anchor, his steady presence a stark contrast to the chaos. She remembered the way his eyes, when they met hers in the heat of battle, held a depth of understanding, a silent communication that transcended words. He’d saved her, not just from the spectral entity, but from her own recklessness. And now, here she was, alone in her quiet apartment, her heart still thrumming with a mixture of adrenaline and an emotion she was becoming increasingly hesitant to name. It was a pull, a longing, a desire that simmered just beneath the surface of her professional demeanor.

A soft knock at the door, hesitant yet firm, shattered her reverie. Her breath hitched. She knew who it would be. No one else would dare, or have the right, to disturb her at this hour. She smoothed down the front of her simple, almost plain sleep dress, a stark contrast to the elaborate, lace-trimmed lingerie she wore beneath it – a secret indulgence, a private rebellion against the practicality of her everyday life. She opened the door, and there he was, Noel Niihashi, his dark hair slightly tousled, his usual stoic expression softened by a hint of vulnerability. He held a small, unassuming paper bag in his hand.

“I… I brought something,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down Ninny’s spine. “You seemed… cold, after the mission. And I thought you might appreciate this.” He offered the bag, and Ninny’s eyes widened slightly as she peeked inside. It was a selection of delicate pastries, the kind they often shared after a particularly grueling operation, and a small, intricately folded origami crane, made from iridescent paper that seemed to capture the faint light of the hallway.

“Noel,” she whispered, a genuine smile finally gracing her lips. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he replied, his gaze lingering on her face, his eyes searching hers. “You were incredible out there today, Ninny. Truly remarkable.”

Her cheeks flushed. Compliments, especially from Noel, always had a way of disarming her. She stepped aside, inviting him in. “Come in, then. Don’t just stand there. I was just about to make some tea.” The offer was mundane, a polite gesture, but the unspoken invitation hung heavy in the air between them. He stepped across the threshold, the scent of the night air clinging to him, mingling with the subtle aroma of his own unique magic, a scent that had become as familiar and comforting to Ninny as her own. As he entered, the door swung shut, sealing them within the intimate confines of her apartment, and the world outside, with its dragons and its dangers, faded into insignificance.

Ninny busied herself in the small kitchen, the clinking of cups and saucers a gentle rhythm against the quiet hum of anticipation. She felt his presence behind her, a tangible warmth that drew her attention even as she pretended to focus on the task at hand. She could sense his gaze on her, the weight of it a caress against her skin. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her, not the skilled witch, but Ninny, the woman. She smoothed down her sleep dress again, acutely aware of the delicate lace peeking out from the hem, the whisper-thin fabric that clung to her curves. It was a foolish, almost embarrassing thought, but she couldn’t help it. Tonight, with him here, the usual boundaries felt porous, permeable.

When she turned, tea in hand, Noel was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with a quiet intensity. The lamp cast a soft glow on his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the subtle shadows beneath his eyes. He looked tired, but also… expectant. He met her gaze, and the unspoken question hung between them, a silent negotiation of desires. “The pastries are lovely, Noel,” she said, her voice a little softer than she intended. She gestured towards the small table in the living area. “Let’s sit.”

They sat, the small table suddenly feeling like a vast expanse. The pastries were indeed delicious, each bite a small burst of sweetness that did little to quell the growing ache in Ninny’s chest. She found herself stealing glances at Noel, observing the way his lips curved slightly as he savored a treat, the way his fingers, long and strong, held the delicate pastry. He was so composed, so in control, yet she felt a current of something raw and untamed beneath the surface, a mirroring of the emotions swirling within her.

“That last spell,” Noel said, his voice a low murmur that cut through the quiet. “It was… close. You reacted instinctively. It was good, but also dangerous.”

Ninny’s stomach tightened. He was right, of course. She knew it. “I know,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. “Sometimes… sometimes I feel like I push too hard. Like I’m trying to prove something.”

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers as he reached for another pastry. The touch was fleeting, accidental perhaps, but it sent a jolt of electricity through her. “You don’t need to prove anything to me, Ninny,” he said, his voice softer now, more intimate. He met her eyes, and this time, there was no mistaking the depth of his sincerity. “You’re more than enough.”

The words, so simple, so direct, resonated deep within her. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The carefully constructed walls she’d built around her emotions began to crumble. She looked down at her hands, her fingers tracing the delicate embroidery on her sleep dress, the hidden lace beneath a secret comfort. She felt a blush creeping up her neck, a tell-tale sign of her burgeoning desire.

“Noel,” she began, her voice trembling slightly, “there’s… something I’ve been wanting to say.”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his gaze locked on hers. “I’m listening.”

She took a deep breath, the air feeling thick and humid, charged with an unseen energy. “Today… after the fight… I felt… I felt a connection. Not just as partners. Something more.” Her voice faltered, her blonde hair falling forward, obscuring her face. She felt a pang of regret, the fear of rejection a cold knot in her stomach. But then, she felt his hand, warm and firm, reach across the table and gently cup her cheek. His thumb stroked her skin, a feather-light touch that sent waves of warmth through her. He tilted her head up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“I feel it too, Ninny,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “For a long time now, I’ve felt it.” He paused, his eyes tracing the delicate curve of her jaw, the subtle flush on her cheeks. “You’re… captivating. Not just your skill, but you. Your spirit. Your… fire.” He let his gaze drift down, lingering on the hint of lace at her neckline, the subtle curve of her breasts beneath the thin fabric. Her breath hitched. He saw it. He saw her secret.

He slowly withdrew his hand, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. He stood, and the movement was deliberate, unhurried. He walked towards her, his footsteps silent on the rug. Ninny remained seated, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. He stopped in front of her, looking down at her with an expression that was a mixture of tenderness and fierce desire. He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of blonde hair from her face, his touch lingering on her cheek. Then, he gently, deliberately, began to unbutton her sleep dress, each button a small click that echoed in the quiet room, each reveal a deepening of the unspoken promise between them.

As the fabric parted, her delicate lace lingerie was revealed, a startling contrast to the stark white of her skin. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing the pale, almost ethereal beauty of her form. Noel’s breath hitched. He’d seen her in battle, seen her fierce determination, but this, this intimate vulnerability, this hidden sensuality, was something entirely new, entirely breathtaking. He knelt before her, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of her, the subtle tremble of her body, the flush that now painted her skin from her neck to her chest.

“You’re so beautiful, Ninny,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. He reached out, his fingertips tracing the delicate lace trim of her bra, his touch a question, an invitation. Ninny’s breath caught in her throat, her body tingling with anticipation. She closed her eyes for a moment, a silent surrender to the overwhelming tide of sensation. When she opened them, Noel was looking at her, his gaze filled with a raw, unadulterated hunger that mirrored her own. He gently unclasped her bra, the delicate lace falling away to reveal her full, soft breasts. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her décolletage, a soft sigh escaping her lips. His touch was reverent, almost worshipful, yet filled with an undeniable passion.

He took one of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue tracing its peak, sending tremors of pleasure through her. Ninny arched her back, her fingers clenching the fabric of her dress. The soft moan that escaped her lips was a sound of pure, unadulterated bliss. He suckled gently, then more firmly, his touch igniting a fire within her that spread through every inch of her body. She felt a desperate urge to pull him closer, to feel his body against hers, to drown in the intoxicating pleasure he was so expertly coaxing from her. Her hands, almost on their own accord, reached out, her fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.

He continued his ministrations, his tongue flicking and swirling, while his hands explored the curves of her body. He traced the line of her waist, the swell of her hips, his touch sending shivers of exquisite sensation through her. Ninny’s head fell back, her blonde hair fanned out around her as she surrendered to the overwhelming tide of pleasure. Her body ached with a need she could no longer ignore, a need that was now focused entirely on the man kneeling before her, the man who had seen past the witch, past the warrior, and into the depths of her heart, and her desire.

He gently eased her sleep dress down her shoulders, the fabric pooling around her waist. Now, her entire upper body was bare, her breasts soft and yielding in the dim light. Noel’s eyes widened with adoration, a silent testament to her beauty. He looked at her as if she were a rare, precious treasure, and in that moment, Ninny felt more cherished, more desired, than she ever had before. He leaned in, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. It was a kiss of shared vulnerability, of unspoken promises, of a desire that had finally found its voice. Her lips parted under his, her tongue meeting his, their bodies pressing closer, the thin fabric of her lingerie a mere whisper between them.

The kiss deepened, growing more passionate, more demanding. Ninny’s hands moved down, her fingers finding the buttons of Noel’s tunic, her touch clumsy with eagerness. He helped her, his own hands working at the fastenings, his gaze never leaving hers. Soon, their torsos were pressed together, skin against skin, the heat of their bodies a tangible force. Ninny gasped, her fingers trailing over the smooth expanse of his chest, her nails catching on the fine hairs. He groaned, a low rumble in his chest that vibrated through her. He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. He looked at her, his gaze lingering on her blonde hair, her flushed cheeks, her parted lips.

“Ninny,” he breathed, his voice thick. “I want you.”

The words, so direct, so honest, sent a wave of heat through her. “And I want you, Noel,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible. He gently guided her to lie back on the sofa, the cushions soft beneath her. He followed, his body a comforting weight against hers. He kissed her again, a slow, languid exploration that ignited every nerve ending. His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her hips, then slipping beneath the lace of her panties. Ninny cried out softly, her hips arching instinctively towards his touch. He explored her with a gentle, deliberate urgency, his fingers finding her most sensitive places, eliciting soft moans and gasps from her lips. She felt herself spiraling, losing control, her body singing with a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

He murmured reassurances, his voice a low, comforting rumble against her ear, as his fingers continued their intimate exploration. Ninny found herself reaching for him, her hands fumbling with the fastenings of his trousers, her desire a raging inferno. He helped her, his own movements mirroring her urgency. Soon, he was as bare as she, their bodies slick with a shared heat, their eyes locked in a silent, passionate communion. He looked at her, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of awe and desire, and she knew, in that moment, that this was more than just a physical encounter. This was something deeper, something more profound.

He entered her slowly, deliberately, his body a perfect fit against hers. Ninny gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her body tightening around him. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect, exquisite fullness that filled her completely. He moved within her, his rhythm slow and steady at first, then gradually picking up pace. Each thrust was a caress, a deep, satisfying connection that sent waves of pleasure through her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her blonde hair fanned out around them, a halo of gold against the dark fabric of the sofa. She looked up at him, her eyes, wide and luminous, reflecting the passion that blazed between them.

“Noel,” she moaned, her voice thick with pleasure. “Oh, Noel…”

He met her gaze, his own eyes dark with an almost desperate longing. “Ninny,” he whispered, his voice a raw confession. “You’re… you’re everything.” He picked up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. Ninny cried out, her body arching towards his, her climax building, a tidal wave of pleasure washing over her. She felt herself coming undone, her senses overwhelmed, her body trembling uncontrollably. She clung to him, her nails digging into his back, as the pleasure consumed her. Her cries echoed in the quiet room, a testament to the intensity of their shared release.

As her climax subsided, she felt him shudder, his body tensing against hers. He groaned her name, his voice rough with pleasure, and then he too surrendered, his body falling against hers, his breath coming in ragged gasps. They lay there for a long moment, their bodies entwined, their hearts beating in a shared rhythm. The air was thick with the aftermath of their passion, a sweet, intoxicating scent that clung to them. Ninny nestled closer to him, her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She felt a profound sense of peace, of contentment, a feeling she hadn’t realized she’d been missing until now. She traced the outline of his jaw with her finger, a soft smile playing on her lips. The blonde witch, the fierce warrior, had found a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a shared intimacy that transcended the dangers of their world, a love that had finally found its true expression in the quiet, passionate embrace of the night.