#{ dominic hagen — thread }

[angeldcgs]

nickie had been powerless all his life, so it was only natural that he'd want to find control somewhere. being in charge of his own finances was crucial, knowing that he'd never be able to work for someone else and be constantly nitpicked and micromanaged, and there really wasn't much else he could turn to but crime. he wasn't talented, or artistically inclined, or smart, or athletic, but he was charming and shameless and willing to risk everything for a quick buck. he did what he had to in order to survive and feel like he was in charge of his own life. cookie, however, had plenty of power. in the form of money, at least. on the surface, it would seem as though a woman with as much wealth and acclaim as her would have no use for a man like nickie, aside from a quick fuck, if he could be so lucky, but he was offering her a much needed release. he wasn't responsible for what had happened to her, it wasn't his fault that her career had ended so abruptly and so tragically, and he wasn't the one who prevented her from getting cast in anything after that. taking her anger out on him wouldn't change anything that had happened to her, but that didn't change the fact that it felt good. if that's what she needed in the moment, then nickie was happy to relinquish any semblance of control, and allow her to use him as he pleased. it felt good to let go, to know that he was no longer responsible for his own fate, almost like a weight lifted off his shoulders. all he had to do was convince her to keep him around by any means necessary, and he could continue on living like this for god knows how long. the pain she so willingly dealt out only sweetened the deal, arousing him to the point where he could cum untouched with just another slap or two, but she left him right on the brink without taking him over the edge. all he could do was try and reason with her, appealing to her rationality and reminding her of just what a novel opportunity this was. here was a man willing to be used in whatever way she saw fit, a punching bag of sorts, and she could do as she pleased with virtually no consequences. no one knew he was there, and it was unlikely anyone would come looking for him anytime soon. not to mention, he'd broken into her house, and she could always just tell the police that he was the aggressor and she'd merely been defending herself should shit go south. following the line of her gaze, he saw his own erection pressed up against the denim of his jeans, trying to squirm in his seat as if he had any hope of concealing it. she continued to degrade him, and heat blossomed on his stinging cheeks, lower lip beginning to tremble from the weight of his longing. "i know," he all but whimpered. "i know, i know... i'm a fucking freak. i'm sick, i'm disgusting, i'm a pervert— all the more reason to punish me!" desperation was laced heavily in his tone, grasping at straws to try and maintain this perfect little dynamic they'd stumbled into. "yes!" his face lit up at her eventual suggestion, far too giddy considering she'd just agreed to keep holding him hostage. "yes, yes exactly, just... why don't you hit me again? would that make you feel better? i can take it, you can keep going."

after the violent incident that came to define her life, there was part of cookie that yearned for a retribution of sorts. she'd long since given up on wishing it had never happened, in some strange way it had boosted her to a fame that might have otherwise been impossible for her to reach had she continued on with her pursuit of crappy daytime television, but that didn't mean she was glad it happened. she'd yearned for revenge, to bring back the possibility of a life that was taken from her at such a young age. it was impossible, all she could do was use what she had to try and salvage a life she wanted by whatever means possible. nickie had swung about so drastically in her opinion of him, at first she'd been curious more than anything, maybe even a little seduced by his good looks and words of promise, all of that had been swiftly brushed aside at the reveal of his perversions and cookie no longer knew what to think about him. beating him was the only thing that felt right, it was the only punishment she could think of that would begin to convey just how betrayed she felt. she deserved the kind of love and respect he'd been pretending he wanted to give her and having that snatched away was more upsetting than either of them could've prepared for. with each slap, she was enforcing some kind of penance onto him, forcing him to feel her pain through the weight of his own. even when he began to cry, cookie's empathy could only stretch so far. there was a small part of her that wanted to stop, to let him go and pretend like the whole thing had never happened but there was no forgetting, she didn't have it in her. after crouching down in front of him and threatening to call the police, she watched with interest as he writhed as though a fire had suddenly come alive beneath his feet. he'd taken her assault willingly, put up no fuss until she told him he'd be leaving and that was when he started to beg and plead with her. despite all the violence she had just inflicted, cookie didn't want to be a bad person. it was that drive to feel properly respected and loved how she knew she was always meant to be that put her in the role of antagonist but it wasn't ideal. it wasn't her fault that he'd been unable to keep his hands to himself and felt it right to take something of hers, something intimate and private and something he could only have strange intentions for. it wasn't her fault. by sending him away, she'd also be sending away the one person who had managed to flatter her ego in years, even if it had lasted so briefly. with a sigh, she cast her gaze down and let her eyes settle on his lap, it was only then that she noticed the physical effect that her slapping had on him and that pricking heat of embarrassment rose within her again. "there's somethin' really wrong with you." she rose slowly to her feet and took a step back, eyes still fixated on where his erection strained against the stiff denim. "real wrong, nickie. i dunno what to do..." twisting her hands nervously in front of her, cookie looked desperately around the room to find anything that might give her a spark of inspiration. he was right, she wanted to be the one to give him his punishment, though figuring out how to do that without giving him something to enjoy simultaneously was appearing to be more difficult than expected. "maybe i'll... i'll keep you here 'till i figure it out."

[valkyrayn]

sleeping with the enemy - chapter three. posted on ao3

Pairing: Marius von Hagen x afab!reader

Words: 3.9k

Tags: angst and porn, jealousy, unprotected sex, dirty talk, rough sex, fingering, emotions are involved, emotions slow burn fast sexual burn, two idiots with extreme denial, possessive, this has some plot in it if you squint

A/N: lawd did this took so long to finish cus of a long writer’s block and everything else. but anyways enjoy the porn. also what do we think of the cliffhanger heehee

also posted on ao3 if you wanna leave comments! 💜

“Come home with me tonight.”

***

It’s a flurry of urgent, desperate touches. Mouth on skin, large hands sliding up your thighs, hips, neck—everywhere. Hot breaths, tinged with alcohol, mingling and intoxicating. 

Yet it’s the high, the yearning, that prolongs the state of inebriation.

Long fingers threading through your tresses, fisting and yanking, rough as he slants his mouth to meet yours in a searing kiss. He slips his tongue in, finding yours in a fight for dominance. And when he moans into your mouth, you swallow it reverently. 

Kissing him, to be kissed by him—it feels like freefalling. 

Teeth clashing and tongues dancing, forcing into one another’s, aching to taste, desperate to take and take and—

“Does he kiss you like this?” he rasps between the assault of his mouth on yours, biting and tugging on your lip, set on leaving indentations. A reminder of him. His possessiveness is bleeding through its crack and you relish in it. 

Apparently, your body has long refused to take orders from you. It takes a great feat to even form a word in response—and even then, you only manage to reply with a small noise and a shake of your head. 

"Mmm…does he touch you like this?" His fingers slide towards your bare cunt, spreading his fingers into a ‘v’ and exposing your clit to the dry air, wet and wanting—sensitive to touch. You buck against his fingers, moaning throatily when he pushes a middle finger in. His languid swipes and flicks make your knees buckle, driving you dangerously close to the edge. 

Sinful lips trail a path down to your cleavage, painting your skin with his marks, your body his canvas. At the corner of your eye, you glimpse at your reflection in the mirror behind him and see the bruises on your skin, littered across your collarbone and the top of your breasts. New pink marks joining darker ones—ones that he gave you at the balcony. 

Fueled with renewed arousal, you shove him back to grab onto his belt, making quick work to yank it off with practised ease. The clinking sound of his belt fills the otherwise quiet hallway of his penthouse and that’s when you realise he’s stopped moving.

He just stands there watching you. 

Half-lidded eyes, staring at you through the curtain of his hair, fallen messily over his forehead. With his back fully leaning against the wall, he breathes heavily through his open mouth, chest heaving. 

How does he make breathing look so fucking arousing? 

A loud exhale leaves his lips then, startling you—the look of frustration clear on his face. You feel the drop in your stomach, reality snapping back in place. Both feet on the brakes—lurching you forward, a head-on collision, crashing through the glass. 

He wants to stop this. 

This is the part where you—leave. Turn around and leave. 

Leave. 

You stagger back, fingers releasing the grip on his belt to leave them hanging by his sides. 

The voice of reason starts clawing its way up but just like that, it dies. It dies when his hands seize your arms, turning you around and slamming you against the hard surface of the wall. 

A faint sob slips from you but before the second could follow, his grip tightens. You clench your eyes shut, lips parting but words fail you because his lips are against yours, lingering, but not quite kissing. “No, don’t…” his voice is hoarse. 

“Don’t overthink this. Not again. Just—” And then his lips meet yours.

It’s a slew of hurried movements once again, clumsier and careless, as if you were rushing for something. But you have nothing but time now—time that you never had the luxury of having in secluded but public places and countryside inns.

But not this time, not here. 

There are no media hounds here, no familiar faces nor strangers or even rumoured fiances to hide from. Not here, not in the safety of his 50th-floor penthouse, not in the comfort of his home. 

Home. His home. 

“Come home with me tonight.”

It was a quiet ride in the car and elevator, only up until the 39th floor when he swiftly turned and pressed you against the wall, kissing you so rough it made your head spin. It didn’t even register to you when the elevator dinged, not even when the doors opened, or even when he pushed you out and into the hallway of his penthouse that you were—in his home.

The green-eyed monster rears its head. Unwelcomed. 

Home that he’s brought other girls over. 

“We—we never…” you mumble against his skin, desperate to shake off the thoughts. You pull onto the tail of his shirt, pushing it up his abdomen, feeling the heat radiating off his body. He buries his face against your neck, leaning forward and pressing you harder against the wall. 

“What?” he asks breathily, his lips on your throat, magnetised to your skin. The sounds he makes are erotic, hypnotising. You idly think that he can choose to kill you like this and you wouldn’t even realise it until it’s over.

His hand slides between the slit of your dress to grab your thigh. Your fingers curl against him, nails sinking into his skin, abs flexing underneath your touch. He repeats his question. 

You expected him to brush it off, to take it as nonsensical rambling in your otherwise preoccupied mind. But instead, he pulls away to search your eyes, awaiting a response. 

There’s something about the way he looks at you that makes your heart hammer violently against your chest. You chew onto your bottom lip as your mind scrambles to gather your thoughts.

“Never what?” he asks again, hooking your leg against his hip, fingertips digging into your flesh. 

With a sigh, you lean your head back against the wall, jutting your chin towards him in feigned confidence, a facade to maintain your bearings. 

“We never fuck on a bed.”

You didn’t miss the way his lips curled into a smirk.

His free hand travels up your back to slowly tug on the knot holding your dress together. The satin slides effortlessly down your body and pools around your hips, baring you fully to him. 

“I’ll fuck you on a bed…” The hand that was on your back now brushing against the swell of your breast. “I’ll fuck you into my mattress all night if that’s what you want,” he growls against your lips. 

“I’ll take my time with you tonight…” he jerks his belt off then tugs onto the placket of his pants to pull out his cock. He wraps a fist around it, hard and heavy in his hand. Eyes blown with lust, he grinds his body against yours, sliding his cock in between your folds and coating it with your slick. 

Then he lines himself at your entrance, dipping his tip in. 

“But I’m going to start by fucking you right…” he buries his cock to the hilt. “…here.”

Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, nerve endings set ablaze, your walls stretching to welcome him the second time that night, filled so full of him. Marius hoists your leg higher and pins you back harder, the abrupt movement knocking the back of your head against the mirror. 

Like a wire cut loose, you’re suddenly frantic—reaching forward to grab onto him, onto anything. Your nails sink into the corded muscle of his arms, feeling them flex as he fully carries your weight by lifting both legs off the ground, letting one heel fall haphazardly onto the floor. 

When he pulls out to adjust your angle, you scramble to rid him of his shirt, halfway unbuttoning and halfway ripping it off from impatience. He’s grinning as he watches you, finding your frustration amusing—then he kisses the spot between your brows to ease your frown. 

The emptiness has you keening, hips arching to find him—and then he slams back in, knowing exactly what you need. His fingers sink into your flesh, pressing against your hipbone as he rocks into you. “Fuck…this pussy. Mine…only mine to fuck.” His cock pushes into your dripping cunt with ease, bullying its way in to fuck the deepest parts of you. 

Mine. 

But you’re not his. Not really.

Don’t. Overthink. This. 

You can’t remember ever feeling this good, with anyone else. You don’t think it will ever be this good with anyone else. 

Stuttered breaths mingle, sweet and intoxicating. Your fingertips rest against his skin, hot beneath your touch. The only noises in the room are the little gasps he draws out from you and the clinking sound of his belt swinging at each thrust, then knocking against the glass.

“Does he fuck you…” he snaps his hips harder, “…like this?”

Each thrust sends him deeper, sliding in and out of your swollen pussy at a bruising pace, unyielding as if determined to break you. Your arms slide beneath his shirt to sink your nails into his back, clinging onto him and leaving your marks.

“You’re getting tighter…” he says between ragged breaths, leaning back to look down at your joined bodies. One of his offensively large hands cups the swell of your ass while the other finds your clit. Your heart stops at the contact. 

He starts circling the nub with his thumb, drawing out loud moans from you. Your body arches against the wall, pushing yourself further into him. Your toes curl at every swipe of his thumb, smearing your slick over your folds and his cock—it makes your clit throb.

“So wet for me. So…fucking wet” God, the way he says it almost painfully through gritted teeth—it’s seared into your brain. 

He opens you up with his fingers to watch his cock slide in and out of you. The lewd sight of you creaming around his shaft at each pull drives him so close to the edge. 

“Oh…ohhh…Marius….”

“Tell me…did you let him fuck you?”

The squelching noise of your pussy makes the flush rise to your cheeks—positively embarrassed at how wet you are for him. You can feel your juices gushing out of you and sliding between your joined bodies. 

“N-no…only you.”

“Good girl.”

Marius stops thrusting to step out of his pants then pulls you off his cock to throw your body over his shoulder. He angles your body towards his face so he can grab onto one of your breasts, wrapping his tongue around your nipple as he carries you through the house. 

Cool satin sheets welcome your back when he throws you onto the bed. In quick, rushed movements he pulls the dress completely off of you and tosses it onto the floor. With those same strong hands, he grabs onto your ankles and drags you towards the edge of the bed. 

“How do you want me to fuck you?” he asks, dragging his lips up your leg, resting against his shoulder. He slowly unfastens the straps of your stiletto before pulling it off your foot and then tossing it aside. 

“Do you want me to be gentle…” he trails, running his fingertips down your thigh, towards your cunt. 

“Or…” he slides two fingers into your hole, hot and clenching at the intrusion. “…you’ll let me do whatever I want?” 

He curls his fingers upwards, making you scream and arch your back off the bed. “Fuck….Wh—whatever. Do whatever you want just please…please. Want you inside…”

“Then spread your legs wider for me.”

With a satisfied smirk, he watches as your legs fall open for him, your body so pliant to his commands. 

Marius stands between your legs and starts fucking you with his fingers, working his wrist, thumb flicking roughly at your clit—while two fingers pump in and out. You can hear the wet sounds of your cunt as he fingerfucks you, your slick gushing out of you as you shatter around him, unprepared—screaming into the ceiling, cunt throbbing and clamping onto him, wishing it was his cock.

“Fuck oh my god…fuck…mmmph!” 

He slides his slick-coated digits into your mouth, swiping them against your lips and tongue. You suck onto them earnestly, cleaning them, the heady taste of your arousal on his fingers has drug-like qualities and you’re addicted. You moan around his fingers when he slaps his cock against your clit, sliding through your folds, coaxing more slick to gush out of you, drenching him. 

When he finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth, he cups your ass and tilts your hips higher then unceremoniously pushes in, impaling your cunt to the hilt with his cock. 

“I love how you’re always so tight…”

He presses onto the underside of your thighs until your knees rest against your tits. He leans forward, putting half his weight against you as he continues to pound into your sex. 

“...even though we fuck—so much.”

The pace he sets is aggressive, relentless—snapping his hips so hard against yours you know the pain would linger even hours after. And it’s a fever of sounds—laboured breaths, choked groans and pleading whimpers. Filthy praises continue to spill from his lips in between stuttered grunts. 

Your arms and hands scramble to find something to hold onto, moving from gripping the sheets to clawing his back, fisting his hair until finally he gathers your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head. 

“Fuck! Keep your hands to yourself and just feel me inside you.” He drives his cock even deeper to see your eyes roll to the back of your head. He grins and leans down to suck on your breasts—tongue and teeth, licking and biting onto the stiff peaks, drawing salacious moans from you. 

“God your moans…louder. Louder for me, baby. I want to hear you…” He glides his tongue in between the swell of your breasts, up your neck and finally your lips. “...there’s nobody here. Just us.”

Just us. 

You blink at the ceiling, refocusing your eyes to look at him, face hovering above you and lips lingering against yours. His eyes bore into yours, almost as if he’s reading your mind. And his next words have you thinking that it’s possible.

“What? Going to say you hate me again?”

“No…” you reply, leaning forward to lightly press your lips against his in a soft kiss. “I—I…” Your throat tightens. 

He doesn’t wait for you to finish and leans in to kiss you back, once, twice, then kisses the corner of your lips—gentle, and sweet, it makes your heart ache. 

He shoves you up onto the center of the bed and climbs up over you, then continues to fuck you before you can even begin to overanalyse. Gripping onto your ass with one hand, he starts rocking faster, slamming against you so hard that every thrust drives your body further up the bed. 

The smell of sex is thick, permeating the air and crowding your senses. At this very moment, nothing else exists but this—the sheer pleasure consuming you, body and psyche. And you let him. With no resistance, you let him. 

His brutal pounding sets your body on fire, and it drives you mad with lust to witness him lose all control. To take you so hard, so rough yet with care. 

Marius buries his face against the curve of your neck, breathing heavily and mumbling words you can’t quite catch. You turn your head towards him, peering down at him through your lashes, realising only now that they’re damp with tears. He looks up at you at the same time, eyes glazing, drunk on sex.

He pushes himself back up, caging your body with his arms on either side before dragging himself all the way out. You whine at the loss, whimpers immediately swallowed by him as he kisses you, slow and sweetly. He drives his cock back in, making you arch and roll your hips desperately against his. 

Sensing that you’re close, he gathers your legs and props them against his shoulders. You loudly gasp when you feel him push against your cervix, your hands shooting up to claw onto his back, making him hiss.

He slides out, grabs onto the headboard behind you and roughly rams back in. Your vision turns white, eyes rolling so far back, you fear they’d fall off their sockets. The noise that he tears from you does not sound human, unrecognisable to your own ears. He’s so fucking deep you can feel him in your throat. 

“Marius fuck! Fuck…deep. So deep…”

“Want you to feel me for days…”

 “…deep. So good…you fuck me so good. Oh my god—”

“Mine…all mine…”

“…y—yours.”

The loud sounds of pleasure leaving your mouth fills the room and you quietly appreciate the fact that the 50th floor is far enough from any human ears.  

The headboard slams repeatedly against the wall, loud and in tandem with his thrusts. You even hear the noise made by your slick bodies, skin slapping against eachother so obscenely. Your senses are overloaded—and you’re so close. 

“Cum for me, baby.”

The dam breaks. The earth shatters around you, coming so hard around him that it feels like an out-of-body experience. Your body twitches and jerks underneath him—cunt squeezing him so tight it triggers his own orgasm almost immediately.

You catch him just in time, snapping your eyes wide open as you watch him barrel towards his climax, stuttered grunts leaving his lips as he shoots his cum inside you in hot thick spurts. He exhales with a loud groan, hips still pressed against you, burying you into his mattress as promised.

You barely realise the loud sobs that escape you, and you can’t even tell what it’s for. Myriad of emotions crashing onto you simultaneously and you try to reach for one—needing to know why. 

When he gathers you in his arms, the sobs become even louder. But as quickly as it came, you shut it down almost immediately the moment he tilts your head up to look at him. 

He says nothing as his thumb brushes over your cheek to wipe away the tears, not even when he tucks your hair behind your ear. He tightens his arms around you, burying your face against his chest.

You can hear his rapid heartbeat, and you feel yourself slipping into slumber as you continue listening as it returns to its normal rhythm. 

The sound of him shuffling out of bed and moving around the room has you drifting between sleep and wakefulness. The warm sensation between your thighs startles you awake but you remain still—feigning sleep.

Marius is cleaning the fluids from your skin, wiping the inside of your thighs gently with a warm towel. You feel your chest tighten at the realisation, those familiar and unwelcomed emotions flooding in once again.

When he leaves, you feel cold and it takes all of you not to turn and find him, fearing that he’s left you for good. It’s when you’re enveloped by his arms that you let go a silent breath of relief. You curl against him, pressing your body close, greedy for his warmth. 

“I don’t hate you…” you whisper silently against his chest, having no intention for him to hear. A silent confession. “I think I l—like you…”

As you drift into slumber, you faintly hear him whisper it back to you. 

***

When you are woken up the next time, you find him lazily stroking the skin between your legs. It didn’t take long for your body to respond to him, finding yourself drenched that you’re soaking through his sheets.

The next few hours up till morning was spent with more rounds of fucking—alternating between hard and fast to sweet and gentle. You could’ve sworn that the wall behind his bed is left dented after all the force it endured. 

It always ends with him filling you up with his load and making sure it stays in by pushing it back inside you with his tongue and fingers. “Taste us…” he would say, sliding his fingers into your mouth. Watching you lick them clean only spurs him on and then he’s ramming his cock inside you again. 

He made good on his promise to fuck you all day in bed—set on leaving an indentation on his mattress in the shape of your body. 

Yet not once was it brought up. 

It being your stupid, fucking feelings for him. 

***

Your eyes linger on his bare back, decorated with red marks in the shape of your nails across his skin. Your thighs clench at the memories of last night. 

Marius is sitting on the edge of the bed, stretching and flexing his arms upward then turns his head around so suddenly you yelp, pulling the sheets up your face. 

“If you want to keep staring, I’m not going to stop you,” he says, you can hear the smirk in his words. 

You feel the sheets being pulled down slowly and as it rests below your naked breasts, he climbs on top of you and cages you with his arms. His eyes gaze hungrily over you and your cunt throbs as you watch him slide out his tongue to wet his lips. 

“Shower?” 

“O—okay. I’ll go after you’re done.”

He raises a brow and scoffs. Suddenly he’s off the bed and scoops you up before throwing you over his shoulder. “Marius!”

***

Nothing was said even a week later. And apparently, there’s not enough alcohol in the world that could give you the balls to do it either. Oh god, I’m going to become an alcoholic. 

Silence, all around the table. Turns out you had said that last part out loud. 

“Please, you only had a glass.”

Okay, so you’re a lightweight. Fuck off, Luke. 

Laughter and then the conversation continues, thankfully without you included. You stare down at your phone and contemplate, as you have been for the past few days. 

You haven’t seen him since that day because he’s off to fuck knows where doing fuck knows what, again—and honestly good for him. At least you don’t have to deal with bumping into him and his stupid handsome face as he tries to intercept your mission again. Fuck Marius, really. Figuratively and literally, unfortunately. God, fuck him.

Courage surges through you, fueled by alcohol and rage and other emotions but mostly rage—you unlock your phone and start typing your message when suddenly a message pops up at the top of your screen. You click on it without a thought.

‘What will your sweet friends think if they see this…’

Another message comes in—a video attached.

You sink deeper against the corner of the booth, putting a good distance away from the others before clicking play, your curiosity overriding your sense of logic. 

It’s the unmistakable figures of Marius’ and your own, clear even though taken from a far distance. It was one of the more reckless trysts, out in public, secluded, or so you thought. You remember it clearly because you had been the one to initiate it. 

Pulling him to the back alley where you proceeded to beg him to take you, right then and there. Marius did little to protest, wanting the same thing. It had been quick and desperate right against the brick wall, leaving you both feeling dirty afterwards. 

‘cute dress btw.’

You whip your head around and search the room, wondering if this person is in the bar and if this is just one sick joke. Your heart is pounding, loud in your ears like nails being hammered against your skull. Who. Who the fuck—

‘stay away and this will be our little secret’

‘he’s mine’

‘stay safe xo’

For the longest time you had contemplated on how to walk away. To end things. For so long you had contemplated, until you don’t.

And now, this is how it ends. This is how it should end. She made it so easy for you. 

But why does it still fucking hurt?

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

How they Kiss You (NXX Boys)

CW: fluff, maybe a little suggestive here and there

Vyn x fem!reader, Luke x fem!reader, Marius x fem!reader, Artem x fem!reader

Vyn Richter

Subtly dominant, gentle, attentive, Vyn’s kisses bring all three to the table

It so very easy to relax into his kisses, knowing that he’s well aware of what buttons to push, when to push them, and how hard they should be pushed, leaving you breathless in mere moments

Even when you take initiative in your make out sessions, you can never get rid of the feeling that he’s guiding you, nudging you one way or another

And he’s never rough about it, Rough or quick. Good things are made to be savored, he’s said on more than one occasion

These make out sessions only happen in private, however, Vyn is a very private person and he would rather that his eyes be the only one that sees your blissed out face

In public he limits himself to small, gentle pecks

He’ll often push your hair behind your ear, leaving a kiss on your temple, or lay a kiss in the middle of your palm

It’s little things that satisfy his desire for touch and make you feel seen and appreciated

Luke Pearce

Luke’s kisses are enthusiastic. Enthusiastic and a little bit messy, especially at first.

Often times you find that you’re the one initiating them, though he initiates plenty himself

There’s a great deal of give and take between the two of you, with no real power dynamic. It’s fun and when you two part you’re both panting for breath

To your surprise--you figured this would be something Marius would do, not your puppy-in-human form Luke-- Luke likes to let his hands wander as far as you’ll let him. 

Boobs, butt, he likes how soft you are and makes sure you know it. He’s not shameless enough to stick his hands down your pants (unless he’s trying to get some), but his hands definitely wander

Another surprising thing is he doesn’t often give you unsolicited kisses.

I mean, he might give you a peck on the lips here and there, but his thing is constantly holding hands. Sometimes you wonder if your hands even belong to you anymore

Marius! Von! Hagen!

Tease, tease, tease!

Ok, he loves all the kisses. Quick kisses, teasing kisses, deep kisses that make Vincent blush when he walks in on you

Some days, he’ll pepper you with little kisses, or kisses with just a little tongue, until you’re about to burst before pulling you in for one that shorts out your brain

On days where he’s just gotten out of a long meeting with the old guys, he lends to lean towards slower, more intimate kisses. When he gives you these, he’ll thread his fingers into your hair and rest his other hand on your waist, enjoying every aspect of your presence.

And of course, there are kisses that are designed to get things moving in a nsfw direction, teasing you, riling you up, until you’re about ready to tear his clothes off

Unlike Vyn, he has no qualms about public making out. Actually, he seems to enjoy the idea that you two might get caught. Only, you have. Poor Vincent has needed a bar of soap for his eyes a time or two (Marius has a case of the wandering hands)

Artem Wing

He and Vyn are a lot alike in the kissing department. Both of them are gentle, attentive, always tuned in to your reactions

Artem isn’t as dominant however and his kisses feel more intimate, maybe because he’s more open than Vyn

Sometimes you take control, setting pace and depth, but often times you’re just happy to let him take care of you. He knows you almost better than you do, and he uses the knowledge to great effect

Most of the time, kisses with Artem are slow and intimate, but there are times when Artem gets a little rougher, giving into his addiction to your little sounds and the way you lean into him. It never fails to leave you breathless and dazed

Usually any kind of kissing is left for when there aren’t any eyes too see you

When you’re in private he might kiss the top of your head or your forehead, but that’s about it. When it comes to pda he prefers holding your hand or wrapping an arm around your shoulder rather than giving kisses. It makes those kisses far more special because of their rarity

[incursionofthedamnedrpg]

Start Date: Tuesday, Jun 20th, 2017, 12am EST End Date: Sunday, Jun 25th 2017, 11:59pm EST

In the standstill of the war that seems to be going on between Abaddon and Crowley, Crowley seems to be nowhere to be found. However, Sam Winchester has recently been possessed by none other than the fallen Lucifer. He managed to push him out. It seemed that all was still, with only Abaddon around once again.

Of course, the residents of Mystic Falls shouldn’t have tried to hold their breath. The drama in the Mikaelson house was relatively isolated, but that didn’t mean someone didn’t take notice. Lucifer, unknown to the rest of the town, took notice of this. Waiting just a little bit after the chaos, he wanted to make a statement. That he was here. That Hell would once again be his. That Mystic Falls had a storm coming, and that he would punish everyone and anyone who got in his way.

To announce his homecoming, with the help of a few rogue angel allies and the Horsemen, he plunged Mystic Falls into darkness. No electricity. No sunshine. Clouds reflecting doom and gloom and a magic border around the town, no one able to get in or out. Even angels and demons are not immune. Their powers are useless. They can only use them on each other in the room, but not to get out of the room, or Mystic Falls.

The citizens awaken in groups of threes (or twos), each in a classroom. The door is locked, and even super strength, witchy powers, or any other sort of supernatural intervention cannot get them out.

The town has been too tight knit. Too good. Even those who are intended to cause chaos and destruction —and Lucifer can’t stand it. His mission? Use the Horsemen to break the townies down. Possibly even turn them against each other. The other option? Death. To all those in the room—or to a loved one in a different room. Comply, and you might just be rewarded.

Roleplayer Notes:

Each room is going to be afflicted with a different horsemen. They’ll show symptoms relating to the Horsemen.

The plan is to tasks to a select few from Lucifer. Tasks will be given out the second or third day of the event. If the task is not completed within 48 hours, consequences will ensue. Those consequences may or may not be disclosed. If all tasks are completed by those who receive them in the classroom, they will be released.

Those who get out of the room will be free to roam Mystic Falls High, but will be still afflicted with their ‘symptoms’.

To get out of school, the character must have to face Lucifer himself.

Phones still work so everyone can still interact.

Please make sure you are tracking #iotdrpgudate as the event goes through stages! Also make sure you are following Lucifer.

If you have any questions, be sure to ask.

We ask that all threads be wrapped up or put on hold until after the event to keep the dash just event related.

Symptoms:

War- Those under the affliction of war will be easily driven to a blind rage. Anything and everything will set them off, and they’re looking for a reason to snap. Violence is their first instinct.

Famine- Those under the affliction of famine will feel everything intensely—hunger, desires, and urges. Impulse control is weakened. Right and wrong inhibitions are lowered.

Pestilence - Those under the affliction of pestilence will feel weak and sickly. As time passes, hallucinations may occur and nauseous episodes will become common.

Death- Those under the affliction of Death will feel as though they are dying or face an irrational sense that death is imminent. Those under the affliction of death also may fall into a deep sleep for hours, and wake up, not recalling that any time has passed.

Groups:

WAR

Classroom 151 - Dean Winchester, Marcel Gerard, Leith Ostrinson

Classroom 152 - Abaddon, Chester Lawrence, Clara Dambrose

Classroom 149- Thomas Kenley, Sam Winchester, Molly Reynolds

Classroom 121- Henrik Mikaelson, Victoria Harrington, Alaric Saltzman

FAMINE

Classroom 154 - Damon Salvatore, Rebekah Mikaelson, Madeline Brown

Classroom 155 - Nyx, Kol Mikaelson, Micah Garnett

Classroom 156- Freya Mikaelson, Delilah Lovett, Spencer Pryor

Classroom 157- Elijah Mikaelson, Sebastian Hagen, Genevieve Angeli

PESTILENCE

Classroom 160 - Ella Mae Chase, Gabriel, Jeremy Gilbert

Classroom 165 -Logan Booth, Tristan de Martel, Alicia Ortiz

Classroom 159- Samael, Sonia Desai, Elena Gilbert

Classroom 158- Marion Harper, Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson

DEATH

Classroom 166 - Aria Hale, Katherine Pierce, Aurora de Martel, Bonnie Bennett

Classroom 170 - Stefan Salvatore, William Brown, Dominic Lawrence

Classroom 171- Violet Dukes, Matt Donovan, Sofia Brown

Classroom 172- Lawrence Blackmore, Castiel, James Reid

[angeldcgs]

"you're right... for all i know, my nonna could've been cuddled up to some biker on the back of his harley all through her twenties." it was an interesting thought— nickie had never spent much time thinking about her life before she'd become a mother or a grandmother. considering how his father had turned out, it wouldn't be too big of a shock to learn that she'd had a bit of a sordid past. that reckless streak had to come from somewhere, right? "nah..." he wrinkled his nose at the thought. "don't think i'll last that long. not at this rate, anyhow." a long, illustrious life simply wasn't in the cards for him, it seemed, and he'd long since made peace with it. he'd grown up being told there were only two outcomes for someone like him— he could either end up rotting in a jail cell, or doing the same six feet under, and one certainly seemed a lot more appealing than the other. "good on you, though. that girlboss shit is a good look..." he shot a wink her way. it certainly was an impressive accomplishment, that she'd managed to turn her passions into a money making venture, and that the attempt had actually been successful. she'd found her niche, and it seemed to be something that could sustain her for the foreseeable future. nickie only wished he could've stumbled into something with that sort of longevity, rather than having to rely on the fleeting success of theft and dealing. "i would've, yeah... but a bike typically lasts longer than seventy two hours. unless you crash it, of course." he had to look at things somewhat pragmatically, weighing the pros and cons, balancing the trouble it would take to get something with the value it could bring to his life. even before he'd crashed it, keeping his bike in tip top shape was an expensive hobby, but the fulfillment it brought him was well worth it. gazing down at her delicate features in the dim illumination of the moonlight, nickie couldn't help but wonder just how often she received attention of this sort. her reputation must've scared off many potential suitors, but still, she was undeniably gorgeous. surely at least a few people were willing to look past the rumors in order to try their luck with her, but he got the feeling she wasn't used to being spoken to in this manner. "i guess i don't," he shrugged. it was all wishful thinking, really. he was going out on a limb assuming that he had the upper hand, that he'd successfully convinced her of his innocence and now was on his way to securing her affections, but she hadn't exactly given him anything to worry about thus far. she should've called the police long ago, and yet there she stood, entertaining his advances. "everybody just calls me nickie." it wasn't a lie, but it would be much harder to try and track down his record with just his nickname to go off of. "if you did you could just wave your magic wand, get me to forget all of it." her expression seemed to light up, and his followed suit, touch drifting down to her shoulder and his fingertips trailing down her arm. "get me to forget all of this... forget you. but you wouldn't want that, would you?"

"now, now...don't be so quick to judge old ladies. they had entire lives we could only dare to imagine." it was one of the things she missed most about her grandmother — the stories. despite spending most of her youth raised by the woman, nearly every day filled with each other's company, it seemed there was always some new tale from her past that left eralia captivated. the older she grew, the more the woman seemed comfortable allowing her to hear. it often made her wonder what stories of her parents she'd never gotten to. "don't forget; one day you'll be an old man yourself." chocolate hues drift to the sky, seeking the invisible entities that might reside there. "gods, god...whoever willing." and though her gaze is distant, there's a slow nod that says she understands — or rather tries to; imagining a world in which she couldn't afford all she had, couldn't hold onto the things she was passionate about, where she had no choice but to give it up. "i suppose that's the perk of a hobby such as mine. old ladyish as it might be...it pays for itself." the candles, oils, body care, herbal remedies; all those hand crafted items sold within her shop — it was both business and pleasure. even the more dangerous plants, the ones that didn't go into such products, served a purpose. research on such species was important and needed, as was their care, findings that were (at times) acknowledged through financial compensation. though such information seemed to be unknown by anyone outside of those transactions. no one cared. no one bothered to ask. over time, eralia had realized that most people preferred their gossip to the truth; to operate under the assumption that her interests could only be for ill purpose. where was the excitement in a tale about a girl who merely wanted to help? such was not nearly as scandalous. "are you telling me you wouldn't have nurtured your bike back to health if you had possessed the skills?" daring to remind him of a softness he may be unaware lingers within himself. "it's no different — giving your mind and body to something in order to help it develop." a piece of her mind disfavors the way her body reacts to him; left feeling much like a kitten who wanted to lean into that touch, to plead for more attention. intimacy, both emotional and physical, was heftier a thing than many gave it credit for. people needed it for their well being, to feel seen and connected, possessing the ability to impact not only one's mental but physical health. it seemed eralia had spent so long without it that she'd failed to notice her own loneliness. up until this moment. "what makes you think i'm not?" a question that seems more serious than the others. wicked was a term the few who'd truly known her likely wouldn't use — but then neither was saint. still he's right; he could be worse, far more wicked than people even made her out to be. he was illegally on her property, had invaded a private space beyond that, snooped and collected his trophy in the form of evidence. still she doesn't fear him — though intuition had failed her before; if his intentions are that ill, would he not have acted already? would he not have made his move in the enclosed space of her greenhouse? or was he aware such was risky for him? was he awaiting the right moment to strike? eralia couldn't know. not truly. besides — "i don't even know your name." and much like his reason for being there, she's not sure if she'll get it — or if the one she receives will even be the truth. "you think if i had i would tell you?" now her lips curl, like he'd excited her, like the possibility is alive and well.

[angeldcgs]

his lips parted to bare his teeth, canines just barely grazing over her pulse point before he nipped at tender flesh. "i dunno... i think you could rise to the occasion." maybe nickie was biased, because he'd been conditioned to only see the good in her, but he figured abigail could do pretty much anything if she wanted it enough— not that he should be getting swept up in the fantasy of a potential future family when she wouldn't even commit to him. "if i put a baby in you, you'd kinda have to be my girlfriend, huh?" his resulting snort took him out of the sensual mood momentarily, unable to resist the crass joke when it was right out there in the open. to make up for it, he began to mouth at her throat, delicate and wet, hands taking a more firm hold on her hips to keep her in place. "sorry... ring first, then baby. the normal way."

she's still laughing as his nose trails over the column of her throat, fingers lacing through his hair to keep him in place as the warmth of his breath raises goosebumps over her skin. "listen, i'm all for the making babies process.... it's the raising them that scares the shit out of me. i mean—- being responsible for making a functioning human?? no way any kid would survive me, i'm not cut out for it." which she only half attributes to her chilly exterior. the other half her therapists have reiterated stems from her own lack of positive role models. "but obviously our genes would make beautiful babies."

[gothwives]

if she really didn’t want him to continue, nickie would’ve gladly called it a day and settled for some cuddling before she had to go do whatever she needed for the day, but he couldn’t help but try and tempt her with the promise of more. it was as much for her sake as it was his, wanting to make sure abi was fully satisfied while also craving more of her. “you’re gonna have to stop me at some point, y’know. god knows i’ll be at it all morning if you don’t.” just like that, he’d gone back to placing a line of kisses up her folds and to her clit, wanting to ease her back into it before his lips gently closed around the delicate bud. a groan vibrated around her when she reached his still covered cock with her wandering hand, a slight twitch finding him from the weight of his own needs which he’d been neglecting. “you wanna turn around?” he suggested, a bit of a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. "you can return the favor, if you want... i promise it won't distract me."

despite the way her entire body trembles beneath the force of her own climax, abi can't help the whine she lets out as his tongue continues slow, teasing movements against her throbbing clit. "it's not that i don't want it...." fingers still curled in his hair, all it takes is one brief look at his pleading expression for her head to fall back in a reluctant show of defeat. "you're impossible to say no to, y'know that?" especially when all he ever wants is to please her. she lets one hand free itself from tawny locks, reaching behind her so her fingers can walk down his abdomen until they trail over the length of his cock which is all but begging to be freed from his boxers. "two can play that game, y'know."

[gothwives]

"well... yeah, i know what we talked about but i just thought— y'know, the way you've been acting..." once again, nickie had let himself get swept up in a fantasy, reading too much into the simplest of gestures and building up their relationship as something more than it was. at first he'd been more than ok with their little agreement, but somewhere along the road it had become real to him. "so you really don't feel anything for me?"

          “yes.”  she  responds  with  no  hesitance,  heavy  lidded  gaze  across  his  features  remaining  staunchly  unimpressed.  “which  is  exactly  what  i  told  you  when  we  began  our  little  arrangement.  it’s  not  my  fault  you  got  attached,  darling.”

[gothwives]

"babe... i really do have to get going." even so, the way andy looked all tangled in the sheets with just the right amount of flesh exposed was enough to make nickie want to shackle himself to the bed and never leave. "i am a visual learner, though... maybe you should give me just a taste. just so i know what i'll be missing."

“   let   me   show   you   why   you   should   stay   in   bed   .   ”

[gothwives]

"no, no, i do! trust me, i want everyone to know i'm yours, just... not so hard. you've got sharp little teeth, they hurt."

"awe, come on baby ... don't you wanna mark each other up ? let everyone know that we're both taken ?"

[angeldcgs]

“the back of a bike ain’t no place for an old lady,” he chuckled, making sure she knew it was said in jest. his grandma was one of the few people who truly loved and cared for him, seeing him as a human being worthy of grace and understanding rather than a nuisance to be contained. as such, he’d never want to unintentionally slander her, but she herself had chided him on many occasions for engaging in such a dangerous hobby. she was somewhat relieved when he’d crashed his last motorcycle, taking the fact that he hadn’t been seriously injured as a blessing and insisting it was the universe’s way of giving him a warning. “don’t got the money.” if he did, he’d have gone right out and bought a new one the next day, or doled out the exorbitant fees to get his old one fixed up, but unfortunately he was too preoccupied with making ends meet to indulge in such luxuries. “that does sound pretty special… guess i’m just not the nurturing type– i respect it, though.” again, he found himself taken aback by how eloquently she spoke about the work, reverence more than evident in her tone, something almost dreamy about her delivery. she wasn’t like anyone else in town, and she definitely wasn’t like all the sordid rumors made her out to be. to nickie, it seemed as though she merely had different values than other people, but that didn’t make her some sinister figure wary of suspicion. though the unexplained disappearance of her last boyfriend was strange, he knew better than anyone that things weren’t always as black and white as they seemed, and she deserved the benefit of the doubt. he had no beef with her— his boss, on the other hand, was another story. if he played his cards right, eralia would never suspect his sudden interest in her as a person was anything but genuine, but of course a smart girl like her wouldn’t be so easily charmed into a stupor. it seemed to be working at first, the sudden shift in his demeanor throwing her off guard, but before she could get swept up in it, her better judgment seemed to kick in, challenging his smarmy attempt at flirting with a quip of her own. “maybe,” a ghost of a smirk crossed his face, thumb brushing across her cheekbone more deliberately as he continued gazing down at her. “might just be too distracted to pay attention.” ulterior motives aside, she really was quite beautiful. maybe not the type he'd usually go for, just because he assumed she might have a little bit too much baggage, and nickie had more than enough of his own to go around. this may not have been the most conventional way to meet someone, but as far as his "odd jobs" usually went, this was far from the worst possible outcome. "you talk like you're the wicked witch of the west, or something..." if she was trying to scare him off, she'd have to try harder than that. the worst she could possibly do to him would be calling the cops, and since she hadn't threatened to do so yet, he figured he was in the clear. "people say plenty of shit about me, too. how do you know i'm not the dangerous one?" in his case, the rumors weren't so much unfounded conjecture as they were well researched facts, seeing as a simple google search of his name would reveal a myriad of mugshots and arrest records spanning an entire decade. it tended to give people a certain impression of him, judging his crimes at face value without taking the time to get to know the actual human being behind the record. "you sure you haven't cast a spell on me already?"

"i see why the disinterest in old lady stuff." a pointed glance delivered with her words, refusing to let his chosen descriptor go. "keeping the pedal — pardon my equivoque, at full throttle, doesn't much align with such delicate tasks." as opposite as they were similar, eralia had never been on a motorbike — didn't have a tendency towards vehicles of any kind. crashes not something she dismissed as simply as he seemed to. her feet had long been her trusted mode of transportation. if extended travel became necessary, it was most often by bus. still she picks at his interest with a curiosity more genuine than his probing. "you never got another?" wonders if his passion was the bike itself or merely the thrill, if he'd have traded it for anything else that helped to elevate his heart rate. "i think...i think if you're passionate about something — if you really love it, it's worth it. that cycle may be short but...imagine watching a decade of work flourish before your eyes. like a shooting star you nurtured into existence." her own work, while not a singular item that had required a decade of her dedication, had not been easy. things came with failure, with risk and reward. her work, her studies, had never been crafted flawlessly within minutes of a first attempt. "it's a love child." just minutes ago, in the shed, her companion had seemed on edge — now he looked as if this was his home, his battle ground. he doesn't flinch, doesn't sway, doesn't so much as bat an eyelash when eralia draws into his personal space. at least, not until he reaches out; reaches to touch. it's her muscles that go rigid, air drawn from her lungs, the unexpected act freezing her in place. perhaps she shouldn't have advanced. "teach?" the repetition of his words escapes on a hushed breath, mind slowly gathering itself. "maybe...maybe you would've done a little worse." it's a game. eralia is no idiot — but perhaps there is a tiny bit of fool left inside her. a piece that wants to believe the attention, the geniality, is authentic rather than a ploy. perhaps she doesn't care; doesn't mind being used if it means she's granted a little bit of that nearness she hadn't been aware she was missing. "weren't you warned against coming here? it's dangerous to even be a customer of mine, let alone come here for..." she allows her words to trail off, an answer she still hadn't received, an answer he clearly wasn't going to provide. "haven't you heard what i do to men?" she certainly had — many a whispered tale of her capabilities, of her interests. most utter nonsense. "or is the adrenaline junkie in you really that desperate for a rush?"

[angeldcgs]

sensitivity was like a death sentence for someone in nickie's circumstances, but he couldn't help but show exactly how he was feeling. his brothers had been better at hardening themselves to the world around them, either putting their nose to the grindstone and working their asses off to survive, or succumbing to society's expectations and spending the majority of their life behind bars. nickie had always been straddling two sides, not ruthless enough to be a successful criminal but with no other marketable skills he could survive off of. he did whatever he could to get by, and he was barely making ends meet. stalking cookie had become a much needed escape, each visit fueling a sort of fantasy he'd concocted in his head about a potential future together. some ideal, incredibly unrealistic world in which he could find a way to run into her in public, somehow charm her into falling in love with him, and then get to move into her big beautiful house to live happily ever after. he couldn't even realistically picture it happening, but it was a nice thought. in order to be worthy of her, he'd need to do a whole lot of self improvement, and even then, he probably still wouldn't be good enough. the direct confirmation of his deviancy was strangely comforting, having been seen for who he truly was, and treated accordingly. he was still trying to catch his breath when she slapped him again, sending his head whipping in the other direction as he let out a strangled grunt. his cock ached even more painfully than his cheek, now fully erect and straining painfully against his jeans. each slap came within quicker succession from the last, his voice becoming louder and higher pitched the more desperate he became for more. even better than just the physical pain was the way she cut him down verbally, her words carving a hole right through his chest and leaving him whimpering in between his cries. no one had ever made him felt weaker, and it was a relief. he had no way to continue his tough guy persona, reduced to the most sniveling, pathetic version of himself, painfully hard and teary eyed and red cheeked. it only registered to him that he was crying when he felt warm tears sting his abused cheeks on their track down his face, finally lifting his gaze to try and look up at her with his big pleading eyes. even amidst such violence, she looked so beautiful. he just wanted to reach out and touch her, to feel if she was as soft as she looked, and he couldn't help but writhe against the ropes binding his wrists as she came to crouch down in front of him. "no," he moaned in anguish as soon as she'd mentioned the police, beginning to wiggle even harder. "no, please... you don't need to call the police. you can do whatever you want to me, anything, just please..." he'd been in some life or death situations before, but nothing had ever seemed this dire. it wasn't that he even cared about getting arrested, or what might happen to him in jail, he just couldn't bear the thought of never getting to see her again. "if you call the cops, what's gonna happen? they'll take me to jail, an-an-and then what? somebody else gets to beat my ass? you don't want me rotting in a cell... you don't want some judge deciding my punishment for you— you can do that yourself. think... just think how that would feel..."

a lifetime of making her emotions palatable for audiences had left cookie stunted, unable to fully come to terms with anything she felt when it wasn't being profited off of. she'd taught herself how to swallow anger in the face of rude questions from unintelligent interviewers and silence her frustration when it came to her stalking of online forums dedicated to discrediting and making a mockery of her name. forcing herself to be on constant guard while talking again and again about the most traumatic moment of her life had flipped a switch in her brain, it meant that when now met with real emotions, cookie struggled to make sense of whether she was reacting honestly or not. the anger she felt towards nickie felt real, it overwhelmed every inch of her body and made her want to kick his chair over and rip him limb from limb. however, how much of that anger resulted from being forced to swallow previous bouts in the past? it would've been so much easier to accept his apology and make him promise that he'd never do something so disrespectful again but she couldn't do it. someone had to pay for the treatment of her. "how could you?" cookie stood frozen beside him, watching him as he tried to take in what had just happened. his look of shock and quickly reddening cheek were more arousing than cookie would admit even to herself. he looked a complete and utter wreck, still it wasn't enough. "you lied to me." slap. "you made me look like an idiot." slap. "you're nothin', you hear me? nothin' but a dirty 'ole dog sniffing around for scraps. you're pathetic." once she started, she couldn't make herself stop. years and years of repressed frustration, of being forced to keep up an appealing persona to keep the public tolerable of her and her story. everyone knew the gory details of her life but even as a child, no one had wanted to know the effects that witnessing such a horror had left on her. it wasn't good daytime tv material, they wanted the picture in black and white, that way they could look at the blood and distance themselves from how much of it there had been. nickie's plea for more had gone unnoticed by cookie, she had been far too concerned about deciding what she wanted to do to him to pay any focus to what he might have been getting out of the assault. by the time she'd slapped him a couple of times across both cheeks, nickie's face was bright red and her hand ached with the strength it had taken to hit him as hard as she'd wanted to. she took a moment to straighten herself up, brushing back her hair and flattening out her nightgown flush against her body before crouching back down beside nickie. what she was getting from torturing him was unclear but it felt like the first dose of karma she'd been waiting years to come to fruition. "listen to me, okay? i'm gonna call the cops on your sorry ass and they're gonna take you away and you ain't ever gonna see me again, you got me? you're nothing more than a filthy little thief, i can't believe i even got my hands dirty touching you. you disgust me."

[angeldcgs]

"oh, i'm very aware..." when that chilly exterior had been directed towards him, it was akin to a death sentence, but witnessing her dole it out to others gave nickie a sick sense of satisfaction. knowing that he was one of the few to see this softer side of abigail filled him smug pride— it was the only time he'd ever felt special, or like he was worth something. in her eyes, he wasn't just some trailer trash junkie who couldn't keep himself out of trouble even if it was between life or death, he was a good man deserving of love and affection. "jesus, you can't do that shit to me! i almost had a heart attack..." it was a relief to hear she'd been joking, and yet? something like disappointment churned in his gut despite himself. "no? you don't want a sticky lil' mini-me running around raising hell?" once again pulled into her orbit, he nosed at the delicate flesh of her throat with a soft, content hum. "i think we'd make cute babies..."

"it is! and you know i don't hand that out without good reason, so it must be true." truthfully, even abi's caught off guard by the sentiment. because it is true, and she can't remember the last time she'd cared about someone and their opinion the way she cares about his. she's drawn back to reality by the sudden fear that takes over his entire expression, and she can't help the way she bursts into a round of laughter that brings tears to her eyes. "nickie, i'm kidding! i just wanted to see the face you'd make." well worth it. "i'm actually not even sure that i want kids, but i'm sure you were a very cute baby."

[angeldcgs]

her reassurance had never been as frequent as his, so nickie made sure to squeeze every ounce of enjoyment out of every instance so he could save it for a rainy day. “that is quite high praise, miss.” an exaggeration if he’d ever made one; abigail didn’t like all that many people, so he supposed it wasn’t hard to become her top favorite, but it filled him with pride nonetheless. a soft, closed mouth kiss was pressed to the curve of her neck, reveling in the gentle rake of her fingers through his hair. “you can hurt me in the sexy way, too. that’s always encouraged.” once she leaned back, he pulled away, too, big, swamp-moss colored irises taking in her finely crafted features, lip curled up at the corner. that is, until she alluded to the possibility of a baby— of the two of them, having a baby— and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “baby fever? c’mon, abs, don’t speak that into existence.” fatherhood was most definitely an endeavor nickie wanted to embark on at some point, but perhaps it would be best to wait until he found a more legit, non-crime based job and wasn't at risk of getting thrown in jail at any given time.

she tries to hold back the grin stretching over her features, but his need to clarify just how favorite draws out another laugh. "like, number one, top favorite person." her hand rests at the back of his head while his face finds solace in the curve of her neck, fingers brushing through his hair slowly. "i don't want to hurt you: it's not as sexy as you're making it sound." and, despite her better judgment, the thing that seems to be most effective at not hurting him right now is staying by his side. she leans back on his lap, fingers clasped at the nape of his neck as she takes a moment to meet his gaze. "oh, you'll absolutely regret it. but i might too: baby fever is no joke, and it comes on unexpectedly."

[gothwives]

all his life, nickie's bleeding heart had been his biggest downfall. an upbringing like his could've hardened even the most gentle of souls, but he had managed to remain tender as ever through every obstacle life hurled his way. while in some situations, he was able to mask his overwhelming softness in order to survive, around those he genuinely cared about, he just couldn't fake it. "you like things about me, but you don't like me..." his voice was verging on pathetic, a slight whine sneaking its way into his tone despite his best efforts. it'd taken a lot for him to muster up the courage to even approach the topic, and he'd be damned if he let it go without at least trying to get his point across properly. "well i'm sorry my emotions bore you! do you get off on jerking me around like a puppet? is this entertaining to you?" it wasn't blair's fault he'd managed to fall so deeply, and she'd never made him any promises or pretended to be interested in making their relationship more than what it was, but it still frustrated him nonetheless. "i'm not asking you to marry me, i just want you to be my girl! i don't wanna worry about what you're doing when you're not with me, who you're with... why are you so against that?"

Blair couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the mention of the so-called feelings Nickie talked so passionately about. It was starting to seem like the last couple of weeks had meant something completely different for both of them. “I do like you! Do you really think I’d still be around if this wasn’t something I enjoy?” That much was true. The girl could leave and let this –whatever they had– to die, but she could also remind him why they worked together when there weren’t any real strings involved.  “Look, I think we’re something. We have fun, we like the same things, we’re fucking amazing in bed.” All of that was nice, great, even. Couldn’t he see that? “But since we’re being so disgustingly honest… this whole she-likes-me-she-likes-me-not is getting boring. Incredibly needy, too.” And she wasn’t equipped for needy. “Isn’t this enough? Did you think I was gonna… what? Run away to Vegas with you and get your last name? Don’t be ridiculous.”

[gothwives]

"fun... right, of course." why did he always have to be the fun guy, and not the serious guy? the guy who fell too hard, too fast, only to watch his girl turn around and settle down with someone who made better boyfriend material? "did we? did we know that? because i don't see why it couldn't work! i don't have a trust fund, or a nice car, or-or a fucking boring desk job, or whatever, but i'm nice, and i'm loyal, and i've always treated you well. why isn't that enough for you?"

' well , you were fun too . ' faux sweetness drips from her tone , as if playing cute could soften the blow . ' we knew this wasn't gonna work , nickie ... why are you acting so surprised ? '