#i want to see his luscious locks down i need a skin NOW

[aweina]

cold morning ; sub-zero ( suggestive ) ⋮ check out my other mortal kombat blurbs here <3

the morning after sex with bi-han is quiet. he keeps some distance from your sleeping, nude body — listening to every peaceful sigh that escapes your lips. he watches you closely, the love marks he left on your skin bloomed like purple petals — a reddish hue stained around your neck. the events of last night play in his head vividly. blissful tears running down your cheeks, his grip so tight he remembered how you desperately begged for air, and your sweet, obedient responses that swelled his ego. bi-han tiredly steps out of bed, tucking you more into the warm covers as he runs a hand down his back, silently wincing at the burning scratches you left during that night. before he could take another step, he feels your small arms wrap lazily around his thick waist, face squished against his vertebrae. you mumble something incoherent, using all the leftover strength you have to pull him back into bed. bi-han quietly accepts, moving into the soft covers like before. bi-han deeply sighs when you close the gap as you comb your fingers through his long black hair, planting a kiss on his tense shoulder. his grandmaster duties can wait later on the day.

[mqverick]

red murder || . ｡˚ ✧

mature themes, 18+

blood mentioned, consider yourselves warned

“Shower me in blood, child

Shower me in lipstick.”

·:*────────── ✮ ───────── *:·

A biblical angel. The meaningless chatter of the riches was faintly evident in the atmosphere as you locked eyes with someone, who you didn’t know at all, who had such a striking stare into, not only your weak eyes, but also your entire body. He looked like a biblical figure, an angel perhaps, but there was something about the way he stood, shoulder lazily leaned against the velvet curtain, that pegged him not to be a creature of purity.

No, he was so distinguished and poignant, that it made you forget who you even were. Despite the fact that he was the one boring into your soul, you found yourself inexplicably dependent upon the gaze he’d cast on you, as if your heart would simply get squeezed stopped if he looked away.

Captivating could be another word to describe the façade of the luscious blonde haired stranger, eyes politely stiffed into the pockets of his expensive, elegant coat, decorated by golden buttons that shone under the dim light of the room. His eyes were either gray or hazy blue; either way they drew you in dangerously, causing you to get deeply lost in their shadowy gravitation. You wondered why he was, only for the sake of it, knowing well that the chances of getting to see him outside of the gathering were close to zero. Nevertheless, your insides turned painfully up and down as he kept the eye contact strong as ever, mind twisting at the thought of what he could possibly be thinking about.

Whoever he was, you hoped dearly that he’d have no ability to read minds, otherwise you were as good as gone. You were still young and inexperienced, but that never stopped your imagination. The corners of his lips turned into a slight smirk as he finally looked away, giving you the chance to regain control over yourself and remember how it felt to breathe. Who was he?

You opted to avoid approaching him, dreading the inevitable possibility of fainting upon his aristocratic stance. You walked into the mass of the crowd, fading into the pretentious laughters and snickers, heart beating fast into your chest as you placed your gloved hand over it on your chest, hoping it’d help it get back to its steady rhythm. You found escape in a dark hallway.

You felt dizzy just by the look of a wanderer in a charity ball. You took a deep breath, squeezed your eyes shut to regain your consciousness and let your pupils blur back to their senses. Your chest heaved painfully when you caught sight of his piercing icy eyes glowing into the obscurity of the room. You need to run, a tiny voice rang in your head, but the buzzing sounds of the blood pumping right into your ears was too loud to not cover the challenging warnings of your inner conscience. Your legs stayed frozen in place, blood running cold in your throbbing veins.

He finally approached you, slowly but with steady steps. The limited light blended with his skin, which you could still barely make out as his eyes moved up and down your body. He looked abnormal once again and you wanted to scream from the top of your lungs, but something inside you prevented you from making the smallest sound. You opted for playing it nonchalant.

“Have we met?” you asked firmly, eyebrows knitting together at the soft chuckle he let out.

“I believe not, at least not yet. I’ve noticed you. From across the room you captured my attention,” the curves of his mouth went up slightly as the smirk on his face grew larger and evidently smugger. “Don’t be nervous, my love.”

“Me nervous?” you asked, voice trembling now.

“Indeed you are, no? The way you’re standing here just like you stood back in the main room, all by yourself. Legs weak, the small shake of your knees… I can see it all.” His eyes wandered down your neck, growing particularly fond of the little vein there pump your warm, sweet blood. You followed his gaze, unable to see what he was so fixated on, catching back his attention as you pulled your sleeve higher up the shoulder in a kind of discomfort that you couldn’t really explain.

“What are you?” you found yourself questioning.

Not who, but what. The name and origin of the man did not concern you as much as how he possibly managed to look so pale, yet stand alive in front of you very eyes, with such a pompous demeanor. He chuckled, still intensely gazing at the side of your neck, down to your collarbone, then back at your lips. Shivers ran down your spine, but you kept your calmness, at least on the outside. You slightly tilted your head and waited for an answer, but instead, he gave you a smile.

One that you could not read for the sake of it.

Was he enjoying holding you in the emotional state of mind that you were in that moment, while he stood barely five steps away from you? you pondered quietly in your head, but it was almost as the man in front of you could read every single thought behind that head of yours. Your heart drummed against your chest, you backed away with every small step he took closer to you.

“Don’t be frightened, my love. I mean no harm.”

The tone of his voice and newfound appearance, that you’d truly never seen in any other person before, pegged you to think otherwise. “Quit calling me that,” you gritted through your teeth.

“Fine. Maybe I do mean you a little harm.” He burst out in chuckles the second he noticed your eyes slightly widen at his statement. You were at loss of words — what was so amusing to him?

“What is it that you need from me?” you tried again, but there was nothing you could possibly elicit from him that wasn’t a snarky snicker or stomach aching smirk. Your eyes fogged with fear and an inexplicable desire for knowing him better as you watched him grin the same time your pulse quickened significantly. You took another cautionary step back. He took one forward.

“I want to give you the choice…” he said carefully upon the cell of your ear, long fingers coming up to slightly graze against the skin of your jawline. He lets the sharp edge of his metallic ring barely, just barely, follow the curve of your cheek, causing a thin, white line to form as he pressed with enough force to just see a scar forming, but not letting any blood come out of it. You couldn’t help but feel the sensation of pure bliss to the way he touched your face, even though the voice that urged you to save yourself and run was getting louder and louder by every passing second. “…That I never had. You could come with me, spend the rest of your life by my side, be the companion that I’ve longed for for years.”

Your heart was racing. You were astonished by the choice — half of a choice, you’d call it, since he hadn’t given you the second part of it yet — he’d proposed. You could feel every vein, either thick or thin, pump wildly the blood through it, until it reached up in your brain, blinding it completely from any logic you’d ever owned. “And why shall I be the companion of a man I’ve barely spoken five words to?” you replied sarcastically.

“Because I could take all the pain away. Give you a life like mine… where pain, suffering and death don’t exist. I could make you stronger, faster, smarter, give you all that the world has to offer, that you mortals never seem to seize… or even understand. You could be forever youthful. Just give yourself to me.” Your breath got suddenly stuck in your throat, a look of shock temporarily wrapping around your reddening eyes as you kept them open, momentarily forgetting how to blink.

“And what would happen if I don’t wish for that?”

He looked up, as if mockingly enough for your poor naivety, then swiftly grabbed you by the throat, your voice disappearing instantly. His fingers gripped around the sides and you felt his ring hurting into the skin, but it felt as though he’d cast some sort of spell that could not enable the sense to escape or even speak. “I could take your life away and no one would even come to find you,” he whispered gently in your ear.

Once he removed his hand from around your neck, you could finally start breathing again as the dizzying blur slowly faded away. He looked at you with anticipation, waiting for your reply.

“And how shall you ever do that? I could scream right now and have you be the one lying dead.”

“So blissfully unaware…” he mumbled softly, and like a ray of light, you heard him hiss as something sharp — the hard surface of… teeth… more specifically fangs? — threateningly bordered on the lower side of your exposed neck, which he held with his hand, tilting your head towards the wall that was across from you.

The epiphany hit you so suddenly and quickly that you had to refrain yourself from yelping, now finally out of the state of oblivion you danced around into. A vampire. A vampire, you figured, kept muttering in your hallowing brain in order to genuinely get yourself to pull out of the fanzines of what could’ve been a dreadful nightmare, when it was reality, hard, cold reality splashing into you like a bucket of freezing ice water.

“I’d rather you finish me than make me that loathsome creature of your own,” you struggled to breathe out, nevertheless the voice came out firm and dominant, to which Lestat turned a blind eye to as he moved up closer, invading your personal space and almost having you pinned against the rocky surface of the wall behind you.

“Your wish shall be my command, my child.”

The last thing that you remembered before a soul consuming cloud of darkness covered the bright ability of vision you owned was the faded blur of the vampire kneeling down, as you slowly began to lose sense and control over your own legs and brain. Lestat, as you’d found out his name was, had been sitting by your side on the maroon silky sheets of his own bed, carefully running his long, skinny fingers through your neat locks. The way the lamp on his nightstand shone made your hair look like they were going to catch on fire. The vampire hummed in pleasure as he let his eyes flutter shut for just one second, during which he only came in contact with the feel of your velvety hair that so smoothly rolled around his steady digits. A first blink, then another. You were in a room that you didn’t recognize, nor felt comfortable in. Your pupils were dilated as you awoke from the slumber, sclera pinkish to red instead of white, as if you’d been crying.

Nothing about the setting felt familiar. Your sighting soon got restored and the heart was caught inside your throat when you laid your eyes upon his face, golden hair falling on top of his shoulders, face pale — almost white — but still beautiful; like he was filled with life, as ironic as that may be. Suddenly, you were hit with all the memories that ruggedly formed into your brain before you’d fallen unconscious on him at that ball. You pulled back, your head just an inch from hitting the wall behind as he laughed amusedly.

“Wake up… I’ve waited for so long to hear you speak once more…” he spoke in a gentle whisper that almost felt like a lingering caress on your cheek, his eyes glittering in the dim light. “Wake up, my love.”

Your limbs were somewhat trembling, power of defense against him unknown, as you fought back the urge to scream from the top of your lungs, unable to prevent his next move. There was something about the way he’d sat next to you, all so calm and unbothered, you almost wished you knew what was going on in his mind behind those light blue — almost gray — eyes. It had caused a newfound sense of anxiousness for the unexpected to pit deeply into the curves of your stomach, retinas glossy and puffy as he moved his hand on top of yours. You retrieved it immediately, but the action didn’t seem to dishearten him enough to cut the physical contact with you. Instead, it encouraged him to stomp even further into your space, cold index finger lightly, almost caring, grazing the outline of your chin’s shuddering skin.

It felt rewarding for Lestat; having you in such a state of mind, helpless, completely at his mercy. Your fate depended solely upon him and him only, even if that meant you’d have to beg him to spare you. He had no hostile intentions towards you, though, just simply enjoyed the way the terror entered your body, as you fought against it.

“Don’t be afraid,” he cooed, but you snorted.

“You spoke the same words earlier and here I am, in the house of a stranger, vainly trying to gather back my senses.” The tone of your voice was still on the same line that you’d left it during the first conversation with him at the ball. If Lestat was blind, he would’ve foolishly believed you weren’t frightened by him at all, which excited him.

How was it possible that such a beautiful creature, human amongst humans, had managed to evade his attention all that time? The tip of his thumb padded the side of your jawline softly, rubbing small circles there. “You’re troubled, my dear. I must refrain from my nature if I want to have you by my side, thus you shall not be scared about my actions towards you.”

“And why such kindness, if I may ask?”

Lestat’s eyes lingered on each feature of your face as he drank in the image of you, the woman who had captivated him, as much to the character as to the looks. The hair delicately falling on your shoulders, stopping just before the curve of your breasts, which was deep enough for him to study, every detail of each curve. The fear that consumed you in that very moment, as he sat so close to you, made something in him stir, a hunger that could not and would not be denied.

“Your human nature… it fascinates me.” His grin broadened, his voice thick with desire. He slowly reached out, brushing away the hair on your soft cheek. “The way you perceive things so fiercely, even though death threatens you at every second. Mortality is a curse, my love. I would save you from it. But I have no need for your blood.”

“Oh, Lestat, but you’re a fool, I’m afraid,” you spoke with a satisfied smirk upon your lips. He tilted his head in confusion, still seemingly intrigued nevertheless. “Immortality makes a man miserable. You forget to love and live. And what is the purpose that you’ve brought me here for? Be your eternal companion? I’ll never be yours. Let the years make me your slave for as much time shall pass, but the end of my life will come and find me one day, and I’ll be free again.”

Lestat’s brows furrowed in frustration as he took your words in. “You’re such an ungrateful woman,” he gritted through his teeth, the previous sweetness of his voice now completely gone. There was a small fire burning in his eyes, but that didn’t frighten you either, seeing as you preferred him to kill you in rage rather than sugar talk you with fake desires. Your heart pounded.

“If you don’t let me go on your own terms, I’m going to scream. Kill me for it, if you must, I won’t bring any resistance. I’m giving you a choice.”

The irony of your own choice of words made Lestat’s blood boil. You, a no one human being, had the audacity to twist his words into a joke?

“Scream all you like, my dear. It would serve you no purpose.” And as soon as the sentence left his mouth, you screamed from the top of your lungs for help, eyes watering in anticipation. Lestat got up from the bed, leaned against the wall as he crossed his hands across his chest, waiting.

He watched you with his typical air of amusement as you screamed in terror. Finally, a maid entered the chamber, concern and stress written all over her tired face from the yell that had echoed all the way downstairs. Her poor French accent soon died down her lips as she asked “Ce qui s’est passé?” while looking around for any suspicious actions. Lestat took her by the throat, sinking his fangs deeply into the collarbone as he used the sharp ring on his thumb to cut a small line there open, killing her faster. The blood began to pour down the entire floor, thick, dark and warm. He looked refreshed as he pulled away, throwing her limb body onto the ground as you watched in utter fear and disgust. Not the tiniest hint of a sound was able to come out of you as you covered your mouth in shock, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your entire body felt electrified.

Lestat smiled, savoring your qualm. He came back closer to where you were sat, shaking his head in disapproval. “Look what you’ve caused now… Are you happy with yourself?” You turned to glare at him, flames shooting through your red eyes as he kept trying to hold a laugh back.

“You’re foul! That woman was not involved!”

Suddenly, his face hardened. “I told you no one would come to help you,” he spoke, standing over you, the blood of the maid dripping down his cheek, painting his clothed chest like an empty canvas. “You have no choice but to turn to me, for I am the only chance you have at survival.”

“I loathe you,” you gritted through your teeth.

Lestat couldn’t help but smile at your disdain. He approached you slowly, his eyes moving up your body and then to your neck. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he spoke once more, his voice a whisper. “Good. Use that hatred. Hate me as much as you desire. It won’t stop you from coming to me, it’ll only make the urge stronger.”

You sighed, falling back into the bed as your hands clasped tightly over your eyes, hair messy and unruly as part of you accepted that his words weren’t just a figment of imagination. Somehow, you’d found yourself deeply lost into his midwinter eyes, ebbed ever so gently with cement, accentuated every feature of his sharp characteristics, glistening like stars melted in platinum. You wanted more, just like the way he’d predicted; more of those eyes, of his life, of who and how he turned into a vampire, if he missed his mortality at all, whether or not he enjoyed poetry as much as you did…

Ravishing was a way to put it. Lestat had wrapped you helplessly around his angelic — or was it even demonic? — charm, pulling you in further and further just like core electrons are tightly bound to the nucleus. You wished to escape from the invisible grasp, but you couldn’t.

“Do you miss your mortality, Lestat?” you asked out of nowhere and he looked a bit taken aback by your choice of question. Nevertheless, he came and sat back by your side on the bed, allowing himself to admire the way the silky fabric of your dress had fallen just a tad down your smooth shoulders.

“At times I do…” he spoke without hesitating, his voice a gentle, almost scared, murmur as his eyes fell to the ground. “There are times when I yearn for the sensation of being human once more. I miss the sense of wonder and discovery that comes with being mortal, and the feeling of truly experiencing life for the first time...” He looked back up at you in front of him a faint smile curling on his lips. “You remind me of that feeling, my love. That is why I chose you.”

You sighed in defeat and despair. There was no possible way out of this, you reckoned, just needed to find the will and strength to make amends with what the future held for you.

───

The following night, you allowed him to dress you up in the prettiest dress you’d ever laid upon your body. The burgundy colour and the rich, but delicate fabric fell down your curves so harmoniously that Lestat looked mesmerized by the way it draped over you. He’d complimented your figure as lovely and even though the certain choice of words had given your mind a little dizzy spin, you’d shown zero reaction to him. Instead, you followed him, arm strictly wrapped around his own as you strolled down the dark paths, before he opened the door to a ravishing ball for you. The memories came crashing down like a violent wave of déjà vu, that you so desperately wanted to wash off your mind.

Ironically enough, with your arms entangled, you felt some inexplicable sort of safety. You didn’t recognize any of the people there, but Lestat had promised you a fancy night out, just for the sake of it — and who were you to say no? He narrated the background of the marquess, who was sat royally in the middle of the main hall, two young male servants on each side of where her chair was placed, laughing politely along with her.

“See her? That’s the widow St. Clair. She had that young fop murder her husband,” he whispered lowly into your ear, causing the small hairs on the back of your neck to tingle. You gave him a strange and unconvinced look.

“How dare you speak such words of felony?”

“I can read her thoughts,” Lestat’s voice rang clear, that same soft murmur filling his throat. He looked at you with a playful grin; he enjoyed watching your expressions as you came into realization of the extent of his abilities. He also noticed your sudden freeze, and the corners of his lips broadened. “The thoughts run deep inside a mortal’s mind. They’re so easy to read, and so tempting to listen to,” he whispered. His voice was soft, sensual as he came even closer to you...

“And… and you’ve invaded my thoughts already, I shall presume?” You didn’t need an answer to your own question, already confidently aware of what his reply would be. “What am I thinking of?”

His tone was gentle as his own thoughts wandered inside of your mind, listening to the sounds of your consciousness and the things you thought of. “You’re wondering why I’m even bringing you to such a social gathering. You’re contemplating a way to get out of it... but you’re also secretly curious as to what kind of people will be attending such an event,” he leaned into your ear, his breath coming out warm against your skin. “You’re scared, my love. I can hear your heart accelerating in your chest. The faint sounds of your mind wandering into unknown territory.”

Your cheeks grew red and the saliva barely made it past your throat as it slithered down the length of it in a painful manner. He’d read you like an open book and you didn’t even have to speak a word out loud for him to come to said assumption. It indeed terrified you; how he’d been able to invade the privacy of your own mind, how you weren’t and would never be able to stop him from doing such thing, simply because the desire to stay in peace was beyond your power.

Lestat let a small smirk cross over his face as you blushed. He had found it was rather humorous how he could always seem to have this effect on you. “Don’t be shocked. It’s a trick I’ve learned over my years as a vampire. It’s… become something I hold no control over; if I focus on one person too long, I can hear the innermost secrets of their mind, their desires… their sins.”

“Their desires, you say…?”

You couldn’t help the question when it flew out of your mouth, just like a young child yearning for knowledge of its world. Lestat smirked.

“Yes. Even their most intimate desires... it’s quite intriguing to see the depths of the mortal realm.”

“I want to know about your desires, in that case.”

“Is that so?” his low voice was inviting, close to seductive, you beckoned. His eyes momentarily took a glance at your long legs and the way the dress fell over them, before you spoke again.

“It’s only fair since you know my own ones, already. And don’t even dare deny such thing, I know for a fact that you’ve done it.”

“How perceptive of you, my beloved,” Lestat’s voice was still a soft whisper, tracing the outline of the call of your ear, and he stepped even closer to your side. His breath hitched slightly as he took in the scent of your skin, your femininity. His eyes traced down to your lips again, and his own desires came to life. “At this moment, my desires are simple... they include the two of us alone… together... no one else.”

“No one else…” you repeated with a fragile tone.

The vampire’s voice lowered as his eyes wandered down your body once more, taking in the way your chest rose and fell with your short breaths. “I imagine the two of us without the noise of the crowded ballroom. The way that no one else is there to hinder us… our bodies would merge together, with no one around to intrude as, you and I… free to do as we please.” His mind wandered to the possibility of you alone in his room, of what you could do.

“Oh?” you encouraged him to go on, as if less than twenty four hours ago, you hadn’t uttered out that you loathed him. “You’re always so poetic when you want to end up in bed with someone, Lestat? Speak more to me with what we’d do. In this volume of voice… these words…”

You were undoubtedly washed with a sense of newfound arousal for the vampire and it didn’t escape his attention. His voice had grown raspy with the words that poured from him, a certain type of hunger coming over him as you listened.

“I can’t help but wonder about your sudden change of heart,” he chuckled with a smirk.

“I’m weak at this very moment and I’m letting you take advantage of it. We’ll go back to your manor and we’ll have all the privacy we need… we can spend the night alone, together, as you said.”

His eyes were locked on yours as his mind continued to drift away into those lustful desires. He craved you, wanted you in a way that not even his vampire nature could fully comprehend. Your hands curled around the lapels of his silky shirt and you then run your fingers all the way down his body until they clasped around his own hands.

You couldn’t tell how the time passed, finding yourself from one moment to another; from a fancy, loud ballroom, to a oaken, hand carved door that led into a lavish French-furnished bedroom, which you had —oh, so well — gotten used to. There were heavy shades on the window, an almost magical mosquito netting falling across the sides from the bed, like golden tears. You looked around for a moment, trying to help the blur of your thoughts to comprehend that this was beyond a dream reality, that it was life.

Life, as ironic as it might seem.

Lestat walked behind you as he shut the door, step light and slow. He took his time with tracing the outline of your shoulder blades that the dress allowed you to reveal, his index finger gracefully teasing the skin with only the physical contact of the digit and the bit of the nail that stuck out. His breath hitched when his hand travelled lower on your back, right hand coming up to twirl the tip of the zipper playfully, silently asking you for permission for his next move. He’d ordered all the staff to leave, so that when you’d entered through the mansion’s doors, he’d locked it behind them.

He could see you hesitate, not that he cared much about it. It was certain to Lestat that once the silence fell in, you’d come to be too focused on your intimacy with him to think back on your own emotional barriers. His assumptions proved true, once he quickly unzipped your dress and you looked back at him from over your shoulder with parted lips, not complaining, not asking him to stop. His eyes were almost sparkling as the candle light flickered on your pale face.

“Lestat…” you hummed, mostly as a plead.

But he didn’t say anything back, just picked you up in his arms, laid you upon the velvet sheets of his bed and getting on top, his gaze captivating and unnerving, head tilting to the side so that he could plant a trail of wet, sensual kisses all the way down to your neck, his tongue resting against the veins that popped out as you stretched your head backward for better access.

Lestat’s body was pressed flushed against yours, his now wrinkled shirt fallen down midway through his shoulders, revealing his bare chest as his mouth travelled further down, his left hand gripping around your neck. He moaned softly as he tasted the sweet scent of your skin, the feeling of your pulse rising against his own body.

“Please,” his voice was an alluring murmur as he spoke, his thumb stroking your collarbone. He could feel the desire growing within him to posses you, take you as his own. “Let me have you.”

───

You reckoned it was still nighttime when your heavy eyelids began fluttering open. You recognised the sound of a soft snore next to your ear, a pair of still wet and plump lips caressing and tickling the spot right below your earlobe. You slightly rose from the bed, careful as to not disturb Lestat and rubbed your eyes, but you instantly regretted the action, seeing as the chilly weather trapped inside the huge room caused your underdressed body to shiver. You brought the covers close to your chin and appreciated Lestat’s features. His body next to you didn’t offer much warmth, but the just feeling of having him there in such state had your cheeks matching a crimson shade of red. You hummed in pleasure.

You didn’t mean to wake him, nor made any sound to achieve such thing, but somehow, he’d half-opened his stunning eyes. You were still afraid of him, even if it was somewhat there. He smiled unintentionally when he acknowledged your presence, but didn’t say a word.

“This… it doesn’t have to mean anything,” you were quick to speak in a shaky voice. He only offered you a chuckle in response, bringing a hand out to brush the hair that fell into your face back behind your cheek, hugging you closer to his body. You wanted to attempt to feel his heartbeat, but somehow, your own was loud enough to cover any other possibly existing sound.

Lestat pulled the blanket over the two of you and rested the side of his face on top of your head as he laid a gentle kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes again and he leaned closer, his lips hovering just above yours with his breath being warm and inviting, as if beckoning you to merge with his own body. “Dream of me, my darling.”

───

You poured the second steep and drank out of the fine china cup, noticing the fragrance of the tea. Sweet Vietnamese cinnamon with a hint of floral honeysuckle that began to wrap around your head like the ‘I rivali di se stessi’. You’d really outdone yourself with the tea, finding the variety of herbs and scents in Lestat’s kitchen a joyful surprise to kill time with. You’d woken to the sound of what was almost identical to the pitter patter of sensuous rain on the windowsill. You saw him sitting at the huge, shining black instrument that looked like the sky on a cool summer night, coaxing impossibly soothing and amazing melodies from it. Lestat seemed lost as his fingers flew over the keys like swallows darting in a pond for fish. You sat on the couch across from him and sipped your tea with tired eyes.

“Why’d you stop?” you questioned once the sound was gone and his fingers were just resting on top of his knees. His breath was lost, too.

“You want me to keep playing?” His voice was hoarse and rasped, and he seemed to have lost some of the energy he had when you’d first met him. You pondered the reason, but not out loud.

“Sure.” He began to play again, the same slow, sad melody. You couldn’t help but wonder if it reflected the way he’d been feeling inside. As his fingers strolled through the keys, he looked at you from time to time, almost as if he wanted to say something, but his words always failed him before. “…When did you learn to play?”

“Hm?” He looked away from the piano briefly, his hand not stopping from playing. He didn’t seem to expect the question however, and so he felt a bit taken back. He began to speak slowly, as if he had to think about his answer a little. “My mother taught me how to play. She was a musician and she was very talented. She was a pianist...” He paused to think again. He didn’t want you to know much about his past, especially his human years, but he didn’t want you to think that he was just trying to change the subject either.

“Oh?”

“Yes…” Lestat replied softly, his tone remained steady. “She taught me how to play music, but also helped me understand it. It’s a form of… expressing, even if you can’t physically say it, you play it. Play with your heart, your emotions.”

His hand continued under the same melody, although his voice felt a bit more nostalgic. Still, you watched intently, your eyes following his every movement slightly from over the cup you held against your lips. You’d taken a fancy to the way he spoke sometimes, to his life and past.

“Did you have any family? I mean, besides your mom…” You knew the question was wrong and uncalled for, but it felt as though a burden leapt out from your body as it left your curious mouth. Lestat removed his hands from the instrument and got up. The heart trapped against your ribs was hammering, unable to know what feelings and memories of his you’d just triggered.

“Family?”

“Yeah,” you assured him. He didn’t seem any kin to reply to your question, however. “I’ve run away from mine. Mother held a knife to my throat every time settling down was mentioned amongst the family dinners. Said I’m old enough to convert to a church and become a nun. I don’t particularly care for marriage or any other form of settling down for that matter. I’ve got a free spirit that won’t rest until I travel in every inch of the world.”

You noticed him smile a little, weakly. But you could see him hesitating, hold back, suddenly all stiff. You asked him again about his family, but the only thing you managed to get out of him was a defeated murmur about the story having faded along the line, that it didn’t matter anymore.

“My story is much similar to yours… but it’s a long one, and it’s mostly full of unpleasant memories,” he said softly. Lestat could see in your gaze an unspoken desire to know more of his past, but he couldn’t allow you to witness the ugly side of him just yet. You urged to push him to reveal more, nevertheless, genuinely interested and curious.

“You ran away too?”

“It’s none of your concern to know that.”

His tone raised, frustrated now. You’d hit a nerve, it was certain, but would you risk to upscale his mood, whose limitations you hadn’t explored yet? You simply stared at him as he walked towards the heavy, red and golden curtains, turning his back at you. It wasn’t hard to realise that he couldn’t bare look at you, that if he did, you might’ve taken advantage of reading the raw emotions across his features, a curse that followed him through his early teenage years, up until for all eternity — as the future held to him.

“Whose concern is it then? I don’t see anyone else trapped in this prison of a manor!”

“Prison... prison?!” Lestat heard the comment, and it caused him to feel anger stir inside of him. You didn’t know what a prison felt like, this estate and this mansion was... “This estate is not a prison,” he said harshly, before yanking you by the arm and dragging you across the room in swift movements, all the way down to the basement.

The door that opened to the cold and damp room was torn down, old enough that the woody material on it had lost its brownish colour. Instead, it was a light beige, spider webs all over the rusty metal mechanisms that held it together. He pushed you inside, throwing you with force that caused you to miss your step and fall flat painfully against the dusty ground. He slammed the door behind you as he got in, teeth gritted.

“What the devil is going on inside your sick mind?!” you screamed, getting up back on your legs as you dusted your dress off. Your eyes matched his, sharp, snapping as they glowered.

“You want to live in a prison, yes? Have my blessing in that case,” he responded. You’d insulted him, the place he owned and grew himself up in. He held the door handle shut as he leaned against the door with his back facing it, patiently awaiting for your pleads to let you go. You understood that he wasn’t planning on freeing you any time soon and the anger bubbled within your nerves, matches starting fires in your head and heart. You didn’t mean the words that came out of you in the unfortunate moment, or maybe you did, to some extent, but it still hurt.

“I understand now why the memories of your family must be so unpleasant. No one would want a child like you, so arrogant and selfish. I pity the poor people!” Each letter escaped from your lips with poisonous stabs in Lestat’s heart.

He was stunned as the words reached his ears, hadn’t expected you to resort yourself in such a low place. “Is that so?” He needed to stay mad, slap you, punish you — do something, but all he could bring himself to dwell on were his years as a child, a human. He stared at you, reminiscing every detail, getting to live in his mortal body and soul for one last time as you speechlessly stared back at him, not finding the courage to apologize for the cruel level you’d stooped to. He heard you mutter his name as he almost broke the door in attempt of pushing it open, disappearing into his bedroom and locking himself inside. Ironically, his coffin felt freezing that night.

Lestat had lost the sense of understanding the climate around him a few centuries ago.

───

The next day passed and you still felt shaken. Lestat, with his usual tenderness toward you, had disappeared. Hadn’t spoken one word to you, not even walked in the same direction as you. It was weird how he’d managed such thing, seeing as you both lived under the same roof. The bed of one of the many guest rooms you’d chosen to hid into had been a ghost before your legs. It felt uncomfortable, unwelcoming, unable to hold your presence on it. You spent the night before scribbling drawings on a yellow paper you’d found in one of the nightstand’s drawers, not knowing what else to do with yourself. Twenty four hours being alone in a house with at least more than one lonely person. You took a deep breath and decided you needed to find him, see how he was doing. You’d softened towards him, it seemed, in less time than you’d expected. Your brain was still terrified to accept the idea of it, but the aching inside of your heart didn’t give it any other option.

You walked outside of the room and searched for him everywhere. Yvette told you she’d last seen him go outside. Back upstairs, you heard the soft sound of water running into the main bathroom and curiously walked over, leaning against the door just for a peak. Your mouth dropped and you shrieked loudly in unexpected terror. The bathtub went by the shade of an almost black red, thick, even if it merged with the water. There were bubbles covering the top and Lestat smirking next to it as he took a step closer.

“I prepared a bath for you,” he announced with a smile. You lost your voice along with every other possible function of your system. Lestat looked for a moment, the blood in it did fill him with a certain hunger that he had not felt before. He could almost taste it; the thought of you coming into the tub was almost alluring, he had imagined how you would look in that water... and how you would taste inside that water... he was salivating.

“W—Wh…What did you do?” you asked, your voice trembling, horrified at the freak show.

“What do you think I did?” his words came out with a cold tone, as he stared at you. His face was a bit grim, yet still his eyes were detailed with a certain lust. “You’re going to ask why, I assume. Why did I kill them…? Or why did I bring their blood here?” his voice was full of sarcasm as he spoke, he was making you more confused and scared, but this time, he was not planning to back down to your puzzled feelings and expressions.

“Both… Both!” You felt your knees weaken as you crumbled to the door behind you, the smell of the blood causing vomit to erupt in your throat. He looked at you as you collapsed upon the doorframe, the sound of your gag causing him to smirk a little. You had successfully lost all sense of control, and that was beyond pleasing to him.

“I killed them because I needed fresh blood,” he said slowly, he would not tell you anything more. A step closer, then a hand pointing at the tub, which haunted your soul. “Get in the tub.”

“No. No… no — no — you can’t… you can’t…!” You couldn’t speak. Your eyes were teary and your face had paled and he looked happier than ever. Lestat didn’t want to hear your plead, he didn’t want to hear you beg for mercy. His desire was taking over him, and now that he had killed a few poor slaves in the woods and the bloodlust inside of him had grown in intensity.

“You don’t have a choice.” He then walked towards you, his movements slow and precise. He wished to take what he wanted from you, no matter what you’d do to convince him otherwise. You’d cut deep with your previous words, which never went unnoticed nor forgotten. “I want to shower you in blood, my child.”

His eyes had grown a bright crimson as he got close to you, pulling you into his grip. You thought you were about to pass out, your body limped down on the floor, unable to move or resist. Lestat could feel your weakness, your fragility as you leaned against the door. One more pull and he began to drag you away from the wooden entry. You got more and more ill as the smell got stronger, your mind buzzing as his devious laughter echoed in it. Your throat was closing up and the need for air was growing more immense with your every weak breath. “Why are… you doing this?” you mustered with a middle pause.

“Because of what you said.”

“B-Because of what I… Leave! Let me go!”

You were kicking the air, panicking, trying to run away from him in desperate attempts. He smiled, twirled around your helpless body and hummed the melody of an old Italian song. The tears fell from your eyes artistically, in a way that they almost resembled the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise, your hands clutching on every item possible for a steady grasp that would still his intentions, free you from them. As your ultimate option, you resulted in begging with choked sobs. The pleads caught him off guard.

He couldn’t tell if it was truly fear, or a ploy of some kind to get out of the situation. He was hesitant, yet still had a choice to make, and the limitations highlighted the accident of choosing poorly due to the temper of the moment. He could feel the moisture dripping from your eyes as you begged him not to do this to you, but the hunger for the fright your vocal chords held was still there, distracting him from judging correctly.

“You mocked me…” there was still a hint of anger in his voice, but not the overwhelming kind. In fact, he felt more collected than ever. You’d brought this situation upon yourself…

“This… Lestat, please, please, I want this to end, please…” you sobbed into the comfort of his neck, your arms wrapping around him as they trembled. Lestat could feel you shaking against him as you sobbed. The intensity that he had felt was now fading, a little empathy rising towards you for the first time since you’d insulted him. Your fear made you seem so much weaker, so much more vulnerable, and it made his heart hurt as he looked at you, unfamiliar with this side of you.

He couldn’t stay mad. And he had to let you go.

“You’re making it difficult for me to keep you safe. As much from others as from myself...” he said softly as he loosened his grip on you, his hand holding your arm now was a soft and gentle one. It was not the grip of a killer, it was the grip of a lover. Yet his eyes were a reminder, still burning.

“This… it’s a nightmare, right? None of this happened. The tub… it’s just a nightmare?” you asked him, deluding yourself into a lie that you believed would calm you down. You were still on the verge of passing out, your eyes heavy and swollen as they blinked the remaining tears away.

“Yes... it’s just a horrible nightmare,” he spoke softly as he kept holding onto you, he wanted to lie to you if that meant that you’d start feeling safe around him again, comfortable, that you’d forget all about the tub. He could tell you were still scared, even if you had relaxed a little. He would not allow you to be afraid, did not want you to remember any of this. He only wanted you to remember being safe in his arms.

“I’ll wake up to your bed tomorrow?”

“Indeed.”

“I need to go to your bed…” you murmured under your breath, your eyes half-lidded as he nodded and took you in his arms. Your head rested on top of his shoulder and you couldn’t really tell what was happening around you; what was real and what was not, but in your mind, it mattered no more than a useless piece of information. Lestat carried you all the way to his bedroom and helped you on the bed, as he removed a few layers of clothes of his own. You found the warmth of the scent this particular bed held somewhat comforting, that you weren’t alone anymore. He came up back by your side and stroked your hair as he kept whispering in French, a language that even though you spoke less than fluently, always seemed tricky to understand.

“Tu as un beau cou.” The poorly spoken words grazed just the outline of his vampire fangs as they left his mouth and embraced your throat. Lestat leaned down just a little to place a lingering kiss on the side of your neck, right were your pulse was beating — throbbing — in a way of letting you know that he’d provide you with eternal safety; even from his own self. He cherished the satisfied tiny moans you let out as his promises hugged your soul and sighed. Even with your presence around, his room still felt cold and for a moment he allowed himself to wonder if it’d feel the same way in case he were a human.

“Je sais, mon amour,” he heard you sheepishly reassure him, not understanding in the slightest how you’d managed to do such thing in all your tiredness and corpse-like state. He was the one with the ability to read the mortal mind, yet it seemed like you’d known every inch and depth of his darkest and deepest thoughts since the moment you laid eyes on him. And oh, how he wished you hadn’t. Because Lestat refused love.

He refused the idea of love, thought of it as something miserable and pessimistic, because how could anyone devote themselves so much to a person to forget their own problems and beliefs. Poems, philosophy, theatre, music; they all refused love in a way. The destructive kind.

But his head tilted to the side as he sat in his coffin, watching you descend to sleep, and suddenly he was gone from the world, helpless.

───

“I want to breathe fresh air. Your house is suffocating me,” you’d said to him only a few days later after finding the strength to look him back directly in the eyes like you weren’t afraid. He posed as a danger to you now, after the cruelty with the tub, but you were superior to any of his schemes. The walls suffocated you seeing as he barely let you walk around the town, afraid that he’d lose you, that you’d run away from him.

The sky that night was tranquil. The dark canvas of the it was adorned with countless points of light, like shimmering diamonds scattered across a velvet cloth. The celestial bodies twinkled and glimmered, casting a soft, ethereal glow that captivated the imagination. You always loved to watch the stars, to admire the constellations.

And that night, Lestat was in a good mood, so even though his reply had been hesitant at first, he’d eventually let you do as you wished. With his hand secured around yours, he’d promised to take you to his favourite place, his hiding spot as a newly discovered vampire, his memory founder. You strolled around the town, walked for what felt like several minutes. The setting was unfamiliar and the thought of getting lost crossed your anxious mind for a split second, but given to the concentration on his face, he seemed to know exactly the roads he strolled through. There was a small forest, one you’d never stumbled upon in all the years you spent in Louisiana, even though you were certain you’d walked past it at least once. The air was chilly and there were no others around in kilometers; just you and Lestat. It was the type of place that many nobles would avoid. It reminded you of the haunted forests your mother would read to you about in the night tales to put you to sleep.

“Here we are. Do you like it?” he asked as he let go of your hand, intertwining his fingers together as his hands fell over his crotch. He looked at you.

“Yeah, a lot actually. How come I’ve never known about this place before?”

“Well…” Lestat explained, “It’s an unnoticed spot. Not many appreciate its natural beauty,” he spoke softly, as he looked around the forest once again. “They’re afraid to come here at night, and they try not to pass by during day as well. I don’t know why, if that’s your next question.”

“And how did you discover it?”

“I used to come here often.” There was no use in hiding that answer. He had been a child who ran away, and during those years where he explored this vast estate, he had found this forest. He didn’t know it was haunted — according to the superstitions — back then, but even now when he was aware of it, he would come here often. He had not left for such a long time. It felt like home.

“By yourself?”

“Yes…” He knew the answer was pathetic, that it gave his longtime loneliness away, and he regretted admitting it out loud. “You know, we’re similar in more ways than just our past.”

Your eyebrow cocked in confusion. “And how is that, may I ask?” Lestat paused for a moment, as your question made him think. That part hadn’t always been so hard when it crossed his mind many nights during sleep. Perhaps it had been the fact that he didn’t have to look at you when he thought about his past, but... now he had to.

“We ran away from it. We both know what it’s like to be alone.”

“But we’re not alone anymore, isn’t that what you’re trying to say?” you listed his words before he could do it himself, your voice weary, tears burning in your eyes, even though you understood that he emotional pressure was more overwhelming for him than for you. He’d opened up to you, just a hint of it, you realised, but you couldn’t know why and it pained you.

“We’re not... I...” he grew unsure, unable to finish.

“I want to watch the stars.”

Lestat’s mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but remained in that position, looking at you silently, surprised. “We can watch the stars,” he agreed and took you to a more open spot in the forest. It was clearer and there were less trees that would potentially block the view of the sky. The both of you sat on the grass, legs crossed as your eyes focused on the moon.

“Do you have a favourite constellation?”

Lestat thought about it for a moment. there were many stars he had been drawn to over the years, and he had studied quite a lot of them as well. But perhaps, there was one that particularly stood out to him. “Scorpio,” he said softly as he tried to look to see where it was in the night sky. His gaze was focused towards the stars as you spoke again.

“Scorpio? How so?”

“It stung Orion to death. I do the same with humans in reality. Well, drain them to death…” he paused and laid back on the grass, letting his body become one with the somber pasture. His eyes still stood out, even as the pitch black sky made it really hard to find your own step around. “It’s also one of the first constellations I studied.”

You gave him a little smile and carefully positioned yourself next to him on the ground. “I didn’t know astrology intrigued you.” Indeed it felt odd to listen to him speak about his interests, however it created an invisible bond between you. For once, he looked at the stars with company. He wanted to take your hand, show you that this was something he’d never gotten with anyone else, cherish the moment. You felt him do so, eventually, and tried not to react as if to give yourself away. “Can you guess my favourite constellation? But you shan’t read my thoughts.”

“Mm…” he considered. “Cassiopeia.”

“You read my mind,” you simply stated.

“I guessed.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t.” He turned to look at you and so did you. He was holding back from something, it was evident in the way his Adam’s apple bobbled, the way his eyes had a bizarre shine in them that they’d only get before he was about to ask you a question he knew unlocked more and more of him to you, which he both allowed and feared.

“Go ahead,” you encouraged, even though he hadn’t asked anything at all.

“Do you believe in fate at all?” Fate, as in, everything was meant to be in a way. He couldn’t help but think of the idea as you laid down together, in the presence of the dark blue sky.

“I think fate is misery. I don’t understand why it’s got to punish us for things we didn’t even ask for to happen. It kills us all in the mind. But I do believe in it, nonetheless. We’re all its slaves.”

“Why do you believe in it if it tortures you so much?”

“I don’t know. Shouldn’t you ask yourself the same question? Sometimes we don’t have an answer, we just let things be the way they are.”

“I think that what you call misery shaped me.”

“So you’re miserable, then?”

Lestat frowned as the words came from your lips. “No,” he spoke, his tone seemed to grow a bit frustrated. “I most certainly am not miserable, but I just think…” he sighed harshly, he knew what he was trying to say — he just couldn’t explain it properly — and maybe the way you stared at him, waiting in so much anticipation made him lose his track of thoughts along with his own words.

“You want to go back inside?”

He nodded and got up, upset over the fact that the time had been cut off so shortly. He felt strangely warm, as if he’d recently fed enough to cause the blood run through his veins, and he wondered if you’d make him feel that way every time you gave him the slightest hint of attention.

The night was deep and his house hollow as you stepped into it, ready to take your separate ways in the rooms, but the boldness coursed through your neurons as you asked him if he’d like to have a sip of wine first. No, he replied, he wouldn’t wish for one, because wine no longer got him drunk or offered him any form of careless enjoyment. You just sat by yourself near his piano and grazed your fingers over the last four keys. A messy, silent melody came out and for a second, it echoed over the entire room, one, two, three times. You wondered if it symbolized how lonely Lestat was.

It felt gut wrenching, even though you knew he was unpleasant, seeing him have no one in his life. Seeing him know so much about the stars and have no soul to talk with about it. You went into your room and changed into a nightgown. The breeze from the windows made it feathery against your body as it flew a little under your arms when you entered Lestat’s bedroom without making the slightest noise. His coffin was covered; he’d fallen asleep perhaps. You seized the opportunity to give his room a sharper notice.

There was a neat black vase with golden details placed on the dresser, it even had a rose in it. A rose that had lost its bloom; it was just wrinkled, a little yellow—growing to brownish—near the edges, all dried up, dusty and ready to crumble. A soft touch on the back of your neck caused you to gasp as you turned around only to realise it was Lestat, seemingly paler than usual, for a reason.

“Did I disturb your peace of going through my stuff?” he asked, but his voice didn’t sound mad.

“I don’t want to sleep just yet.”

His eyes followed yours until they fell to the rose you were examining. With a swift twirl, he brought it around his fingers and held it in front of your face. “Pour toi, ma chérie,” he whispered with a smirk as you took it and placed it over your chest, right where your heart was still steadily beating.

“Pourquoi le gardes-tu encore? C’est pourri.”

A disheartening sigh followed by a slight shrug of his exposed shoulders. “It symbolizes a lot.”

“Like what?” you persisted. Lestat took the rose from you and rubbed it between his palms as it turned from a dead flower to dried up powder, piled up in a tiny hill on the rug. You couldn’t understand his sudden burst, the frustration within him, but you were very aware of the fact that even the slightly wronged word could snap him. He didn’t reply to the question, either, just paced forward until he reached the bed. You felt the rest of the world move in front of your very eyes in a sped up warp, you laid right below his body, unable to move in resistance. How he got you in that position was beyond your brain to comprehend and for a split second, you wished to scream, but then remembered.

Lestat lowered his semi-opened mouth right above the vein in the spot he’d first noticed back at the ball, right there, an inch upper than the collarbone, pulsing and pounding in such a sweet way that he was unable to resist the image, how it’d taste like if only he allowed his sharp fangs sink in it, have the dark red blood make a mess out of his mouth, feel the nectar drip on the skin, the tongue. Something about it was so romantic, so deep for him, but he couldn’t do it.

“Laisse-moi faire de toi un vampire, mon amour. Laisse-moi t’offrir la vie d’un Dieu,” he murmured into the side of your neck as he placed the most tender and fragile wet kisses upon it, it was the closest he could get to his request anyway.

“No, Lestat, leave!” you panicked, instantly denying. He was under control, or maybe he wasn’t, but taming the lust that grew in him wasn’t such a difficult task, you’d discovered.

“S’il te plaît,” he pleaded, stripping the sleeve of your clothing down your shoulder with his thumb. He was trying to avoid the conversation you so desperately wanted to have about his past, knew that if he tried seducing you, you’d forget all about it and either end up in bed with him or run off scared. Either way it was working. The smirk was displayed proudly across his lips, his breath smelled like a mixture of an expensive fruit based alcoholic beverage and rosemary. You couldn’t tell how your brain functioned at that moment, as Lestat rose closer to your face and stared at your lips, wetting his own with his flushed tongue. He teased you, leaned down as if to kiss you but pulled away the very centimeter his lips were to touch yours and moaned lowly, almost like a ghost of a whisper. He pressed his thumb on your neck and held you tight, then bent down again.

He drew closer, and for a moment, it almost seemed as if you had pulled away. You staring at him with your boring common eyes, nothing compared to his, and then his lips enclosed on yours; soft yet immersive, gentle yet powerful all the same. All there was was the two of you, or one of you, rather, and all he could feel was you.

“Tu ferais mieux de me tuer,” you whinged as his teeth tugged softly at your lower lip in his motion to pull away. His breath got caught as he cocked his head to the side, eyes still lustful and hot. “Kill me, Lestat, since you can’t have me the way you want me to. Kill me like you promised once.”

“I didn’t—didn’t promise anything like that,” he stuttered while kissing your clothed cleavage.

“But I ask for death. Otherwise we shall be this way always, imprisoned in the hope of ‘what if’.”

Lestat stared at you, smiling, becoming a hazy dreamlike vision, then hyperclear. “Ah, but the price is high,” he laughed, sinking back into the scent of your body passionately, wanting to become one with it. You were serious, in a way, and that he knew, but even the slightest thought of staring at your gray corpse would kill him internally for all eternity. He couldn’t possibly…

“We could be both covered in blood,” you suggested again in a strangled moan. You felt his teeth against your skin, he smiled at the dumb images you had to offer in order to wrap him around the strong spell of undeniable temptation.

“You could be mine forever,” he insisted.

“You’re losing me already, Lestat,” you whispered, but he was too caught up in undressing you to hear. Just a few more months, you promised to yourself as you gave in the pleasure of the night.

───

Lipstick, you found, was how falling in love felt.

Starts off in a smooth surface, full of vibrance and colour, but eventually it comes to an end, either that is natural and non-bumpy, simply finishing because there’s nothing more to it except a few smudges—remainings—on the lid that you can’t get rid of, or it breaks in half, violently, with roughness, tears, anger. Just like when you apply lipstick and the bar becomes too soft to stay on.

Lestat had been your lipstick kind of love.

Except you never knew whether you actually truly loved him or if it was the illusion of him that had you so wanderlust and captivated to him. Months had passed, you’d stayed by his side through all the fights, all the murders that followed in his need to feed, the broken glasses and frames. He always ended up showing a bit more to his fragility after every rage, the stronger, the more. He’d grown to be an open book to you, attached, unable to let go, afraid. Vampires could love. And each human sense was triple as intense for a vampire, so when Lestat fell in love, he devoted himself to it completely, loved hard and immensely, never held back or restrained his emotions. Of course, he never said it out loud.

It had been a while since he’d had someone, a person, a real person to hold on to, to caress their hair at night, to whisper sweet nothings to, to just feel like he can be free with and love deliberately.

Nights were so deep and slow, the stars faded away every time his heart beat faster for you. A vampire could only cry once, he remembered he’d once been told (by whom was unimportant).

You were done, you decided. Had suffocated enough, had cut yourself from the world for him and that was the end of it. You had grown rather fond of him, enjoyed having him around, loved kissing him and talking to him, even fighting with him had become familiar, almost in the dream of being a family with him. You saw him sitting over the piano, contemplating. He raised his eyes at you once found around your presence and smiled. You motioned him not to get up and instead dragged your feet exhaustively towards his side, bringing a hand over his cheek, cupping it softly one last time as he obliviously leaned against it.

“You look handsome tonight, Lestat,” you said.

Indeed, he was impeccably dressed, just like always, in such royal clothes, each layer holding a different peel of his personality. Every feature of his face was smooth and calm, bright and pale at the same time, but the surface felt like a fresh painting; exquisite and vulnerable to any touch. It was probably the only time you’d ever seen him gift you with such a genuine, heartwarming smile.

“I’ve been wanting… dreaming of telling you something. For a long time now, I fear,” he began the moment you removed your palm from his face and instead placed it over his hands in his lap. His fingers found yours immediately and interlocked quickly, excitedly. It broke your heart.

“I’m leaving,” you announced harshly and suddenly his thumbs froze against the top of your hands, which he dropped. He felt lightning crackle through his veins and time slowed down. Your stomach had lost no time in twisting into knots, but you put on a façade that said otherwise, showed you off as strong and determined, cold, hollow to any emotion.

He stilled and looked at you with his jaw agape, mouth quivering. You weren’t just saying it, you meant it. You were doing it—he was losing you. Lestat felt his heart clench around nothing at all.

“Have I done something? I’ll give it to you, whatever it is that you need, I promise.”

His hands were now catching yours again, this time in utter desperation, a form to plead and beg. Your chest heaved as you noticed the corners of his eyes well up, retina glossy and wet, as though… no, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—waste his only chance to let the tears go down, because he was sure that whatever he did, he’d fix, there was a way, he knew it, he was sure of it. He’d offered you so many things, for God’s sake! A house, food, clothes, safety, his trust and love, and you were throwing it all away, like you hadn’t stolen his soul and merged it with yours to become one, like you hadn’t reminded him what it felt to be alive again, after centuries of suffering eternity. Because you had been right when you said to him that eternity kills; it slaughters the purity of the heart, fights against hope. It forces you to be alone as you watch everyone you love perish. And Lestat had been there, still was, would always be.

“I told you, Lestat. I’m not your slave. And I can’t do this anymore, I can’t stay here… it’s killing me. And don’t you—don’t you—dare say anything foolish about how you feel about me,” you threatened through trembling lips, fighting back tears the same way he was, except you didn’t know how long you could put up with the pain.

“You all leave me!” he yelled as he got up from his seat, covering his face with his hands as he moved in circles. “You leave me when I need you the most, you want me dead! All of you!” In his rage, Lestat raised his fist and shattered the marble vase that sat on the coffee table next to the instrument, pieces falling everywhere all over the floor, sounding exactly like the way his heart was breaking. And there it was; the first tear.

It fell from his face in a rush, violently hitting the cold ground, burning his cheek on its way down. His only cry, his only pain, all out in the open as he saw his world come crashing down. And what broke him the most was the look on your face, the urge you felt to remain nonchalant, though. Like your heart wasn’t ripping in half either, like you wouldn’t desire him, love him, give him a chance. Like you hadn’t let him kiss you all those nights as a silent way to confess his love for you, no.

“I’m not yours, I never was,” you struggled out.

“I’m yours. Don’t you see it? I would do anything for us, just let there be an ‘us’ for once, I beg you.”

“You just don’t want to be alone,” you breathed as his chest sunk with each breath. “You don’t love me, Lestat, you just love having someone to keep you out of the misery in your endless life.”

“You can’t… you can’t leave me… you can’t possibly believe all that,” he cried as he grasped your hands, but you pulled away, took a step further away from him with each try he made to get closer, to hold you for one last time, because if he ever had you around his embrace at that moment, you’d never be able to let go. You’d leave and Lestat would look for you in the face of everyone he’d kill to feed from with pure hearted and pleasure at the same time, such sickness that drew you away from him. He shook his head in denial, refused to let himself reason as you faded into a memory, or even a long lasting dream he never wanted to wake up from.

“I must…”

“I can’t bear it! Come back to me… when did I even lose you? When did you start to slip from me? I did… I did everything… I confined in you.”

“You needn’t say such things, Lestat…”

“You’ll stay.”

“No.” The answer was final, he knew it. Lestat De Lioncourt, knelt before your very eyes, broken down to the core, unable to get a hold of himself as his fingers weakened and he watched them slowly let go of yours, now holding nothing. He couldn’t hold you, just like he couldn’t hold anyone else in his life, not even himself.

The sun and moon yearned for each other, but time kept them apart. Eclipses would the only brief moments of bliss, when both of you could pretend that death hadn’t rooted into your souls, where Lestat spent the rest of eternity loving you.

FIN.

for my girl @honeymvnt !! this is your insanely late birthday gift, i hope it lives up to your expectations from all the nights we talked about it. love you 🫵🏼🎀

[hayakawalove]

mommy geto?

A/N: I don’t really do requests but I just needed to write this. Writing kinks I don’t even have, although mommy suguru wakes something in me.

CW: Vaginal sex, mommy kink except you call Suguru mommy but he is still male, creampie, gender neutral reader, discussions of gender

W/C: 832

Credit to adornedwithlight for the banner

Suguru knew he was pretty.

It wasn’t a secret by any means.

He knows he looks feminine, with his long luscious locks and soft grin. It’s never bothered him before, no matter how many times he’s been teased for it (usually by a certain white haired man).

He’s comfortable with his sexuality, comfortable with the way he presents himself.

He never went out of his way to appear androgynous, it just sort of happened.

And it has its upsides.

Mainly being the way you react to him.

The longing look in your eyes is not lost on him, nor is the way you linger to gaze at his hair when he’s freshly out of the shower.

And it’s entirely possible he goes out of his way to buy that one conditioner you like, he tells himself he likes it too, and he does - but he’s convinced you like it a bit more.

Suguru is undoubtedly a man, but he doesn’t see any harm in experimenting with the way he presents himself.

You haven’t ever really commented on it, not until now that is.

His hips are starting to ache with the pace he’s set, which is saying something, Suguru has great stamina and he knows it.

Sweat is beginning to form on his forehead, lining his pale skin, demonstrating just how hard he’s working.

He doesn’t mind being on top, doing all the work, in fact he likes how you look beneath him. Always perfect, if not a little helpless.

“So good, so good,” you’re a babbling mess.

Suguru can hardly form out the words you’re mumbling. He thinks it’s cute, though.

Your fingers are digging into his back, the burn of it going straight to Suguru’s cock.

How are you so perfect? He wonders, grinding his hips against yours.

Suguru almost loses himself to the pleasure, but he hears you speak again, so he forces himself to strain his ears.

He leans down closer into you, no doubt practically suffocating you, just so your mouth can be beside his ear.

“M-mommy…”

Wait.

Did he just hear what he thinks he heard?

His lips part, he’s about to ask you to repeat what you said, but you get there first.

“Mommy, h-harder” you wrap your legs around his hips tighter, subconsciously picking up on the fact his pace has faltered.

Suguru’s chest pinches at the sound of your voice, at the word you just spoke.

You had never discussed this before.

Yet Suguru still finds himself interested, his cock stirring at the foreign name.

“What was that, baby?” Suguru murmurs next to you.

You freeze beneath him, shaken from your cock drunk stupor. Suguru can nearly hear your brain rattling, trying to come up with some excuse.

“I um, I didn’t,” you flounder.

Suguru arches a brow, not that you can see it, and grins next to your head. So damn cute, he wants to say.

Suguru wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t tease you just a little bit.

“You want mommy to fuck you harder?” He coos, pressing his lips against your cheek before he pushes himself up to look down at you.

He feels your pussy clench around him, tighter than he thinks he’s ever felt before. Shit, you must’ve really liked that, huh?

Suguru’s realizing he did too, if he wasn’t completely engulfed in you, you would be able to see the way his tip is leaking at the word.

You look up demurely, your teeth digging into your bottom lip. Suguru can see that you’re starting to get nervous, the sight making his heart clench.

He wants to make you feel better. It’s all Suguru’s ever wanted to do.

Your lips part and it looks like you’re trying to form words, but Suguru can’t hear you.

“Come on baby, speak up. Tell mommy what you want.” He keeps his voice low in an attempt to disarm you.

It works, because not even a second later Suguru watches the way your eyes roll back into your head. Your nails start to dig into his back once more, scraping his tender flesh.

“Harder mommy, please please I want,” you groan.

Suguru smiles to himself and starts to slam into you, his own body shivering at the feeling. He can’t take his eyes off you, you look so damn beautiful beneath him. Your moans are filling the room, the sound so perfect Suguru almost thinks you can’t be real.

He can tell you’re close by the way you’re beginning to shake underneath him. He isn’t very far behind you, the momentum of the night completely turning, bringing him to orgasm faster than anything else has before.

“Fuck, fuck!” You’re sobbing, teeth digging in your lip as you finally fall off the edge.

“Shh, shh, mommy’s got you.” He murmurs, fucking you through it.

He holds off long enough for you to finish, before he follows shortly after. He silently tells himself to remember to ask you to call him that again.

[rafesfavbimbo]

You Belong To Me.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x GlamourModel!Reader

Read the first part of this AU here.

Moodboard for this chapter here.

A/N: So excited about this AU! Banner is for aesthetics purposes only! GlamourModel!Reader can be imagined as anyone :)

TW: SMUT! Dark!Rafe! Choking, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Possessiveness, Dub-Con

Rafe has imagined this moment so many times in his head. How many positions he would bend her into, feeling her smooth skin against his, pressing his thinner lips to her plump pout that is always enticing and suggestive. Gliding up and down the silky lips of her pretty pussy and then pressing the tip of his cock into the tight little cavern, till he’s pressed all the way in.

But now he’s finally experiencing it for real. In person. He feels like he’s floating, watching her wither around on his ruffled bed sheets with the skirt of her dress flipped up, lacy thong pulled to the side as he runs his fingers over her soaked snatch. Standing over her on the edge of the bed like a predator about to devour it’s prey.

“Rafe-I-please do something baby,” she moans erotically, perfect legs spread wide. One hand on top of and interlocked onto the hand he has groping at her perfectly designed chest while the other holds onto his wrist that is connected to the hand gliding over her soaked pussy. Guiding him to where she needs him most while he teases her.

Rafe smirks down at her, bringing the hand he had groping her tit to pinch her cheeks together, luscious lips puckering even more enticingly then they already were. Her eyes glazed over with tears of lust and frustration, thick lashes wet with tears and the sexy smokey eye she was wearing to dinner now dripping down the side of her face.

Fuck-she looks like the perfect wet dream. Docile, spread open for him and begging for any little touch he’s willing to give her. His already loaded ego bursting through the roof, Rafe always gets what he wants.

After stalking her and meeting at the country club, Rafe made sure his little model was at his side at all times. Showing her the rest of the island tucked into his side, pulling her in closer and displaying his possessive claim when people recognized her and came up to her. Various request of photos, autographs- even signing the magazines and posters of her completely bare. She is a centerfold, after all. The ultimate Playmate.

It’s not surprising Rafe laid his claim so quickly, he’d be stupid not too. If there’s one thing Rafe was known for- is having the best. He’s got the best home on the island, his family is at the top of the Kildare hierarchy. He’s got the best of the best and now he’s got the best girl on the island. His friends are jealous, his sister is jealous (only bc she met you first-you’re HER friend!) and even his own dad praised him for locking you down, much to Rose’s dismay. He loved that-well his daddy issues sure did.

After showing her off and around the island, Rafe took his little model out on a date in Charleston. He bought her the dress he wanted to see her in, the lingerie he wants to rip off of her. And even brand new designer heels that show off the brand new pedicure he paid for. Although by now he’s sure it’s obvious she’s his, it’s time for him to complete it and claim her in the most primal way possible.

“What’s that, princess? You want more?” he drawls smoothly, still gripping her cheeks in a pathetic pout as she nods her head quickly. Eyes looking at him pleadingly, her smokey makeup even more ruined and rimming her eyes with smudged black while tears drag the makeup down her cheeks, making her look every bit like the erotic dream she is. “Use your words, don’t play stupid.” he mocks.

“Pleas-please! Rafey stop teasin’ me,” she whines, thighs spreading wider and her grip on his wrist tightening as she presses his hand harder into her aching cunt. “Need it soooo bad daddy…” she drawls seductively, “been wanting you since I first saw you.” She admits in a light, airy voice. Rafe groans deeply at that, his dick jumping as he lowers himself a tad and drags her up to him by the grip on her cheeks. Smacking his lips against her harshly, then shoving his tongue into her mouth. Dominating her completely. The idea that his princess wanted him just as bad as he wanted her. Making his already heavy head, bigger.

She squeaks which turns into a long whine as she pushes herself more into his grasp. Following his lips when he pulls back with a condescending smirk etched onto his handsome face. Eyes catching his as his glaze over with something dark, possessive. “I’m never letting you go, got that?” He whispers harshly, grip on her face tightening painfully, and she loves it. Nodding quickly and trying to push her mouth back against his, only to whine louder when he keeps her in place. The smirk falling off his face and his expression turning into something almost sinister.

“Nuh-uh… I don’t think you get it my little star.” Rafe removes his hand from her pussy, his grip on her cheek moving to her throat and squeezing harshly as he pushes himself onto the bed on his knees, straddling her and bringing their faces close together. The hand once on her pussy gripping onto her messy, tousled hair. Snapping her head back harshly. A threatening snarl curling on his lip. “I’m gonna keep you here. With me. All the time.” His grip tightening even harder as he menacingly speaks to her. Her breath catching in her throat, both hands coming to grip the wrist attached to the hand wrapped around her neck. Not making the effort to remove him. Tears streaking even more black down her face as she listens intently to each word that slips past his spit-slicked lips that she wants to suck and nibble on. So badly.

“You belong to me. Only me. You’re lucky if I even let you keep that little job you love so much.” His eyes crazed, voice harsh listening to her whine in protest, “Aht-listen,” he shuts her up. “I’ll let you keep your little job, but I’m gonna make sure you know your place. By my side, under me. Wherever and however I want you. Don’t even have to say it but you already know you’re my girl. And one day, when we ditch this place m’gonna make you my fucking wife and lock you down with a heavy ring on that pretty finger. Got it?” His eyes cut deep into hers, it feels like he’s staring into her soul. Dominating it completely as well as her heart and mind. She should be scared, revolted. Beg him to let her go and get far, far away from him. But she doesn’t, because she doesn’t want to. They barely know each other, only having met just a few days ago. But it already feels like so long to her, and deep in her chest she knows she wants no one but him. Ignoring the screaming in the back of head that’s logically telling her to get away from him.

Her heart pounds in her chest as they hold eye contact, his darkening by the second when she doesn’t respond immediately. “Don’t make me repeat myself. You’re not gonna like what happens.” He threatens to which she moans lightly. She brings a dainty hand up to his reddened face, his cheek warm and damp under her palm. Nodding as much as she can with the grip he has on her throat, “Yes,” she chokes out.

Rafe loosens his grip just a bit, allowing her space to breathe. “What was that?” he presses on, inquiring her to continue. She looks at him with stars in her eyes, “I’m all yours Rafey… wanna be with you. All the time. I belong to you.” She whispers with utmost sincerity, her eyes displaying the genuineness behind her statement. The glazed over look in them only telling Rafe everything he wanted to know. His chest tightening with pride at the fact that he knows he’s got her. Right under his thumb how he wanted her. And he’s not letting go.

“Mhmmm,” he drawls deep in the back of his throat with that cocky smirk back on his face. Using the grip he has on her neck to push her back harshly into the bed. She bounces against it, gasping air deeply into her chest and blinking away the haze in her eyes from the lack of oxygen. Rafe stands on his feet quickly. Making quick work of unbuckling his belt and tossing it the side as he unzips his pants, his thumb tucking into the band of his boxers and pushing them down along with his pants. His hard, achingly hard cock smacking against his toned-tanned tummy. The pretty pink tip already leaking copious amounts of pre-cum. She watches with wide eyes, legs spreading wider at the excitement of finally getting what she wanted since she first met him. Mouth watering at the sight of his pretty cock.

Rafe grips her by back of her upper thighs, yanking her harshly to the edge of the bed till her ass is hanging over it. Lifting her hips up and lifting his leg with bent knee on the bed to hold her thigh over his while he pushes her other leg back by the behind of her knee. He grips himself in his free hand, slapping the leaky tip of his dick on her swollen clit harshly. Watching as his pre-cum leaves strings of wetness when the tip pulls back up. He lowers himself to her leaky little hole and slightly nudges the tip in. Listening to her whine louder. Rafe looks at her with darkness in his eyes, using the hand once holding his cock to now grip the thigh laying over his leg.

“Raf-“ with no warning he pushes in harshly, till his hips snap firmly against hers. Trimmed bush pressing harshly into her clit, as his hands grip harder into her thighs. Her words catching in her throat as she moans loudly with a gasp. Hands immediately scrambling to grip on something. Anything. One hand twisting into the sheets as the other presses into his lower stomach.

French-tipped nails tapping against him as she squeaks when Rafe begins giving bruising, unforgiving thrust. His hand quickly grabbing the one smacking at his pelvis and intertwining their fingers as he presses it into the mattress next to her head. Lowering his body into hers, a sick smirk on his face as he watched her gasp and cry loudly. Eyes rolling back and head turning from side to side as she tries to get accumulated to the overwhelming feeling of his harsh pounding. Her thigh that is laid over his, bending back with her knee into the mattress as he lays lower onto her. Her pedicured toes pointing and tapping into his lower back. The other leg held open by his large hand getting spread wider as it sticks out straight to the side with pointed toes.

“Sshh. Sshh. I know baby,” his voice light and calm in contrast to his unforgiving thrust. Stopping to grind into her deeply as he brings his face closely to hers. He brings the hand that was interlocked with hers, to grip her face and bring her attention back onto him. Staring deeply into her hazed over gaze, “Shh shh shh. I promise i’ll be nicer to you next time my little star.” His infamous smirk etching itself back into its rightful place on his handsome face. As he continues on. Pressing a light kiss to the lips he’s learning to love so much.

“But right now.. daddy’s gonna show you exactly how much you belong to me.”

A/N: I need him so bad. I hope i’m making it clear that little star is just as sick and twisted as him. Enjoy! :)

[geotjwrs]

wtf! (18+)

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; smut (minors dni!)

The night was quiet and still, but Y/n couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, missing Jenna terribly. Her laugh, her smile, the way she made everything better just by being there – it was all he could think about. Unable to bear it any longer, he grabbed his phone and dialed her number, hoping she would pick up.

After a few rings, Jenna's sleepy voice answered, "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me," Y/n said softly, trying not to sound too desperate.

"Y/n?" Jenna mumbled, clearly groggy. "What time is it?"

"It's late," Y/n admitted, glancing at the clock. "I'm sorry for waking you up. I just... I really needed to hear your voice."

Jenna's voice softened, though she was still half-asleep. "It's okay. I miss you too. What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep," Y/n confessed. "I just keep thinking about you. I wish you were here."

Jenna yawned, her exhaustion evident. "I wish I was there too. But we can talk for a bit, if that helps."

Y/n smiled, even though she couldn't see it. "Yeah, that helps. Tell me about your day."

Jenna started to recount her day, but her words were slurred and slow. Y/n could tell she was struggling to stay awake. "And then... I... um, sorry, Y/N. I'm just so tired."

"I know," Y/n said gently. "You should go back to sleep."

"But I want to be here for you," Jenna insisted, though her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I appreciate that, Jenna. Really, I do," Y/n said, his heart aching with love for her. "But you need your rest. I'll be okay."

There was a pause, and Y/n could hear Jenna shifting in her bed. "Are you sure? I don't want you to be alone if you're feeling like this."

"I'll manage," Y/n replied, trying to sound reassuring. "Just knowing you care means a lot."

"Okay," Jenna said reluctantly. "But call me first thing in the morning, alright?"

"Will do," Y/n promised. "Goodnight, Jenna. I love you."

"Love you too," Jenna murmured, her voice trailing off as she drifted back to sleep. "Goodnight..."

Y/n hung up the phone, but the emptiness he felt didn't go away. If anything, it felt worse now that he'd heard her voice but couldn't be with her. He lay back down, staring at the ceiling, feeling more alone than ever.

...

The night was dark and quiet, with only the faint rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl breaking the silence. Y/n, a tall, athletic figure, crept stealthily towards Jenna's bedroom window, his heart pounding with anticipation. He knew that tonight would be different, more passionate and intense than any encounter they had shared before.

As he reached the window, he paused for a moment to catch his breath and to take in the sight of Jenna's room, bathed in moonlight. Carefully, he hoisted himself up and slid through the open window, his eyes immediately drawn to the beautiful figure lying on the bed. Jenna, her long, dark hair cascading around her shoulders, her eyes closed in sleep.

Y/n's heart raced as he approached the bed, his gaze locked on Jenna's seductive curves. He couldn't resist the urge to reach out and run his fingers lightly over her delicate skin, tracing the outline of her full, luscious lips. As he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, Jenna's eyes flickered open, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she realized that Y/n was there, in her room, with her.

"Y/n, what are you doing here?" she whispered, her eyes wide with surprise and desire.

"I couldn't stay away, Jenna," Y/n murmured, his voice husky with longing. "I had to see you, to touch you. I need you, Jenna."

With that, he claimed her lips in a passionate kiss, their tongues entwining as their hands roamed over each other's bodies. Jenna moaned softly, her fingers digging into Y/n's back, pulling him closer.

"Y/n, you're making me so hot," she breathed, her eyes smoldering with desire. "I want you inside me, now."

Y/n's cock throbbed at the sound of her voice, the thought of sliding his hard length into her willing pussy driving him wild. He pulled away from her lips, his eyes dark with lust as he gazed down at her.

"Turn over, Jenna," he commanded, his voice low and gruff. "I want to see that perfect ass of yours."

Obeying his command, Jenna rolled onto her stomach, her cheeks flushed with anticipation as Y/n began to caress the soft, round globes of her ass. He traced the curve with his fingers, lingering on the sensitive skin, making Jenna squirm with pleasure.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his fingers slipping lower to tease the sensitive flesh between her thighs. "You're so wet for me, Jenna. I can feel it."

"Oh, Y/n," she moaned, her hips bucking involuntarily as his fingers brushed against her clit. "Please, touch me there. I need to cum."

Y/n's cock throbbed at the sound of her plea, his balls aching with desire. He knew he couldn't wait any longer, he needed to feel her tight pussy wrapped around his cock, to hear her screams of pleasure as he drove deep inside her.

Without warning, he plunged two fingers into Jenna's slick channel, her wetness coating his fingers as he thrust in and out, her moans growing louder with each pass.

"Y/n, that feels so good," she gasped, her hips rocking in time with his movements. "But I need more, I need your cock inside me."

Y/n growled in response, his fingers leaving her pussy as he positioned himself between her legs. With a single, powerful thrust, he buried his cock deep inside her, his balls slapping against her ass as he began to pump in and out, each stroke more intense than the last.

"Fuck, Jenna," he groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as he drove deeper, harder. "You're so tight, so fucking wet. I love fucking you like this, baby."

Jenna cried out in pleasure, her voice mingling with Y/n's deep, guttural growls as he pounded into her, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body.

"Y/n, I'm going to cum," she gasped, her body trembling with desire. "Fuck me harder, baby, make me cum so hard."

Y/n grunted in response, his hips pistoning faster, his cock sliding in and out of her slick pussy with a wet, slapping sound. Jenna's moans grew louder, her screams of pleasure echoing through the room as she reached the brink of ecstasy.

"Yes, baby, yes!" she cried, her body tensing as she felt the first wave of her orgasm wash over her. "I'm cumming, Y/n, I'm cumming so hard!"

Y/n groaned in response, his cock swelling inside her as he felt her pussy clamp down around him, her juices flowing over his shaft as she rode the waves of her orgasm. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, his cock pulsing as he emptied his load, filling her with his hot, sticky cum.

As they lay there, panting and spent, Y/n wrapped his arms around Jenna, pulling her close as they basked in the afterglow of their passionate encounter. Their bodies were slick with sweat, their hearts pounding in unison as they savored the intimate connection they had shared.

But their moment of bliss was short-lived, as the sound of footsteps outside Jenna's room shattered the silence. Y/n's heart raced with dread as he realized that they had been caught, their secret rendezvous exposed for all to see.

"What the fuck is going on here?" a voice cried out, and Y/n's blood ran cold as he recognized the voice of Jenna's sister, Aliyah. "Get the fuck out of my room, both of you!"

Y/n scrambled to pull on his clothes, his face burning with shame as he realized that Aliyah had caught them in the act. But there was no time to explain, no time to make excuses. They had been caught, and there was no escaping the consequences of their actions.

Jenna's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she pulled on her clothes, her eyes downcast as she faced her sister. But Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction, knowing that he had marked Jenna, claimed her as his own, even if it was for just one night.

As they left Jenna's room, the weight of their secret hanging heavy in the air, Y/n couldn't help but wonder if there would be a next time, if they would ever be able to recapture the passion and intensity of that one, unforgettable night.

[leakyweep]

Corazon x Afab!Reader: Lingerie

Warnings: afab reader, lingerie, face riding, oral (f receiving), nicknames (love, darling, baby), teasing, penetrative sex, creampie, a little surprise at the end eheheh

MINORS, DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

Words: 2.0k

Corazon stood over you, the smoke from his cigarette making the room a bit hazy, just like your mind. The look he was giving you was lusty, and he blew some smoke from his lips cooly as he leaned down to the garters adorning your thighs. He plucked one with his finger, watching in awe as the slap of the elastic made you jump.

"For me, baby?" he asked gently, using that same finger from before to gently cradle your chin in his hand. You were sitting on the edge of your shared bed, a new set of heart-themed lingerie gracing your curves and dips. He admired the fabric with his hands, his gaze, and his length, as you could see from the imprint in his pants.

"Y-yes, I thought you'd like it because-" You were cut off by Cora's palm covering your lips, leaning up to your ear to whisper,

"I appreciate the sentiment, love, but these won't be on too much longer."

The tone of his voice made a shiver run down your spine; it was hoarse, unnerved as he took another drag from his cigarette. You pushed your thighs together to create some friction where it was most needed. He noticed this and dragged his fingers from your chin to your pebbled nipples, twinging them between his slender digits and sighing.

"Your already so ready for me, hm?" He pushed you gently back onto the bed, cigarette held firmly between his pointer and middle finger as his gaze tore through you, his mind muddled with all the things he wanted to do to you with that sinful body of yours. "Wonder how ready you are for me down here..."

His fingers had strayed from your breasts, tracing a squiggly line from there to your belly button, to the waistband of the lace covering your intimate parts- a moan escaped your throat, making Corazon gaze up at you. His head was now between your thighs, his fingers pressed deliciously into the luscious skin there. He was staring at you with those half-lidded eyes that told you he only wanted one thing.

Your thighs unconsciously parted for him to rest his head there, his amused expression unmistakeable as he examined the wet spot staining your pretty undies.

"You know..." Corazon started, your gaze darting down to meet his mocha-colored eyes, "You look so... magnificent like this, but I'd much rather see you without them. Nothing will ever match that level of beauty."

You cheeks and ears tinged pink at the compliment, your hand covering your face bashfully. "R-Rosi, you're so sw-ah!"

His fingers had pulled the fabric to the side, not even bothering to set his cigarette on the bedside table before he began to feast on your already-dripping cunt. His tongue started at the top of your clit, tracing down your labia and rounding back upwards. As his tongue swirled in all his favorite places, the smoke from his forgotten cigarette wafted into the air. It made your nose twitch as repeated mewls of his name left your lips.

"Taste, mm- taste so good, baby," he muttered, his voice muffled by your pussy. Your glazed eyes stared down at him, at the way his head bobbed and shook as he devoured you. No one had ever treated you the way he did, and the way he always ate you like you were his last meal made you feel special, which was exactly how he wanted you to feel.

His velvet muscle explored the parts of your entrance that he could reach, your wet covering the outside of his mouth. His nose was bumping and sliding against your clit, stimulating you in all the best ways. You were cursing and yelping desperately, tugging at his blonde locks harshly to pull him closer to your cunt. You were basically riding his face sideways, using his mouth for your own pleasure.

He was praising you all the way through, his voice muffled by your wet mound covering his face. He had always enjoyed eating your pussy, the sweet taste of your cum burned into his tongue's taste buds. He had eventually changed your position to sit on top of his face, your underwear forgotten at the end of the bed. Corazon relished the way the garters held your thighs and legs, the pudge being pinched at the cuff, your skin spilling out from the top just perfectly. Your curves were accented by the top, which covered both of your nipples with a red heart.

"You got all dressed up for me baby... you always look so sexy..." his gruff voice was hard to hear from between your legs, and you held onto the bed frame to steady yourself as you ground down onto his tongue.

"R-rosi! F-fuck, 'm gonna-" you were panting, your eyebrows furrowed in a pleasured arch that matched the sinful bow of your back, "so good," you moaned loudly, your head tipping back to look up at the ceiling. His tongue explored your wet folds, swirling around your puffy and throbbing clit.

"Go ahead, baby, cum on my face," there was a smile on the man's face as he bumped his nose up into your slit, his tongue moving lower to your hole and claiming it with the tip of the wet muscle. "Want you to cum, please-"

His desperation to make you cum made the coil in your stomach break, the heat spreading from your core throughout your whole body as you shuddered and called the blonde's name over and over like a prayer. He always made you attain the heavenly feeling, as if he were your own god to pray to. He definitely looked the part.

After coming down from the high, your head angled down to look into his deep chestnut eyes. The were clouded with lust and adoration, a look you were all too familiar with. You pulled him up and over you, his torso resting in the cradle of your bare legs. He had shed his shirt and jeans, leaving the thin cloth of his boxers in the way of what you really wanted.

Licking your lips noticing the hardness imprinted in his underwear, your eyes flitted back to his. "I need you, Rosi, wanna take care of you," your hands were already traveling from his cheeks to his chest, down through the ripples and dips of his abs, to the waistband his boxers.

"You can have whatever you want baby," he started, licking his bottom lip and reaching towards his underwear. Your lips turned up into a smile before slowly falling back down as his hands did the same. "But... you gotta ask nicely. Haven't I told you this before?" He tutted, leaning back and sitting on his heels.

"Pl-please!" you begged wantonly, reaching up to his underwear but not before he could scoot back some more. "Please, Rosi, wanna touch you."

He chuckled gently, reaching over to hold your face gently. "That's my good little darling. Look and sound so beautiful for me... doing all this-" he motioned to the lace adorning your curves, "-just for me. What did I do to deserve this?"

As he inched closer and closer to you, his boxers were pulled down his legs just as slowly. When he finally made it to your lips, you had pushed his hands down with your own, making him laugh. "So eager for my cock, huh?"

"Yes," you breathed heavily, your eyes lighting up at the sight of his strained cock bobbing from his waistband and resting against his torso. "Need it, please-"

"C'mere," he grunted, pulling you from under your thighs closer to him, your clit pressed against his abdomen, "Gonna give you what you want."

You nodded eagerly, watching as he gripped his hardened and veiny cock, utterly impressed by the size and curvature. It was angry, leaking, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him shove it into your tight cunt. He teased your slit, plopping his shaft on top of it and beginning to use the mix of your arousal and your release to slip his dick across your pussy.

He gently began to thrust his throbbing member across your folds, slick coating it in a shiny gloss. "Yeah... you feel how wet you are for me? My dick's sliding so easily through your pussy... So pretty for me..."

Your cheeks reddened, feeling as warm as the rest of your body did as he spoke so filthy of you. The squelching noises coming from between your legs was no help in this situation, making you feel bashful at the sinful noises. "J-just for you-! Please stop teasing me, Rosi... Need you."

The desperation gracing your tone made his cock throb, giving him no choice but to stretch your pussy with it, slowly pushing in and relishing in the feeling of your tight walls engulfing his weeping member. He let out a grunt as his hips kissed yours, sweat mixing as he gave himself a moment to bottom out in your wet heat.

"You feel so good, baby,-" he cut himself off with a moan in time with his hips pulling out to the tip, pushing himself back in with a symphony of moans from your throat. "Always so perfect for me, love."

As he began to set a rhythmic pace, his face becoming sweaty, lipstick smeared across your breasts, mingling with the dark marks he was sucking into your skin. Tangled in the sheets, his legs intertwined with your trembling ones, Rosinante used the leverage from his lankiness to pound into you, his eye makeup running down his face. It matched the mascara running down your own flushed cheeks, relieved tears gracing your eyes at finally being filled by his perfect cock.

You felt fingers wipe tentatively under your water lines, the tears being erased by the man's fingers before he started kissing them away, smearing more of that damned lipstick on your face. "Don't cry, my darling.. you look lovely like this."

The feeling of your inner walls choking his dick while his lips danced across your sweaty skin was enough to make him cum in seconds, but he held back the tightening feeling in his balls momentarily to watch your climax rip through you.

Your mewls and groans were stifled by the feeling of your knees pressing against your chest, Rosinante's lanky form above you engulfing you in mind, body, and soul as you felt your orgasm wash over you, legs shaking in his grip. You felt his fingers squeezing your ankles, enough to leave pretty bruises, and you knew he was nearing his end as well.

Every nerve in your body was on fire, vision hazy, but you knew Rosi was painting you with his warm spend when that certain- quite needy- moan tumbled over his lips. His body shuddered above you, fingertips leaving crescent moons in your ankles to match the bruises there.

Basking in the soft glow from the pale moonlight, Rosi kept himself buried deep in you, the connection of both your bodies and souls making his heart swell with adoration.

Holding you in his arms, your eyelids drooping slowly even though you were still clad in the top half of your now ruined lingerie, it was all worth it for Rosi. He loved you, adored you and he'd keep you safe at any cost. Hearing you drift off slowly to sleep, muttering a sleepy but tentative, "I love you,"... it was his reward. The best part of making love to you when he was able.

He wouldn't change anything about you, so he figured in the morning he'd tell you not to waste money on lingerie; that he preferred you with no clothing anyway.

As he began to drift off to sleep, your relaxed form held tightly to his chest, he felt something at his feet begin to move, and winced as a sharp sting tore through his ankle.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, beginning to pat out the fire with his bare hands, your own face alight with surprise as you turned to the clumsy man.

"That's it, Donquioxte Rosinante! No more cigarettes in bed!"

[perpetuallydaydreaming]

Can you do a Sirius x reader where the reader goes to visit him in Azkaban

winter’s only pretty when you’re warm.

tags: sirius black x gn!reader,, soft angst,, azkaban,, ambiguous ending,, mention of yn,, short around 1k wc or so

a/n: thank you for the request,,, i hope you like it anon! <3

“jus’ hand over your wand, empty pockets, that’s it—“ the security, if you can even call him that, was a lanky, gaunt-looking man. he looked to not even bother to weigh your wand before stashing it away and waving you off. though you imagine, there’s hardly any need for him anyway, no one would even dare to step foot in this place.

the stone walls, dusty and narrow. the windows, hardly even considered as such for how small it was, was unreasonably high. like they don’t even want the inmates gazing at the sky. there was no light fixtures in place, except for the small weak fires lining up the hallway.

you hear the howling winds outside, and waves crashing against the the building, the silent echoes of groans, the crying pleas and the manic laughter deep inside the building.

the doors slammed open by the rough winds of the sea. you jumped, whirling to look at the source of the sound, fingers circling around your absent and locked up wand. an occupational hazard, moody calls it. you unclench your fingers, stretching out the tension.

you asked, no, begged dumbledore to do this. to be the one to talk to him, at least once.

the guard called over another, barking out, we have a visitor. as if it was a joke.

it could be. rarely anyone gets granted visits to azkaban, but dumbledore isn’t just anyone. you even had the absolute pleasure of getting bloody tips on where to go and what to say and who to say it to.

it was another guard, a familiar man that once worked for the dmle, though you fail to remember his name.

“i’m here for—”

he clicked his tongue, “i know who,” standing up with a groan and adjusting his trousers, “not like we have a line-up of visitors shceduled in this charming place. follow me then.”

elevators don’ work, always malfunctionin’, someone almost died last year, if you could believe it. ministry didn’t want to be liable so they jus’ removed it. didn’t even think of the older employees working here those bastards, the familiar man ranted.

on a regular day, strangers talking to you would have been your nightmare come to life, but you’ve come to appreciate the noise in your ears rather than the raging heartbeat echoing in your chest.

as you go further, raising floor up to floor, the colder it got, the more unsettled you feel. for once, it wasn’t because of the dementors that caused the chills down your spine but something greyer and darker than they are.

he led you to a room, locking it as he says wait, off to fetch him.

you stare at the scraped up table, the scruffs and scorch marks on the walls. wondering what must’ve happened from past visits before.

you pick at the skin around your nails, biting and ripping, until the red bead of blood seeps out.

the metal door creaks open, murmurs of warning exchanged between prisoner and guard, and then all you can see is grey and dark.

his sunken eyes, holding the once vibrant grey eyes that have now gone dull and misty. the dark luscious waves now in knots and matted down. he looked so different but he brightens up all the same once he sees you.

he runs to you, engulfing you in a hug. one that you know he needs more than anything. you see the guard reach for his wand and you stop him with a shake of your head, assuring that it was fine. he reluctantly nods and leaves you two alone.

you hear sirius take a deep breath in the crook of your neck as he clutches unto you for dear life. “angel, i di-didn’t—“ he sobbed, arms tightening as he did so, “i would have n-never, i would never betray james like that. you believe me, don’t you? please say you believe me. please say.” his voice cracking, body shaking like a damn leaf. he felt so cold, shaking in thin, shabby looking clothes.

you slowly raised your arms around his waist, hugging him back.

“i believe you,” you whispered, offering mere words as a consolation for losing everything, he cries harder. “shh. sirius. i’m here, i believe you,” you breathed, repeating this like a mantra, as he hugs you more and more into his chest. one of his hand smoothing out your hair at the back of your head and the other firmly wrapped around your waist.

the way he hugged you, and looked at you hadn’t changed, why should anything else?

you stay like this until he resembled the warm heat of a living person. sitting in front of each other but clutching each other’s hands. you struggle as you remove your, his, jacket but you did, placing it on his shoulders right after. hoping the heat from your use, can warm him just a bit more before the inevitable arrives.

“i c-can’t believe they let you be here.” he breathed, voice rasping like it was the first he’s used it in weeks. it probably is, you imagine dementors to be rather dull conventionalists.

“they had to,” you laugh bitterly, imagining the loud protests from the order, when you requested a visit. “else i would have never stopped. i had to come see you no matter what.” you look at him, dirtied and thin. chest clenching and something heavy dropping into your stomach as you gulp, “i should’ve come sooner, if i had known—“

he softly smiled, grey eyes looking so tired but actively roaming around your face, as if memorizing every minute detail. every blemish, mark, scar, mole and line. like it was the last time “no, this is perfect. i didn’t even think i could see you—“ he looked down at your hand completely engulf by his, an overtly misplaced fond smile on his still handsome face, “let alone touch you.” raising your hand to his cold lips as if to emphasize his point.

you dragged your chair over to him, clutching at his arms, pulling him to you—hugging him once more, unable to look at him as you bury your face to his shoulder. it hurt seeing him so happy here, of all places, just for the mere fact that he got to hold your hand.

resting your head on his shoulder, and him nuzzling your hair, taking deep breaths in. as if hoping your smell can somehow be engrave into his brain before the inevitable.

it was easy to forget where you were, being with him like this, but the distant moans and screams was just as easy to hear.

running your tongue over your dried bitten lips, knowing of the time and the limit set. “i don’t how to get you out, sirius,” you sniffled, clutching his dirty and muddy clothes. “they won’t listen to reason-”

he whispers back to you, face still buried into your hair, “because they’re afraid, angel.”

“they have nothing to be afraid of,” you scoff. “you don’t deserve to be here. you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“haven’t i?” he laughs, “i mean it was my idea—“

you shook your head, “don’t. you thought of it as a strategy, a damn good one if that. it was him. he was the one who couldn’t be trusted. it isn’t on you.”

“but i trusted the wrong person—“

“that doesn’t make you responsible for his actions, i don’t even want to—“ taking a deep breath, calming yourself down, “i just want to focus finding a way to set you free—“

“jus’ you here is fine,”

you frown, pulling away from him to look at him in the eyes. grey still misty, still dark.

“why do you sound like you’re just giving up.”

not a question. an accusation, a soft one—a disbelieving one.

he reaches to you. rough hands on your cheeks that used to be so soft, sullied after a year. “because it wouldn’t matter, james is gone, lily is gone, pete—“

“i’m not.” you cut in, smothering the rage at even hearing the traitor’s name. “remus either.” you steered your voice to be firm, “and harry, we’re still here waiting for you.”

conversation became quieter after that. less important, less imposing, more normal. like you were in your flat rather than a cell. in front of a comfy fire, rather than the howling sea winds and cold chills of the floating spirits around you.

chatting in the living room, talking about your day and the plans for the week after a hearty dinner.

hands, arms and even ankles twisted and tangled with each other. needing nothing else but to melt and meld with one another, never to part.

but then the inevitable, the door clanking and creaking open, indicating the end.

you pull each other, hugging fiercely just like the first.

sirius kissing your neck and cheek and forehead and nose and mouth. whispering promises, you don’t know if he’ll be able to keep.

he wasn’t shivering now, all warmed up and looking content but this offered no peace of mind knowing what he has to come back to. how sensitive he is to the cold.

he was escorted back to his cell, a lingering look sent to you as he goes, and each step he takes away from you makes you feel a little colder, a little more frustrated and a little more hopeless.

sooner than you’d like, you were already going down again, your jacket warmed by him hanging off your shoulders.

you get your wand and your portkey and leave.

the portkey beeps, counting down the seconds before it activates, as a trickle of snow softly fall down from the sky. snowflakes catching into your sleeves, beautiful shapes and designs in each one. the howling winds, cold and strong, but warmed by your jacket, you can hardly feel it. then you think of the thin, shivering, man holding your heart, trapped in the tower. with his cold lips and tired grey eyes.

[breezybangtanbebe]

3D: JJK Part 2

A/N: Jungkook is in a closed triad with Janelle, the bubbly brown skinned bookworm with alluring eyes and luscious hips, and Katya , the semi alt bartending vixen with copper toned curls and a silver tongue.

Tags: Jungkook AMBW fic with original characters. Sex, raw and protected. Oral (female and male recieving) Threesome. Some fluff anx mild plot because theyre lovers after all 😌

6.3k words

The night after leaving the diner....

Jungkook lingered in the bathroom doorway with his shoulder pressed against the frame.

Just a few feet away, the shaded silhouette of Janelle's curves could be seen through the foggy shower curtain. She hums softly, soothing and melodic as she washes her body.

God, he loved her voice. It was the first thing that got his attention. Like the twittering of a songbird at the crack of dawn, she appeared to him in the bleakest of places. And now some years later, she'd never left and Jungkook considered himself a lucky son of bitch if you were to ask him.

He didn't realize the thought of her importance had him smiling until it faltered at a different thought.

Tonight was...weird.

Meeting Kat at their usual spot was supposed to put everyone at ease instead of the inevitable awkwardness that came with asking someone to be a third in a two-party relationship.

He was nervous, halfway expecting their mutual friend to be offended by such a proposition.

But it was the fact that it went exactly the way Janelle predicted that surprised him.

And worried him...

*knock knock*

The curtain draws back just to reveal her angelic face that is haloed by dark loose dripping curls. She blinks rapidly to dispel the water dripping over her brow, locking eyes with a very distracted-looking Jungkook.

"Hey.." she exhales, wiping her face. Jungkook perks up at the greeting, his smile returning.

"Hey.." was all his discombobulated brain would let him say, although Janelle didn't find him out of sorts. Jungkook tends to be a man of few words.

"Something wrong?" she lifted her brows and Jungkook shook his head empathetically.

"Naw, nothing at all. Was just seeing if you were still in here.." he lies, something he rarely did when it came to her unless he deemed it necessary.

At his quick response, the slight worry fades from Janelle's expression.

"Oh, well I won't be long in here if you want to hop in after me." she goes on to say, still fighting rivets of water from getting into her eyes.

Of all things crowding Jungkook's mind tonight, a shower was at the very bottom of the things he wanted to do. But perhaps it was the in he needed to begin getting some things off of his chest.

Jungkook's distracted gaze falls to the bunched-up curtain barely covering Janelle's body, his bottom lip tucking itself between his teeth.

"How bout I just hop in now? Save some water?" he tilts his head cutely, his eyes returning to her face.

Janelle smiles at his unsubtleness, knowing he didn't give a hot damn about saving water.

She nods and Jungkook moves to join her, stripping out of his clothes smoothly, stepping in behind her, and pulling the curtain back in place to shield them from the cold air creeping in.

"You washing your hair?" he asks her from behind, placing his hands on her hips to guide her closer to him under the steady streams of hot water. Jungkook nearly stood at 6 feet, putting the top of Janelle's head just below his nose. From that vantage, her hair was all he could see.

Janelle's dark brown curls were elongated and stretching down her back from the saturation of water and whatever sweet-smelling concoction was dripping from it.

He inhales the scent of it fondly, enhanced by the humidity encasing them.

"I wasn't trying to but it got wet anyway. So I'm just conditioning it now. I'm gonna blow it back out tomorrow." Janelle confirms as she begins sectioning her hair down the middle, gathering half of it to the side to section again and begin twisting.

Jungkook watched her hands move expertly through her curls with usual interest. He loved playing in Janelle's hair when she'd let him. Whether it was oiling her scalp, taking down her braids, or just coiling his fingers in her curls to watch them spring back into place, he jumped at any opportunity he had to run his fingers through her thick mane.

"Hmm..Need my help?" he asks, already running his finger down the crooked part splitting at her nape. Janelle's shoulders rise at the ticklish sensation and she gives him a look.

"Not if you're gonna do that.." she smirks over her shoulder. Despite her words, she reaches in for the conditioner and squirts a generous amount in Jungkook's eager hands.

Working the milk and honey-scented conditioner into the strands at the back of her head as he slowly twisted it, Jungkook unwillingly allowed his thoughts to revert to his original anxieties.

Normally, being this close to her calmed his mind but there was just too much noise in his head to allow the night to go on another second without them discussing the obvious.

"You're happy, right?" he asks her seemingly out of nowhere. It had been a little quiet since she allowed him to help her with her hair but Janelle didn't think much of it.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be..." she mutters distractedly, coiling the end of her twist around her finger as she completes it. Working much slower than her, Jungkook continued to wrap the small sections of hair around each other.

"I don't mean in general. I mean with how tonight went. With Kat." he finishes the twist, pulling it to watch it bounce the way he always did.

"Oh. Well, yeah." Janelle shrugs a shoulder.

Another pump of conditioner fills her palm and she lathers it between her hands.

"She seemed up for what we were offering. Which was surprising. I expected her to look at us like we had five heads.." she laughed breathily as she finger-detangled another section near the front of her head. Jungkook tossed the fat twist he'd done over her shoulder, finding most of her head already done and leaving him with nothing left to do.

"She kind of did, Nell." he chuckles, reaching around her to rinse his hands. Janelle is caught against Jungkook's muscular chest and between his arms, the shadow of his body darkening the wall in front of her.

"Eh...only when you flirted with her. I don't think she was expecting that from you. Here, switch." she taps his chest for him to give her the space to reach outside of the small shower for a shower cap she'd left near the toilet tank.

Without any resistance, Jungkook stepped around Janelle as she covered her hair beneath the cap so that he was now under the shower head.

Jungkook tips his head back, allowing the water to soak his hair and face thoroughly before turning his back to Janelle, who was sudsung up a washcloth in preparation to wash his wide back. Something that was now routine for them after sharing a space for so long.

"Hey...That 'Kitty Kat' thing didn't bother you did it? I knew she'd hate it but then I considered you and I felt like an ass as soon as it came outta my mouth.." Jungkook asks over his shoulder with his eyes closed, shaking his head shamefully at the memory. Janelle continues to wash his back, running the soapy towel between his shoulder blades.

"Naw..I thought it was cute. Kat didn't seem very flattered by it and I think that was the point. To get under her skin."

"Yeah.." Jungkook chuckles dryly.

Janelle smirks.

"Yeah. Yall's interactions are funny to watch." she giggles, gliding the washcloth around to Jungkook's front, where he takes it from her gently before she can poke into his naval to tease him.

It was something she always did because of how ticklish he was there. And normally it would catch him off guard, but he was too wrapped up in his worries.

"Hm.." was all he uttered in response as if there was something more he wanted to say but just wouldn't. Janelle frowns at his stiffness, taking a small step back from him.

"What's wrong?"

Jungkook could just about see her face even though his back was to her. Eyes big and full of concern. Lips pursed and pretty.

He sighs.

"Nothing. It's just..."Jungkook shrugged nonchalantly as he washed his chest, turning his back to the shower head to face her.

"I'm happy if you're happy. This is something you've been thinking about for a while. And I'm honored that you feel safe enough with me to explore that but.." he tapers off, his gaze trailing towards the clear pool gathering at their feet as he lifted his arm to wash underneath.

Janelle watched the soap drizzle down his naked body aimlessly, that suspected concern puckering in her brow.

"But?"

Jungkook switched arms, scrubbing his armpit for a few seconds before setting the dripping cloth aside with a deep sigh.

"Ok look.....I'm gonna sound like a huge bitch for saying this but, I'm nervous about how this whole "throuple" thing will affect us. Like I said before, I have no desire to be with anyone other than you. Cheating has never crossed my mind..." he begins and Janelle's eyebrows go up.

"Never? Like ever?"

Jungkook blinks.

"Never. I swear."

"Even when you're mad at me?" Janelle tilts her head, a hint of unseriousness and disbelief in her voice. Jungkook huffed at the idea.

"When have I ever been mad at you Nell? I piss you off more than anything.." he chuckles, earning a stiff nudge in the chest.

"Stop it. I'm sure I get on your nerves more often than not. Or what about when you're just tired of me and think about being with someone new...you could tell me, you know." her eyes widen earnestly, her hands now sliding up Jungkook's torso to rest on his shoulders.

He melts under her touch, returning the affection by caressing the dip of her waist, his thumbs strumming over her hip bones as he squeezes her.

"I am telling you. Trust me..it just doesn't cross my mind. You're pretty much as perfect as a human could be. Your farts don't even bother me."

At that, Janelle snorts in offense, tugging on Jungkook's pierced earlobe playfully.

"That's disgusting and a lie because you don't deal with my farts. Like ever.." she denies adamantly. Jungkook winces and leans into her pull with a charming grin.

"Oh please. Don't give me that 'I don't fart' bullshit. We're not new.." he shakes his head, flinging his soaked hair about over his forehead. Droplets of water flick her in the face as she rolls her eyes.

"I'm not claiming that I don't, I'm only saying it doesn't happen around you. I'm pretty stealthy with mine at least.."

It was Jungkook's turn to snort incredulously, reaching up to smooth his wet hair back and out of his face for Janelle to see how sure he was.

"You can't account for every single fart, Babe. We do share a bed at night, remember?.." he wiggles his brows suggestively and Janelle blanches at the thought of Jungkook being awake while she's asleep and pooting happily into the sheets.

Counting them like sheep from his side of the bed and snickering maniacally like an idiot.

"Shut up! ANYWAY....Say I wasn't in the picture at all and you were single. You don't find Kat attractive? You wouldn't date her?"  she steers them back on topic, much to Jungkook's disappointment despite him being the one to bring it up. His shoulders drop, as does his expression as he contemplates his response.

"I mean...She's attractive, yes but.."

"And don't you two have a lot in common?" Janelle cuts in, seeming too hopeful for Jungkook's liking.

"Babe, that's not the point." he starts but Janelle is already shaking her head.

"We don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable. I can call Kat tomorrow and let her know. I'm sure she'd understand."

It wasn't that Jungkook was 100% opposed to it. Hell, what guy wouldn't be willing to try being in the middle of two gorgeous women? And if he were with someone other than Janelle, he was sure there would be no apprehension.

But Janelle was different. And Kat was soooo different from Janelle.

Jungkook scoffs at the suggestion, his eyes going to a milky white stream of water and conditioner threatening to drip down Janelle's face. He lets go of her waist to swipe it back into her widow's peak with his thumb

"Sure she would. And she'd feel like she was right about all of this. That you're being coerced into liking girls and Im a scum bag manipulator boyfriend pulling the strings and convincing you we need another person in our lives when all I want...all I need is you..."

There was a pout in his voice that was far too endearing to ignore. Janelle twists her lips to the side as she regards her boyfriend's worrisome expression, reading every line on his face carefully.

"Since when do you care what people think, huh?" she gazes up at him sweetly, melting the tension in his jaw slightly. Jungkook hissed lowly between his teeth, looking away bashfully.

"I don't. I care what you think.." he gives her an emphatic look before returning his attention to yet another drizzle of conditioner about to drip between her eyebrows. His mouth sets in a grim line as he uses his full hand to wipe over Janelle's forehead again, this time pushing back the shower cap, running his palm over her hair, and squishing the fat twists to extrude the excess product from her curls.

All the while, Janelle considers everything he's said.

How he was worried about offending her when responding to Kat's brattiness the way she expected him to.

How adamant he was about her knowing he was happy with just her, even though he never outright objected to the idea of them doing this.

"Oh my God.." Janelle gapes and Jungkook's eyes snap to hers warily.

"What?"

Janelle doesn't respond immediately, only reaching up to cup Jungkook's cheek before running a hand through his soaked hair.

"You're afraid," she says after a beat and Jungkook tilts his head back in surprise.

"Um.Not the word I'd use..." he mutters.

"And I am so selfish..wow." Janelle continues, dropping her hand to stare off into space.

"Another word I wouldn't choose.." Jungkook slides in under his breath again and Janelle sucks her teeth in disagreement.

"But it's true. Here I am, thinking you're just going with the flow because you're invested in the idea of us doing this...when it's just to appease me. Oh God...I'm the scum bag boyfriend." her hand goes to her mouth and if she weren't so damn cute, Jungkook would have been able to keep himself from laughing.

Whatever tension was there dissipated with the fog surrounding them, and the shower water started to cool from being on for so long. The temperature hitting his back now was the least of Jungkook's concerns that Janelle was blaming herself for his insecurities.

While they were valid, he still didn't want her to blame herself.

"No baby...." he pulls her hand from her face, lifting her chin with his knuckle. Her bottom lip trembled a bit, further breaking his heart as he locked her in his gaze.

"I'm not scared. I just don't want you to end up hurt, that's all. So many things are playing out in my mind where that happens. I'm happy with you and you alone. You know that. But if doing this makes you happy, we can try it out. Hell, there are no rules so we can pretty much structure it however we want. We can set boundaries. The extent of me and Kat's involvement can remain strictly platonic." he shrugs assuredly. Jade's expression shifts to confusion at his suggestion.

"Really? You'd be ok with that?" she asks and Jungkook smirks.

"Why not? She can't knock you up so beyond that, I'm good." he jokes, his attempt at humor barely thawing the tension.

"But seriously. You two can have your own thing and I won't interfere. We won't kiss or have sex...She seems more interested in you than she is in me anyway so.." he turns away from her briefly to cut off the water, which was now ice cold and no longer comfortable.

Janelle realized that her hair was still full of conditioner but rinsing it in the sink would just have to do. She blinks up at Jungkook's subdued face shyly, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth before mumbling.

"But...I want you to."

Jungkook blinks back at her, partially due to the water running down his face from his drenched scalp.

"You.......want me to?" he lifts a brow, genuinely oblivious to what she was getting at. Still worrying her bottom lip until little divots formed from her teeth, Janelle steals a glance at the misted shower curtain before responding.

"You know..." she peeps, shrugging a shoulder, and Jungkook watches her avoid eye contact just long enough for him to figure out exactly what she meant.

"Wait...You want us to..." he trails off, waiting for Janelle to look at him. When she does, her expression is expectant. As if she'd be faced with some sort of judgment in the face of her partner for wanting something so unexpected.

When she says nothing, an impish smirk spreads over Jungkook's dripping lips.

"Oh.." his eyes flutter in realization, still not instilling confidence in Janelle based on how her brows slanted worriedly.

"Oh?..as in 'oh hell naw' or.." her voice tapers with Jungkook's rejection and judgment already accepted in her mind. She hugged herself against the chill that was now filling the shower space, but it was clear her body language read deeper than that.

She was closing herself off, retracting her willingness to be open and vulnerable with the one person she should be able to be with. After being with her day in and day out for a while, Jungkook knew how hard it was for Janelle to be open in her past relationships.

It was hard enough being so soft-spoken and a chronic people pleaser, but dating self-serving assholes didn't encourage her to speak up for herself when it came to what she wanted.

At least until she met Jungkook...

Jungkook sighed, cursing himself mentally before pulling one of her arms that covered her chest. He lifts her hand to his mouth, brushing her soft knuckles against his lips.

"Naw...' Oh' as in...' Oh, ok cool'. Or 'ooooh you nasty.'..." he wrinkles his nose, pulling her to stumble into him over the bath mat. He then smushes her cheeks between his fingers, forcing her lips to pout out for him to ravish in a playful kiss.

Janelle yelps as his other hand skims down her wet and slippery back to cup her backside, squeezing a healthy serving of her booty cheek until she squeals again against his lips.

She reaches back to grip his wrist, steadily giggling in his grasp.

"Stahp! And don't call me nasty! You nasty. I feel you getting hard against my leg." she notes, the bridge of her nose scrunching in mock disgust despite not pulling away. Jungkook grins and bites his lip as he presses their bodies closer together.

"Duh. You're naked and wet. So tell me something...Why is that something you want?" he hugs her, his hand still resting at the crease of her ass. It didn't matter that the water was no longer running and the warmth of its steam was long gone. Janelle felt perfectly content standing in the bathtub, trapped in her man's embrace.

His question had her feeling shy all over again, her face tingling with the rising blush under her skin.

"I...I don't know...because I think it would be kind of sexy to...ya know..watch. Sometimes." she shrugs, keeping her gaze fixed on Jungkook's throat. His Adam's apple shifted a little when he tilted his head, in an attempt to summon her eyes towards his.

"Watch? Oh, you nasty foreal..." he teases.

At that, Janelle was over it. She stifled her smile as she pushed him away, yanking at the shower curtain to make her escape. Jungkook chuckles as he follows her, both of them stepping carefully over the damp bathroom floors. Janelle is already wrapping a towel around her body by the time Jungkook finds another conveniently folded on a shelf.

"I don't know why you're acting all innocent about this. Everyone knows you nasty Nell. Me more than anyone.." he shakes his mop of a head out before rubbing the body towel over it.

"Oh, whatever..." she waves him off, securing the towel's fold at her chest.

Janelle reaches past him for the cabinet that contains her skin products. She selects her favorite scented body butter and oil and shuffles to perch on the edge of the bathtub to begin moisturizing her skin.

Jungkook continues dabbing the water from his hair with his eyes screwed shut. He remains unabashedly naked in front of the sink, his inked-out sleeves flexing with the subtle movements of shuffling the towel over his head.

Oh so domestic and cozy with each other per usual.

Janelle's eyes lifted casually to watch him as she rubbed the cream over her knees and shin, admiring his height and muscular frame without him noticing. 

Jungkook dropped the towel from his head to hang over his shoulders, his hair now half dry and spiking in all directions. He turns to face the mirror and regards his reflection with a focused scowl, turning his head to inspect his skin. As he does, Janelle's sneaky gaze falls from his face and impressive upper body, to what she could see of the wobbling appendage between his legs, hanging handsomely and only slightly erect as he leaned closer to the mirror to poke at a tiny pimple threatening to form on his chin.

Salacious thoughts roll through her mind, some including him bending her over the counter right now and easing the ache between her thighs. All this talk about their relationship and exploring the unknown together did something to her.

On top of Jungkook looking like a literal god, a statue of marbled stone sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.

Another thought pops in of her dropping to her knees in front of him and surprising him with her mouth as he attends to his lazy skincare routine. She could already taste him at the back of her throat.

And then, as that scenario continued to play out in her head, the image of herself stroking his shaft is eventually accompanied by a pair of pale pink and slightly freckled lips wrapping around his mushroom tip.

Lips that weren't hers but equally as full and wet.

Equally as pretty, with a long pierced tongue that curved around Jungkook's girth.

Janelle's vision of Kat laving his dick in front of her on the bathroom floor has her going silent Her lips part slowly as she zoned out, her eyes shifting off focus while her oil-covered hands moved slowly over her legs.

Kat's moans, or what she imagined her moans to sound like.

Deep, a little raspy, and whiny.

..surrounded Jungkook's dick as best as her mouth could. Her head bobs slowly, siren eyes lifting to watch Jungkook's brow furrow in ecstasy.

"Fuck.." his lip ring jiggled with the hoarse curse, water still dripping from his dark wavy mane as he watched his dick get coated in Kat's saliva. Janelle's hand continued stroking him from the base and his hooded scowl shifted to her as he groaned.

"That's it..fuck, that's it.." he reaches for Janelle, caressing her cheek with tatted knuckles. She looks up at him adoringly and Jungkook smirks down at her.

"You're so fucking pretty baby..." he praises her, grazing her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. Kat whines childishly with bubbling spit pooling at the corners of her mouth. She pulls off of his dick with a dramatic slurp and glowers up at Jungkook.

"Hey..what about me?" she simpers and both Janelle and Jungkook chuckle. Janelle turns to Kat, giving her her signature sugary sweet smile.

"You know you're the prettiest Kitty.." she says to her, using her free hand to tuck a loc of disheveled copper hair behind Kat's ear before running her fingertips down her cheek. Jungkook hums in agreement, licking his lips.

"Mmhmm..especially with my dick in your mouth.." he mirths, covering Janelle's hand that was still wrapped at his base to take hold of himself. His swollen tip smooths over Kat's lips like an applicator, smearing the remnants of her spit and his pre cum over her bottom lip teasingly. Janelle's eyes fixed on the wet point of contact between Kat's pliant lips and Jungkook's dick, her mouth beginning to water.

"So pretty.." she echoes, her fingers curling under Kat's chin and coaxing it to drop. Kat's mouth opens just enough for Jungkook to slide himself back in with a strained hiss between his teeth.

"Ugh..yess.." he calls to the ceiling, tipping his head back as Kat's mouth engulfed him in her warm and wet sanctuary.

She sucks him deeper, earning another growl from above that sends her pussy into a clenching frenzy. She whimpers around him again, her eyes rolling back as she resumes sucking him off slowly, taking as much of his length in as she could. Jungkook takes his hands off of himself and away from Janelle's face and uses them to grip the counter's edge, relinquishing all control over his pleasure to his lovers.

He looks to Janelle, tipping his chin in Kat's direction.

"Help her out, baby. Show her how I like it

..." he croons, sending a shiver down her spine that manifests in a slow drip of arousal down her inner thighs.

Nodding, Janelle moves any distracting curls from Kat's face before pushing her head down hard on Jungkook's dick, gagging the redhead until tears rolled down her cheeks.

Janelle pulls her head back with a handful of copper tresses in her clutches to allow Kat a moment to catch her breath, eventually guiding her back towards the angry red tip in front of her.

"That's my girl...fuck.. don't stop either.."Jungkook ruts slowly, matching the pace that Janelle set for their girlfriend, aiding her in taking every thick inch that their boyfriend had to offer.

"Babe."

"Babe..."

"Janelle."

Jungkook's voice pulled her from her daydream, the sound of her name in his stern voice startling her. Her eyes flutter up at him attentively, her hands still coated in oil idling over her ankle.

"Hmm?" she pouts her lips.

Jungkook's towel was now wrapped loosely at his waist, a peak of his pubic hair just barely visible over the fold. His hair was a damp spikey mess, as expected, but he looked fresh off the pages of some magazine spread.

"What are you over there thinking so hard about? You've been lubing up the same leg for 3 minutes." he chuckles.

Janelle's doe eyes flit from her boyfriend's face to his happy trail and her brow crinkles into a scowl of thought.

At her silence, Jungkook smirks. He approaches her at the bath, squatting down so that they are at the same level.

He tilts his head, waiting for her to look up at him.

"Talk to me." he lifts the brow twinkling with silver.

Janelle locked eyes with him inevitably, stifling her smile at how Jungkook stared at her, his hands resting on her knees. She bites her lip worriedly before relenting.

"Ok. Be honest. Is it weird that I want this? To want to see how you are with someone else and me because it turns me on a little... a lot." she admits after a beat. Jungkook's expression is unwavering as his mouth shrugs at the question.

"Weird? No..Different, yeah. It doesn't matter though. If you want it, you got it, baby. As long as you are comfortable at the end of the day. I am curious though..." he pauses.

Janelle's eyes follow his as they drop where his large hands are still resting on her knees. They moved up her thighs slowly, pushing the towel back and encouraging them to part as he filled the gap on his knees.

"Has this always been a thing? This fantasy..or is it just with me?" he asks, his hands massaging Janelle's shimmering flesh in slow circles with his thumbs. He inches closer, teasing the tip of his nose against hers until she smiles.

Fuck, she loved him. For every rough edge, there was a softness that Janelle liked to think was only for her. The intimacy. The tenderness. His hands had traveled so high up her thighs, that her towel was barely covering her lower body anymore and goosebumps tickled her skin from the exposure. He was inches away from grazing a part of her that begged to be touched by only him.

Jungkook noses at her cheek, planting a little kiss to her jaw before pulling back just a little to wait for her response.

She barely remembered the question, hell...

"Just...just you.."  she stammers in reaction to his lips and Jungkook makes a sound from deep in his throat that makes her tremble. She steadied herself by holding him at his biceps as he threatened to nudge her into the tub.

"Hmm....so, you've imagined me being with other women in front of you?" he probes further, similarly to how one of his hands was snaking up to rest on her hip while he pressed against her heat. His thumb passes over her clit just barely, making Janelle gasp.

"Um. I didn't used to..not until I saw Kat. She's just so...sexy confident and bold. Everything I wished I was all the time, she just is. Sure of herself and is unapologetic about it."

Jungkook would have disagreed with her words wholeheartedly any other time. But the fact that Janelle was being this transparent with him kept him quiet. He didn't want her to stop talking, nor did he want to stop touching her the way he was.

"I read people pretty well, y'know?..It's just something about her. It's funny. She actually reminds me a lot of you."

At that, Jungkook pulled back with a confused brow, halting his teasing hands for a moment.

"Huh? How?" he turns up his nose. Janelle shrugs.

" I don't know. Just does. Yall like the same kinds of music and movies and fashion. Even a little about sports. More than I know at least, I sit between yall thinking I'm listening to Simlish." she laughs, although Jungkook is too stuck on her seeing him in another woman.

He sits back on his knees, resting his hands on hers again.

"Wait. So you've been fantasizing about me having sex with basically the female version of me..and that gets you hot?" he furrows his brow with a smirk, a look that made Janelle's core constrict.

"Yeah, but it's not just about sex though. It's the bond we could all have. Her attending to needs you have that I can't or me having someone close to confide in on things that just a friend can't understand. It's hard to explain. Like I said, I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable doing. Me and my kinks are just that and I don't have to indulge them. They aren't anyone else's issue but mine.."

Janelle drops her chin after speaking, seeming to feel some form of shame that Jungkook would not tolerate. He places a finger beneath her chin, making her look back up at him.

"They kinda are though, Nell. Not an issue but...I mean..we agreed that we'd be honest with each other about stuff like this. Keeping an open mind and shit."

"And that's all I'm doing..." Janelle cuts in.

"Opening my mind to something new and kind of taboo. I know the risks. I'm not delusional. You two can hit it off and end up much more compatible than you and I are.."

Jungkook snorts loudly.

"That ain't happening. If she really reminds you of me, then that tells me that there is very little about our personalities that'll mesh. I'm a bit of a dick. She already seems like a bit of a brat as is. I hate brats." he grimaces and Janelle scoffs at the blatant lie.

"Please. You love brats. Look at all your exes."

He'd rather not. Nothing about the women he was with before Janelle was worth the memory.

"You're not a brat, and I love you.." he smoothly states, rising back up as his hands sneak up her legs again.

He doesn't pause to tease or make her anticipate his next move. Jungkook just kisses her. One peck to solidify his point. Another to savor the taste of her lips the way he always did.

Janelle melts into him, wrapping her arms above his shoulders and digging her fingers into his damp scalp. She kisses him back with less fervor, knowing their conversation would cease if she allowed his tongue to slip past her lips one more time.

She abruptly tips her head back, breaking the kiss, much to Jungkook's disappointment.

"You're cute. Doesn't mean you love brats any less though. So it's a perfect match if you ask me. You're dark and broody, she's loud and moody, and then there's me, bringer of light and balance in the middle." she smiles adorably, booping her nose against his for emphasis.

Jungkook's pout gradually shifts to a smirk of surrender. At least he could agree with the last part of what she said.

Janelle was the light. She brightened up his life the moment she entered it and there was no way anyone could get him to look away. Even if it blinded him, he'd stare into her sun until she forced him not to.

A day he prayed would never come.

Easing back to just look at her, to admire the softness in her eyes and the perfection of her honey-brown skin, Jungkook narrows his gaze at her.

"You really wanna do this, don't you?" he asks her, his tone soft but serious.

Janelle's smile softened too and she nodded.

"I do. But only if you do too."

Jungkook regards her for a moment, recalling everything that she said, as well as everything she'd ever done for him throughout their relationship.

Janelle was selfless and kind. She never made trouble or fed into drama. She never picked fights or nagged at Jungkook when he knew he deserved it. His initial resistance to commitment. His ugly habits. In her delicate way, she smoothed out his roughness like sandpaper. Loving the hell out of him., literally chasing away the demons that convinced him he'd never find a love as pure as this.

He owed her this, at least.

What was the worst that could happen?

"Ok."

Janelle's eyes brightened at his short response, her spine straightening immediately.

"Ok?" she verifies and Jungkook nods.

"Yeah. I'm with it. We can try this thing out and play it by ear. Take it one step at a time. As long as you know who you are to me. And how much I mean it when I say I would never, ever..do anything to hurt you. At least not on purpose. I'm still a dumb ass sometimes.."

Janelle's lips crash into Jungkook's before he can finish his sentence, and he chuckles sharply through his nose as he reciprocates the kiss. He hugs her waist, pressing his body flush against hers with her legs wrapping around him.

If he'd known his being on board would make her this happy, Jungkook would have never raised the issue. But he was glad he did.

Something about this moment brought them closer, and there was very little he wanted more.

Janelle breaks their kiss again to gaze upon her partner's face, and Jungkook doesn't pout this time.

He too basked in the beauty that was Janelle, asking himself how the hell he got so lucky.

"I love you." she sighs.

"I love you." he smiles, wagging the silver hoop at the corner of his mouth.

"And you're not a dumbass. I told you about that." she scolds him lightly.

"Mmhmm....Well, what word would you use? He asks sarcastically, but Janelle's eyes shoot to the ceiling as the invisible Rolodex of 'Jungkook Adjectives' sputtered in her mind.

After a few seconds, she settled on one.

"You are.... exceptional." she muses, the apples of her cheeks rising.

Based on what he knew of the word, its connotation was fairly neutral. Unusual. Uncommon. Not typical. That said a lot considering what he just agreed to.

Gaining a better understanding as to why this was something she felt was needed, more for her satisfaction than his, was surprisingly comforting. Here he was worried that she felt like this was something he secretly wanted because let's be honest..

Most men probably would.

And the old Jungkook was like most men.

But this version of him in this alternate dimension where he actually learned how to love someone non-toxically, he'd do anything this woman asked him to do. Even being willing to share her with someone else. Something most men, even under the best circumstances, wouldn't be secure enough to do.

So maybe he was the exception.

Maybe they both were.

Jungkook's eyes danced between Janelle's irises, his gaze and little smirk darkening by the millisecond.

"Hmm..Whatever that means.." he snickers, leaning in to slip his tongue into Janelle's mouth again, hoisting her up to straddle his hips as he walked them carefully out of the bathroom.

Effectively ending their conversation.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of both worlds (part 7)

Tw: vomiting, sick reader, implications that the housemates r jerks before, imo boring chapter just some comfort for sickness times

Vote the poll down below n im gonna start making the next part after 20 votes

part 8

You can barely get out of bed.

That means you didn't get to clean up your post-exam clutter. Making the entire room miserable and almost unhabitable. You couldn't sleep because you had a terrible fever, needing to eat a couple of paracetamols to cool yourself down.

Anything that goes in your mouth comes back up. You wouldn't want to waste your food anymore, so you simply stopped eating.

You woke up to loud knocking, borderline banging on your door and to the voice of your housemate. She's yelling about someone being here to see you.

That can't be right. Why would anyone want to visit you? You're not asking this in a self depreciating way, but in a logical sense where you knew no one knew you're suffering from food poisoning.

Except...

Realization dawns upon you when you hear a series of softer knocks. You heard Yves's muffled voice from the outside, asking you to open the door for him.

You checked your phone. It's four in the afternoon. He should still be at the library, why is he here?

Then your focus went to the notification banner about the four missed calls he left.

"(Name)? It's Yves. You haven't been answering my calls. I'm worried about you."

The last person you want to see now is goddamn fucking Yves. Yesterday already took a toll on you, having him over is going to worsen the illness- if the fever didn't fry your brain, the stress would.

You refused to answer, covering your head with your pillow as he continued to knock.

Eventually though, he stopped. The walls are thin so you could hear him ask your housemate about you. She said you were hurling all night, keeping everyone awake. They witnessed you trying to eat a cooked packet of instant noodles, but you immediately threw it all up the moment you swallowed a forkful.

"I see." You hear him reply. "May I see the kitchen?" He asked.

She was taken aback by the request, a kitchen shared by 7 other students isn't going to be the cleanest. There was a pause before she told him that it was messy.

"That does not matter." He responded. You heard a sigh and she verbally told him to go ahead.

You're sure he knows what the condition of it is. He was there yesterday for the trash bags. You wonder what business he has there.

When you hear him walk away from your bedroom door, you force yourself and your aching muscles to creep out of your room. Planning to eavesdrop on his conversation.

"Is this all they eat?" His voice echoed through the hallway.

"Yes. I literally have never seen them eat anything else. Maybe the occasional cold pizza slice or two, but that's it. I don't think they even own a frying pan. Sometimes I wonder how that bastard is still alive." Ouch. A simple Yes would suffice. Why did she have to air your dirty laundry like that?

You heard the fridge open.

"Yeah, this was supposed to be their side of the fridge, but it was always empty. So we used it as a spare." Yves hummed in response.

You rushed back into your room when you heard his heels begin to strike the floor. Quietly shutting the door and tucking yourself into your bed.

Perhaps he's giving up, you're not coming out of your-

You stared wide eyed as the knob twisted by itself.

You forgot to lock your door. Shit, you fucking forgot to lock your door.

You heard one last set of calm knocking and Yves voice: "(name), I'm coming in."

He pushed it open and you see his tall, slender frame coming into view. His hair is flowy and luscious as usual, clear skin and pristine makeup on his beautiful face. While you look like crap. And your room looks like crap, you can barely see the floor.

You gape at the square of translucent hydrocolloid dressing on the back of his hand. Looks like his burn yesterday started to blister.

"Damn! You live like this?" Your housemate expressed her disbelief when her eyes landed on the clothes, indiscernible between used and washed, strewn all over the place. The opened drawers and stacks of empty cups.

You hid under your blanket, you told her to shut up and get the fuck out of your room.

"Alright, you're a grump cause you're sick. But just so you know, you're still on garbage duty this week." She responded.

You groan, telling her that you knew that already. You told her to go away. But she doesn't respect you, none of your housemates do.

"Could you excuse us, please?" Yves politely dismissed her. She agrees and leaves your room immediately. Yves closes the door to maintain some privacy.

You remained hidden under the sheets, not wanting him to see you so vulnerable.

"You poor thing." He sighed. You felt the bed dip as he sat on the edge. He gently peeled the blanket off your head, using the other hand to stroke your hair.

"You haven't eaten today, have you?" The fingers running through your grimy hair was... comforting. Too comforting, perhaps. You involuntarily started tearing up and crying, being reminded of a simpler time in your life. It brought back the feelings of security and safety, which you haven't felt in such a long while. You forgot how it felt, and it felt extremely good.

He stopped his caresses, but rested his hand on your scalp.

You told him you didn't mean to weep. You had no idea what has gotten into you. However, you're sure you're crying because of the state of your room and how two people had to see it- which includes someone with opinions you value very much: Yves.

He continued his affectionate touches as tears kept falling from your eyes.

No further words were exchanged between the two of you. Yves kept you company until you fell asleep from his rhythmic stroking. He pressed a kiss on your forehead before standing back up.

Yves sets his bag on your bed, he gets to work picking up stray articles of clothing from the floor. He dropped them all into your laundry basket in a messy pile.

Yves picked it up with no effort and carried it on his hip. He left your room and headed towards the basement, where the dryers and washing machines are kept. He knows where it is despite no one ever telling him.

--

You woke up with a jolt, thinking that Yves intruding your room was just a crazy fever dream.

Except, the presence of his unique luxury bag is right next to you. Scanning your surroundings, you definitely can tell Yves made his mark here.

You can see the floor again, you didn't know that it's that shiny and clean. All your clothes are missing and the corners are clear of any old trash. Everything you own is organized neatly, the shelves are displaying their respective categories in order. Your desk was wiped down and your textbooks arranged by colour.

Your room is unrecognizable, it wasn't even this nice when you first moved in.

Yves is nowhere to be found. You weakly got up and dragged yourself to the door. Locking yourself in and Yves out.

You always wondered what is in that bag. It seems to be carrying an impossible amount of items. Though, he uses a briefcase for his laptop and notes on weekdays, it's impressive that he managed to fit an umbrella in this small bag among other things.

You opened it and began rummaging through.

A lipstick, a compact mirror, disposable wet wipes, a hydrating facial spray, dry facial tissues, a hairbrush, his phone, a tin of breath mints, his oddly thin wallet- it made sense, the rich wouldn't carry around wads of cash. Only cards; An army Swiss knife, bandaids, a rectangle of a foldable grocery bag...

A set of keys attached to his car fob, a pen, some unidentifiable medication; it's printed in a foreign language, a case containing his reading glasses, another case that contains his sunglasses, portable eating utensils, a bottle of hand sanitizer, disinfectant spray, a power bank, charging cables, a portable fan, a hand fan, electronic ear buds, ear plugs...

Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you kept finding more things; perfume, a scrunchie, a couple of hair ties, sun screen, ointment, his reusable stainless steel thermal cup, lip balm, a face mask, portable paper soap, a stack of sticky notes and of course, an umbrella.

You dug deeper and found out that he's also hiding a scarf in there!

All that with heaps of space to spare, it doesn't look bulky from outside or in. You tried lifting it up by the handles, but it felt like you were trying to lift a barbell with one hand. It was bizarre how he could find what he wanted in the nick of time with all these things. Granted, it was neatly partitioned before you searched through it- oh. You messed up his system.

Shit! You're going to embarrass yourself again!

Well, you still have time. The door is locked and he isn't here yet, you could try putting it back.

You heard the door knob rattle. That must be him, he can't possibly get in right?

Your blood turned to ice when you heard the jingling of some keys. Of course, it's Yves. He would know to take your own keys with him. You heard him unlock your door.

You panicked and tried to hop out of bed, so you could barricade the door with something. But while doing so, you knocked the bag off the bed and made the contents of it spill out.

You let out a distressed yelp, his ten million things spread out all over the floor, some rolled under your bed.

"Did I startle you? I apologize." He came in with a laundry basket filled with freshly washed clothes. They're dry and warm to the touch. The basket looks noticeably clean too. Did he scrub it down? The dust and mold are gone, it went back to looking brand new.

You began apologizing, saying that you didn't mean to knock his bag down. You saw that as a potential escape from getting caught snooping around.

"No, it was my fault to leave it near the edge. It was bound to fall." He set the basket down and calmly began picking his belongings off the floor.

You let out a discrete sigh of relief. You're off the hook.

But obviously he knows what you did. His scarf shouldn't even be out of his bag, as he packed it at the bottom. His keys, lipstick and wallet should be the first to leave, yet it remained safely in the toppled bag because you flipped everything upside down while being a nosy person.

Plus, it was zipped up in the first place.

If he didn't want you peering in, he would have hidden it under your bed.

You got down on your knees and helped him collect the items. You dumped it back into the handbag, but Yves nonchalantly pulled it all back out to organize them himself.

"Thank you." He stood back up and securely placed it on your nightstand.

He turned to you and crowded you against the bed. Yves slid his hands under your chin, where the pulse is, checking your temperature by touch. You flinch and squirm because you're ticklish, but he paid no mind to it.

"You're having a fever." He noted. You release a baited breath when he lets you go, reaching for something inside his handbag.

You watch him unscrew the lid of his thermos cup. There isn't any particular Colour to the liquid. But there was a faint fruity scent emanating from it. The ice cubes bob around the mystery fluid. He also produced a metal straw which he plunged into the drink, you must have missed it when you were rummaging through.

He popped two tablets of paracetamol out of a blister pack and brought them to your lips. It's better to just let him feed you, so you took it in your mouth.

"Take small sips." He brought the straw to you.

The beverage is... salty. And sweet. It's sickeningly fragrant for a drink that's supposed to be enjoyable. Except it's not, it's an electrolyte solution he prepared to make up for the ones you lost. The coldness saved it.

You didn't realize how thirsty you were, he placed the cup in your hands before walking back to the laundry hamper. He opened a drawer and began folding your clothes into a neat stack.

You're starting to think he just likes silence. He has a perfectly functioning pair of expensive earbuds, but he doesn't use them neither does he want to initiate a conversation with you.

You put your drink away and flopped down onto your bed. You picked up your phone and decided to check your notifications.

You received a number of messages from the group chat with your housemates.

"(name) u gotta get ur bestie to visit more cuz this is the cleanest the kitchen has ever been!!!"

Attached to it is a series of before and after pictures of the entire house. You almost couldn't recognize the place, it was tidy and sparkling clean.

The rest of your housemates agreed in text, telling you that he was such a pleasant conversationalist.

"oh ya idk if hes still here but he made a massive pot of congee for u, its a fuckin banger u should try it" "Damn u lucky as hel to have him take out da trash on ur behalf, that shit was nasty and he did it without gloves too" "His car is still outside, he has got to be here." "oh shiiiittt hes gotta be LOADEDDD with a hot ride like that. where did u find him??" "Omg!! I need his recipe!! Can you ask him for it, pretty please, (name)? Maybe his number too??" "lawlz not u being hornyz on main" "lmaoo fuckin simp" "im not!! :(( he's just so sweet and handsome, im not stealing their man or anything, i just wanna get to know him!! you guys are just mean!!" "whatever u say president desperate"

You read all their text messages that devolved into banterings, looks like all your housemates know him now. You wonder what he talked about with them. What was there to talk about?

You were brought back to reality when you heard him shut the draw. He left your room once more to retrieve something.

Your phone pinged, alerting you of another text message.

"BRUH hes really still here"

Shortly after, you received a picture taken in the kitchen. Looks like the photographer tried to be subtle from its angle.

The photo showed Yves's back as he scoops something from a pot into a bowl, using a metal ladle.

"shit (name) how did u pull such a fine man It's literally 9pm rn" "What time did he come here tho?? Ik i came home at 6 and i saw him mopping the floor" "like 4pm" "FIVE HOURS ?? (NAME) TELL UR BESTIE HES WELCOME HERE ANYTIME WE WILL OPEN THE DOOR FOR HIM"

At least they seem to be less of pricks to you than before, all thanks to Yves. But it's such a shame that it took a good-looking servicing stranger to get them to act nice towards you.

"(Name), you have to eat something." You looked up from your cracked screen to see Yves holding a bowl of steamy congee. He pulled the chair from your desk and sat next to your bed.

"Sit up straight." He caressed the small of your back. You complied with his command while he stacked your pillows to make a backrest.

It has a mild, pleasantly savoury aroma.

He fed you by the spoonful agonizingly slow, you're horrified that you're now used to this gesture. It isn't something you feel flustered about, it just feels... right. It feels normal and it's as if he's done this for your entire life.

You're getting more comfortable with him and that scares the fuck out of you.

You're surprised that it's not making you want to hurl, the meal is actually bettering your stomach and you wanted to eat more even after finishing the entire bowl. It's definitely bland in your dictionary, since it's only seasoned with salt, pepper and freshly made chicken stock. But it was heavenly. And its the only thing you can stomach now.

You asked for more. You were shocked when your request is denied.

"You're full. You are going to vomit if I give you more. That's enough for now, I'll give you another bowl an hour later." He dabbed the corners of your mouth with a facial tissue.

You froze.

He is right. You are full. You wanted more because it tasted great, but you would have thrown it all up again.

It's eerie how he knows you better than you know yourself. And this is only the third time you have spoken to him. This doesn't seem right, does it?

Yves left your room once more to keep the dishes away. Predictably, the group chat blew up with astonished reactions that Yves appeared right before their eyes again.

You massaged your forehead, wondering if you should have been a bit more firm in saying no to Yves. But he just makes you so weak against him.

You checked the time and the digits turned from 9:59pm to 10:00pm.

It's getting very late.

[ssleepycenzi]

Part 2 plus some music I listened to while writing this

Miguel spoke to gabi who nodded in response and ran to the room she was given by [name].The angel Arched one of her brows in response curious to know what’s was gonna happen in the unforeseen future.”yknow it took me awhile to figure out why you looked so familiar to me,Querida” he said the last work with a smirk on his face from the reaction to [names] face as of the word triggered a certain memory or memories within in her mind.”Oh,something wrong Querida?”Miguel chuckled and walked over to her wrapping his large thick arms around her waist. “you remember us don’t you” he whispered in her ear “Why are you pretending” Miguel continued. [Name]’s Breath was caught in her throat as the memories flooded back to her brain it was a bit overwhelming. “I remember now..but I didn’t before,Angels Can’t lie”she spoke in a breathy tone her body warming up from Miguel’s touch.”Is that so?”Miguel frowned slightly then tell me what you used on my wounds?”, “Hot waters,cloth rags, pain killers and alcohol wipes” [name] replied slightly annoyed at his rather dumb question.Miguel smiled at the fact what she had said was true.”I missed you so much..” Miguel groaned nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck peppering kisses on her skin as he did so.[name] only let out quite gasps before speaking “I..I need to finish cooking”she managed to say without stuttering or choking on her own words.”let me help you then”Miguel’s muffled voice spoke cutting the rest of the vegetables despite being relaxed against [name].His chest against her back,humming softly as he cut the vegetables not letting [name] move.Miguel wanted to soak in the feeling of having how wife back in his arms.Meanwhile gabi was secretly watching,she was happy that her family was finally going to be together again.After some time the food was finished and everyone was in the living room eating and watching a show,Miguel has already surprised gabi with the truth about [name].”The food was amazing Querida as always when you cook” Miguel cooed in his wife’s ear,she smiled in response.Her hand gently caressed gabi’s Cheeks as her head rested on [names] lap.”she’s grown so much” [name whispered not wanting to disturb her little girl’s slumber.”Querida,why don’t we put her to bed and catch up on lost time” Miguel smiles kissing [name] softly on the lips before picking up gabi and bringing her to bed and tucking her in as [name] cleaned up the dishes and living room.Once Miguel had tucked Gabi in he walked back into the living room and snuck up behind [name] and wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her into a gratifying embrace.The sudden action startled the angel but she she accepted with a smile.”I’m finished cleaning” [name] spoke up turning around within the confinement of Miguel’s arm wrapping her arms around his neck as she did so.Miguel chuckled and placed a quick kiss on her soft lips letting out a small groan as he did so.[Name] laughed softly and kissed him back with luscious intent.”Oho~? Is my dear wife needy for me” Miguel joked chuckling deeply as he looked down at his wife.”can you blame me?” [name] smiled,Miguel only smirked and picks the angel up by her thighs lifting her up to his level.He began to place kisses on her lips and neck.[names hands tracked up the back of Miguel’s nape making their way into his hair gently tugging on the dark brown and gray hairs of his locks.

[Name] Pov

Miguel had let out a low moan as I gently tugged his hair ,and continued to pepper kisses all over my skin he had acsess to.”You taste so appetizing like..strawberries”. Miguel groaned as he began to undress you and place feverish kisses on the skin he was slowly exposing for his eyes and his eyes only to see.”Miguel” I whined greedily,”yes mi princesa?” “I want more..no I need,crave more… please” I mewled in his ear.”As you wish my love” Miguel grinned letting his fangs be seen,He carried me to the bedroom,holding me with a singular arm just remind me how fit Miguel is.He set me on the bed while kissing me everywhere he could each kissed filled with love and lust.I let myself relax into his touch,sprawled out on the bed halfway undressed and underneath Miguel.How’d I get this lucky?Whens the last time I’ve been intimate with myself or anyone? I thought to myself.”it’s been so long, tell me so you want me to prepare you or ravage you” Miguel questioned me smirking with that cocky attitude of his.”wouldn’t gabi wake up from either of those options?” I inquired raising a brow.”Then you’ll just have to be quiet enough for her not hear and loud enough for me to hear your sweet moans,okay princesa?”His tone was sultry with a lopsided smile plastered on his face.”I can try I suppose,but for your answer I want you to ravage me” I cooed in his ear my hand trailing up his chest to his cheek caressing it with my thumb.”you haven’t been touched in so long haven’t you? Don’t worry I’ll make you remember the feeling of my cock buried deep inside you filling you with my cum” he practically snarled in my ear as he was now ontop of me shirt off pants undone,he had used his finger talons to undress me quicker leaving me exposed completely for his dark eyes to adore.There was medium sized bulge in his boxers poking out with a wet patch in the middle.”Let me know if it’s too much yeah?” I nodded as he took his cock out from his pants and stormed a bit,clear?pre-cum beading out from the top sliding down to the base of his curved cock.His brow furrowed and he let out a hiss as he pressed his tip against my wet slit slighty prodding at with little to nothing thrusts.”I’m going to make my hurt so good” Miguel grinned as he pistoned into my throbbing wet cunt without warning which I should have expected.I choked on air for a second when he entered his cockhead slightly pressed against my cervix.Miguel had let out a loud moan.and he tells me to keep quite.“Fuck” you’re definitely tighter than I remember”he panted as he began thrusting in and out of me with a slow place to help me readjust to his cock’s size.”ah~ Miguel I missed you so much~”I mewled quietly as my arms flung around his neck.”mhm~ I can tell,you’re clenching around me each time I pull out” Miguel’s now raspy voice laughed.Miguel started buck his hips faster than before letting his cock go deeper with each thrust.His thrusts has enough force to make my breast jiggle more forcefully.drool dripped from the corner of my mouth as my lips were parted and my eyes rolled back almost.”It feels good dosent it baby” Miguel chuckled in my ear as he continued to roll his hips into mine.”fuck Miguel~!” I moaned loudly gripping his back now leaving small scratch marks.Miguel let out grunts and sometimes a few whimpers when I would kiss his neck or if my nail dug a little to deep into skin.”mhm sorry” I spoke into his shoulder with my head resting in the crook of his neck.”It’s okay baby mark me up all you want I’m all yours” Those words made my heart flutter.Suddenly his thrust became more harsh and sloppy indicating he was close to his long awaited release.”fuck” he groaned as he came inside me I had also reached my peak seconds after he came.

[daddyhausen]

Can I request #30 off the NSFW prompt list with Jungle Boy?

• touch starved — jungle boy •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlists } | { aew masterlists } | { jungle boy masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ summary } — it’s your first night back after a serious injury, jack being completely unaware of your return and quite frankly, sex deprived, begs you to touch him

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact }, switch!reader, handjobs, public sex, switch x switch dynamic, teasing, cumshots, edging, multiple orgasms, begging, male + female orgasm, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, squirting, internal cumshots, vaginal creampie

{ word count } — 610

{ pairing } — fem!reader x jungle boy

{ genre } — smut

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @cosmoholic13 @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @baysexuality @legit9thlunaticwarrior @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @baybay-boom @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ 30 } — i’ll let you do anything if you just touch me right now

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

it had been months since he saw you last

months since he last felt your warmth, kissed you, tasted you

he’s craving your touch

even more so now the both you were currently at work

still so close but far enough to miss each other

jack found himself in the secluded hallways of the area

you locked with his lips

hands so needy, but not allowed to do more than fumble with zippers and ties

“i’ll let you do anything if you just touch me right now” he whimpered, feeling more touch starved than usual when you were not around

“anything?” you pulled away from his lips momentarily

“yes…anything, sweetheart”

his breathing was frantic

his cock strained in his ring gear

the poor boy looks like he hadn’t gotten off in days

“just relax for me”

jack let out a small sigh of relief as you pried his cock from his trunks

slowly beginning to jerk him off

“feel better?”

“y-yes…” he whined through gritted teeth, sweat starting to gather at his hairline making the luscious curls stick to his skin

his back arched again the cold brick wall

adoring the way your hand worked around his shaft

your eyes never breaking their gaze from his

“fuck…i’ve missed you so much…”

jack spoke through a particularly loud groan

one of which you silenced with a harsh kiss to his lips

pulling away breathlessly

“i know…me too, baby”

“god…need to fuck you so bad”

the pleasure made tears well in his eyes, hips bucking upward to meet the movement of your hands

“cum for me first, okay?”

he gave a small nod

the muscles in his abdomen tightening with release

his cum warm against your skin

coating your knuckles white

he gave a breathless moan, his cock twitching against his stomach as you released him from your grasp

“sit down” you words were soft in his ear, bringing up your hand to lick his cum from your knuckles

“what if someone sees us?” he questioned yet still complied

lowering himself back against the wall

“guess they’ll just have to watch then” you remarked, lowering yourself down onto his cock

oh god how you missed the feeling

his cock spreading your folds so deliciously

stretching you out until your cunt was gripping his size

“oh s-shit-“ he gasped, stuttering over his words as you began to bounce on his cock

“oh my god, sweetheart” he panted, tongue jutting out to wet his lips as you leaned in for another heated kiss

“you feel so good…”

“you do too…” you muttered against his lips trying to keep yourselves quiet

“you make me feel so full, jack…i love it so much”

“me too, baby…now be a good girl and keep quiet for me okay?”

you nodded, burying your head into his shoulder

jack held you tight against his chest, thrusting up into you with light strokes

“you gonna cum?” you questioned, words muttered into his skin

feeling his cock throb deep within your warmth

he gave a simple nod, an arm wrapping around your waist while the other smoothed stray strands of hair from your face

your lips remained close to his, swallowing each others breaths and moans

spilling over around his cock while he pressed short, sweet kisses to your jawline and chin

he followed suit, filling you up as he intended,

his warmth seeping from your sweet folds as he pulled out

admiring the sight of you i top of him for a moment

“you better fix yourself up…” you mentioned, still starting to catch your breath as you placed a gentle kiss to his lips

“don’t you have a match next?”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

cute (very h word) little josh blurb about him & his boa bc ever since you talked about it I cannot get it out of my head okay thanks <3

Josh comes running backstage after the show to find you perched atop his vanity in his dressing room. The door rushes open and you see him in his velvety red jumpsuit, neck adorned with a luscious white boa and matching white-rimmed sunglasses reading “do it Joshy” with small rhinestones. His curls are frizzed from the show, and his face is painted with a beautifully deep red blush- certainly from his antics during the last portion of highway tune. A wide-mouthed smile paints itself across his face as he turns to find you sitting- legs crossed- on his vanity, very patiently waiting for his return.

“Hi my love, how was the show?” You say with a small smile and a crinkled nose. “Best of the tour, I think.” He replies, still trying to catch his breath from previous activities- his chest heaving paired with flared nostrils. He softly closes the door behind him, being sure to lock it, and saunters over to you, wrapping you in his arms as you uncross your legs to lock them around his waist. He places a hungry kiss to your lips in which you welcome, slightly parting your mouth to slot your tongue through, which he eagerly welcomes. You lace your fingers through his tufted curls, pulling ever so gently, just enough to cause a low moan to escape from his chest. “mm been thinking about this since we went on stage.” he says as he lifts you from the vanity to carry you over to the small leather couch on the opposite side of the room.

He breaks the kiss only to delicately place you down onto the couch, your breath catching in your throat as the cool leather meets your now warmed skin. Awaiting his next move, you watch him tentatively as he removes all of his accessories, placing them neatly onto the side table beside the couch. He continues to remove articles from himself until all that’s left is his jumpsuit- to which he unzips at an agonizingly slow pace until it’s completely undone. He then discards it- throwing it into the chair near the vanity. He returns to his place in front of you on the couch, picking the boa back up from the side table and draping it across his toned shoulders, lightly shimmying around and humming a soft tune. Josh was always one for theatrics, and anytime you two were intimate was no different- but that’s one of the things you loved about him; always giving you a show. Your eyes trailed down his now naked frame- mouth watering as you reached his throbbing cock- already leaking with pre-cum. Your breath hitched and your eyes snapped back up to meet his face with a small wine. He giggled at your response, a small smirk now playing on his lips.

“Josh-“ you whined, reaching your hands out to him, only for them to be scooped up by one of his own. “Ah ah ah- not yet.” He replied with a devious smile- one that meant he had already planned out exactly how this encounter was going to go. He took your hands and ran them slowly up his toned body until they met the ends of the boa. You grabbed it in an attempt to pull him closer to you- to which he retaliated with a firm grasp- holding both himself and your hands still. “Aw look at my girl, so needy for me already. I promise you’ll get what you want, mama, but it’s going to be on my accord today.” He said- his voice deep and gravely. Your body flushed at his words. Josh was never one to want to be in charge- always asking what you needed, always wanting to make sure you were taken care of, but on the days when he took on the more dominant role, it always riled you up in ways you could never explain. He returned both of your wrists together- holding them in one hand and grabbing the boa from around his neck with the other. “Stand up for me, honey.” his sentence was a command, but came out so sweet and gentle- as he always was. You swung your legs off of the couch and stood in front of him awaiting his next move. He looked towards the couch and tilted his head slightly, beckoning for you to turn around, to which you happily agreed.

He let your hands go- but only for a few moments while he undressed you. Pulling your hair back with one hand, he used his other to pull the straps of your dress down, letting it fall off of your body, before undoing the clasp of your bra effortlessly. “No panties today, naughty naughty.” He said with a click of his tongue. A small giggle left your mouth before your hands were being snaked behind your back. Josh took the boa he was previously wearing and securely tied both of your hands together behind you before sitting you back down on the couch.

Josh sank to his knees in front of you, tapping each of your knees- letting you know to open them for him- to which you excitedly welcomed. He took one of your legs, tossing it over his shoulder, before leaning in to lick one stripe up your center- your hips instinctively bucking at him on their own accord. He looked up at you through his lashes- his eyes lust blown and dark as the night sky. He placed a small kiss to your clit before taking it into his mouth, flicking his tongue at an unmatched speed. The room began to fill with obscenities and moans as you writhed under him. He brought two fingers up to tease at your entrance, tongue still lapping away at your clit. Your hips bucked into him, causing his nose to graze your clit in the most delicious way, eliciting a loud moan to rip through you. Taking this as a sign to continue, he plunged his fingers into you, lightly grazing the sweet spot that he knew was sure to send you plummeting towards your orgasm.

Your hands wiggled behind you, reaching for anything to grasp onto with your impending orgasm building in your stomach- that familiar burn growing more and more. Josh hummed into you- the clenching of your walls around his fingers letting him know you were close. “You gonna cum for me, angel? Already?” He purred into your core, causing your body to jolt against him, and his nose once again hitting the bundle of nerves and sending your head into a spiral. “Josh- please- im so close-“ you breathed out, voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’ve got you angel, let go for me, honey.” He encouraged, grazing his teeth over your clit, sending you crashing towards your orgasm at a rapid pace.

With a few more pumps of his fingers hitting your sweet spot and his skilled tongue continually lapping at you, you threw your head back- letting your orgasm overtake your whole body. Your thighs clenched around him, writhing under his touch, mouth parted with moans and obscenities and his name filling the air like mantras. He held his mouth and fingers still, allowing you to use him at your discretion as you returned to earth from your orgasm. Once you began to calm down a little, chest still heaving, he retreated his fingers and lifted them to his mouth to lick them clean before standing both of you up. He untied your hands and brought you into a sweet kiss. “Need to do that more often, I like seeing my pretty girl all tied up with my boa.” He cooed into your ear. “Your turn next?” You asked with a small smile and a gleam in your eye. He cocked an eyebrow at you, a pink tint setting over his cheeks. “Ahh, my girl wants to have the reigns now, does she?” he purrs with a small giggle, returning another sweet kiss to your lips.

I HAVE TO GO TAKE A GAHDAMN MOMENT AFTER THIS. WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HELL THIS JUST DID SO MUCH TO ME i-

I need 15-20 fucking business days???? is that even a thing????? IDK BUT IT IS TF NOW. ANON, SHOW YOURSELF BECAUSE I AM BILLING YOU FOR MY THERAPY AND ALSO THE NEW BATTERIES FOR MY VIB-

[frozenprocedural]

24 Elsarik :D

"Your Hair is So Soft"

Rating: K

Set in my Costs an Arm and a Leg verse. Alarik belongs to @patricia-von-arundel.

“You're joking.”

“I am not. Yes, Kristoff had reservations at first. But now, he loves it. Never asks for one, but he never turns it down either. I'm telling you, washing his hair, with a scalp massage? Alarik will be putty.”

Elsa shook her head, balling up her napkin and placing it in the aluminum takeout bowl. “I guess. It's just not something that immediately comes to mind.”

Anna swept their trash into the paper bag and stood. “Oh, it doesn't. But he'll love it. If I'm wrong, the next chocolate haul is on me. But I won't be. Which means you can pay.”

Elsa didn't think about their conversation until Alarik came home a few days later, his face tight with pain. Before the door had even fully closed behind him, he had his prosthetic and sleeve off, rubbing the burned skin of his stump. 

“Oh, Alarik. How bad?” She offered her hands, and he allowed her to work on his skin, massaging in slow, gentle circles.

“Enough. It's been building for the past few days. I probably should have rested it more.”

Elsa hummed, continuing to rub his arm. Anna's suggestion came back to her, and she smiled up at Alarik, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“I'll warm up the leftovers, and then I want to try something, if you're willing.”

He turned so he could kiss her mouth, wrapping his other arm around her waist. “Of course, darling.”

…….

“I certainly could have started my own bath.”

“I know. But it's not just a bath. Now, how's the temperature?”

Alarik padded over, dipping a finger into the water. “Perfect.”

“Good! In you go.”

He settled in, looking back at her as she adjusted the chair so she was sitting by his head. 

“Are you joining me?”

“Not this time. I'm going to do your hair.”

His face scrunched in confusion. “But I-”

“I know you can wash your hair. But I want to try this. To give you a chance to relax. May I?”

Alarik rested his head against the towel she'd placed on the tub's rim, smiling. “Of course. I put myself in your capable hands.”

Elsa chuckled, leaning forward to place a kiss on his head. “I need you to lift your head so I can rinse your hair, though.”

After a thorough rinse, Elsa pulled over the pump bottle with Alarik's 3-in-1 shampoo. “I still don't understand how this works for you, while I have to use multiple products.” 

“The benefits of having luscious, curly locks, I suppose.”

Elsa rolled her eyes and laughed, splashing his neck. “Goose.”

Several pumps of shampoo onto her hand, and then she started, working it into his hair and scalp, working up a healthy lather. Elsa was surprised at how much she enjoyed it- running her hands through his hair and hearing the bubbly-scratchy noise of the shampoo was soothing in its own way. She could feel Alarik relaxing beneath her, his shoulders slumping and… shaking?

Was he crying?

“Alarik? Are you alright? Are you hurting?”

He sniffed, wiping his hand across his eyes. “No, I'm fine. I… it's… no one's ever done anything like this for me before. And… it's so nice… Oh God, why am I crying so much!?”

“Hey, hey, it's alright.” Elsa rinsed her hands in the water, then shifted the stool so he could look at her. She placed a hand on his cheek, using her thumb to wipe away the tears. “It's okay to feel. I'm here. And I love you, so, so much.”

Alarik sniffled and turned to kiss her palm, his hand coming up to cover hers. “I know. I'm so lucky to have you. And I love you so, so much.”

How long they sat there, Elsa wasn't sure. Eventually, Alarik looked back up at her with a quirked smile. “Would you… would you start washing my hair again?”

Elsa smiled back and shifted the stool. “Of course.” 

She added in some more shampoo, and soon Alarik was sighing and slumping against the tub as she massaged his scalp. Elsa kept it up for a few more minutes, before tapping his shoulder. 

“Time to rinse.”

He turned so she could see his pout. “Do you have to?”

She laughs. “Yes, Alarik. Besides, I'm sure the water is getting cold.”

“I'd survive.” Still, he sat up, letting her rinse. He took the proffered soap from her and finished washing himself, before reaching forward to pull the drain plug. He stepped out and toweled off, while Elsa grabbed his bottle of moisturizer. She followed him into their bedroom, and waited until he got dressed to sit beside him on the bed. 

“May I?”

He didn't hesitate, but immediately placed his stump into her lap. She was struck, as often was the case, by the trust he had in her. Alarik had grown more accepting about his missing hand and burn scars over the years, but he still tended to want to at least keep the skin covered while out in public. But that didn't happen with her. 

“You don't have to ask, you know. To touch…” He raised and lowered his stump.

“Would you ever stop asking me for permission to touch mine? Or work on my prosthetics? Even though I say yes every time?”

“Of course not! You might not want me to touch it at some point! I don't ever want to assume… oh.”

Elsa leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Exactly. The same goes for you. Every. Time. Now, let's take care of your skin.”

Elsa squeezed a dollop of the lavender-scented lotion onto her hand. She was thorough, working the moisturizer deep into his skin, making sure to massage it well. She felt Alarik relaxing against her, and smiled, happy to see that he appeared to be feeling better. 

“You are amazing.”

She closed the bottle with a giggle, and passed him his nightshirt. After donning her own pajamas- just an old shirt of his and a pair of shorts- she settled into bed, tugging on his arm until he laid down next to her. She cuddled into his chest with a sigh, raising one hand to run it through his drying curls. 

“Your hair is so soft.”

She felt more than heard his chuckle. “What can I say? Luscious locks.” He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, again. That was really nice.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it. Just… don't tell Anna.”

“Wait, what?”

[cabe0512]

The Night a Witch meets a Beast, a snippet of The Curse of Darkness.

A puff of smoke shining in silver poured out of the hall like an explosion, but harmlessly faded into the wind like sand against a storm. As the smoke began to clear, Julia brushed her eyes clear to see what her exorcism had wrought upon the beast.

But as she saw with her own bewildered eyes, the nasty beast was no longer there where she had left him. Only a pile of worn-down and bloody bandages remained, and the figure of a young man bathed in the middle of it.

Julia, drawn by curiosity and fear, slowly approached the pile of bandages and smoke fumes to take a closer glimpse of the man sleeping in front of her.

He was completely nude, his body bore the astute complexion of a skeleton. His skin was covered in horrible scars, not a single inch of it was free of any old wounds. His messy hair, pale as snow just a moment ago, now transformed a tinge of brown.

And his face, obscured by his own luscious hair, was something that Julia wanted to see. So carefully, she reached out her hand and touched the locks to get a better look at him.

The young man was stirred away, and quivered violently at her touch. His pale blue eyes saw her, and they were empty yet ferocious like a wolf's. He flailed his arms at her and tried to roar, but even the vicious roar of the beast itself had left him entirely, now screaming on the top of his lungs.

He pinned her down with his arms reaching out as soon as he got up, but Julia got ahold of his wrists and kept them in place. The man incessantly screamed at her, trying to bite her and break free from her bond yet his body was far too weak to push her away.

Julia was scared out of her mind just like him. She had never encountered another human before, not after the witch hunts from so long ago. She loathed them to the core, but that hatred was now replaced by fear when she most needed it.

As she struggled to maintain the young man, Julia suddenly remembered how Rosalie would calm her down in times of distress. Acting accordingly, Julia released her tight grip on the man's arms and placed them on his cheek. She chanted a small prayer, the same one Rosalie sang every day, as her own palms began to glow.

Slowly but surely, the young man stopped pushing her away and the warmth of her touch, and the serenity of her magic. He then fell against Julia like a limp noodle, but she caught him and let him land on her lap.

Julia's heart skipped a beat when her fear had finally waned, as she could now see his face as his hair was now out of the way. He had to be the most handsome face she had ever seen, something that came out of her dream. And that confused her even more.

In the end, she unbuttoned her cloak and wrapped the young man around it. And together they sat on the cold floor of the ruined chapel as the night passed by around them.

As the first ray of the morning sunlight peered through the broken roof, the young man fluttered his eyes awake and found himself resting on Julia's lap. This time, his eyes were less animalistic and more human than before; they saw and they gleamed with a drop of hope.

"Are you..." His voice was hoarse and dry. "Are you an angel?"

Julia didn't know how to respond to that question. Up until now, she had always detested her sister Rosalie's optimistic belief that humans were more than worthy of a second chance. But now she stood at a hill of uncertainty; she saved a human's life and she didn't even realize it.

Her heart was pounding so fast, Julia nearly mistook it for a horrible hex laid upon her. At once, she adopted a hopeful smile, the same as Rosalie's own, and said to him.

"I'm not an angel. I'm a witch, and I freed you from your curse."

The young man managed a smile of his own, as specks of tears formed on his eyes upon realizing his freedom. "At last... Thank you for saving me, kind witch."

Julia blushed so suddenly; she had never received such nice words of her expertise from anyone other than Rosalie. Her fear, as well as her stone cold heart completely melted away whenever she gazed at his eyes. She managed a giddy little giggle to let these feelings unfold much neatly.

"My name is Julia," she told him. "Do you still remember yours?"

"I... I..."

The young man averted his eyes away from her, scared as he hasn't fully recovered his memories, his only thread that tied him back to his past life before the curse overtook him.

He started squirming under the cloak in panic before he stopped completely and began to smile fondly. Julia knew what it meant; his memories have returned to him, even if it were a little late. When he finally remembered it all, his face lit up and faced her once more.

"It's... Grant. My name is Grant of... House Danesti."

[sunshinebingo]

The Princess and the Knight Chapter 8

A/N: Dedicated to @headcanonheadcase, @shadowsxgwynriel and all the horny people who were waiting for the smut.

Synopsis: The Princess and the Knight take another step in their relationship.

Word Count: 2k

Warning: NSFW (this chapter is just smut)

Read the previous chapter here

Read on Ao3 here

Gwyn had been pacing around her chambers for the last hour. She was nervous but also excited. Most of all, she felt ready. Dressed in a deep emerald satin gown, she reminded herself again that there was no possibility of tonight going wrong. Not when it would be with the one she had fallen head over heels in love with. Not when she knew that he loved her too. And absolutely not when she knew from experience how good he could make her feel. Now she wanted to experience the full extent of being intimate with him. I am ready, she told herself.

A soft knock at the door had her heart skipping a beat. She placed her empty glass of wine on the mantelpiece and rushed to the door. When it opened, she greeted Azriel with a beaming smile.

‘’Hi,’’ Azriel smiled back at her.

Without losing any time, Gwyn grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him inside. The door was not yet closed behind him that she had already crashed her lips against his. Azriel grabbed her by the waist to bring her closer. The kiss immediately turned to something urgent. She tangled her hands in his hair and kissed him like she had been starving for him. And Azriel was not about to complain about it. He reached behind him to close the door and turn the key to lock it properly.

He brought his hands to her backside so that he could carry her to the bed but noticed something through the fabric of her robe that made him stop. Azriel pulled back and looked at her with raised eyebrows. Gwyn took a step back and looked at him. She was still panting from their kiss. Her cheeks were flushed with a pretty shade of pink that spread across her freckles. ‘’Follow me,'’ Gwyn said, extending a hand to him.

Like a moth drawn to the flame, he wordlessly took her hand and followed her to the bedroom. She stopped just before the bed, took a deep breath and turned back to him. Somehow, Azriel understood her intention. She saw the moment the realisation hit him when his eyes widened in surprise.

He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. His mind drained out every word and every thought. All that was left was Gwyn standing in front of that bed, slowly pulling on the tie at her waist until her robe opened. Her teal eyes remained fixed on his as she slipped the robe off until it pooled at her feet.

‘’Fuck,’’ Azriel let out at the sight of her fully naked before him for the first time. Seeing Gwyn this exposed, with her long legs, her delicious curves and the freckles scattered all over her creamy skin surpassed all the fantasies he had had about her. It was also causing him to come up with a lot more. But first he had to regain his capacity to move.

Noticing how still he had gone, Gwyn moved closer to him. He remained frozen as she took one of his hands to bring it to her lips. All the nerves that have been running through her before had left from the moment she had kissed him at the door. Now all that remained was the excitement and the need to be impossibly close to him.

Gwyn stared at him with eyes full of lust as she took his middle and forefinger into her mouth. Azriel watched her, enraptured by the sight of her luscious lips closing around his fingers. The heat of her mouth travelled from his wet fingers and straight to his already hard cock.

Gwyn slowly slid his fingers out of her mouth, dragged them down her chin. She moved his hand lower, guiding it between her breasts, down to her navel and even lower until she reached the area where she was aching for him. The moment Azriel’s fingers brushed her centre and he felt how wet she was, something seemed to snap in him.

Azriel cupped her face with one hand and kissed her at the same time he dipped a finger inside her. Gwyn gasped and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. They had not done much and yet she was already dripping for him. Azriel was not doing any better. His cock was throbbing, pre-cum already seeping through the fabric of his pants. He suddenly wanted to rip his clothes off so he could feel Gwyneth’s bare skin against him.

Azriel removed his fingers, making Gwyn whine at the absence of something inside her. She was craving more. Before she could complain, he lifted her and placed her on the soft mattress. She laid there for a moment, watching as Azriel removed his shirt, then his pants. She licked her lips in anticipation when his cock sprang free. She wanted to drag her tongue along his shaft and taste the liquid that was slowly running down to his balls.

He kneeled before her, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. Gwyn lifted herself up to lean on her elbows and watched as Azriel started trailing kisses inside her legs and thighs. The closer he got to her centre, the heavier her breathing became. The heat inside her was becoming intense and she needed him to do something about it.

‘’Please,’’ she begged when Azriel looked up at her. That was all he needed before his mouth was on her. The lewd moans that Gwyn let out as he licked and sucked her was enough to almost undo him. He tightened his hold on her so that his hands would not go down to touch himself. His hands travelled up her body until he reached her breast, squeezing them hard.

Gwyn fell back on the bed, her hands moving to rest on Azriel’s. She could not stay still as his tongue started go in and out of her. He knew her enough now to know when she was close. She came hard, arching her back and digging her nails into the back of his hands as she cried out his name to the ceiling.

Azriel swiped his fingers on his mouth and sucked all that remained of her on him but made sure to leave her pussy as wet and messy as it was. Seeing all the wetness coming out of her made him want to suck on her again and take in every last drop. But there was something else that was begging to get a feel of her.

Azriel stood and came to lie on top of Gwyn, caging her between his forearms. ‘’How are you feeling?’’ he asked, brushing his nose against hers. It had been a while since he entered her chambers but that was the first full sentence that was coming out of his mouth.

Gwyn opened her eyes to find him looking at her intently. ‘’Great,’’ she replied, unable to find more coherent words. She felt more than great. She felt ecstatic. I feel ready, the words echoed inside her head. And she let them out. ‘’I am ready,’’ she said, hoping that Azriel would catch her meaning.

He had suspected it already. But he needed to be certain. ‘’For what?’’ he asked.

‘’For you.’’ Gwyn dragged a hand down his chest until she reached his cock. ‘’Azriel,’’ she wrapped her hand around his cock, watching as his eyes closed and he took in a sharp breath, ‘’I want you to fuck me.’’

‘’Gwyn-‘’

‘’Please,’’ she cut in and squeezed his cock slightly.

‘’Gwyn,’’ Azriel grabbed the hand that she had wrapped around him and placed it beside her head. ‘’We will stop whenever you want.’’ She nodded. He lifted her face with a finger beneath her chin, making her look into his eyes instead of his mouth or his cock.

‘’I need your words Gwyneth.’’

‘’Yes,’’ she breathed.

Azriel placed the softest kiss on her lips and she wondered how someone like him could be so gentle and caring. ‘’I love you,’’ the words coming out of her both as a reminder and a promise.

‘’I love you too Gwyneth,’’ he said before he kissed her. Gwyn’s whole body was set ablaze again as Azriel lowered himself until his cock rested on her centre. She gasped into his mouth when he parted her folds as he started to move.

Azriel revelled in the feeling of his cock being coated by her. ‘’Az,’’ Gwyn whined, ‘’I need you.’’

He brought his hands between them and adjusted himself at her entrance. ‘’Gwyn remember what I said,’’ he began, his body trembling from the control he tried to keep on himself, ‘’if it’s too much just say it and we stop.’’

‘’Just put it in Az,’’ she begged him.

He snorted at her impatience. Before he could say anything else, Gwyn grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He slowly pushed himself inside her but stopped when she let out a small strangled sound. She buried her face in his shoulder, letting the pain and the new sensation sink in for a moment.

Azriel kissed her on the forehead. ‘’Relax love,’’ he then whispered in her ear.

She took deep breaths in, and focused on all the places where Azriel was touching her. ‘’Don’t stop,’’ she said after a few moment.

His lips left kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. One of his hands caressed her side and her breast while the other one settled between them to circle her clit. His cock slowly went deeper and deeper until he was fully inside her. It took her a few moments and more deep breaths to get comfortable with this new feeling.

Azriel started kissing her neck, going lower until he could take one of her nipples in his mouth. His hands did not stop teasing her breasts and her clit. She moved under him and he took that as his cue to start moving too. He was slow and careful. But that was enough to get rid of any lingering pain. Soon, all that was left behind was the pure pleasure of having his cock deep inside her.

He retreated until he was almost out and thrusted back inside in one move. ‘’Az,’’ she threw her head back. "I have dreamt about this for years." She did not know how she could still speak but she wanted him to know.

Azriel brought his face up to look at her. "This or me doing this?" he asked. He removed his hand from her clit and grabbed her from behind. She parted her legs and lifted them to wrap around him. He thrusted inside her again and felt him go even deeper like this.

"You,’’ she breathed, ‘’It has always been you. And it will always be you."

Azriel rested his forehead against hers. His throat tightened and his eyes started to sting from unshed tears. He was even more convinced now that he would never love any other woman in the way that he loved his Gwyneth. He squeezed her ass with a hand and the other pull her closer by the waist, bringing her impossibly close to him.

His thrusts became slightly harder and faster. His grunts mixed with her moans. Everything became too much yet to enough. He needed to come inside her. And when he felt her starting to tighten around his cock, all he had to do was thrust a little harder until Gwyn shattered around him. Her walls clenched around his cock, her already tight walls squeezing him even more. Gwyn held on to him like a lifeline. Azriel groaned loudly as he came and spilled himself deep inside her.

His head fell in the crook of her shoulder. They stayed like this for a while, their breathing heavy and their hearts beating in synch. Gwyn’s legs limply fell limply on the bed. Her hands played in his hair while his own caressed her waist and her breasts.

‘’Az,’’ Gwyn whispered when their breathing calmed and the room fell silent.

He kissed her shoulder before looking up at her.

‘’I love you.’’

Despite the exhaustion creeping in, she could not stop the smile that spread on her face and refused to leave when he said it back.

[asteriaspirit]

On Love & Dancing

Saelya yanks open the door of Belial's red pickup truck, climbs up into the cab of the vehicle, and slams it closed.

“You don't have to do that!” Belial yells as he rounds the car to the driver's side. “You don't have to slam the fucking doors! I can't pay if the fucking hinges crap out again!”

But, of course, he yanks open his own door, hauls himself into the cab next to his girlfriend, and then slams it closed with a wince. When he glances at her in the passenger seat, she's calmly chewing gum and lifting a well-manicured eyebrow.

“That wasn't on purpose,” he says, sheepishly.

“Why do you do this?” Saelya asks him with a shake of her head. “Why do you put yourself through this shit? I can't keep coming out here because you decide to—”

“I'm making sure you're okay! I hate that you're fucking working here—”

“Well what else am I gonna do Belial? It ain't like they're itching to hire girls without a high school education to make six figures a year.”

“You don't even make six figures a year, Sae.”

“Whatever!” she huffs while throwing her hands into the air. “You know what I mean! You bring your scrawny ass down here—”

“—I'm not fucking scrawny, what are you talking about—“

“—And you get mad when you see me on stage, doing my job!”

“You can get another job where you aren't shaking your ass or your tits in stranger's faces!”

“Not if I wanna make six figures a year!”

“You don't!!!”

Instead of replying, Saelya blows a spearmint bubble with her gum, lets it pop, and then continues chewing. The green of her eyes seems almost catlike with the reflection from the streetlamp and Belial can't help the way his attention wanders over her.

She was barely wearing anything; some sea-shell bra thing that was too small for the bounty that was her bosom and a grass skirt with one of those barely there g-string/thong things beneath it. Her skin shimmered due to the body lotion and spray that all the girls were wearing and her luscious crimson locks were artfully messed with that 'just got out of bed' vibe that was trending.

And Belial hated it. All of it. Even if it was delicious to look at, it left him feeling...hollow.

“If you don't calm down, that vein in your forehead is gonna pop,” Sae tells him with a bored look. “But maybe you dying would be a good thing. Then you wouldn't be around to get all worked up.”

“I wouldn't be around to protect you either. You really want that?” Belial asks while turning forward and placing his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel. He grips the worn leather and it squeaks beneath the pressure.

“No, but at least you wouldn't be getting all worked up like you are right now,” Sae whispers and her right hand reaches out to rest on the bulging muscle of his bicep. He exhales at the feel of her warm palm against his bare skin, but the anger still swirled like day old milk in his stomach.

“Baby, lookit you,” she continues while tsking in displeasure. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“I just want you to get a new job Sae, that's all. This isn't safe.”

“Safer than those cement trucks and forklifts and jackhammers you're around all day. There was somebody on the news the other day that was putting up windows in one of those downtown office buildings? The cable snapped and they fell to their death.”

Belial blinks and glances at her, his brows lifting in shock. “Really? I hadn't heard about that.”

“Well, you don't watch the news so I'm not surprised.”

“The only thing I need from the news is to know what type of jacket I need to take with me to work. Everything else is bullshit,” he snorts.

“That is so obviously not true, but whatever,” Sae mutters with an amused shake of her head. “Listen baby, I know you think that you being here is the reason some lunatic ain't carted me off and made a rug outta my skin, but we do have security.”

“I don't think that old guy—”

“—Harvey ain't old! He just hit fifty and he's a retired police man!”

“That now works in a strip club, watching girls shake their shit for free,” Belial grumbles loudly. “So he's an old perv, basically.

Sae smacks her lips together and heaves a long, exhausted sigh. “Baby, you gotta stop coming up here and causing problems. I'm serious. You're gonna get me fired.”

“Good!” Belial nearly bellows, to which Saelya merely blinks and stares at him sans any expression whatsoever. Her hand does, however, drop away from his arm to instead rest with its twin in her lap.

“I'm sorry,” he says with a wince. “I'm not yelling at you, I'm yelling at the situation. Sae, please, I know we've talked about this before—”

“We're making rent and we're even putting up a little bit every month,” Sae interrupts, her voice climbing as well. “Why do we gotta go and try fixing something that isn't broken?”

“It is broken!” Belial immediately refutes while the muscle in his jaw ticks with ire. “I'm not happy about this! I hate it!”

“Belial baby, you hated the last place and the place before that too. There ain't a single club in the city you'd be happy with me dancing at.”

Belial opens his mouth to refute her again, but his brain quickly runs through the many, many clubs he knows only to scratch them off his list. His teeth click together as he closes his mouth.

“See?” Saeyla hums, knowingly. “And don't you say that I ain't been looking for something else because you know I have been.”

Whatever fight had been inside Belial at that moment wheezes out of him like air from a balloon and he shrinks a little in his seat.

“They didn't call you back? That office job?”

“Nope,” she replies, her voice popping the p. She turns in her seat so she's facing forward and her left leg cross over her right knee, the long blades of her grass skirt parting to show creamy french-vanilla skin. Belial drags his gaze up to her face only to realize that she's looking out the window.

“I'm sorry Sae,” he whispers, his hand moving from the steering wheel to the one of the many locks hanging around her head. He tucks it carefully behind her ear. “Something will come through, I'm sure of it.”

“Yeah,” she says, but there's no emotion in her voice. Just a sorrowful resignation that tugs at Belial's stomach.

He opens his mouth to say something more, but Saelya turns around and her hands lift to cup his cheeks, her gaze locking with his.

“That's why I gotta keep dancing baby.”

More of Belial's anger seeps out of him and his eyes flutter closed with a soft sigh. He leans into her touch even as his hands reach out to rest on Sae's narrow waist and gently tug her closer.

“I hate it,” he whispers.

“I know,” she whispers in return.

With ease, Belial drags Saelya across the cab of his truck until she sits in his lap, straddling him. Her hands whisper down the sides of his neck before resting on his thick shoulders. She gives him a gentle squeeze while smiling down at him.

“What I gotta do to stop you from putting yourself through hell when I'm working?” she whispers while leaning forward, her forehead touching his, the mint scent of her gum invading his nostrils.

“Besides find a new job?” he asks while dragging his calloused palms over the curve of her ass, beneath the grass skirt.

“Yes,” she hisses good-naturedly. “Besides that.”

“Can we do this every night?”

“Don't we already do this every night? Without all the...barriers?”

This time, Belial blushes and an easy, confident smirk pressed against his full lips.

“Not what I meant, but I'm not complaining,” he tells her while dragging her hips forward, forcing her against him.

“Yeah, no complaints from you right now, hm?”

“None whatsoever.”

“So you want me to agree to you coming here, making yourself angry, and taking up my lunch brake with these...fun...activities?”

“Sounds pretty selfish when you put it that way though,” he replies with a small frown.

But Saelya giggles and presses her mouth against his, their lips meeting in a familiar, age-old dance. He tastes like the shots of Bourbon he was downing at the bar and the mint from her gum dances across his tongue like fireworks through the sky. She winds one of her hands into the short hairs at the back of his head and one of his massive palms brush against the underside of her sea-shell bra.

“Can't,” she whispers against his lips while tugging his head back. “I gotta get back on stage.”

“Ten minutes?” Belial whispers in reply, his voice a needy whine that matches the sudden thrust of his hips up into hers.

She gasps and her pupils dilate at the same time her low lip fits between her teeth.

“It's never just ten minutes,” she tells him with a sigh. “You don't understand the meaning of a quickie.”

“I never thought I'd hear someone complain about that,” Belial replies with a droll stare.

“Who said I was complaining?” Sae chuckles.

“So...ten minutes?” he implores, his lower lip sticking out in an over-dramatic pout.

“No,” Sae whispers with a shake of her head. “I'm already in hot water because of that shit you pulled earlier. I can't be late getting back.”

Of course, Belial only continues to pout and it isn't until Sae playfully slaps his shoulder that his expression morphs into something more puckish.

“If you can promise that you can be here without being a little ball of rage and swear-words—”

“—I'm not little—”

“—Then I'll agree to sharing my lunch breaks with you.” And to emphasize her point, Sae allows more of her weight to sink down on his lap and she rolls her hips against the tent in his pants.

Belial groans, but he's already nodding his head as the sound leaps from his voice box.

“Okay, deal.”

“Wait, that's it?” Sae asks, the octave of her voice hiking up in surprise. “That's all it takes?!”

“I just want your attention Sae,” Belial tells her and the vulnerability in his words, in his gaze, immediately lessens the humor of the moment. Her hands return to cupping his cheeks and his hands rest over her lower back, the heat of their sudden interlude simmering.

“You have it baby, I promise you,” she tells him before delivering a soft kiss to his forehead. “For as long as you want it.”

“I just—Those guys—”

“I told you before that it'll be a cold day in hell before I end what we have to go chasing after some client. Even if they offer me a thousand dollars.”

“...What about a million?”

“Uh...a million is a lot of money,” Sae says with a playful smirk.

“Our love isn't worth a million dollars?!” Belial gasps, affronted.

“Now who's putting words in whose mouth?”

“It's not just words I wanna put in your mouth, Sae.”

Belial's words immediately catch her off guard and a strawberry blushes pushes against her cheeks. She glances away from him, out the window and her eyes linger on the modernized, two-story gentleman's club across the parking lot. Her job.

“Next time, we won't spend my lunch break squawking at each other and, instead, you can feed me.” She turns back to him with a coquettish smile. “You know I love vanilla milkshakes.”

“Okay, deal. Again.”

Saelya laughs, the first real one she's had all night, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders in what she believes is a bear hug, squeezing him tightly while her breasts press against his chest. Belial doesn't hug her back as tightly, but he does return her affections as a calm settles inside him.

“I love you, Sae,” he whispers into her hair.

“I love you too baby boy,” she whispers against his ear.