kvllerdreams

her  hand  slides  from  his  neck  to  gently  play  against  the  sharp  edge  of  his  jaw.  completely  drawn  in  by  him,  all  she  can  think  of  is  the  pull  her  lips  feel  towards  his.  a  short  moment  of  hesitation  lingers,  knowing  that  there's  no  going  back  from  this.  she  knows  that  when  she  jumps  off  this  cliff,  there  will  be  no  one  there  to  save  her.  yet  she  can  feel  the  gravity  pulling  at  her  when  she  falls  and  finally  presses  her  lips  softly  against  the  corner  of  his  mouth.  the  kiss  is  small  and  subtle,  crossing  the  wall  between  right  and  wrong.  she  doesn't  give  a  shit  as  long  as  he's  on  the  same  page.  she's  searching  for  the  reply  she  hopes  for,  looking  for  the  sign  to  where  she  can  continue  —  before  she  centers  her  face  in  front  of  his  and  kisses  him  like  she's  been  wanting  to  all  night.

"fuck ... jesus fuck i've never wanted someone like i need you, jeanny." hotly whispered against her plush lips, tongue sweeping a hot and urgent path across lushness of her bottom lip. can she feel his arousal? how his jeans strain against his cock as his neediness makes itself known, pushing against the dark confines of the outfit he wore to murder someone. "you're so fuckin' beautiful", praise pours from his mouth as he pulls back briefly to admire her, to appreciate the slight redness of her lips and the dilation of her pupils. "i know it's sick but i thought it the moment i saw you in that apartment, your fuckin' eyes ... they destroy me sweetheart." and he can't keep his mouth away from her own any longer, a sensual impatience to the way his tongue rolls and flicks against her sinfully soft lips.

god she can feel her pussy pulsing, creamy arousal slathering her folds as her flushed cheek remains against the sink, the sting of his fingers around her hair in this position makes her mouth water, the tension in her scalp a balm to the intense fear she felt when he got shot. "spit on it, trav. get it wet and ready."

she  follows  behind  ingrid  like  a  stray  puppy,  immediately  sliding  into  the  seat  opposite  of  her,  getting  a  clever  view  of  the  large  windows  that  line  the  front  end  of  the  quaint  shop.  her  knee  bounces  rapidly  and  paloma  takes  a  deep  breath  to  stave  away  the  nervousness  that  shrouds  her  mind.  “  thanks  for  this,  ”  she  feels  like  that’s  the  only  thing  she  can  do—thank  the  woman  for  how  polite  she’s  been  throughout  the  evening.  she  pops  the  root  beer  can  open  and  pours  it  into  the  glass,  watching  it  fizz  before  leaning  in  to  slurp  some  of  it  before  it  overflows  and  drips  down  the  side  of  the  cup.     “     so  you’re  from  around  here?  what  do  you  do?     ”     paloma  allows  herself  to  be  curious,  figuring  if  ingrid  was  going  to  stick  by  her  that  maybe  she  should  get  to  know  her  a  little  better.  a  little  hypocritical  on  her  part  considering  she’s  keeping  all  her  shit  close  to  her  chest,  but  small  talk  never  hurt  anyone…  right?  

maybe in a different setting they would be more relaxed? or maybe it would backfire and just draw them further into their shell — but ingrid was limited in her options, her town was too fucking tiny. taking a small sip of her drink she immediately decides it's too hot and places it back down, allowing p to get settled in the process. " yeah, born and raised in the literal middle of nowhere. i know i kinda talk shit about this place but it wasn't a bad place to grow up, just isolated i guess. " tearing a small chunk of donut she pops it into her mouth, chewing as she debates whether to be truthful or not. " i'm a journalist, work for the town paper ... well actually we've merged with the town a few miles south of here but same difference. " waving a hand dismissively she hopes that they won't clam up now she's admitted her profession. it wasn't like ingrid was going to write a story without letting her know, but opportunities like this came along once in a decade. " i went to college out of state, kinda hated it honestly and then came back after i got my degree — i've wanted to leave so many times but ... i dunno, something keeps me here. " focusing her gaze on the other woman she tries and fails to not study the way she's slurping her root beer. stay focused ingrid.

MIKA ABDALLA via Emily Cheng on Instagram

just  as  expected  —  she’s  not  dropping  it.  fine.  she’ll  allow  ingrid  to  take  her  to  the  library,  and  hopefully  she’ll  find  her  people  there  and  that’ll  be  the  end  of  that.  paloma  has  to  remain  optimistic,  despite  that  hollow  feeling  in  her  gut  telling  her  otherwise.  she  follows  after  the  woman,  eyes  nervously  darting  around  the  empty  streets  on  full  alert.  ingrid’s  smile,  while  a  little  tense,  does  quell  some  of  her  loneliness  and  she  mirrors  it  as  best  as  she  can.  they  enter  the  small  shop  and  it’s  warmer  in  here  than  it  is  outside,  probably  due  to  all  the  freshly  baked  sweet  treats  that  are  on  full  display  at  the  counter  by  the  register.  her  stomach  growls,  reminding  her  that  she  hasn’t  eaten  in  …  she  doesn’t  even  remember  the  last  time  she  had  a  proper  meal.  paloma  has  spent  the  last  three  days  worried  sick  over  her  dilemma.  anything  she  did  attempt  to  eat  would  just  come  right  back  up.  this  sudden  sickness  ended  up  being  her  cover  for  being  left  alone  in  a  place  where  they  were  constantly  under  surveillance.     “     i’ll  just  order  a  root beer…  and  a  raspberry  scone.     ”     she  orders,  stepping  back  as  ingrid  rings  off  her order.  

her momma always did say she was stubborn as a mule, it was only fair she live up to those expectations. besides, who with a conscience would leave this woman stranded in a town she didn't even know the name of? ingrid might not be overly nice but she wasn't pointlessly cruel either. entering the coffee shop her palm raises in a customary greeting to the guy who's working behind the counter, jake? josh? she's sure it begins with a j. despite having already eaten dinner she's already eying up the display of baked goods on offer, because hey maybe if she orders one then p will too? judging by the low pitched growl coming from the other's stomach ingrid hopes she doesn't need to be pushy and demand she eat something. " oh raspberry scone is a solid choice ... " femme mutters mostly to herself as she deliberates while josh/jake patiently waits. " okay i'll get a decaf americano and ... and a glazed donut, please. " with a satisfied nod ingrid taps her card against the reader before turning to survey the place — as predicted only one two seater table is occupied, the rest free for the taking. accepting the tray of drinks and sugary treats she weighs up where best to sit, more importantly where p would feel comfortable sitting. " alright let's go over here? " leading the way toward a small table at the back ingrid takes the seat facing the wall, giving them the opportunity to keep an eye on the windows.

MATTHEW BROOME Your Fault: London (2026)

there were ways in which his organization operated that fell into categories of faith and of business. noah believed he was the savior for many a-people in this community. the community that sought his guidance and wisdom out, and also paid a pretty penny in donations. for if you lived on the compound, devoting your life to noah bishop, what good is a house with a mortgage to you? if there was some jealousy between noah's cult and that of this woman's daddy's, he would be acutely aware, but not at all concerned. not when he had this precious thing seated on his lap, her pussy within his reach. "it might." he hums. his voice low and steady as he gently pulls her panties away. the fabric lays somewhere along her knees, threatening to fall. with her fully accessible to him, the man carefully stands her up from his thigh. his hands then start unbuckling his belt and jeans, fisting for his cock straining against the denim. he wants her to watch him. "i'm gonna fill ya up, real nice. and you better hope my seed takes, darling." noah beckons for her, pulling her back towards him until she's straddling his lap with his cock bobbing between them. "go ahead, put it in."

while edith's daddy has never touched her the way noah is, she's been privy to the fact that female members of their congregation often appear at their home, whisked away into her daddy's office to emerge red cheeked and breathless. this affirms to her that what noah is doing is normal — that his honesty about possible pain is something to be praised and appreciated. plain cotton slips down to her ankles as she stands, youthful cunt beginning to pulse as her gaze dips to the way he palms himself, to the bulge forming in his trousers. "it will", femme is quick to assure, kicking those panties away as she eases herself back onto his lap, his erect cock rubbing against her stomach as her slit drips with the knowledge of what's to come. "i'm fertile, sir. my daddy made sure", yet another routine outsiders may have thought strange but for edith it was normal — if she was going to be his only child she had to ensure the legacy continued. small palm reaches for his thick girth, a gentle gasp escaping at the heat and softness. "it definitely will hurt, you're big and i'm ... " a rueful giggle at the clear size difference as she eases onto her tip toes, hovering above his lap as she guides his dick toward her creamy entrance. back arches as she pushes his flared head against her hole, tingles rippling down her spine as she begins to lower herself. "o — oh ... mm it's ... " breath stalls as free hand searches for purchase on his shoulder, the burn of his dick splitting her in two fogging her brain.

 "   what   i'm   scared   of   is   keeping   my   hands   to   myself   .   "   says   bluntly   ,   turning   to   fully   face   her   as   he   casts   a   very   pointed   ,   very   deliberate   glance   to   her   long   ,   bare   legs   peeking   out   beneath   fabric   as   she   sits   on   his   bed   .   "   i   like   to   spoon   when   i   sleep   ,   biiiiig   cuddler   .   "   plays   it   off   ,   because   he   has   to   .   last   thing   he   wants   is   making   her   uncomfortable   and   ,   unlike   what   most   to   think   ,   he   is   capable   of   keeping   it   in   his   pants   . tugs   the   comforter   back   and   pauses   ,   slowly   turning   to   look   back   at   her   ,   "   we   should   probably   take   a   photo   ,   actually   ..   post   it   on   your   story   — elude   to   what   happened   in   here   .   "   he's   shifting   on   the   mattress   ,   moving   to   sit   behind   her   .   his   chest   is   pressed   to   her   back   ,   palms   grabbing   her   hips   and   shifting   her   back   against   him   until   they're   nearly   flush   ,   and   he's   grabbing   her   phone   .   "   here   ,   "   uses   her   face   to   open   the   device   and   pulls   up   the   instagram   app   ,   hitting   the   story   button   ,   "   you   face   the   mirror   ,   "   the   one   on   his   dresser   right   across   from   his   bed   ,   "   and   i'll   —    "   gently   drags   his   fingertips   along   her   collarbone   ,   and   over   her   shoulder   to   tug   back   dark   locks   ,   "   put   my   face   here   ,   "   his   nose   bumps   her   jaw   ,   hot   breath   covering   the   side   of   her   neck   ,   "   and   i'll   bet   he'll   be   the   first   one   to   view   it   .   "   and   ,   without   thinking   ,   he's   pressing   a   soft   ,   open   -   mouth   kiss   to   flesh   perfectly   exposed   for   him   .

fingers   grasp   the   hem   of   the   shirt   that   rests   at   her   thighs,   half   lidded   stare   mirrored   back   to   her   as   he   captures   the   moment   on   her   phone   —   a   tame   yet   naughty   snapshot   of   a   faux   night   together   that   might   not   be   as   fake   as   nya   had   originally   thought.   right   now   she   doesn't   care   if   her   crush   sees   the   photo,   all   nya   can   think   about   is   how   unfair   it   is   that   roman   can   produce   this   reaction   out   of   her   —   and   how   sinfully   good   it   feels   to   have   him   against   her   like   this.   "i   —   is   that   good?"   a   slight   clearing   of   her   throat   as   she   tilts   her   head   to   look   back   at   him,   a   delicate   scrape   of   teeth   against   her   bottom   lip.   "do   you   think   we   should   take   another?"   her   bold   suggestion   is   paired   with   a   swooping   in   her   stomach,   a   pulse   in   her   core   that   makes   it   almost   impossible   not   to   squirm.

if   he   had   been   a   gentleman   dante   may   have   held   off   until   she   came   first,   but   her   fall   into   euphoria   was   inevitable,   cocky   in   both   his   ability   and   her   own   to   milk   his   cock   until   she   tumbled   into   bliss   right   alongside   him.

          okay,  paloma  knows  what  the  internet  is,  at  least.  but  this  whole  looking  up  thing  further  confuses  her,  and  it  must  be  evident  by  the  way  her  eyebrows  furrow.  regardless,  there  is  no  friend  for  her  to  reach  out  to.  she  has  to  keep  up  the  lie  for  a  little  longer  until  she’s  finally  able  to  slip  away  and  chase  after  this  so  called  freedom  she’d  been  promised  by  the  escapees  before  her.  all  she  needs  to  do  is  have  a  drink,  convince  this  stranger  that  she’s  fine,  and  then  go  on  her  merry  way ...  though  that  is  proving  to  be  more  complicated  than  she  thought,  since  ingrid  is  being  insistent  on  not  letting  her  get  away  so  easily.  paloma  should  take  the  multiple  acts  of  kindness  as  a  sign  to  trust  her—but  she  has  such  a  convoluted  relationship  with  that  word.  what  does  it  mean  to  really  trust  someone?  to  have  them  really  trust  you?     “     don’t  worry  ‘bout  me.  i  can  handle  myself.  i  ain’t  your  responsibility.     ”     and  she  isn’t.     “     i  really  do  appreciate  you  given’  me  a  ride  and  everythin’.  not  many  people  woulda  stopped  to  do  that.     ”     she  flashes  her  the  warmest  smile  she  can  muster,     “     but  i  can’t,  in  good  faith,  have  somethin’  happen  to  you  just  ‘cause  you’re  nice.  too  many  nice  people  have  been  hurt  ‘cause  of  me.     ”     paloma’s  voice  drops  to  a  whisper  and  she  looks  down,  blinking  away  some  of  her  tears.  she  definitely  didn’t  mean  to  get  emotional  just  then,  but  everything  is  seeming  to  be  catching  up  with  her  the  closer  she  gets  to  that  damn  library.     “     let’s  just  go  have  this  drink,  yeah?     ”     she  wipes  at  her  eyes  and  pulls  the  handle  to  open  the  door,  hopping  out  of  the  vehicle.  

" i know that, but i'm not going to just leave you in a random ass town to fend for yourself — not that it's unsafe here or anything but y'know, anything could happen right? " and alongside that ingrid knows that if she lets this girl disappear her chance at crafting a career changing story will leave too. their reason for hitchhiking might not even be story - worthy, she could be telling the truth about running from an asshole boyfriend, but what if it was? the way she looks at it this is a win - win situation, ingrid can continue her attempts at cracking her shell while she can relax for a little. " now i wouldn't go as far as to say i'm nice, like, i'm not a monster or anything ", femme hastens to add, " but i was never going to leave someone stranded on the side of the road ", especially a woman who looked like her. " and i'm an adult, i want to help however i can so i will and no offence ... but you won't change my mind. " the sudden softness in their voice makes her frown, unsure how to comfort her — or anyone really, crying people make her seize up. " yeah, yeah let's go. " throwing open the car door ingrid slings her purse over her shoulder, locking the car as she walks toward the storefront two doors down. at this time of the day it should be quiet, smart people tend to cut off the coffee drip once the work day ends. " alright so this place does almost everything ... coffee obviously, tea, matcha if you're one of those people and soda too if you're not feeling any of that ", pushing open the door as she explains ingrid flashes the woman what she hopes is a reassuring smile as the scent of coffee and baked goods assault her senses.

of course noah knew about the girl's daddy and his lack of determination to whatever faith he tried to spin. word gets around among fellow devotees, and when one shepherd's flock starts merging into the territory of another? well, something must be done to make sure it never happens again. however, noah didn't know about the circumstances of the young woman's sudden attendance. plenty of girls her age are dropped off at the edge of the property without a goodbye, but knowing she was the other shepherd's daughter was something noah did not. there's a bit of dejection that noah senses in the girl, unsure of its source. regardless of the why, he uses it to press into raw wounds. once she's seated, noah takes a slow, stroking hand to the femme's spine and shushes her quietly. "don't worry about if what you're doing is right, darling. just be." he trails his other hand higher between her thighs, searching for the precious gift he's eager to open. his fingertips graze against her clothed slit with a gentle pressure. "let me get you ready for your final assignment. you'll take my seed, yes?"

her daddy was an expert at turning scripture into dollar signs, his flock was large and while edith couldn't understand why this community was upsetting him so much she was powerless to do anything but show up with a story dipped in truth but laced with lies. every time she found herself in the presence of noah her heart kicked up, painful thuds inside her chest that made her palms sweat. yet she was close, could almost taste the insides of this group and along the way had found herself aching for it — for acceptance, praise. "um, okay", a thick swallow precedes her hazel hues widening as his hand delves between her thighs. now her heart isn't the only thing thudding inside her, questioning gaze focusing on him as a quiet gasp slips from parted lips. "your ... your seed?" she's only opened herself up for one other person before, a boy from her congregation that been all hands and disappointment. the urge to become one of them battles against her anxieties, legs already spreading as teeth scrape across her bottom lip. "i want to complete the assignment, sir. i've just ... will it hurt?" the first time it had burned, a discomfort that would have been washed away by pleasure, if she hadn't faked it.

          ingrid’s  words  should  bring  her  some  kind  of  comfort,  and  they  do  …  momentarily.  all  paloma  can  think  of  is  how  easy  it  was  to  snatch  people  off  the  street  when  the  group  was  out  ‘  recruiting  ’  and  how  if  it  really  came  down  to  it  and  august  came  looking  for  her  —  they  wouldn’t  stand  a  chance.  of  course  buses  don’t  run  this  late.  there  goes  that  plan.  could  she  find  solace  on  some  park  bench?  maybe  down  an  alley  somewhere  …  though  that  would  get  her  in  the  perfect  vulnerable  position  for  august  or  any  of  his  zealots  to  nab  her  again.  she  worries  her  bottom  lip  with  her  teeth,  weighing  ingrid’s  offer.  it  doesn’t  seem  like she’s  going  to  drop  it  any  time  soon,  and  paloma  could  use  the  company  of  someone  who  doesn’t  have  ulterior  motives.  her  brows  furrow  as  she  tilts  her  head,  looking  over  at  the  woman.     “     wifi?     ”     the  term  is  unknown  as  she  was  raised  in  a  very  religious  small  town  that  seemed  to  be  stuck  in  the  90s,  and  she  was  kidnapped  from  her  home  by  the  collective  when  she  was  only  twelve.  that  was  well  over  fifteen  years  ago.     “     okay.  but  only  one  drink,     ”     she  agrees,  figuring  she  is  safer  being  with  the  townspeople.     “     then  i  really  gotta  get  goin’.     ”     the  urgency  in  her  tone  is  clear  as  day.

it took a hell of a lot to make ingrid speechless and that was exactly her state as the other questioned her — did she not know about wifi? internet? facebook? her heart hammers at the thought of this girl coming from somewhere that was so intensely cut off that even basic knowledge was hidden. " uh yeah, y'know the internet and stuff. admittedly it's slow as fuck in that place but it still works, you should be able to look up your friend and everything? " yet ingrid is beginning to wonder if there even is a friend. drumming her fingers lightly against the wheel she searches for a place to park, at this time of the day when the sunlight is rapidly fading there's plenty to choose from. " alright, one drink. i won't make you stay if you don't want to ." was ingrid intimidating? nah, she's been told far too many times how the opposite is true — how her average height and dishwater blonde hair make her perfectly forgettable ... the sweetness of small town living, unwanted opinions wherever you go. pulling up a store down from the coffee shop ingrid lets the engine run for a minute, inhaling as she loosens her grasp on the wheel. " but i have to be honest ", or at least as close to honest as she can while attempting to sniff out a story, " i'm kinda worried about you? like, your situation? what if there's nobody at that library? " shaking her head she keys off the engine and reaches behind for her purse. " i don't want you sleeping in the fucking street or something ... so how about after this drink we go over there together to check?"

the night stretches on outside the small chapel. noah sits in a relaxed way, his holy book cracked open with its spine rested upon his thigh. despite inviting the other to join him for quiet reflection, he hasn't spoken to them yet. once the leader clears his throat, he keeps his eyes fixated on the alter but speaks. "there is one last task for you to complete, something all believers here must do." he says quietly, his voice hoarse. slowly, noah's gaze returns to the other. his hand closes the book on his thigh, replacing it with a patting hand against his leg. beckoning. "it's a test of your faith. your loyalty, in other words..."

two weeks. it had been fourteen days since her daddy had driven her to that long driveway with clear instructions — find out what this man had that he didn't, why donations were dwindling and people drifting like his words didn't cut it anymore. he'd driven away with a part of her that afternoon, so easily left behind to sink or swim like she was nothing. now the quietness forces her doubts to press in, to weigh down her shoulders as she struggles to not look at the man beside her. did he know? no ... he couldn't. swallowing on the end of a low exhale she finally turns the fullness of her gaze to him, dipping down as his words permeate. "y — yes, of course", tingles rush down her fingers as she rises, a soft swish of the dress she wears as the woman eases herself onto his knee. it was terrifyingly easy to slip into the skin of the devout, as she so often did during her father's masses. "is ... am i doing it right?" brows furrow and a firm line creases her brow as the tips of her toes skim the chapel floor.

          paloma  spaces  out  momentarily  as  ingrid  continues,  watching  the  road  ahead  of  them  be  illuminated  by  the  headlights  of  the  vehicle.  she  hasn’t  heard  from  anyone  who  had  gotten  out  since  they  fled—the  only  clue  being  the  address  messily  written  in  her  notebook  where  they  knew  only  she  would  see  it.  at  first,  paloma  was  going  to  disregard  it  all  together  and  continue  to  turn  a  blind  eye  to  the  murderous  acts  that  were  being  committed.  she  feared  that  if  she  left  or  even  showed  an  ounce  of  skepticism  to  the  cause;  she  would  be  subjected  to  the  horrors  at  the  hands  of  a  man  that  carried  himself  like  a  deity.  so  she  stayed  in  line,  played  the  part  of  a  follower  until  her  soul  couldn’t  bare  to  do  so  anymore.  now  she’s  here,  body  overwhelmed  with  anxiety  over  the  circumstance.     “     i  can’t  risk  him  findin’  me.  you  don’t  understand  what  he’s  capable  of  a-and….  and  i’m  really  not  tryin’  to  tell  you  much  ‘cause  i  don’t  want  you  to  get  caught  up  in  our  bullshit.     ”     the  main  street  seems  deserted,  considering  it’s  later  in  the  night,  and  the  closer  they  get  to  her  destination,  the  more  her  stomach  twists.     “     i  got  someone  waitin’  for  me,  yeah.  if  not  i’ll  just  catch  the  next  bus  outta  town.     ”     with  what  money,  she  doesn’t  know,  but  paloma  will  figure  that  out  when  she  gets  there.  

ingrid knows it would be a dick move to proclaim that this girl was lying about running from an abusive boyfriend and it's not that she doesn't believe they're escaping someone ... she honestly just doesn't have a fucking clue. but nobody runs from a good situation. "trust me, nobody is going to come looking in our town and if they do a strange car will stick out like a sore thumb, you're good there — and you don't need to worry about me, i took self defence classes when i was in college, i can rip a guy's eye out of it's socket in like ... two seconds", not that she's tried but the temptation has always been there. "but i'm not gonna force you to tell me anything, i understand if you don't want to." and ingrid tries not to be too frustrated by the aloofness, it's none of her business right? even if it promised a story that could skyrocket her out of this place. turning right at the corner of the diner ingrid's attention slips to her, brows hitching upward. "oh there's no buses leaving this late, they won't start up again until the morning", and where would she even go? another bland small town? "how about this, we grab a drink at the coffee shop and afterward i'll take you to the library? they have wifi so you can let your friend or whoever you're meeting know what's going on ... " and it's entirely ridiculous but ingrid kind of wants to spend more time with her, try and dig a little deeper and unearth what the fuck is really going on with her. "my treat."

"we  should  sleep."  she  breaks  the  silence,  before  this  goes  somewhere  it  really  shouldn't.  although  it  might  already  be  too  late  for  that.  how  was  she  supposed  to  not  think  about  him  all  night?

"we should", agrees although there's no movement from him, no stepping back nor even taking his eyes off her. with that towel wrapped around her body keenan has the urge to grasp one end and let it fall, to devour her in a way that he really shouldn't. "you've been through a lot tonight", an understatement, yet it still isn't enough to make him leave. during his childhood he honed the art of reading body language, understanding that his father's tight shoulders meant another night of quivering in fear or riddled with bruises was coming his way. if jeanny wants her space then her body doesn't get the memo. slowly his hand reaches out, two fingers slipping under her chin to gently guide her gaze back to him. "but fuck if there's something telling me you don't want to sleep yet — tell me i'm wrong jeanny and i'll go .. " because if there's a chance he's misread the signals then he'll leave, let her decompress and adjust by herself if she needs it. but if she doesn't, keenan feels like an electric current is passing through him, fingers stroking slowly up her jaw.