The Star

honestly, you didn't needed that much to be turned on by peter. he needed to give himself more grace on the fact he was very attractive, peter could be full of himself sometimes and feel more confident than when he was younger, but always snorted when anyone said how easy it was for him to look handsome, the doubts still deep on his mind. peter didn't felt so sure about the attractiveness part, but he was 100% sure he was a very passionate man with a good set of skills for when it comes to sex and pleasuring you. that was a fact that didn't had room for discussion.

so now proving this fact, you were with your bathrobe open exposing your naked-self above peter's full clothed body, a bit unfair but still super hot. you couldn't resist letting peter go out of the house looking that good without even tasting a piece of him.

the position was perfect to let you surrendered to anything peter wanted to do. him seated on the couch with your back on his chest, your head resting between his shoulder and crook of his neck, your legs beautifully spreads above his lap while one of his hands holded one of your thighs in place and the other he fingered your cunt. perfect.

his thick middle and ring fingers were both pumping in and out roughly in your pussy while he pressured the rest of his palm with the enough pressure at your clit, making you feel waves of pleasure hit you with a struck. the rhythm didn't had a pattern, only a fast pace to get you off quickly — and it was working perfectly.

he enjoyed so much seeing you squirm and being barely able to form a correct word by how much pleasure you were feeling, that's how peter liked to see, your brain numbed with lust. his fingers getting a in-and-out ridiculously fast and rough, curling them at the perfect spongy spot inside your cunt, making you gasp for air as you would if were drowning.

"i'mma- uhm... peter!" you moaned a little more desperate, trying to announce your soon coming orgasm. squeezing your eyes —that already were shut— harder, and uncousciously trying to get out of the hold of peter's arms, the pleasure being too much for you.

"give to me, babe..." he breathed out with his lips near your ear, he sounded almost tired like he was actively actually pumping his dick in and out of you and not his hands, but no, —he gets just that excited giving you pleasure— his hard-on was being humped on his jeans by you squirming your ass so eagerly, making him feel his cock twitch by the friction you were doing.

with a initially silent scream giving into a loud whimper you feel your orgasm finally release, arching your back against peter's chest while your limbs spams all together — making you uncounsciously press your butt even more harder on his crotch and dig your nails into the layer of his pants on the area of his thighs.

your beautiful cries for his name, the bodies pressure making even more friction on his clothes and the sensation of your walls closing on peter's wet fingers was enough to make him not be able to hold himself anymore, cumming on his boxers with almost shaking legs and a loud moan of your name and a russian swear.

for a quick one minute the only sound in the room was both of yours descompassed breathes, trying to pull itself lungs together. peter pulled out his fingers and let you go off his lap, sitting at his side on a more comfortable position on the couch.

"fuuuck... i busted in my pants."

peter grumbling made you open your eyes and turn your head to the side seeing a wet stain on his crotch, you didn't wanted to let escape a little snort when you noticed but couldn't help seeing his flushed face, giving a contained smile watching his reaction.

he moved his legs uncomfortably getting up from the couch giving a ruff. peter definitely heard your laugh and felt his cheeks burn, but decided to ignore looking at your face the whole time, holding a sheepish smile.

peter's cheeks seemed flushed and sweaty while he checked out the mess he made on his pants, you knew he always got that enthusiastic when it was about pleasuring you and despite being aknowledged that you didn't saw a problem when he cummed without even being touched when he was going down on you — per the contrary, you always found that was so hot —, and even vocalized how much you enjoyed that... peter couldn't not feel a bit embarrassed everytime this happened, it was kinda cute honestly.

"peterrr... just let me-"

"help me? nah babe, 'm good" he interrupted you and motioned his hand disregarding 'the help' — he knew what you meant by that, wanting to make him cum now by your own hands — with a smirk, heading himself to the bathroom.

you pout and difficultly whines in loud complains to him, still trying to make your lungs work again as the clarity post-sex starts rising up. peter chuckles from the bathroom but quickly he appears in your front fixing his belt, now he didn't had the disheveled sweaty look, messed up hair or wetted pants, it looked like nothing happened. the only reminscent of what you did on him being his light pink cheeks.

"i really need to go babe, it's just some hours. if we start banging, no one is seeing me there till tomorrow." he said now wiggling his eyebrows at you with pride, making you laugh fixing your posture on the couch; peter taking the opportunity to take a quick glimpse at your still exposed naked (beaaautiful) boobs from the open bathrobe.

"i'll make it up to you reeeally good, promise" peter said bending his body to give you a quick peck and a kiss on the forehead.

before you could even complain again or joke about it one more time, peter was gone in a blink of a eye, a gush of wind moving the curtains, letting you there alone and in a sweaty mess.

lia's notes.ᐟ i saw his look from the deadpool 2 cameo again in pinterest and felt my limbs fire up, he's so damn fine. i need him to fold me in half and [redacted]

…

Kai

You know Kai sees what’s happening. The way the stranger sidles up to your side at the bar and grins lecherously. He pushes a glass toward you and you shift uncomfortably, wondering why Kai hasn’t said anything yet. You whip your head around to look at him, eyes wide with a silent plea to do… something. Anything. Just not sit there with a dead eyed look like he is. You watch him watching the man close the space between you, Kai on your other side but not nearly as close as this stranger is getting.

You turn back when his hand ends up on your thigh, your heart pounding as he grins and asks, “Hey baby, what’s your poison? You got a man here with ya tonight?”

You’ve been all but completely programmed not to speak unless Kai gives you explicit permission, so you just balk, staring at the man with a slack jaw and clenched fists. His eyes grow confused and then he doubles down with his efforts, leaning onto the bar so you're boxed in, and grumbling, “What’s the matter, kitten? Cat got your tongue?” He raises his brows and shoots a look over your shoulder at Kai, who sips his drink serenely. “Or is it this blue haired bitch behind you?”

“I, uh…” You swallow hard and Kai finally speaks behind you, his voice loud.

“Like what you see?” he asks, still calm as ever. He even sounds… mildly amused.

The stranger snorts. “Hell yeah. She yours?”

Kai smiles, and you turn around to see him stare right past you, like he’s talking about a pet. Or a collectible. “She is.”

The man’s hand twitches on your thigh and you freeze, heart starting to race faster than you can breathe to keep up. “That so? Well, I hope you don’t mind sharing.” His tone is dark and threatening, and if you weren’t afraid of Kai getting mad, you would be sprinting for the door.

Kai just smirks wider. “Not at all! Go right ahead.” His eyes finally, finally land on yours and you beg him with a look to come rescue you. But his eyes flash with a meaning you can’t decipher and he says quietly, “It’s a new age. Women aren’t property anymore. Are they, lamb?”

You exhale, “Kai, please—”

“That doesn’t mean you should argue with me,” he chuckles, earning a shocked expression from the man hitting on you. “Go on, have a little fun! Show our friend here a good time,” Kai urges, lifting his drink to the man.

Tears start to sting your eyes and your chest heaves. Don’t cry, don’t cry. That will earn you a lecture from Kai.

The stranger chuckles too, his hand sliding up around your waist. “Well if ya insist,” he starts, pulling you from your barstool.

But you hesitate. Your heart pounds— you know you should obey Kai, but everything in you screams to run, to fight. You hold your ground as he tries to drag you away from the bar and the stranger frowns. “Hey, bitch, I said let’s go.”

You shake your head and cry, “N-no! I don’t want to.” You spin your head around and find Kai watching, still calm, still unburdened by your terror. “Kai!” you call desperately.

He glares at you. “Go. That’s an order.”

You shake your head again, tears starting to stream down your cheeks. “No, Kai, I want you! I’m scared!”

“Fear is what makes us human,” he drones, like he’s said it a thousand times— and he has, “I told you to do something and I expect you to listen.” His eyes flash behind his blue hair and his jaw clenches.

“You heard your faggot boyfriend,” the man snarls, trying to yank you after him, but you scream, hitting him in the chest.

“No! I want Kai! Let go of me!” you shriek, shocked that no one has turned around to see the uproar.

The man growls. “You bitch…” He rears back, his massive hand looming and ready to break your jaw. You hide your face as he brings it down, and gasp as you feel a soft ghost of cool air brush your cheek.

You fearfully open your eyes to see a muscled pale hand gripping the stranger’s wrist, stopping the blow from landing across your flesh.

You suck in a sharp breath as you see Kai standing there, your knight in shining armor, glowering up at the man twice his size.

“No one touches my wife but me,” he says simply. Wife. It hasn’t been officiated but it might as well have been, with how possessive he is. You back up rapidly as he glances at you meaningfully.

The stranger barks an angered laugh. “What the fuck are you gonna do about it? You said we could share!”

“Her rank just changed, go find some slut off the street,” Kai orders, his hand already growing weak from holding this guy back.

The man growls murderously. “Oh you're dead,” he says.

Kai takes a deep breath and bellows, “HERETIC!”

You cover your ears as the bar is suddenly thrumming with the screams of a dozen grown men, all pounding their chests before they rush to the middle of the room to dog-pile the stranger that touched you. Kai watches as the man is swarmed in seconds, his body buried by swinging fists and stomping boots. Kai stands there for a long time above him until the shrieks of pain stop. But the mass of men don’t. You feel your stomach flip over as Kai turns and give you a sickly sweet smile, walking over and grabbing you by the back of the neck to lead you outside ahead of him.

By the time you reach the alley, the cold air biting your skin, you’re sobbing. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry,” you wail, shaking as you wait for him to hit you or scream or pull out a gun.

“Babe.”

You keep crying, “I should have just obeyed you, I know that, I’m sorry, please— I was so scared, I— I wanted you to save me, Kai, and I know—”

“Babe. This was a test,” Kai says loudly, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. You shake under his touch and keep sobbing.

“I know! I failed, I know, just please— I know you have to punish me, just don’t leave me, Kai, please,” you whimper, covering your face as you hear him breathe hard in front of you.

“My love!” he snaps.

You look up through your fingers in horror and confusion, further confused when you see his gentle smile and adoring glint in his dark eyes. His hand strokes your cheek with such an air of love it makes you ill. “My wife,” he purrs, voice dropping another octave as your knees click together and you cautiously drop your hands. “You passed. With flying colors,” he chuckles softly.

“I— what?” you whisper.

Kai smiles. “You did it! You passed. You reacted exactly how I’d hoped you would.”

“What?” you say again, fear turning to confusion.

Kai smiles wider, leaning in to kiss your forehead possessively. “Of course I expect you to obey me, that’s the role of a follower. But you chose me, you chose to disobey my order to remain faithful. To remain mine. That is the role of a wife, not a follower.” He pulls back and you watch his eyes darken, and your mouth goes dry. “I don’t need you to obey me as long as you would risk yourself to get back to me.”

It makes sense, then. He set this up. All of it. It was why he let you wear makeup tonight. It’s why he chose this place with his goons stationed in every seat to stand up and step in when things got heated. Why he held back and scared you and let you cry. It was all a ploy to pull you even further into his orbit. Under his thumb.

You realize this with a sinking feeling in your gut as he chuckles and shifts to kiss you deep and slow, stealing your breath.

As you gasp for air when he finally breaks it off, he murmurs against your parted lips, "Besides. I could make you obey me if I wanted to. I always can.”

You nod despite your fear, despite everything. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

…

Frat!Kyle

He doesn’t mean to be absent, fetching you a drink from the bar and making polite small talk with the bartender. Kyle’s always too polite. But he doesn’t notice as a strange man approaches and sits on the stool right next to yours, too close, eyes wandering over your body.

You try not to make any eye contact but he reaches out and brushes his elbow against yours, clearing his throat. “Buy ya a drink?” he offers, raising his brows. The tone is anything but innocent, his gaze dark and making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“No, thanks,” you say softly, “I’m here with my boyfriend.”

He glances behind you and blinks in disbelief. “I don’t see him here.”

You tense, shifting again to look for him, and like a knight in shining armor, he catches your eye and grins, your frat boy in his stupid beaming varsity jacket.

You don’t smile back, hoping he sees the flash of fear in your eyes as you stare, and his smile fades in an instant as he realizes something’s off.

His gaze darts over your shoulder to the man and gauges his proximity before leaving your half-made drinks and walking right back across the crowded bar to your side.

You let out a breath as Kyle plasters a thin lipped smile onto his face and lays a protective arm over your shoulder, keeping you on the stool but making sure it’s known you’re not up for grabs.

“Can I help you?” he says immediately, and the stranger doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“Just checkin’ on your girl here,” he explains, sleazily, eyes still wandering over you. “She’s not one I would leave all by her lonesome in a place like this.”

“Right,” Kyle blinks, slow and unamused. “Well, that’s good, ‘cause I didn’t, and I don’t plan to. Thanks for looking out for us, though, man.”

The guy snorts. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“I’d be happy to go grab the manager of this place if you need some help,” Kyle says, but all kindness is gone from his tone, “Otherwise you can fuck off.” You shiver slightly as Kyle grits his teeth, slipping his arm from your shoulder to step in front of you slightly.

The guy scoffs, shaking his head, “Whatever man, she’s an ugly bitch, anyway.”

You bristle, but Kyle lets out an airy laugh. “Oh-okay, see, I was gonna let you walk away, but now you fucked up,” he replies, rearing back and punching the guy square in the face. The dude falls flat on his back off of his stool and Kyle spins around, grabbing your hand and yanking you out of your seat muttering, “Time to go.”

The two of you race out of the bar and leap into the nearest taxi, panting and laughing breathlessly as Kyle’s hand stays tightly wrapped around yours.

“You too chicken to beat that guy’s ass?” you tease him when you’re able to breathe again, grinning as Kyle looks at you with glittery eyes, cheeks red.

He pants, “Did you see him? Dude was three times my size at least.” He ducks in unexpectedly to lovingly kiss your neck, muttering, “If you asked me, though, I would have.”

“Liar.” You say it in jest, pulling at the collar of his jacket so he’ll kiss you harder, maybe leave a hickey— but Kyle stops, pulling back to stare at you seriously.

“I’d do anything for you, babe,” he says, tone dropping.

You feel your face heat up at the intensity of his gaze and exhale, “I know…”

Kyle’s lip tugs sideways into a smirk as his eyes begin to dance with mischief. “Need me to prove it?” he rumbles. “Give me a task. Anything.” He leans in further and you feel his hot breath against your lips as he nears you but doesn’t touch, “Name it.”

You cup his jaw and grin, “I have a few ideas.”

…

Franken!Kyle

Maybe you shouldn’t have taken Kyle out to a bar yet, so early in his stages of recovery. But he’s seemed to be doing better with things, and the girls practically begged you to join them. So here you are, awkwardly swaying in a too-loud crowd, drink in hand while Zoe, Queenie, Nan, and Madison try to talk to one another over the blasting music. You keep checking over your shoulder to make sure Kyle’s okay; he’s tucked away in a booth in the corner, a lemonade on the table, his scarred hands planted over his ears as he rocks gently in his seat. You sigh softly. This was a bad idea.

“He’s a grown man,” Madison tells you suddenly, yelling over the cacophony. You whip your head around and frown. “He’s fine.”

“It’s too loud for him,” you yell back. “I think I should take him home.”

“Maybe it’s because he’s not meant to be alive right now,” Madison snarks. “He’s a freak.” You roll your eyes and nudge past her, earning an annoyed squawk, and try to shuffle through the crowd to reach Kyle.

As you move, though, a hand appears on your waist. You assume one of the girls is stopping you, so you turn and say irritatedly, “I need to go home—”

“You could come home with me, pretty thing,” a strange man says instead of any of your coven sisters. You try and spot any of them through the crowd but they don’t even notice that you’re gone, let alone in trouble. Your hand flies down to his and shoves it off.

“No thank you,” you say quickly, swallowing and trying to tamp down your panic.

He lets you push his hand down but his other comes up immediately to replace it, this time slipping up to encircle your wrist firmly. “Come on,” he urges drunkenly, “You come out looking so fine and leave just like that?” He jerks his head to the side. “There’s a bathroom we could occupy…”

Your heart rate spikes and you squeeze your drink, mouth going dry as you attempt to pull away, to no avail. Your head cranes back as you immediately think of Kyle— what would happen to him if you got taken? It’s almost funny, a man is openly threatening you and all you can think about is Kyle's well-being. Maybe that’s what love is.

He’s still rocking gently in the booth, his elbows in his lap as he plugs his ears, overstimulated. You know you don’t have a chance of screaming over this music, so you just struggle against the man’s hold as he starts to drag you through the crowd by your arm. You stare at Kyle, hoping and praying some sort of message goes through. Maybe it’s magic, maybe it’s something else, but he suddenly looks up, opening his black eyes to lock onto yours, his expression shifting from overwhelmed to curious. His big eyes take in the image in front of him; your distressed face, the man with his hand on your arm, the way the crowd batters you as you’re dragged against your will.

Kyle’s eyes flicker with confusion for a second before he lifts his head fully, hands dropping from his ears to clench into fists in his lap. He blinks at you once before he shoves up from his booth and stalks forward through the crowd.

One of his feet drag slightly behind him, but he’s at your side in an instant, his hand wrapping around your bicep to stop you. You wince as the stranger tugs you, feeling resistance and spins around to glare at Kyle.

Kyle’s fingertips dig into your flesh accidentally, but you don’t mind— you know he means well and you’d take a thousand incidental pains from him over one touch from this horrible man in the bar.

“Hey,” the man snarls. “Back off.”

Kyle just grunts in response, pulling you hard, out of the man’s grip, and drags you into the space beside him, never taking his burning eyes off the man.

You pant, backing up as Kyle lets go, still staring at the guy, his chest heaving as he pants. The man glances at you and narrows his gaze— clearly undeterred.

“Go find your own slut, you mental case,” he spits cruelly, and you almost scream at him, the desperate urge to protect Kyle making your blood boil. The man tries to dodge around Kyle and grab you again, and Kyle lets out a roar, slamming both hands into the man’s chest. He’s bigger than Kyle— by a lot. You watch on in terror as the guy snarls and grabs at Kyle, but the boy is too determined. Too strong.

Kyle lets out another feral sound as he grabs the man’s head, hands bunched in his thinning hair, and yanks downward to drag him to the floor. His hands are clumsy, but his arms flex, knowing exactly what they want to do. He twists his grip around and with a loud, wet snap, the man collapses to the floor, leaving Kyle standing above him, sweat beading and making his dirty blond hair cling to his forehead. Kyle looks down blankly at the unmoving body at his feet, breathing hard.

You stare for a long moment in shock before a sob erupts from your chest, falling into Kyle’s arms as the crowd starts to realize a murder just occurred. A justified one, at least. Kyle’s chin rests on your head protectively, his angry, teary eyes flitting over the rest of the people here. His hands wander up and find a firm place to land on your back, fingers splayed out as he holds you against his chest.

The girls gather around as accusations start flying, but you can’t state your case or even defend Kyle, the tears won’t stop coming. Nan meets your eye, though, and speaks up. “He tried to rape her,” she states bluntly. Then, glancing at your — well, your boyfriend, she adds, “Kyle stopped him. He wouldn’t leave her alone— it’s all he could do.”

Your tears start to slow as Kyle strokes your back comfortingly, shushing you softly and nodding to confirm Nan’s story as police begin to be called. Zoe grabs your arm and whispers, “Madison said we should get out of here before they try to take Kyle away.” You nod in agreement.

“Yeah,” you say. “Let’s go.”

But before you follow the girls out the back door, you look up to see Kyle’s broken expression, the fear and concern there, and you reach up to kiss his cheek gently. He blinks in surprise and murmurs, “Hurt?”

You smile smally. “No, I’m not hurt,” you assure him. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Mm, save,” Kyle echoes, leaning down to kiss your forehead with a sweet sound. He slurs against your hot skin, “Always.”

…

Austin

The creep had been staring at you since you got on stage. Austin’s arm is slung around your waist, his voice slurring and eyes red as he sings his heart out into the microphone. You try to ignore the stranger’s gaze but you squirm anyway, thankful when you can finally finish your song and get back to your table.

“Hold on, I need another drink,” Austin says, patting your backside lovingly as he nuzzles his nose in your hair briefly. You grab his leather jacket as he turns away and he stops hard, eyes widening in surprise.

“There’s— that guy’s been giving me weird looks,” you whisper uncomfortably, trying to subtly point him out. Austin frowns, eyes flicking drunkenly over the sparsely filled room before landing on a larger man seated at the bar. As you said, his eyes are glued to your form, dark and lecherous.

At first, Austin’s lip curls in distaste before his eyes trail over the man’s hunched, broad build, and he sucks his teeth hard, expression shifting into something else. Something less protective and more… hungry.

“Should we… see what he wants?” Austin suggests, a devious smirk dancing over his sharp features. You whirl to stare at him.

“What?” you hiss. “You’re joking.”

“Hey. I never joke,” he says, forcing his lips into a thin line before they break back into a toothy grin.

You’re not amused, pleading with your eyes for whatever terrible idea Austin has to never meet the light of day. Or— the dim interior light of the bar.

“Babe,” Austin says now, his tone dropping back to more serious as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his front. “Have I ever let a living thing on this earth hurt you?”

You think for a moment, but you know the answer. You shake your head, blinking guiltily.

Austin lets out a bark of laughter. “Hell— I don’t think I’ve let anyone touch you since we met, let alone get close enough to hurt you.” You nod, your cheeks flushing at the realization you probably insulted him by acting so distrustful. Austin’s arms tighten around your body, tugging abruptly to make you look up into his eyes. He stares seriously down at you, dark gaze glittery and glazed over but undeniably adoring. He cooes softly, “That is not about to change one iota, my Princess.”

You giggle shyly, ducking your head again in embarrassment to push your face against his warm, bony chest. “Princess?” you echo.

He rumbles, “What, don’t like it?”

You giggle again, kissing his pectoral through his shirt and reveling in the sound of his racing heart beneath the skin.

Austin snorts, “Listen babe, I’m a screenwriter, not fucking Shakespeare. Now—” He grabs your face and pulls your head up to lock eyes with him, a nasty smile on his sweet lips. “—can you trust me, Mi Corazón?”

You grumble, “That’s even worse…”

He squishes your cheeks so your lips stick out and you start to snicker again, the complaint dying in your throat, heart thrumming when Austin pecks your puckered lips and releases you to yell, “Atta girl!” He punctuates his words with a sharp smack across your bottom and you have to suppress a squeal of surprise, following him as he saunters across the bar toward the terrifying onlooker.

“Good evening, sir,” Austin drones dramatically, sliding onto a stool right in front of the man, finally startling him enough to stop staring at you for five seconds. “My girlfriend and I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been enjoying the view.” Austin smiles with all of his teeth, threatening because you know what’s under those veneers— friendly and a bit eccentric to anyone else.

The man snorts. “I like th’ look of her, if that’s whatcha mean,” he grumbles, again glancing over to sneer at you. You swallow hard, hand falling instinctively to cling to Austin’s jacket like a scared child.

Austin notices and hooks his finger in your belt loop, yanking you against his side in a second.

“Well, of course,” he scoffs, “Who wouldn’t?” He looks at you now, eyes drunk on more than just alcohol as he soaks up the image of you in front of him, lips parted slightly. He hisses suddenly, tone regretful as he wraps both arms around you and bends slightly on his stool to lay his head between your breasts, shocking you into blushing hard, and says, “Unfortunately, we kind of come as a package deal… you want one, you gotta take both, y’know?” He clicks his tongue as if to say there’s nothing he can do about it— ‘I don’t make the rules.’

The man frowns, but he looks at you as if considering it. Austin trails his hand down your belly and toys with the hem of your shirt, not lifting it, but teasing. He bounces his brows. “So…” he urges slowly. “You interested?” Austin’s hand slips under your shirt hem just enough to give your belly a pinch; a subtle signal to plaster on a seductive expression. You obey, locking eyes with the man even as his features make you ill. But it works. His brows raise ever so slightly before knitting again, He dips his chin in a brusque nod and starts to stand, Austin breaking out in a wide, excited smile.

The man wrings his hands, looking like he wants to eat you right then and there, but Austin’s hand remains firmly wrapped around your waist as he stands, too.

“Should we get a taxi?” he asks in a low tone.

Austin wrinkles his nose— that irresistible expression he makes so often, the one that makes you weak— and throws his free hand out in a half shrug. “I don’t see why we’d need one when I have a perfectly good car parked outside,” Austin bluffs.

The man wrinkles his own nose but you snark, “Don’t worry, there’s enough room for your fat ass in the back seat.” The man bristles and you start to smirk before Austin’s big hand flies up to clamp over your mouth.

He lets out a sharp, nervous laugh. “Haha! That’s my girl, she’s a bit of a feisty one… real mouth on her.”

You let your lips part and bite down onto Austin’s finger, prompting a shocked little yell as he pulls away. You smile at him as he furrows his brow but can’t keep the smitten simper off his face.

“And teeth,” he mutters, his dark eyes dancing as he looks at you.

The stranger breaks into your magical moment with a grumbled, “I don’t mind…”

You have to resist rolling your eyes as Austin leads you out of the bar, the stranger on your tail.

You itch under his gaze but steady your breathing. You trust Austin. You do. But sometimes Austin is a madman as much as he is a bloodsucking vampire.

The three of you exit the bar, Austin’s limber fingers dancing along your hip as you walk. “Down the alley,” Austin drones over his shoulder. “I always park in back.”

“Yeah?” the man asks, sounding suspicious. But you know Austin already has him hooked— he’ll be eating good tonight.

You shiver slightly when the three of you get out to the end of the alley, knowing what’s coming next when Austin untangles himself from your body, pecking you atop the head and shooing you a few feet away. “Enjoy the show,” he teases, sticking his tongue between his teeth as he scrunches up his nose again. You giggle as he questions, “Do you count as my groupie on karaoke nights?”

“What the hell-?” The man Austin lured out here stops in his tracks, confused by your banter. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t think so,” you ignore him to answer Austin, “Do writers have groupies? Whatever those are called, I’m probably that.”

Austin clicks his tongue in agreement, blinking at you with double finger guns before closing the space between him and the man.

“See why I love her?” he sighs dreamily, clapping a hand onto his prey’s shoulder.

The man snarls, wresting him off, “Hey—! Where’s your car? I thought—”

“That’s the thing buddy,” Austin says, feigning regret as he throws his arm all the way over his shoulder to yank him into his orbit, “You didn’t think. Not with your brain, anyway.” He lets out an obnoxious laugh, shooting you an annoying tongue waggle that you promptly respond to with an eye roll.

“Get off—” The guy starts to panic, still raging as he struggles to shove your boyfriend off of him.

“Oh that is a certainty, my friend,” Austin sniggers, shifting his stance to throw the man against the alleyway wall, deftly slipping his retainer out to reveal his row of jagged fangs. He jokes darkly, “Trust me— I always get off.”

You would laugh, but your stomach turns and you close your eyes before you have to see him sink his teeth into the man’s throat. A wretched scream is cut off almost as immediately as it starts, dissolving into a horrible gurgle that makes you sick.

You finally open them again after Austin’s content guzzling has finished, finding him leaning against the wall with a sheen of crimson blood dripping down his chin.

He licks his lips, eyes half lidded and satisfied as he blinks slowly at you and smiles. “Heh,” he chuckles lightly, pushing off to step closer to you, “Thanks for dinner, babe. I just love it when you cook.”

“You idiot,” you laugh, meeting him halfway. “I’m sorry I freaked out. I know you’ll always keep me safe.”

Austin frowns. “You’re always a freak, what are you talking about?” You laugh harder.

“Shut up! You know what I mean,” you whine, patting his chest when you reach him.

Austin huffs a soft laugh, lowering his tone. “Yeah, I just like getting a rise out of you,” he admits. He leans in for a kiss and you squeak, slamming both palms against his chest.

“Ah! Wipe your face,” you snap in disgust.

Austin blinks before leaning back and wiping his messy chin with a sleeve, dramatically scrubbing until he’s relatively blood-free.

He quips, “I thought you liked the whole sexy vampire thing…”

You wrinkle your nose. “It’s not sexy when you get all gross like that,” you reply. “It’s the exact same as getting food on your face and not wiping it off.”

Austin yields, licking the front of his fangs. “…alright, you got me there.”

You lean in and let him lay a gentle kiss to your lips, his hands instantly finding your hips and pulling you closer.

When you finally break it off to breathe, you ask, “You up for another song?”

Austin grins wickedly, his grip on you tightening. “I think there’s a different kind of beautiful music I’d like to make together.”

You groan, “You are such a dork.”

Austin sticks his tongue out, biting back, “Hell yeah I am.”

…

Jimmy

Of course he notices immediately. You didn’t feel right letting him blow off steam at the bar alone, not when you knew he could end up in jail. Again. And he’s stayed reasonably calm all night.

Until he notices.

The stranger had only started staring a minute ago, but Jimmy was all over it like the whisky over ice being poured for him at the bar. He swivels on his stool and narrows his eyes over your head, his deformed fist clenching angrily next to his empty drink.

“Stay right here,” he slurs. “I’m gonna teach this asshole a lesson ‘bout starin’ at my girl.”

“Don’t.” You reach out and grab his arm tightly as he stands and starts across the bar, his eyes fiery. He’d probably been hoping for a fight. But as much as you love tending to Jimmy, you did not need another day of bandaging wounds and icing black eyes back at the Freakshow.

His eyes fall back to you instantly, mildly confused as he searches your face. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of ‘im,” he assures you with a little nod.

“No, Jimmy, please,” you say, tightening your fingers around his bulky bicep. “I don’t want another fight. And nobody’s gonna bail you out if you get tossed behind bars again. Please, Jimmy.”

Jimmy stares at you, jaw popping as he contemplates his options. His gaze crawls back to the disgusting slob seated across the way, his eyes still on you as he sips his drink. Jimmy lets out a little growl, his eyes flashing with a different kind of fire as he grinds his teeth. “Fine,” he spits, moving to stand in front of you, now, his hands coming up to frame either side of your waist. “Then lemme at least give ‘im a show.”

Your face heats as you feel his fingers dig lightly into your sides, murmuring, “What’re—”

You don’t get to finish that sentence, yelping as Jimmy hauls you off your barstool and onto the bartop, yanking your face into his orbit to plant a rough kiss to your lips. He smells sharply of alcohol and sweat, and a little cologne he used to save for the ‘special’ occasions you don’t let him go out for anymore. Not that he’s ever even considered it since he met you.

You're shocked at first but you eventually melt into his kiss, soon forgetting all about the man staring at you from across the room. You tilt your head, feeling Jimmy’s hand come to rest cautiously at the back of your head, digits teasing the feathery hair at the nape of your neck.

You lose yourself in the moment a bit, overwhelmed by the warmth Jimmy radiates, until suddenly his hands are somewhere else— on your thigh, pushing your dress playfully up to reveal the skin of your leg.

Your eyes fly open and you pull back, smacking Jimmy lightly in the chest. “Jimmy Darling!” you scold, breathless. “What are you doing?”

He smirks, that delicious smirk he knows full well you’re helpless against. “What?” he teases gently, his eyes slipping over to subtly glower in the leering man’s direction, “He needed reminding of who you belong to…” He pulls you hard forward by the waist until your legs are akimbo on either side of his hips and your heart pounds against your ribs, eyes wide as you stare down at him from the bartop. Jimmy smiles adoringly up at you and murmurs, “I’m just reminding him.”

He buries his face in your chest, his favorite place to be, you’ve found, and squeezes your waist with both arms, prompting you to giggle breathlessly.

Your fingers end up tangling in his hair, dipping your nose to bury it in his locks, breathing in the scent of him, as he nuzzles warmly in your chest.

You almost lose track of time— and where you are— but a pair of clearly disturbed locals approaching from behind your boyfriend quickly reminds you of your surroundings.

You tense, Jimmy grumbling when you stop stroking his head, clearly over the petty point he was tying to prove and now just lost in breathing in the smell of you, squeezing you even tighter against him like he can block out the whole world if he holds you firmly enough. When the two men, bulky arms crossed, are right behind Jimmy, you start to rapidly tap his shoulder, fear paralyzing your voice momentarily.

Jimmy lifts his head fast, as fast as he can with the amount of alcohol in his system, blinking big, watery eyes and inadvertently pouting his lip. “M’sorry,” he whispers, almost an automatic response. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he tilts his head up to look at you, brow furrowed in concern. “…You… don’t want…?” His arms start to untangle from you and you grab his wrists before he can pull away.

“No!” you gasp, and he blinks in surprise. You cup his face and hold him there gently, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “Jimmy, I love everything you do— you’re about the best man I’ve ever met… that’s the only reason I’m sitting with you right now and not googly eyes over there.”

Jimmy doesn't even look back at him, just blushes furiously, his expression never changing from that of a smitten puppy dog. You swear if he had a tail it would be thumping the floor right now.

Impulsively, and again forgetting about the world around you, you lean in and let your lips collide in a soft, warm kiss. Jimmy sighs against you, his eyes fluttering shut as you work your mouth against his.

But the moment is cut short when one of the unhappy fellow bar goers grabs your man by the shoulder and whips him around to face him.

Even tipsy, Jimmy is immediate to react, smacking the stranger’s hand off of his body and snarling, “What’s the problem? Can’t a guy show his girl a little love?”

“We don’t mind her,” one of them huffs.

“It’s you we want gone.” The two of them cast pointed looks down at Jimmy’s hands before stating, “We don’t need freaks in here.”

You slip off the bartop fast, grabbing your boyfriend’s arm, sensing an impending fight. “Jimmy, let’s go.”

“Freak?” Jimmy barks. “Who’s the fuckin’ freaks here? Me or the bastards tryin’ to kick my girl outta here?” He jabs a hand in the direction of the man who had been ogling you. “This your friend, too I bet, right? Bet all of ya are a bunch of—”

You hate the sound of Jimmy’s nose cracking under fists. He’s broken his nose enough times, you’re shocked he’s still as good-looking as he is. And boy, is he good-looking.

You beat your fists uselessly against one of the men’s arms as he drags you to the door after the man hauling a flailing Jimmy. The two of you are tossed into the dirty parking lot out front, groaning as the doors swing shut. You should be used to this by now, but you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to being treated like less than people— and you’re not even the one being persecuted. You shift to lay your arm over Jimmy’s front, his chest heaving as he blinks stars away and wrinkles his nose, hand coming up to palm the bloody mess. “Shit,” he mumbles.

“I told you to leave it,” you sigh, only half scolding. He doesn’t deserve this— any of this. The least you could do is be gentle with him.

He sighs. “Well, I couldn’t let those assholes look at my girl and get away with it.”

You smile, laying on his chest, giggling an embarrassed apology when he groans louder at the gravel digging into his back. You stand and help drag him to his unsteady feet, cooing sadly at his bloody face, cupping it while he whimpers softly at the pain.

“My Darling boy,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss the edge of his lips, trying to avoid the blood trickling over them. “Thank you.”

Jimmy frowns. The dunce. “Fer what?” he asks.

You snort. “For being the only the normal thing in my life,” you explain.

Jimmy’s eyes dance, sparkling in the starlight, a smile spreading despite the growing bruise just above his mouth. “Never been called normal before,” he muses, bringing one of his hands up hesitantly to the side of your head. Before he can pull away, you grab it and pin it to your face, leaning in to his touch and locking eyes with him, smiling adoringly. He smiles back, broken and grateful as he chuckles, “I could get used to it.”