May 19, 2019
slqhter replied to your photo
all my boys are yelling rn
“there’s no need to yell! there’s plenty of me to go around.”
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slqhter replied to your photo
all my boys are yelling rn
“there’s no need to yell! there’s plenty of me to go around.”
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continued from here // @slqhter
she doesn’t have to tell him twice. not when the warmth of both the bed and her body are so inviting he can hardly think of anywhere else he’d rather be. there are places he SHOULD be but a few more minutes in her presence can do no harm, he supposes. so he climbs back into the mattress, CRAWLING up her tiny body until he can lay his head down against her stomach. one hand snaking around her waist, the other hooking his long fingers to the waistband of the pair of pale pink panties she’s wearing, his lips pressing few kisses to the curve of her waist. ‘ mhm, much better ’ he comments but the words are slightly muffled against her skin. it is so EASY to tell by the content sigh following his words that he’s happy here. by now, silas has made himself comfortable around her space. on her bed, her body always near his, the sound of her voice on his ear. ‘ i should probably get going, though. otherwise, it’ll be real HARD leaving later…— ’ he adds but he doesn’t move a muscle quite yet. ‘ ‘cause i’ll want to take these pretty panties off of you again ’
the sun was beginning to peek in between the shades in her room, signalling that it was time for him to take his leave. but the brunette was selfish and she didn't want him to go just yet, not when she's already missing the feel of his skin against hers and he's barely been gone. nonetheless, the smile that graced her lips when he acquiesced to her request and climbed back up could easily LIGHT up the room. when he laid his head down against her stomach, her fingers tangled with his locks. fits of giggles escaped her lips when his lips descended down the curve of her waist while his fingers remained hooked to the waistband of her pretty panties. “does my stomach a good pillow now, huh?” briar quipped in playfully as she lazily carded her fingers through his locks as she gazed at him fondly. however, at the talks of him leaving already again, she may have tugged at his hair a little harder in protest. pulling on his locks a little so she could take a better look at him, her lips turned into a silent pout. “do you really have to? i’ll let you take them off again as long as you don’t ruin them--” she offered as some form of compromise though she’d LET him ruin all of her pretty underwear if it got him to stay.
the kitchen light flicked on, and harper froze.
this wasn't supposed to happen. amanda, if that was even her name, bolted out the back door they'd broken in. she was lucky—her muscles still worked. harper was left with blinking hazel eyes and a plastic bag full of canned goods and snacks; things she could take with her that could last a while. maybe it had been the plastic that woke him up. she'd been worried about the crinkling being too loud. it felt deafening. there still wasn't supposed to be anyone home at all, though. amanda promised her. harper was only now realizing it was a simple little lie to get her to go along with things. she’d always been a little too gullible, a little too inclined to believe in whatever made moving forward easy.
she'd never meant for it to come to this, anyway. at this point, a year after she'd left home, harper was supposed to be an up-and-coming hollywood starlet, or at least still waitressing and auditioning for roles. she'd left that behind weeks ago. harper told herself she was just living rough until she got back up on her feet. there was just the little matter of no one wanting to hire a girl wearing threadbare secondhand clothes, no matter how her pretty face might plead.
"sir…" harper said to him, swallowing hard. he was so imposing. she dropped the bag, cans clattering and rolling loud across the kitchen tile. "i'm sorry. please." she didn't even know what she was begging for. the food itself? for him not to call the cops? his forgiveness? did it matter which? @slqhter
@slqhter
avery: you realize stalking in this day and age is hardly sexy, don’t you?
🔴 / ivan & aurora ??
( bloodlust | accepting )
#18. my muse licking blood off your muses finger.
his broad shoulders are hunched forward, panting as he is over the form now laid out on the ground at his feet. to anyone else, ivan could be a monster. a dangerous man for all of his possessiveness, but rory simply doesn’t see him in such a way. oh, she appreciates how dangerous he is. has felt the swell of bruises left behind on her skin from his demanding grip as he pounds his thick cock into her used cunt, but he doesn’t scare her. little does after being raised by her eldest sister, who rory is sure is possessed by the devil, as evil as the eldest gerhard sister can be. ivan, though, in this moment, had been protecting her. perhaps a little too aggressively because all the poor chap at his feet had done was slip her a hundred for a blow job because she apparently had hooker vibes radiating off of her tonight. she’d barely formed the words of her denial before ivan was there, releasing his aggression. maybe there was more to it. maybe there was something rory was missing, but as she approaches the male with fervor and intent, she wants to hate herself for appreciating him. for appreciating the blood on his skin, the familiar copper tang she’s hardly a stranger to permeating her senses the minute she’s at his side. “ivan.” a statement of his name, but he’s still focuses elsewhere. rory grabs his hand, surveying it for damage. seeing none, she takes hold of his other, his muscles tense, fingers twitching. god, but she can’t help herself, and there’s no other way she can think to snap him out of whatever daze he’s in. her tongue darts out - pink and soft - to lick at the pad of his middle finger, cleaning his skin of the blood there. it takes her wrapping her lips around the same digit, sucking his skin clean, the coppery tang on her tongue potent and thrilling when vibrant hues rise to find him staring up at her. “there you are,” rory speaks softly, stepping over the now passed out body at ivan’s feet, completely immersed in the older male who holds all of her attention. “you realize, in all your male bravado, i can take care of myself, don’t you?” her thumb stretches over his knuckles, smearing the blood - his blood, she thinks - there, over his skin, because she’s mesmerized by the brightness of him. by the vibrancy of his anger and whatever had forced him to think beating someone senseless was going to protect her.
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"Is that my shirt?" / sergei to rose ??
‘is that my shirt?’
it had been a typical night of no sleep for rose. working on her next big project had taken up all her focus and time...and sanity. everything seemed to just jumble into one big ol mess for her. she remembers part of the night she wanted to grab herself a snack. after checking the fridge about forty two times (an exaggeration obviously) she came to the conclusion that there was nothing to fucking eat in this place.
you know rose is hungry when she’s willing to actually leave to go get some food. mcdonalds was the only logical thing to get at this time of night, so after throwing a shirt on and some short shorts, she got herself a happy meal. that’s right, they had cool little avengers toys and she knew she needed to get her hands on one otherwise she would regret it for the rest of the week.
she devoured the “feast”, threw off her shorts, and kept the shirt on. once again rose was sucked into the world of coding, needing to make sure everything was just right for her client. no mistakes were ever allowed in her work, ever.
that’s what she remembers when she repeats his question in her head. green eyes finally take notice that the shirt she has on is in fact one of his own. no wonder it fit differently than her others, it was a bit larger, smelled different too. not in a bad way, just different.
“i think so. i must have grabbed it when i was starving for some food and needed to throw something on. i guess it’s mine forever now.” she teases with a small smile taking place on her exhausted looking face.
“I’m struggling to exist with you. And without you.”
marilyn can taste the lies on his tongue —– it’s what they were built on, deceit. toxicity and romance intertwine in the same helix for the two of them, and she knew exactly what she was getting into the moment she chose to embark on this passionate journey. they hurt people, they lied to people, they betrayed everyone to find excuses to be together … so would he lie to her ? a locked door separates the two of them from the throng of guests giddy to congratulate her on an engagement to another man. ( his son - how had things gotten this fucked ? )
“ you don’t mean that, ” she finally manages to exhale, the vanity lights imbuing their silhouettes with a softer illumination than their shattered souls deserves. “ you just want me to give in —- again. but what if i do ? you won’t leave her. ” it’s easy to cast the coward card on him ; spares her from acknowledging the same of herself. she rises from her seat, cobalt gaze narrowed upon him. “ what if i told you i couldn’t stand the sight of you anymore ? ”
taste my lies, too.
continued from here
‘ NO, I’M NOT FUCKING ANGRY. not at you, you’re just doing your job but… — ’ words can’t seem to roll off his tongue at the moment. anger sits heavy in his shoulders, tensing his entire frame and he hates that she has to see him that way. he feels like an asshole for feeling this way, too. dancing for other people is her job, he knew what she did for a living since the beginning. but half of him believes he’s also entitled to feel some of his anger, too. wouldn’t every guy react violently upon seeing a client with their hands all over a dancer ? particularly the one he’s infatuated with. normally, he would handle seeing her with clients very well, considering how possessive he feels about her. now he’s pacing as a bad attempt to calm himself. ‘ I’M FINE. i just… — i need a minute or i swear i’ll fucking KILL that guy ’
truly, it was a RELIEF to know that his anger wasn't directed towards her. but, it didn't really make things any better since this was a situation she always gets herself into. a lot of their clients can get pretty handsy and well, the people managing the club just tell them to deal with it. after all, it was their job to keep the clients happy. as he continued to pace back and forth at the back of the club, briar stepped closer to him. and in an attempt to help him calm down, she carefully placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension underneath her fingertips. delicate fingers rubbed his shoulder soothingly as she pressed her forehead against his arm. “it’s alright--that’s nothing i can’t handle,” she mumbled softly as she peered up to look at him. “should we leave?” offered the young brunette even though she still had one set left. but she could skip that one if it brought silas any comfort. she could deal with the manager later. right now, her focus is just on him. // @slqhter