#so here is my redemption design! storm swirls for her

[the-owl-tree]

for battle cat requests - sandstorm?

gave her them sighthound pantaloons

[nitannichionne]

Ransom's Redemption (Chris Evans Fanfiction), Chapter 22: Drinks & Dinner & Drinks (Ransom POV)

I am greeted by Callida and some other woman for dinner. The "dinner meeting" seems legit with her there, but the other woman is definitely for Paul's entertainment. We did discuss where to take pictures in the place, it was a photogenic site, and in winter, that's something. The pretty blonde named Rubia Fresa, which means "strawberry blonde" in Spanish. Her natural auburn streaks attested to her Scottish-Spanish descent, and she was pretty and young, just Paul's type.  Rubia was nice enough, though, and could even keep up a conversation.

I missed Mimi, hints of wildflowers when she moved, how she strokes my back when I talk, and how when she is tired, she doesn't complain, she just puts her head on my shoulder and sighs. And when she wears those little nighties...

"Ran."

"Huh?"

"I asked if you wanted to start at the Design Lounge," Paul says, leaning forward. "All that red velvet, got that kind of sensual, mysterious feel to it."

"Yeah, I saw it on the website, looks good."

"We got night work and day work," she says. "I don't know about you, but I wanna get home."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," I chuckle. "I hated leaving Mimi."

"Oh, that's right- you're married."

"Yeah."

"You two are still newlyweds, huh?"

"And with a baby on the way."

"Oh my God!" she hugs me. "Congrats!"

"Thanks," I smile.

Rubia sighs, "Wow, in love and married--"

"Yeah," Paul exhales, kissing her hand. "The town awaits, love." He rises.  "Ready ?"

"Okay," she smiles brightly.

This leaves Callida and I alone, and we chuckle. 

"Looking forward to tomorrow," she tells me.

"Yeah," I nod. "This money is going into the college fund."

"College fund?"

"Mimi's expecting," I tell her.

"Oh, my God!" she gasps and then hugs me. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," I smile.

"Planning the future?"

"We have two businesses, then I sell art and model here and there.'

"Busy." She is clearly impressed.

"Yeah, kinda," I shrug. "but it's worth it, can't wait for the end of probation."

"Paul told me about that."

"What did Paul tell you?"

"It's more of what I realized." She covers my hand with hers. "You're so happy," she gives a gentle smile. "And how you've really grown, Ransom. You've grown. I hope things work out with me and my boyfriend. He designs and makes furniture."

I smile at that. "Glad you're doing okay--" Suddenly the phone rings, and a melody plays. I smile.

"Oh, my God!"  sha laughs.

"Yeah, we set each other's ringers," I shrug. "She won't tell me what the song is, and I know I've heard it before, but--" I laugh. "Hold on." I click on. "Hey, baby."

"Hi," Mimi says softly. 

"Hey, how are you feeling?" 

"I'm better," she sounds tired.

"Been hydrating, right?"

"Yeah, and I'm eating fine," she says softly. "I told you, I think the morning sickness is over."

My breath catches. She was dressed in a nice nightie before l left. Did she want me before I left? "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I think so," She sniffs.

I take a deep breath, and on my exhale, I feel...horny. I'd been trying to wait, I had, but I didn't realize how much I wanted it till now, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. "Aw, babe."

"THere is a storm coming."

"Yeah?"

She giggles at my tone. "It looks pretty bad."

"Does it?"

She laughs. "I'm serious!"

"So...I should try to get home as soon as possible."

"Yeah."

I check my weather app. "Shit!" The big blurb moving and swirling is definitely headed for the eastern seaboard. "Global warming." I turn to Callida. "We need to do this, like yesterday."

"What?" Callida frowns over my phone.

"Who's that?" Mimi asks. 

"The model I'm working with," I answer. "Callida."

"Oh, my God," Callida looks concerned. "We both need to get out of here. Anton is in London, waiting for me. We are supposed to go to Italy so I can meet his parents!"

I give a low whistle. "Whoa."

"Ran, we gotta get out of here!"

"Baby, I'm still at the lounge with Callida," I tell her. "We gotta get a plan together."

"Oh."

I hear her tone. It wasn't good. "We're just catchin' up."

"Well, I'll leave you to it," she sighs.

"As soon as I get upstairs, I'll call, okay?"

"Okay," she says softly. 

"Love you, baby."

"Love you, too."

We click off and I sigh. 

"She okay?" Callida asks. 

I sigh again and shake my head. "I don't know. Pregnancy hormones, I don't know."

"Paul said this was a marriage of convenience."

"What?!" I couldn't believe he said such a thing. "No, no, we are childhood sweethearts. We were each other's first kiss."

"Wow."

I call Paul.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

"We want to start early," I tell him. "We want to shoot from sunrise to sunset."

"What?!"

"There's a snowstorm coming and we need to get out of here tomorrow night."

"Aw...okay, hey, guess who's in town?"

"Who?"

"Fiona."

"Fiona?"

"Yeah, she just sold her grandparents' condo, put that real estate license to use," he says happily. "Huge profit, she's having a party there."

"Oh, okay." 

"You comin'?"

"I am getting up tomorrow morning for a shoot, Paul!"

"C'mon, stop by, at least."

"Paul--"

"Can't you congratulate Fi?"

I exhale. Checkmate. "For a few minutes." 

"See ya there, Ran!"

He clicks off and I exhale. "I gotta go to--"

"Seal the deal?" Callida finishes. "Thanks, Ran."

That told me I was on my own. Great.

I hail a cab and call Mimi as soon as I get in.

"Hey!" I hear the smile in her voice.

"Hey."

"You don't sound like you're back in your room."

"HEading to a party--"

"A party?"

"Fiona sold her grandparents penthouse by Times Square," I blurt. "Paul is there, and I'm hoping to get him to come back with me so we can shoot all day and I can be home--"

"Oh."

I close my eyes and try to stay calm. "Seriously, baby."

"Okay."

It's not ha-ha funny how her monosyllabic answers feel like paragraphs. "I'm doing this so I can come home before the storm--"

"Why not postpone it?"

"Deadline."

"I see." She is quiet. "Good luck, then."

"Thanks, love you." 

"Love you."

@nuggsmum  @messyinsomnimaniac @jencanbeyouryengeralt  @sweetdreamsofgelato  @@mary-ann84  @omgkatinka  @the-soot-sprite  @viking-raider  @keanureevesisbae  @henryobsessed  @summersong69   @sunshine96love  @michelehansel    @thelastsock   @tumblnewby  @tenaciousneckpartypainter  @rn7rocks  @daydreamin83  @musicartmayheminmyheart @kaatelyynn-blog-blog@forallthebrokenheartedthings @alphacancrii  @liquorlaughslove @designerwriterchic   @tamychm  @nikkilynn303  @circesgirl1   @xoxohannahlee  @pixie88@fckdeusername @maan24  @kaatelyyynn​  @october505​ @absentmindr​ @introvertedmouse​  @sassy-pelican @griscka75 @kebabgirl67 @its-carlerr

[for-i-am-dying-of-such-love]

you know, where I'm headed, there'll be trouble...

...Ok, but can we talk about Sins of the Past?...

I’m not usually a fan of pilot episodes. Even the ones for my very favourite tv shows. They don’t tend to age well, hardly ever look like the shows they will become, and often suffer - like many First Seasons - from a laundry list of Unfortunate Things: actors still unsteady on their character’s legs, inconsistencies in plot and pacing and motivation, secondary characters that are too one-dimensional, low-budget wardrobe and set design. It takes time for a show to settle into itself and then a little more for it to evolve. So, it can be tough to revisit pilot episodes - awkward and maybe a little cringey.

Surprisingly, though, that’s not really the case with Sins of the Past. I say ‘surprisingly’ because the first episode of Xena Warrior Princess automatically starts out at a disadvantage. It’s a mid-90s, syndicated, genre television show, so it already contains a lot of elements that are fundamentally at odds with our modern sensibilities regarding visual storytelling. Coupled with the fact that it’s the first episode too? Well, you’d expect that it would feel dated and silly and trivial, but it doesn’t!

It’s actually kind of a joy!

Don’t get me wrong, the episode isn’t perfect. The visual aesthetics feel very late last-century, and the social mores of the mid-90s means there’s a woeful lack of kissing between Xena and Gabrielle (yes, even this early in the series, YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO SEE IT TOO, DON’T BE COY), but the storytelling holds up remarkably well. And, as far as first episodes go, it does a brilliant job of laying the groundwork for what the show will ultimately become: the Greatest Love Story Ever Told. Not just on tv. Ever.

Yeah, I said what I said.

On the surface it sets up the series’ two most obvious narrative arcs. Xena’s journey towards forgiveness, redemption and self-love. Gabrielle’s daring first steps into a world of adventure, heartache and self-discovery. But nestled in there too - the interstitial tissue connecting the two - is the show’s third, and arguably most fulfilling (and surprising?) storyline: the slow and magical weaving together of Xena and Gabrielle themselves. Their lives; their journeys; their hearts. And, ohmygod, it’s so fucking amazing and epic and lovely and the Greatest Love Story Ever Told.

So, let’s talk about where it all began. Let’s talk about SotP. Only, where to begin?!? There are so many moments worthy of exuberant and detailed praise. I have prepared a list:

Like this moment here. This glorious moment of first meeting...

Source: xenagabrielleforever

When Xena first lays eyes on Gabrielle. And she’s immediately struck by the sight of this farm girl - brave and foolish - who throws herself at Draco’s men in exchange for the safety of her fellow villagers. And I swear in that moment you can hear the rusty hinges on Xena’s heart creak slowly to life in knowing anticipation, as Gabrielle unwittingly takes a chisel to Xena’s defenses.

Or here. When Xena lets herself be distracted...

Source: hyxenagabrielle

The Warrior Princess. Confident and sure and untouchable. Completely disarmed by some young thing in some podunk village somewhere. Completely at the mercy of soft green eyes and youthful round cheeks and strawberry-blonde hair. Mesmerized by the tickling sensation of recognition as it cascades across her body when their eyes finally meet and hold.

Or, this gift of a scene. When Gabrielle wants so desperately to tag along with Xena.

Source: jadedownthedrain

And the entire time she might as well have a neon sign hanging above her head that flashes ‘Only Gay in the Village!!!’. Not that Xena isn’t immediately aware of this fact. She knows precisely everything she needs to know about this girl sitting in front of her. She knows it deep in her marrow. A long forgotten instinct dancing and swirling to life in the sleepy valley nestled between her lungs.

And here, just a few heartbeats later. When Xena pretends to act as if she doesn’t actually want Gabrielle to tag along.

Source: xenagabrielleforever

Only she does. Desperately. Except, she doesn’t know what to do with that feeling. So she drapes it in casual indifference and accessorizes it with empty threats, all the while secretly hoping that this inscrutable farm girl understands, is up for the challenge, feels the undercurrent too. And Gabrielle does. She tastes it on the air. Her blood is buzzing with anticipation. Make her mad? Of course, that is exactly what Gabrielle wants. No, not the ire, but the feel of the thrum that will course through Xena’s veins when her heart is set to pounding and her chest to heaving. Gabrielle wants to wield the mallet. Wants to see the fire in Xena’s eyes directed squarely at her. Wants to know the intensity of Xena’s scrutiny. She wants all these things very much. Even if she doesn’t quite know it yet.

Then of course there is this scene. When Xena is raw and vulnerable and exposed…

Source: xenagabrielleforever

And Gabrielle just steps from the shadows, like sunlight slicing through a storm cloud. Like her heart is saying: ‘I’ve been whisperin’ to you through the ether, listenin’ to your cry.’ And goddamnit, if they haven’t finally found each other again. This is a fucking homecoming! Of course I wanna talk about it!!!

But then there’s this. These two fools are already in love, can’t you see?!?

Source: hyxenagabrielle

But they’ve always been in love and they’ll always be in love. It’s muscle memory, the way one holds the other’s gaze. The smile that forms on their lips. The warmth that colours their cheeks. The pull, the pull, the pull. The inevitable surrender. The glorious fall. And somewhere back at the beginning of time and somewhere in the future when it all ends and here in this moment they just fucking know: ‘You were whisperin’ through the ether, letting me know you’re mine.’

All these moments. All these things. All of it, I want to talk about all of it. And maybe one day I’ll have more to say. But, right now I want to talk about Gabrielle’s prognostication skills.

Source: xenagabrielleforever

I’m being serious, though. I know this scene was played for laughs - Gabrielle says ‘do her’ and everyone giggles like a fifth-grader. It’s just an off-hand comment that Gabrielle tosses out there to get herself out of a tricky situation. Just a bit of inconsequential fun. Only it’s not inconsequential at all, it’s fucking prophetic.

And I’m not just talking about the fact that one day Gabrielle will actually get close enough to Xena to ‘do her’ - yes, that kind of do her, and ohmygod, just...

<ASIDE:> THIS BEAUTIFUL ASSHOLE SHOW KNEW EXACTLY WHAT THE IMPLICATIONS WOULD BE BY USING THAT LINE, THE SHOW FUCKING KNEW AND IT WENT THERE ANYWAY. GLEEFULLY. LIZ FRIEDMAN, WAS THIS ONE OF YOUR SCRIPT NOTES? LIZ? LIZ! LISTEN LIZ, IT’S OKAY, YOU CAN TELL ME. BECAUSE IT WAS A CHOICE, AND BOY WAS IT. A. CHOICE. SO, FAM, DON’T LET ANYONE TRY TO TELL YOU THAT THE SUBTEXT WASN’T THERE FROM THE BEGINNING. IT WAS THERE AND IT WAS DELIBERATE, AND YOU CAN FIGHT ME ON IT. </ASIDE>

No, I’m talking about the fact that this silly little throw-away scene both perfectly distills the essence of Gabrielle’s character - clever and unstoppable and pure-of-heart - and encapsulates the show’s most tender truth. And that is this: Gabrielle, the unsuspecting and innocent farm girl from Poteidaia will do the one thing that certainly no man - though handsome and strong and commanding - and, arguably no one ever, has been capable of doing. She’ll slip past Xena’s defenses and completely disarm her. Not physically, of course, but emotionally. And not to do harm, but to love unreservedly. Through all the changing seasons of their lives. For all of time. And the fact that this very poignant and romantic and fundamental truth is draped in humour and accessorized with innuendo makes it all the more perfect for a show that, on its surface, is campy and sexy and ridiculous, but at its core is tender and earnest and profound.

But, ohmygod, is it ever a wild ride. And Gabrielle, sweetie... you precious baby gay, giddy the fuck up.

Source: hyxenagabrielle

UP NEXT: Chariots of War

[sylverstorms]

Temptation’s call

Pairing: Priya x MC (Rose)

Rating: Mature, (NSFW, but nothing tooo explicit)

Words: ~2600

Warnings: Mentions of blood, sexual themes, Priya’s innate hotness– ahem, I mean Priya’s attitude in general. Delicious sin? Absolutely. You have been warned, people.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of Bloodbound, because if I did Priya would be a LI and already showing signs of redemption. Not to mention Kamilah’s screen time…

A/N: This has been sitting in my drabbles for sooo long holy shit. I needed to get it out of my system but work wouldn’t let me. So, finally, here it is! Comments, on tags or otherwise, greatly appreciated!

“In exchange for my vote… I want this one.“ Priya smirked, slow and devious. Crimson nails manicured to perfection dug into Rose’s shoulders, keeping her tight to her chest. The human didn’t dare breathe in her hold.

Adrian denied her term with his whole body, brows furrowed, his voice grave. “No.“

“Absolutely not!“ Lily protested with a cutting motion of her hand. “I won’t let you do this for me. I won’t let you stay here, not with her!“ The words came accented by a low growl, born out of instinct rather than rational thought. Although sweet and brave, it wasn’t the smartest way to act, Rose thought, before the woman whose singular vote would decide her life.

“You will if you want to live~“ Priya sing-songed, her chuckle deep and reverberating as she lowered her chin onto Rose’s shoulder with the confidence of someone who unquestionably had the upper hand. Her cold fingers began to knead away at the tension in her muscles, just so. Rose resisted the immediate urge to lean back into the best massage she ever had. Focus, she scolded herself.  

“This is my choice to make.“ Rose replied, watching the hurt her words painted across her companions’ features.

“Rose, no. Listen to me –I know how humans Priya takes a liking to end up.“ Adrian’s jaw clenched tightly, eyes soft and pleading. But he could see it, too, that he was fighting a lost battle.

Rose had already made up her mind.

She was responsible for her best friend’s Turning. And she would ensure her safety no matter the cost. Priya wouldn’t kill her, she believed, perhaps naively, despite all she heard and saw about the woman. A bit of rough play was a small price to pay for Lily’s life. She would bear it. She could.

Meanwhile, the fashion designer observed the scene with quiet amusement. Rose’s heartbeat must have given away her decision, because she could feel Priya’s devilish smirk widen on her exposed shoulder.

“I’ll do it.“ Rose made her consent official.

Priya had the green light to do whatever she wished; and certainly seemed to revel in that power, if the smug, challenging look she threw Adrian was anything to go by. She began by running her hands down the human’s arms suggestively, stalking around her like a lioness, taking her by the wrist. The touch danced on the border between firm and painful. Hungry eyes unabashedly roamed over her form, indecent fantasies swirling in their depths. Promising heaven …and hell.

Not wasting another moment, the fashion designer made to pull her towards a different room, but Rose surprised her –surprised even herself– by closing her free hand over hers, hot to cold. Priya raised an elegant eyebrow in warning.

“One bite.“ Rose stated, looking straight into wild eyes. It took all her willpower to keep her voice firm, steady. “One bite, and you’ll let me go back to them. And you’ll vote in favor of Lily.”

Priya’s eyes flashed blood red.

Faster than Rose could blink, her chin was snatched in a chilly vice grip, head forced up, her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. The joints of her neck strained uncomfortably. Out of the corner of her eye, Rose could see Adrian coil, fangs bared, ready to pounce.

“You dare bargain with me, human?” Priya asked, the very tips of her sharp incisors showing in clear threat. However…

…as quickly as it came, the storm passed.

Priya’s grip eased. A curious, interested grin graced her lips. “Oh, I do so like you.“ This time, when she took Rose’s hand, she laced their fingers together with newfound respect. ”Sergio, you may escort our guests outside.“ She ordered over her shoulder at the disregarded houseboy, still recovering from being tossed into the far wall. “Some air will be good for them.“

Adrian and Lily’s worried faces faded along with the background, as Rose was led past billowing red curtains to a private back room. She wasn’t certain what kind of playroom she’d expected to see -or what reading Fifty Shades of Grey had done to her imagination- but it wasn’t anything like it. Not a torture chamber, and not even remotely kinky, if a little eccentric. Just how Priya liked it; with grand, floor-to-ceiling windows and an amazing view of the city lights, gleaming like a sea of stars in the canvas of the night sky. There were crimson-themed paintings of half-naked women adorning the walls, a fireplace on one side. A modern bar stocked with all sorts of mindbogglingly expensive bottles stood tucked off to the corner, where Priya gracefully walked, high heels clicking with each step. Half a second later she was next to Rose again, offering a fancy drink in a fancier glass. The human carefully accepted the cocktail. Its subtle, fruity aroma tickled her nose.

“Come, sit with me.“ Priya motioned to the luxurious red couch in front of the fireplace, sitting first, with all the grace of a true queen. How she could make every seat look like a throne was beyond Rose, who felt so, so graceless in comparison. She had about two seconds to calculate the distance she’d keep from the vampire- not that it mattered, when Priya’s arm shot out, grabbing hers, tugging.

Rose fell sideways, practically into her lap. The drink in her hand wobbled, but thankfully didn’t spill. In no universe would dropping a cocktail on the designer ever end well. She gathered her bearings to the best of her ability; the second she lost her nerve would be the second she lost the dangerous little game she started with Priya. And she had no doubts the consequences would be pretty severe then.

Needing the liquid courage to make it through the ordeal, Rose decided she didn’t care to ask what was in the drink, and took a generous sip. Sweet cherry erupted on her tongue. Priya grinned at her expression. Wow, she thought. Priya definitely knows how to treat a girl when she wants to. Too bad she usually doesn’t want to. But she quickly halted herself from going down that path. I…did not just think that.

She did think it, though. And that would have been so much easier to deny if Priya didn’t smell so heavenly, like body oils and expensive hair conditioner, if her lips weren’t so curved and darkly inviting, if she wasn’t so damn attractive on the outside. If Rose didn’t have a crush on the celebrity for years. At least until she found out what she really was like. Cruel. Hedonistic. Selfish. Sadly, her stupid body wouldn’t get the message, far from dissuaded. Growing so, so hot under her attention.

The contrast of a cold touch at her neck broke Rose out of her thoughts. Priya’s fingers gently guided her hair out of the way, smoothing it over her back. Despite the situation, the sensation drew a soft sigh out of her.

“Turn around.“ Priya said, half order and half request. Rose felt blood rushing to her face -to other places, far lower- as she complied. It made her nervous not being able to look at Priya -she’d always looked at needles before they pierced her skin, ever since she was a child.

Priya guided her head onto the comfy back of the couch, angling her neck how she wanted it. Rose’s stomach twisted into knots. She hoped it was just from anxiety, but part of her said otherwise. Sinful excitement trailed down her spine at the fingertips drawing her blouse further down her shoulder, exposing the line of her collarbone completely. She could feel Priya’s nose in her hair and her breath across her vulnerable neck. It…did things to her. Things it shouldn’t do. Her heart thundered heavily. Rose pressed her thighs together, trying to quench the ache building there.

Her efforts were thrown out the window when Priya’s arms came around her torso and waist, long fingers splaying on her stomach, pulling her in further, if that was possible. Adding to the sweet torture, lips joined in the mix, pressing to the junction of her neck. Rose shivered, torn between wanting more and wanting out, yet Priya wouldn’t let her move an inch, feathering kisses along her racing pulse. Then those succulent lips parted and there was a tongue tracing an electric path up to her ear, teeth closing at its shell. Rose bit her lip, hard enough to hurt, wishing for anything to distract her from the onslaught of arousal pooling between her legs.

“What’s wrong, pretty thing?” Priya cooed into her ear, the timbre of her voice making Rose gasp.

“I… thought we agreed on a –oh fuck-” Priya sucked a bruise underneath her ear, “-on one bite.” Rose got the words out breathlessly, and it was a miracle they made sense at all, when she could barely think.

“Did we, now?” Priya smirked, licking her again. “But, baby, you’ll taste so good aroused…” And ‘aroused’ was an understatement, when Priya sounded like that so close to her ear, raw and throaty like they were having sex. Rose was burning, wet, out of her damn mind.

And then-

Then came pain.

Sudden. Blinding. Rose cried out at the feeling of harsh needles sinking into her flesh, sucking her blood in greedy gulps. It was nothing like when Jax had bitten her. It hurt, it hurt so terribly tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, and the pain drew on and on, refusing to cease. Rose gripped Priya’s wrist for support, and it was ironic that the person she sought to ground her was the same person causing her to suffer in the first place.

What felt like hours -when it was only seconds- later, Priya’s fangs retracted. Her arms fell from around Rose, who fell forward with nothing to hold her upright. Her hand immediately flew to her neck, feeling the abused skin, fingertips coming back stained red. She whipped around to throw Priya a well-deserved glare… but found herself getting pinned on the couch, instead, the blood-drunk vampire straddling her thighs. Rose defiantly met her eyes, a swear at the tip of her tongue.

“Why the frown, darling?” Priya smiled sexily, on the high of feeding, a thin trail of blood at the corner of her mouth. Rose couldn’t believe she found even that attractive about her. What the hell is wrong with me? She wondered. “Were you expecting something else?” Priya teased, drawing a fingernail over her collarbone. Rose’s traitorous skin sang. “Oh, but we can’t have the others thinking I’ve grown soft over a pair of pretty eyes, can we?” The compliment didn’t make Rose blush. No. Not at all. “Or allow some clanless worm’s mark to linger on you…”

Rose’s head snapped up. “What…how do you…“

“Vampire senses are an amazing thing.“ Priya explained. “The dirt clinging to you was bothering me. And unlike Adrian, I had the guts to do something about it.“ Her gaze swept over the fresh marks at Rose’s neck appreciatively. The clan leader leaned in, close, holding her the same way she would a lover, not a meal. “But you didn’t struggle, and you were so tasty for me…“ Priya whispered, barely an inch left between their mouths. “Such a good girl.“ The chaste kiss pressed to her lips was a small consolation prize. Rose’s mind fogged at the praise. Her breathing turned shallow, as she became increasingly aware of the thigh tucked between her legs. “And good girls I take a liking to get rewarded.“ Priya smirked into the following kiss, slipping her tongue into the awaiting velvet of her mouth, shifting ever so slightly on top of her. Rose’s hips rocked forward subconsciously, the need clawing at her insides overpowering her common sense.

Liplock never breaking for long, Priya’s hands roamed, down her blouse and underneath, setting her skin on fire. Every caress was multidimensional, its echo reaching the last cell in her body. Cool fingertips dragged even lower, past the waistband of her pants and underwear, until Rose could feel a nail scrape over her aching center. She moaned into Priya’s mouth, driving her hips into the contact in reckless abandon. The vampire had been building her up all evening; Rose needed to come undone more than she needed oxygen, in that moment.

Priya’s lips trailed off to the corner of her mouth, then to her jaw, then to the unharmed side of her neck. Rose’s fingers threaded in her silken wavy hair, trying to either pull her close or push her away from her veins, yet succeeding in neither. The expectation of pain somehow only added to the slickness staining Priya’s hand.

“Shhh.“ The clan leader hushed, kissing her skin. “Be good for me…“ And her fangs sank into Rose for the second time. But it wasn’t at all like minutes ago, when she’d wanted to cry. Well, maybe she did, though not from pain. The euphoria that came from this bite was all-encompassing, numbing her mind and her senses like the most potent, most addictive aphrodisiac. Rose felt warm and tingly all over, the pressure low in her belly rising and rising to the point she felt like she was breaking in half. Her body locked up and shuddered around Priya’s fingers, the crest of her pleasure seemingly never-ending.

Finally, some semblance of self returned to her, long after Priya had removed her fangs and sealed the wound with her own blood. A final kiss was pressed to her parted lips. The fashion designer rose, adjusting her crumpled dress. Rose tried not to miss the weight of her lean body over her own. She took a few more quiet moments to compose herself.

Once her heartbeat calmed completely, Priya pulled her up, and Rose fought to stand straight on shaky legs. She began tiredly setting her clothes right, buttoning up her pants, wiping the lipstick marks from her mouth. Priya watched her with an amused glint in her eyes. Rose got herself to a presentable state exactly on time, too, because Sergio hesitantly peeked through the red drapes cutting the room off the rest of the house, then, requesting permission to enter.

“Come.“ Priya motioned with her hand distractedly. “Dress her wound and help her down the stairs, she’s lost a lot of blood.“ She ordered. The young man couldn’t meet her gaze as he nodded, placing Rose’s hand on his forearm for support. Priya watched his every move with narrowed eyes. Rose, on her part, was thankful for his support… but it was not his warmth her body longed for. What she secretly craved was ice-cold to the touch.

“Don’t have too much fun without me, darling.“ Priya called over her shoulder as she turned to walk away. “I’ll see you at the Council.“

The rest of the night, from the point Rose stepped past the threshold of Priya’s mansion and onward, was a blur. Adrian’s pain-filled, guilty expression and Lily’s anger and worry were the only things that really stood out, that she could clearly remember by the time she got home. Her head spun -and yeah, she’d definitely lost a lot of blood. Rose could barely stand in front of her bathroom mirror to prepare for bed.

When she did slip under her covers, dead exhausted, she spared one last look at her phone. There were a dozen text messages from Adrian, apologizing for what he’d let happen to her. For not protecting her. For allowing Priya to brutalize her neck.

But that wasn’t the only thing the vampire queen did.

And no matter how Rose may have hated herself for it, despite the pain and the tension and the fear of being eaten alive… she did not regret letting Priya have her wicked way with her. To make matters worse,

She would do it again.

[soliloquyslut]

No Reqiuems for Sinners [1]

Pairing(s): Kylo Ren x F!Reader, Kylo Ren/You ]

Content Warning(s): dub-con, Dom/sub dynamics, smut, angst ]

Words: 1,500+

Author's Note(s): Part of me wanted to write gratuitous, filthy, filthy smut, and the other part of me wanted to write angst. Kylo's a bit OOC here, and I added some Crylo because I think it's a lil' tidbit of a redemption arc for him. I don't think I'll be adding any further installments for this piece, but that could change.

•

He's here again, in your quarters.

You don't discern him using the Force, per se - everybody had a bit of Force in them, and you were in no means Force-sensitive - but you can definitely sense the pivotal magnetism that draws him to you.

You muse that it's the reason he keeps coming back, keeps returning although he promises otherwise.

"Kylo?" You call out, uncertain, almost wearily. He's been angrier these weeks, and the scent of burnt dura-steel follows him whenever his anger is just below the surface, the buzz of his lightsaber lethal and red.

Almost as if he were a moth drawn to a flame, the Commander steps closer, face shrouded by his mask. His voice is tinny, distorted by his vocoder, but his words ring clear in your ear.

"Strip."

You begin to protest, "You know my terms, Kylo. I won't do anything unless you've got your mask off, I refuse to be controlled by-".

Your sentence dies down in your throat as he repeats his order, an exasperated sigh escaping him, almost as if you had came to his room seeking something.

Nevertheless, you comply. Something about the way Kylo says it - it isn't a request but a command - you can't deny that your panties already start to dampen as you begin removing your attire. He's watching you, and you imagine that it's through half-lidded eyes, expectant, calculated.

Your hands reach the hem of your shirt and you pull upwards, tugging up your bra with it, nipples immediately hardening as you readjust to the seemingly sudden cold atmosphere around you two.

"I don't have all day." He says, as plainly as could be.

You let out a squeak, hastening your movements as you push off your pants, beginning to peel off your panties before you're stopped by his hand.

"No."

"No?" You repeat, dumbly, as if tasting his sentence and the potential weight behind it.

But he's not paying attention to you; he's fiddling with his robes and unzipping something and then there he is, in all his glory, cock already erect and leaking precum.

He slaps his shaft against your face, jerking his hands along it, almost as if you're not a person but an object to be used as a part of his daily routine, transient if need be.

And then, "Suck."

You don't need to be told twice, scrambling to your knees as you take your designated position between his legs, tip of his cock on your mouth as you swirl your tongue around the slit. He pushes himself deeper into your mouth without warning, causing you to almost choke as you allow your mouth to adjust to the intrusion. He emits a low sort of hiss, distorted by the vocoder as you continue your ministrations, throating him down despite the tears threatening to leak from your eyes.

Almost subconsciously, you begin to trail your fingers to your underwear, slipping the digits in to swipe against your clit, a familiar heat blossoming throughout your abdomen. It doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"I don't recall allowing you to touch yourself, now did I?"

And there it is, the mocking, condescending tone as he looks down at you. You're simultaneously turned on and fucking infuriated that you can't see what he looks like right now, face still shielded by his mask.

You pull off his cock long enough to say, "No, I'm sorry, Commander."

The honorific makes him preen, cock twitching in your mouth again as you remind him of his power, his strength, his utter control. Kylo pulls out of your mouth, and a little whine escapes you as you look back up at him.

"On the bed. Ass to me. Take off your panties." He demands, gruffly, and you're nothing if not obedient, immediately climbing up onto the mattress, presenting yourself to him, pushing off your undergarment as it pools down your legs.

He positions himself behind you, shifting his robes once more, and then the head of his cock is pressed up against the entrance of your cunt and this time you have to protest.

"I can't - you can't," you struggle to string your words together, "At least let me see the face of the man that's making me cum."

You say it meekly but there's a heavy sort of finality to it, and it seems to appease him enough. There's the familiar hiss of the mask as he pulls it off, dropping it (albeit gingerly) onto the floor behind him with a thunk.

Without warning, he thrusts into you, and there's a mutual cacophony of moans and grunts as he pushes himself into the hilt, quite literally balls-deep. Your hands gripe at the sheets, holding them until you're sure your knuckles will turn white as the Commander sets an unforgiving, but steady pace.

His hand reaches up to grip at your throat, and you feel the Force, unstable but present, at your clit, invisible fingers rubbing and kneading at the nub as you mewl, "S-Shit! Fuck, Kylo-."

He's repeating a mantra of your name but he's also burying his face into your neck, biting at the flesh and nosing at your hair as he mutters angrily, releasing all his pent-up frustrations through his thrusts.

"That'll, shit, your pussy's so fucking tight," he hisses, continuing to speak, "That'll fucking show her."

It doesn't take a genius to realize that he's talking about Rey, the scavenger that had been the cause of the ugly scar running across his face. You hate her, although you aren't sure why. It's not like he loves her, in fact, you're fairly sure he hates her too, but she still receives more attentions than you - she plagues his mind and you're disconcerted by the idea that you don't.

A particularly hard thrust brings you back to reality, and you're hyperaware that he's commanding you to moan, to scream his name, to make noise, sound as rawly human as he does.

You do, whimpering out a mantra of his name, of "Commander", of other vulgarities and the Force at your clit grows more unstable, his thrusts more erratic.

His face is at your neck and your shoulder suddenly feels wet and you realize that it isn't from his mouth - he's crying, two large droplets cascading down your shoulder and the small of your back.

You turn towards him and press your lips against his own; it sounds odd thinking about it but he's never actually kissed you. His mouth has been everywhere except atop your own, almost as if it were an action too intimate, even for being reserved in an officer's dingy quarters.

If a person's anger could be likenened to a storm, then Kylo's was a tempest, a tsunami, a hurricane, constantly swirling and brimming at the surface, threatening to break. You realize that he's jealous - not of Finn who probably fucks Rey the same way Kylo does you, but the domesticity of their dynamic, the simplicity of their relationship. It frustrates him.

You're once again brought out of your reverie as he bites down on your neck, grunting whilst providing you with one command: "Cum."

And you do, clenching yourself around his shaft while he haphazardly fucks into you, drawing out both of your orgasms.

When he finally stills, pulling away from your spent cunt, you wince, the after-sex buzz already setting in. He's readjusting his robes - you realize with a peculiar acuteness that you've never seen him entirely naked - he's about to leave like he always does, but you tug at his sleeve.

Kylo looks back towards you, eyes flashing as if to ask why you even dared to touch him after the endeavor had ended.

"What do I mean to you?" You ask him, frankly.

His features change momentarily before he becomes expressionless again, "I don't know."

"You don't know." You echo, not with incredulity but a tone of monotony - you wonder if this is the fate you've resigned yourself to - becoming the nightly rendezvous for a man that couldn't care less about you.

"I don't dislike you." He says, finally, and you understand that this is probably the closest he'll get to admitting his feelings.

"Okay." You reply, a little hollow, "Stay the night."

He's preparing himself to leave once more, and he freezes when you say that.

"No."

"I wasn't asking." You don't relent.

"I'm your superior; I take what I want-."

You cut him off, knowing full well his tirade, "Stay the night."

This time, it's less of a demand and more so a request, a plea. You don't know if you mean anything to him and you don't quite understand why you need to know, but he can at least pretend, right, for one night?

"Just for tonight." You add, biting your lip nervously.

He mulls over this, seemingly conflicted as he finally relents, nodding, "Just for tonight."

"Yeah." You pat the bed, shifting so he can get on.

He sits rigidly, almost awkwardly, before you pull him closer to you, lacing your fingers together. Tepidly, you lean your head on his neck, weary of his response. He tenses but doesn't verbally react.

"Goodnight." You say, meekly, wishing you could will the atmosphere to be a bit less uncomfortable as it seemed.

"Goodnight."

You fall asleep dreaming of him, of an alternate universe in which you mean something to Kylo Ren the same way he means something to you.

He isn't there when you wake up.