❦ . . . 𝘍𝘐𝘙𝘚𝘛 𝘒𝘐𝘚𝘚𝘌𝘚
𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘴
𝘞𝘈𝘙𝘕𝘐𝘕𝘎: 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯
𝘿𝘼𝙑𝙄𝘿
david isn’t the most ceremonious of men, but he knows what he wants when he wants it. he takes his time, tossing the thought of whatever it may be in his mind until it sticks. tonight it stuck: he was going to kiss you.
it happened one of the nights you and david went on a late night drive. your fingers clung to him, lost in the thick of his coat, your faces slowly, then more rapidly razed by sand and breezes onshore. you soared around so fast as if the two of you had wings.
after he’d driven you home, he watched you quietly lift yourself from the bike, recovering giddily from wobbly legs and the salty air. you knew there wasn’t much he wanted to say, nor you, so you smiled and turned away to retire for the night. but before you could fully step aside, he grabs you by the arm, spinning you like a top, and kisses you, balancing a booted foot on the ground as the bike leaned to align him better with your precious lips. and it wasn’t clumsy, it was formulaic and experienced. planned, but catered to you. he’ll always remember the way you moaned as if it had been your first time. (sheeesh i’m jealous if it is!!!!)
his kisses are always the deepest, most breathtaking, most intoxicating stories he could ever tell you, though you appreciate his histories too, of course. his lips are slow, his mouth and tongue ring with the danger of cigarettes and the remnants of blood from a dirty feeding. you feel his entire mouth with your tongue because he makes you, like he’s trying to devour your soul by tangling your tongue in his like fingers clutching, choking you at the throat with his kiss.
so after that moment, he won’t let you leave his sight without one. he’ll smirk as you tell him goodnight, past your curfew surely and worrying your parents to death, but ah ah ah, he’s quick to realize what he’s missing out of you. he’ll say, “you forgetting something?” his voice sly and suave against your ears. and before you even compute what you’re doing, your arms are around his neck and his lips are on yours, killing you ever so softly with the longing you hold for him as sharp and dutiful as a knife, or teeth.
(p.s. , your parents get real pissed cuz he’ll start revving up his bike as you make out, alerting the whole neighborhood that you’re slowly corroding into a little demon of his design)
(p.p.s. he’d definitely drive away as you two are kissing to break the connection if he really needs to be back at the cave or he’s a little grumpy or if he’s just trying to be the absolutely sadistic tease that he is……)
𝘿𝙒𝘼𝙔𝙉𝙀
imagine you’ve been driven out to the beach after midnight , sand spraying under the wheels of dwayne’s bike, baby soft and malleable beneath the speed of his excitement to spend the rest of the night with you.
you’re there to watch the stars, but already you’ve had such a wonderful time, so you just hug tighter around his leather, smiling into his back as he finds the best spot to linger in the moonlight.
when said spot was found, you spread the blanket you’d brought from home and sit down side by side, gazing up at the black sky.
it was rare, yes, that you could spend the entire night with him—he often stayed out to feed or spend time at the cave—but when you did it was always magical and tender and special. like him :)
and as much as he’s got it under control, he’s ultimately following your lead with all of this, so if you lay down, he lays down, if you turn to face him, he’ll turn to face you, and the closer you get to each other, the closer the moon is to touching your face so beautifully. more and more, he gets an urge to close the distance, wordlessly, of course, as dwayne often was. even if you’d been talking beforehand, he’d grow quiet, a dark softness coming over his face.
so, after a while of gazing at his own little star, the awe of your being becomes a little too much to waste on space, so his nose meets yours, knocking into you like a lion’s. he’s firm and playful, just wanting to meet your touch in any way he can. but then he tilts his head, noticing your silent permission, the butterflies warping about in your belly, as his lips touch yours and he kisses you, shallowly, just a brief smooshing at first.
then, your lips lock, and a surge of a breath travels through his nose as he rolls you onto your back to love you beneath the stars. if you listen closely, the rickety rush of boardwalk sounds act as a symphony to your end of the night.
dwayne’s kisses aren’t quite as deep or exploratory as the others might be, but the shallowness of his savory tongue as it dips against yours will always tickle you in a way that you can’t really describe.
there’s no doubt that hes skilled in this art. he can be slow, or he can slip a bit faster, he can cradle your head to relax or curl a hand along the sensitive flesh of your neck to surprise. he’ll bite and tug or lap at your lips like water to the sand or a baby to candy. either way there’s always a care, a gentleness in it that leaves you wanting, craving more.
𝙋𝘼𝙐𝙇
paul is for sure catching you off guard because you only live a million years amirite, lads?
he’d do it on the boardwalk, of course, surrounded by a million and one burning night lights and vapid human life (who would normally be caught in paralyzing fear at the sight of him) but this night… it’s all about *you*, baby.
and it was about you!! paul went on all the rides that you asked him to, won the bears, bought all the candies and sugars in the world with money you had no idea he had to his name, and now it was time for an end of the night stroll to wind down the rushes of teenage adrenaline.
eventually, as the two of you walk side by side to the entrance of the boardwalk where he’d left his bike, he caves on an idea he’d been pondering for most of the night. just a thought of how he could give himself a little treat for enduring all of the fun you’d “forced” him into.
he’d pull something silly like telling you you had something on your mouth (you’d probably be eating something sugary or saucy which could very much warrant a mess on your face), before volunteering himself to remove it. next thing you know, he’s leaning in with a hand on your jaw and pecking your lips before smirking his head off as you stare up at him, stunned.
“sorry, babe. couldn’t help it,” he’d say with his preciously boyish shrug, as if that could earn him a pass (…it does).
and once he “breaks that ice” for the two of you, expect him to stealing kisses from you a lot more often.
they’d range from pecks that would edge you into whines and sighs for him to come back to give a “real one” to lingering make out sessions full of smiles and little groans. he just absolutely loves to kiss you.
𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙆𝙊
it’s most likely that you and marko would be watching a movie the first time you kiss.
you’d gone to the boards to rent a few videos from max’s shop and as soon as you were exposed under the gaze of dozen tv screens displaying various crimes committed in santa carla, he rushes you straight to the horrors (as if santa carla wasn’t a horror fest enough).
eventually, he’s shoving a ton of tapes in your arms and, though he tries to explain each one beforehand, you’re pretty sure he’s only attracted to the naked girls being sucked by vamps and stolen by swamp ghouls on the covers of them.
(p.s. he thinks his taste in movies is top tier and is super elitist about it so he often sways you to rent the films *he* thinks are worth your time, so you let him run wild, though you continue to whine at him that it’d be extremely difficult to carry all of them on the back of his bike.)
“plus, there’s no way we’re watching all of these tonight.” you gesture hopelessly to the growing pile in your arms, trying to keep from stumbling around.
with enough pouting and the cringe sound of polypropylene smacking against the floor, you persuade him to only take three back with you and come back next week for more. (let’s be real, though, he’s coming back the next night cuz he’s very overzealous).
so, anyway, you’re sat there flicking popcorn into your mouth, watching a new damsel shrill her head off as she’s prepped for an allegorical murder that could’ve really just been sex on screen, and marko looks at you. but it’s more than a look, he’s reading the curves of your face, as if something was on his mind.
so you give him a quick glance to indulge, flashing a dismissive smile, and mumbling an absent “what?” under your breath, not expecting much of it.
however, “i really wanna kiss you right now” is what he replies, almost gravely. a furnace was lit in you after that. it was the most romantic, and concentrated, you’d ever seen him. and that was that. you end up with his body over yours, making out for the rest of the movie(s), curdling screams, blood spurts, and all.
the session was definitely enough to keep you entertained because kissing marko is so fun! (and full of tongue). he explores different ways to lick and bite your lips until they’re swollen and ripe. he’ll play with your tongue and twitch at the hips when you suck on his own. he’ll laugh and smile against your face, grabbing your chin to force your mouth open so he could further ravish you and leave you utterly tingling.
he’s wild, really, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
370 notes
·
View notes
Also have a fun little life update since it’s 8 AM (the time it is everywhere in the world right now) and I haven’t slept and my partner’s work alarm is going off—
Graduated from college in 2020(sad party popper noise). Studied theatre, visual arts, art history. Emmett Timeline OUT. Andrew Rose Timeline IN.
Started testosterone and changed my name AGAIN in 2020. Got FUCKING medicated.
Worked as a manager for FuckBucks for a few years, as I feel is a valid post-theatre-degree job, many arts graduates would agree.
Started an art business that’s currently on hiatus(for moving reasons). Made a few zines. Still doing that. Had a fun pagan spiritual awakening.
Saw My Chemical Romance and The Mountain Goats within a week of each other and came out a changed man(-adjacent).
Started dating my best friend from high school and we moved to our dream city with my college roommate, my cat, and my partner’s snake the week before I turned 25.
Moved from the mountains to the ocean with a brief(lol) stint in eastern Massachusetts suburbia(read:hell).
Quit smoking cigarettes. Started smoking cigarettes again. We grow and quit again, save for when heavy drinking is involved(read: rarely).
Working at a cool artsy downtown cafe with cool artsy people!! My partner works with vampires!! Dipping my toes into theatre again(slowly)(very slowly)(literally just got this job and don’t know how to schedule that around theatre schedules)(we learn and adapt).
I picked up my Doctor Who writing fixation like an old long-untouched sketchbook full of familiar-ish art that I want to sketch over, finish unfinished pieces, and try my hand at redoing old work in a not-very-changed style. I want to write old muses like I redo character designs.
I picked up my general Doctor Who hyperfixation and slammed it against a wall like a wet teddy bear for the satisfying sound it makes.
And I am, perhaps, actually, legitimately, most importantly, the happiest I’ve been in my 25 long and short years on planet earth.
(The Brainworms for the Master & the Doctor [both separate & together entities] never went away. The Brainworms for everyone else came back with a vengeance.)
15 notes
·
View notes