Oli.
18+ Ravenclaw. Capricorn.
Welcome to whatever this shitshow of a blog has become. I occasionally reply to memes, reblog resources and generally yell in tags about wanting to write while being too intimidated to actually put myself out there again. Come love on me please thanks.
Kurt’s fingers skate along the others neck. The pulse strong beneath similar pale skin, and the porcelain male can’t help but to inhale deeply. His hunger drawing him closer, inch by inch, just wanting a taste of the sweet crimson flowing effortlessly so close but still out of reach. As it was taking every cell in his body to withstand the alluring lust for the blood still, he pulls focus away from the thrumming of a vein to find the other pair of eyes staring at him with trust and an unspoken love that he had yet to see reflected back at him. So vulnerable and open, waiting for Kurt to take the bite that would soothe the underlining craving.
“What are you waiting for?”Â
A stiff sniff, his fingers finding their way into the chestnut hair of his victim and letting his nails scrape against the thick scalp. Leaning in, tongue dragging along the others lips with a soft hum. “You.” Comes the purr, flashing a mischievous grin, cinching the corner of his mouth. “Need to really make you want this. It’s always best when you’re stretched thin, begging and pleading.”Â
He doesn’t find the eye roll response at all deterring or anything new. If anything, it brings out a low chuckle. Perhaps making his victim wait any longer was a little cruel. Smelling his blood pressure rise, the excitement and lust thickening in the air and distracting from the possible ice touch that Kurt had.Â
Kurt can hear Hedwig. Can hear the crack in her voice from the other side of the door. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Be touched by her. He didn’t want anything to do with her. Not right now. Not knowing that she had cheated - she had cheated on him with her deplorable ex. How could he get the image of that out of his mind? Their naked bodies pressed close. The sounds of desperation, and desire for one another as they rutted in bed. Their bed. His and hers. Not hers and his.Â
“I regret it all. I really do, I swear. Please, please– let’s fix this, please.”Â
Forehead resting against the wood of the bathroom door, he takes a deep breath. Willing himself not to cry. Not cry over this. Not cry over her. She made her bed. Let her lie in it - literally.Â
“You can’t fix something that no longer has pieces that fit.” He finds himself responding, eyes closing as he takes a deep inhale and allows the numbness to wash over. Drowning her pleading out for the time being, where he finds his way to the tiled floor, pulling his knees to his chest.
(incoming text from Puppy: What’s gonna happen if I don’t show up?)
[text]: I mean, it’s not like I can force you to show up, right?Â
[text]: Just means I’ll have to change out of the outfit that I put on specially for you. I’ll have to lock the door. I’ll have to go to bed early. Maybe masturbate to some unknown person instead of having the in-person interaction. I’ll come alone, without you. Then I’ll go to sleep.
[text]: But if you don’t show up, that’s your own choice.
   ⚡⚡  Under the cut are #94 gif icons of ROBERT SHEEHAN as Nathan Young in Misfits. The original material is not mine; I only resized and edited them. Please like/reblog if you find
them useful.
