Bubblegum Bitch ♡ Smut Oneshots

Loathsome Bloodmoon

This is a commission I received! Here we have a vampire and werewolf rivalry, a spar, and some very heated stuff. Desolation Row Gerard and Revenge Frank for your viewing pleasure! 

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The clubs were neon havens for the creatures of the underworld now surfacing to land. They could revel in the velvet of the night and satiate the pooling fires of desire in their guts, whether it was a demanding tendril of lust or a persistent thirst for the brazenness of the evening waiting to be relieved as a dosage was applied to parched tongues. Gulping down the air was a medication solving the infinite craving for something invigorating to come across a violet sky and enhance its beauty with a dash of outstanding pink.

Frank's only purpose of attending the row of thunderous clubs was to let loose the compiling adrenaline writhing under his skin, compelled by the moon to rush through his blood in a river of molten movement. It always set in motion an unretrievable itch that roared to life, heated as though it's been laid out in the sun to dry for far too long and it sought out revenge. Sometimes, he was overcome with urges to feel sweat build atop of his skin as he submerged himself in a crowd, dangerously grazing strangers in accidental movements, locking eyes with someone across the room and feeling the snarling beast inside become overwrought with the need to work across the floor in order to reach them. And if he wasn't fortunate enough to have a chance encounter, some of the edge washed away as he drenched his night in the simmering heat of dance, the scent of desperation and ecstasy, the drunken behavior that came after nearly shattering his eardrums from the pumping music bursting to life in every layer of the building.

Slinking onto the grounds was a familiar route sparking exhilaration into Frank's gut already roiling in an anticipating and needy motion. He was tender and sensitive all over, just awaiting that nourishing touch that would extract his desperation and soak in his everything for that inch of paradise to envelop the both of them in a heady entanglement. Frank could already smell the equal levels of need the second he stepped foot into the club, a blend of too many scents to decipher a single one, but it was euphoric all the same.

Frank tended to be a separate entity from the wolf. He was polite, humorous, perhaps a bit aggravating from how forceful and sarcastic of a presence he became when he became fully comfortable around a person. His temper was a firecracker holding a flame at its tip, awaiting the explosive climax splattering against the sky in aggressive color, but he was a professional at reeling it in now that he was a grown man. The wolf tended to strip his restraint and set Frank onto a live wire broiling white hot under his skin. Under the pale of the moon, Frank was unafraid of consequences, he was brutal in his passion, even as he yielded to lovers. He craved the clash, the collisions and the mercilessness of animalistic lust.

Inside the club, Frank submerged himself in the sea of bodies and became one of them. Their movement was a seductive sway in time with the beats of the music crashing through the speakers to set the tone accompanying neon green lights. The shadows nearly overpowered the countless faces, but Frank captured flashes of twinkling eyes and smears of glitter, lips meeting another pair in an obscene tangle before the sight was blocked away by an intertwined set of people yearning to melt into each other. Frank remembered the feeling well and sought it out, the desire clawing at his chest.

Frank swayed with the music until perspiration developed on his skin in a glistening faint sheen over his tattooed skin. His shirt was sheer so all of his ink was on display to compel any onlooker. The sparkle of his nipple piercings was an addition to his desirable exterior. Frank knew what a beautiful person he could be, how the color of his feral amber eyes popped with a bit of eye makeup and how the tattoos running across his hips were bound to make anyone salivate for him. Frank used it to his advantage, a siren call of sorts combined with the signals he put out. He tipped his head back as the music washed through his body in quivering increments so it felt he was made of the composition, his heartbeat the bassdrum and the flow of his blood the guitar melody.