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milteine‌:

Mmm – did he see? She watches him carefully, blinking her long lashes and curling into his side, resting her cheek on his shoulder. She can smell his cologne. She wonders if he can smell it on her, too. He seems preoccupied to notice the little details.

“Ravishing,” she smiles, arms wrapping around his torso. “That’s a big word.” Yes. Her little reader. She will admit that the flattery gets to her. She realizes then that he seems a little too overdressed, and she slots her hand into his suit, wiggling over his buttons, almost questioning and curious in nature.

He likes what he sees. She knows that. Yet she still feels the urge to show off, hiking her bare thigh and throwing it over his lap: like she did in the car. “Hi.”

He smiles, all teeth, more predatory than he’s felt in eons. Hands settle on her hips, tips of his fingers brushing against her bare skin. She’s so warm, her hands leaving tingles in their wake even with the layers between her and him.

“Hi.” He rests his forehead against hers as his eyes flutter close. Everything feels so much more like this. All his senses heightened. Mm, a hint of sandalwood is mixed into the scent he loves. His fingers dig into her hips now, pressing into her softness. Teal eyes shimmer as he gazes into honey. “You’re wearing my cologne.”

The fire grows in his gut. No panties, wearing his shirt, his cologne, playing with the buttons... He sacrifices one hand on her to help with said buttons, popping them open one by one.

“I like it.”

#milteine #thread

milteine‌:

There’s those eyes again. Hungry. Consuming. He’s a demon, isn’t he? Demons are sinuous in nature. She feels her chest tighten, and she mourns the idea of leaving Killian’s side for even a moment – spurred on by the wine and the sweets and the warmth – but she has the idea of teasing Killian.

“Ok,” she says sweetly, presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He tells her where his closet and such is and she slinks her way away from him, lifting her dress to bounce her way up the winding stairs and into his bedroom. At first she pokes around, caught up in how big his bed looks.

Everything is luxurious and rich. But there’s also a softness, a warmth that she doubts resides in most homes. Caramel tottles her way into his walk-in closet, toes wiggling into the heated floors, pulling open drawers and seeing a cozy-looking sweater. The dress comes off with ease, pooling around her ankles as she steps out of it, and she pulls the sweater over her torso, fluffing out her hair.

Hmm. Caramel looks at herself in the mirror, spinning, cocking her hip. Her eyes glint mischievously. The sweater is long enough… she wiggles out of her panties, spins in the mirror once more to double-check. Mhm. He won’t notice.

She puts on some fuzzy socks too, and even presses some of his cologne on the backs of her ears. Down the stairs she goes, cheeks flushed for some odd reason. “You have a very nice house!” she tells him, before hopping back onto the couch to cuddle up to him again.

He mourns the loss of her, but takes the moment to dress down himself. He had a set of spare clothes in the bathroom, something cozy and not as restricting as a suit. He makes it out before her, but he expected as such.

The couch feels too big without her, though. It’s weird. He never thought that way before. He hears her footsteps, socked feet sliding against the ground. He smiles as he turns-- His eyes flash. She looks... Delicious.

He knew what he was signing up for when he suggested her using his clothes, but the reality is so much more wonderful. The sweaters sleeves come down over her hands, little paws, the hem goes down, covering part of her legs. But not all. So smooth, so bare. Free to look and admire all he wants. She raises a leg, and his eyes travel up with the sweater. Is she-- Is she not wearing--

Hunger. All consuming hunger boils in his gut. It tingles in his fingers, the desire to reach out, to grab, to touch, to feel and never let go. To bring her to the heights of pleasure, a pleasure they denied themselves in the car. It all comes racing back.

He opens his arms up as she hops back over, eyes still glued to the shape of her ass for even the smallest glimpse.

“You look ravishing.”

#milteine #thread #gobblegobble

milteine‌:

She likes anything sweet, really. She folds against his side like she’s made to be there – something so undeniably soft. She gazes up at him sweetly, the proximity bringing warmth. His jaw is so perfect. And at this angle, she can see the hint of a double-chin. She cranes up to kiss it. “My favorite is double chocolate chunk,” she tells him.

She opens her mouth when he offers, and she takes the ice cream off with a grateful hum. He bought the expensive kind, too! She takes her own spoon, and mirrors the action, holding it up to his lips. “Your turn.”

The kiss has him smiling, face heating up. She’s so... So her. It fills his chest with warmth, soothes away any aches or sores. He opens his mouth with a small “ah.” The ice cream sums her up perfectly: the epitome of sweet.

He looks down at her, so sweet. His sweetheart. His gaze flicks, the mind of a demon never at rest. From here, he can see perfectly down her dress. It’s hard to ignore, has the heat inside burning lower than before.

Another spoonful is raised to her lips as he turns his gaze away. “Would you like to change?” She does things to him that no other can. “You can borrow some of my clothes.” He turns back to her, letting himself appreciate her in this dress one last time. “As jaw dropping as you look, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

And maybe a part of him wants to see her in his shirt.

#milteine #thread

milteine‌:

Oh, that sounds lovely! Caramel carries her shoes in one hand, the half-gallon of ice cream in the other, practically skipping her way to the sectional couch in front of the windows. The corner is big – two people could layout and lounge. She takes the invitation to do that, moving so she’s not wrinkling her dress, popping open the ice cream excitedly.

Ice cream is a treat for her. She hardly gets to eat it unless she makes it herself. She hasn’t quite mastered the art of frost magic, yet. “I haven’t had any in so long,” she expresses, big honey eyes wide as Killian takes a seat next to her. Caramel drops her shoes haphazardly on the floor and scoots closer to him.

He lifts his arm up, allowing her to curl up next him. He settles it around her shoulders, pulling her in the last little bit, so there’s no space between them. Only warmth. She’s adorable, and he’ll make sure she can have ice cream every day of her life. He can’t see it being that accessible out in her cottage, and considering this all started with her being unable to pay for a book...

“Next time I’ll make sure to get flavors you like,” instead of his left over ice cream. He’s glad to see her open to eating from the container, because he honestly forgets that bowls exists sometimes when it comes to ice cream.

And, he really wants this to be a nice place for her. It may be away from the forest of her heart, but perhaps it can carve out a small place there. A refuge.

He dips a spoon into the softness. It’s not a frozen chunk, thank goodness. Just enough give to it so it looks effortless as he holds it up to her mouth. “I hope you like mint.”

#thread #milteine

milteine‌:

She doesn’t have much of a choice, does she? Before she knows it, he’s on his knees, checking her irritated skin and kissing her. She swallows at the sight of it. “Careful,” she tells him. “We’ll skip dessert at this rate.” She leans down and kisses him anyway, a chaste, sweet thing.

He’s so tender with her. Her chest feels warm, in a different way than before, and perhaps she’s growing emotional – but she has the urge to spill everything to him. Tell him all of her. Show all of her scars. Instead, she stands up from the stool, bouncing her way to the fridge while taking off her shoes.

He doesn’t have much. But, in the freezer, she spots mint chocolate chip ice cream. Bingo! “Where are the spoons?”

He watches her go. How can someone make him so hot yet feel so soft inside? He raises to his feet, surprisingly... content with the turn of the night. Not even 10 minutes ago he was ready to ravish her in the backseat of his car, but now... Now he’s happy to grab the spoons for her, a drawer to the right of her.

He brandishes them with a smile. “There’s a couch in the other room,” he inclines his head towards where it can clearly be seen. Large and floofy. Perfect for curling up and reading a good book. “There’s a nice view of the city too.”

The idea has him softening further. Curling up with her, eating ice-cream, holding her close. Dot a bit on her nose and hear her giggle.

#milteine #thread

milteine‌:

As they ride in the elevator, she begins to calm down, her skin going from searing to cool – she takes a breath. “I’m sure it will,” she tells him, her fingers still entwined with his. The doors open with a chime, and she makes a gentle sound, leaving his side to inspect the glossy black floors and walls. It’s dark in the apartment, but the floor to ceiling windows are lit up from the city.

She takes another step forward, letting her dress trail at her ankles – and the tip of her toes slips against the tulle. She squeaks and falls forward, narrowly catching herself on her hands and knees before her face meets the floor.

She’s back up in an instant, brushing off her dress and wobbling her way to the open kitchen nearby. Her left knee burns. “You didn’t see that!”

He follows her quickly, reaching out towards her to help her. She doesn’t seem to keen for that, more happy to forget it happened. So he doesn’t touch, but grins to himself as he herds her to a chair.

“Let me check.” He pushes the tulle away from her knees before she can respond. There’s a red mark, rug burn of some sorts. He smiles, shakes his head. “Take it slow, sweetheart,” he looks up at her, eyes soft. “The place isn’t going anywhere.”

He places a kiss above the spot, soft and tender as he caresses her calf.

#milteine #thread

milteine‌:

Caramel doesn’t curse – but she’s close to it. She moans against him as she falls into his lap, her hips rolling in slow, little circles. He feels good. He feels so good. She curls her fists into his suit, kisses him feverishly, the anxiety from before thrown out the window as he says her name like it’s the last thing he’ll ever say.

The tension is peaking. Her legs quiver, nails digging into the base of his neck, their tongues dancing, their hands helpless and all over each other. She’s lost in it. Wading in a crimson sea.

And then, all at once, it stops. The car parks, and she breathes hard, dropping her head into the hollow of his neck. She feels him between her legs. Her head is spinning. Perhaps it’s a good thing it all stopped. Caramel pulls back, kissing him one last time. “Should we go get dessert, now?”

If she hadn’t pulled back, he would have continued kissing her, car being stopped or not. But she does pull back. He feels cold. So cold. The tension is fizzling away before his eyes, and he wants it back, nearly reaches out to drag her back in.

But dessert. He promised her dessert, and dessert is best enjoyed in bed, not in the back of a car. (Well, honestly it depends on his mood which he prefers...) He watches her, eyes on her ass as she clambers out of the car. Such a nice ass. He should have groped it more while he could.

He leans his head back, lets out a sigh as he rubs his eyes. He can do this, get out of the car, close the door, rejoin her side. He kisses her again, lingering, before leading them to the elevator. He lives rather far up, not the top most floor, but up there.

The elevator doors close, the numbers begin to rise. “I hope the view lives up to your expectations.” Perhaps she’ll like it so much he can press her against the glass and-- He bites his tongue.

Patience. Control.

The elevator dings, and the doors open.

#thread #milteine #nsfw

milteine‌:

She is sweet. She is soft. Yet she’s driven. When his lips meet hers, she presses back into him with a finesse she didn’t have before. His hand remains curled around his tie, her thighs tingling on the inside from his palm, warm and explicit. She feels like she’s under a spell. The broach in her hair thrums softly in reply – no. She’s not under a spell. She’s just really turned on. She breathes into his mouth, tastes him, tastes the wine, and something that’s distinctly Killian. Something that she’s been craving like a drug for the past week.

She makes a sweet sound, a mix of a moan and a sigh, and raises her hips, legs swallowing his center as her core presses against his side – she releases a whine at that. “Killian,” she urges him, a whisper, lips sticking to his jaw, his neck. “Killian.”

“Fuck.” He grabs her by her waist, magic mingling in his human form to lift her, place her squarely on his lap. It should be illegal for her to say his name like that, for her to affect him like this. He aches as he coaxes her legs to press on either side.

One hand slides down her back, urging her hips forward against him. His other hand directs her lips back to his. As much as he loves her against his neck, loves the idea of mutual marks, he wants to swipe his tongue against her lips. Taste her as much as he can in this cramped little space.

“Caramel.” He pants into her mouth, aching for more and more. He’s greedy, so greedy when it comes to her. He thought he was content in life, but without her... He kisses her again; he needs her.

#milteine #thread #nsfw

milteine‌:

The atmosphere changes. Before it was rosy, sweet. Now it’s decadent. Dark, rich. She feels a fever clutch at her chest, her head swimming, hazy. She looks up at him, seeing but not hearing the words that spill out of his moving lips. The car turns, smooth like butter. “I do,” she admits. She’s dreamt of that kiss. What would’ve happened if she didn’t stop him? What would happen now, if she doesn’t stop him? She doesn’t want him to stop.

He’s challenging her. That’s how she sees it. The lights of the city dance across his smooth, perfect face. The world zooms by, and for some reason, her eyes narrow down to nothing but him. The way he takes up space, with broad shoulders and full lips, how his hair cascades down his back in a dance of black and blue. She swallows, releases a heavy breath, nearly overwhelmed – but in a good way. She likes this feeling. The feeling of teetering on a tight-rope, one side safe… the other dangerous.

She curls her hand around his tie, eyes glued to the column of his throat, and she shifts, the fabric of her dress sliding on the leather seats as her smooth, creamy leg drapes itself across his lap. “I don’t know,” she tells him, tugs him forward, close – but not close enough. Their breaths mingle. She gazes up at him through her thick lashes, a vision in pink, her eyes like two transfixing snakes – curling and snapping at him.

“Can I?”

He laughs, more a pitched exhale than anything. A shiver runs down his spine, the air around them warming up. He adores that look in her eyes, how she meets his challenge, turns it back on him. It reminds him of-- no. Caramel is here, not him.

And he loves that she’s here. He places his hand on her ankle, trailing his fingers along her soft skin. It feels... Goodness. It’s otherworldly what she does to him. He’s envious of his own hand! Would prefer to kiss up her leg, over her thigh, dipping inwards. But no. His lips are spoken for as she tugs on his tie.

Patience. He is patient. He takes his time.

He kisses her. He lost his own challenge, but it comes as no real surprise to him. His fingers curl in her hair, tugging as his teeth graze her lip. Patience is for other souls. Not now. He wants to drown in her, to tip her over the edge and bring her with him into absolute pleasure.

#thread #milteine

What Were Your Hands Meant To Do?

Nourish

Maybe you should invest in flour. You work, work hard and sometimes you feel like that’s all you can do. That it'll never pay off. But there’s no greater feeling than to see the joy you bring to others, to see them succeed with the tools you gave them. You may not be a leader, but a leader’s spine, shoulders, ribs. You are the dawn before the sun. It’s sweet, too sweet, but it’s better than nothing. You are endless golden fields, salt of the earth, and the lives of all who devour it.

Tagged By: @milteine <3

Tagging: I got two of you, Kay who @’d me and @vampirekilling who she also @’d xD

#Mun Talks #Killian Meta #if ya feel like doing it go right ahead!#no pressure either way

milteine‌:

He’s craving something sweet. Her mind reels – she should’ve packed some extra little things in her bag. And then it strikes her he may be talking about something else. Her heart thuds like a sledgehammer in her chest. She fears he may hear it. He leaves a substantial-looking tip – and she swallows as he escorts her out of the building. Her belly is full. Her chest flutters with a mix of anxiety and excitement. The good outweighs the bad.

He has a hand on the small of her back as they make their way towards his car – pulled up by his chauffer yet again. She swallows. In the restaurant, the only thing stopping them was distance and publicity. That isn’t the case anymore. They’ll be crammed together in a dark, leather car. However nervous she is, she slides into the back-seat, not bothering to cover up her thighs this time as Killian gently closes the door for her.

Caramel takes the brief moment he isn’t with her to take a deep breath. Wiggle around to soothe the pressure between her legs. And then the door is popping open. She looks at him as he slinks into his seat, and not soon after the car rumbles to life.

As he walks around the car he loosens his tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons. He runs hot naturally, but she has him sweating. Acting all sweet and innocent, which she is, and yet she’s simply... delectable. Her dress, her hair, the light in her eyes. The way her foot pressed against his...

He easily slips into his seat. He wants to see all of her expressions, every single one. How far will that blush go? His eyes dip down to her legs, up her thighs. He smiles, eyes somewhat lidded; she’s not hiding them anymore. And cleanly shaven. Hm, what else has she shaven? Not that he minds either way. As long as he’s allowed to touch, to feel.

Their arousal hangs thick in the air. He presses closer, their knees brushing despite the room they had earlier. A spark lights through him at the contact, demonic nature feeding off it already.

“Do you remember our first kiss?” He leans forward, playing with a few stray strands of her hair. He does, very well. “You asked if you had to do that yourself.” He leans in closer, eyes tracing her lips before flitting up to her honey rich eyes. “Do you think you can?”

It’s a bit of a challenge, a bit of an invitation. They can go as far as she wants in the car. As far as she wants in his home. He caresses her cheek; please let her want to go far though. Please.

#milteine #thread

milteine‌:

Don’t drink too much. It echoes in her ears, but she gives a smug, almost bratty look as she takes another sip. As time passes, her foot creeps under his suit pants, the soft skin of her ankle grazing against his flesh. She pretends like she’s not doing anything at all, snacking on their appetizers until the pasta arrives. Then they share it. She’s giggling, the wine affecting her though she doesn’t realize it – her leg presses against his.

He spins the pasta onto his fork, and she watches, second glass of wine emptied into her belly, making her warm from the inside out. There’s a steady, heady pulse at the base of her spine – spreading outwards, curling around her thighs and her ribcage. She watches him, drinking in every little movement he makes, every sound and sigh. She’s on hyper-alert. Excited. Aroused.

She leans forward, obeying him without a second thought, breasts half on display as she opens her mouth. His two fingers cup her chin, flawless teal eyes focused on her. Her. All hers. Her heart sinks between her ankles – as if she’s on a roller-coaster – when he licks the corner of her full mouth.

Oh. God. She takes the pasta regardless, falling back into her booth with red-hot ears. She feels… squirmy. Her legs press together for friction under the table, and she licks her lips, averts her eyes as he speaks. His place. Oh, goodness. This is what she was waiting for – yet the reality of the situation makes her skin sear. In a good way. She likes it. God, she likes it.

“I would like that,” she tells him.

Her burning arousal sings in his mind. Even if he couldn’t sense it, taste it on the back of his tongue, everything about her sings that glorious chorus of need. So shy. So demure, and yet her eyes flick back, her tongue darting over her lips. He can feel when her legs shift to press together because his foot is still against hers.

Two fingers held up, beckoning for the check without words. His gaze dips over her breasts, so hard to look away when she’s starting to flush. Will it reach down there? Or stay on her cheeks and ears? Will it travel even lower yet? He can’t wait to find out, his own gut swimming with desire.

“I’m craving something sweet.” Something very sweet. Laid out and given everything she desires. That sweet.

He doesn’t count the bills as he places them on the table. Whatever is left can be a tip (a very hefty one considering he carries nothing less than 50s). He rises, steps over to her side of the booth. “Ready, sweetheart?”

#milteine #thread #eyebrow wiggle #Caramel got anything sweet for Killian?#xDD

milteine‌:

He looks at her like she’s the best thing in the room. She hides her face in her wine glass, before taking a piece of bread, having ordered double the carbonara for the both of them. She takes a bite, the flaky bread crunching under her teeth, and she hums. It tastes like home. “Have some,” she gestures.

She can get a bit carried away when it comes to food. But tonight she’ll try to eat little by little. And a mess it certainly would be – she’d give up on cooking in favor of bringing him to her bedroom. She blushes at the thought, hiccups from the wine, places a hand over her chest and gives a sweet smile.

“It would,” she agrees. But something tells her that’s not all he’s thinking about. Perhaps she’ll find out later. The image makes her blush again.

“Careful,” his voice is low, sultry, “don’t drink too much.” His eyes say he doesn’t mind. Indulgence is something he can never judge. Plus, it’s just so cute how she hiccups, hand on her chest as if taken off guard.

Dinner passes like that, their feet tangled together, playing. His eyes hardly leave her, even as they eat. He holds out a fork spun with spaghetti. Emboldened, he coaxes her forward. “You have something right... a little closer,” he cups her chin, crosses the distance. His tongue presses against the corner of her lip.

The sauce tastes wonderful.

“I have several desserts at my place, if you’d like to finish there.” He’s smirking, raising his wine glass to his lips. Cool and composed exterior, hiding the ache that’s been simmering the whole night since he first saw her come down the stairs.

#milteine #thread

milteine‌:

She preens, skin tingling as he plays with her other foot. How romantic. She’s never played footsie before. She finishes off her wine and is probably too quick to pour another one, but this time she swears to take it slower. “I can’t imagine you doing well in the kitchen,” she chides, voice sweet. “Bread isn’t exactly easy to make. Though it would be amusing to see you knead dough.”

Preferably shirtless. She gives a cheeky grin to herself at that, foot continuing to rub his shin. She hums to herself, looking at his expression. “What?” she asks, entirely curious. The food comes then, too, sliding onto the table. There’s a softness to her voice. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” he smiles as he sips his wine. He’s still on his first one, not that he opposes her drinking her fill. It does taste good. He can tell when a pout is about to form though, smile turning softer as he places his glass down.

“I was thinking about us trying it,” his foot travels up, teasing the back of her calf. “I’m not good in the kitchen, as you guessed, but it’d make you laugh, wouldn’t it?”

His mind betrays his original innocent intentions. They’d be barely dressed, apron covering her breasts, himself only in slacks. He leans back, looking her over. He can’t resist. Many of his mishaps would be because of that, because he was watching her instead of the food.

Would she watch him too? Oh, the mess they’d make.

#milteine #thread

milteine‌:

Her foot trails up and down his shin as she sips some more on her wine, slow and careful – though she has a habit of getting carried away when she drinks. She hums, head swimming with memories. Her mothers’ gentle laugh, her cadence, her fingers on Caramel’s tiny hands, guiding her. She has a distant smile on her face. “I have,” she tells him. “My –” she starts, looks up at him, sheepish.

“My mother,” she finally pushes out. Talking about her makes her heart clench, but she wants to tell Killian everything. “When we were living together in Sicily. We ate and made our own Bruschetta.” Everything from the bread, to the home-grown tomatoes.

He gives the lightest shiver as her foot travels. So bold... He smiles lightly as she reminisces. There’s longing there. He can only guess why, but it’s not his place. He’s happy enough to have this little tidbit of her life before the forest.

“Then you’ll have to tell me if their Bruschetta is up to par.” His other foot, the one not being caressed by hers, teases against her ankle. “If it’s not, we’ll have to make it ourselves.”

Which, considering he’s not sure the last time he cooked, might end up even worse than the restaurant. But it would certainly have her laughing at his cooking misfortune. He’d distract her from it, one way or another, but his efforts to distract her would make her laugh louder, pure happiness even when the food accidentally burnt.

He’s getting ahead of himself, but he doesn’t stop the dopey smile on his face.

#milteine #thread

milteine‌:

She’s glowing. At least, she feels like it. Her cheeks are tingling from how much she smiles. She can’t help it when she’s around him. He’s so sweet, so giving. Her foot toys with the edge of his shoe as she keeps her eyes down at her menu. “An appetizer to start with, then?” she asks him. “I recommend Bruschetta.” Though in this place – it isn’t entirely traditional, the ingredients mixed around to be more luxurious and expensive.

“And the Caprese salad.” The wine comes in, poured expertly by the waitress – who takes the order of two appetizers from Caramel to start out with.

She sips on her wine, eyelashes fluttering. It’s complex. Woodsy, with a hint of sweetness. She meets his eyes. She has the thought that he picked out a sweet wine for her, but she blinks it away, cheeks warm. “Italians, as I’m sure you know, make the best pasta. Maybe we can share some.”

She fits in so easily, fitting into the scene with ease. He knows she’s Italian, but the air she conducts herself in this setting, it’s like she’s experienced it before. Perhaps his little forest witch is more than she seems. He smiles, though. They have plenty of time to learn each other, and...

“Pasta sounds lovely.” Well that can start now, can’t it? “Have you made any of these before, or only eaten them?” Where did she eat them? Who taught her if she’s made them? Is it the same person who taught her to sew such beautiful clothing, or was it as self taught as that?

#milteine #thread

milteine‌:

Last name Phos. An interesting name. Caramel beams, his eyes on her like a weight she never wants to shed. They’re escorted to the back of the restaurant, a lovely little alcove, an arch of morning-glory over them, and a small fountain trickling, with little fishes that are blue and red.

Caramel sits in the leather booth, fixing her dress as she does so, and Killian follows, sitting on the other side. Menus are placed in front of them by the waitress – who seems enraptured with both of them. They look perfect together. “Would you like some wine to start with?”

Killian waves a hand. “Bring us a bottle of… say… 1934?”

1934? Caramel places her hands under her chin, gazing up at him. “That’s an old bottle of wine. It must be expensive.”

He shrugs. 1934, 1870, no matter the year, he can afford it. Even if his focus was on mortal stories and psychology, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been saving up a hefty amount of money over the years. “No treat is too expensive for you.”

And he means it. “That applies to your meals too. It may look like a lot, but I assure I can cover it.” And then some. He tends to leave hefty tips as well. He knows what it’s like in the tip industry.

She could order the whole menu and he would pay for it without complaint.

#milteine #thread

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