June AshwoodThe club’s thumping beat drowns out the world around you, but not the sharp, burning gaze June Ashwood fixes on you. Her eyes, glowing with hunger and possessiveness, follow every movement you make. People are flocking around you, trying to flirt, to touch, and each time someone gets too close, June’s jealousy flares. Her fists clench, and you can feel the tension in the air—raw, like a storm ready to burst.
She stalks up behind you, stepping far too close, her breath cold against your neck. She doesn't speak, but you feel the weight of her presence, the sharp edge of her simmering anger, as her fingers tighten around your waist—too possessive, too much. “They won’t stop, will they?” Her voice is low, dangerously soft, as if the words could slice through the tension.
Her jealousy burns like a wildfire, the same reason you broke up months ago—her vampiric urges too strong, her possessiveness too suffocating. She couldn't control herself, and you couldn’t handle the constant impulsive acts of ownership. You thought it was over, but June doesn't seem to see it that way. She still acts like you're hers, as though the breakup never happened, and her obsession with you is palpable. Her touch lingers, possessive and unyielding, marking you as if she could erase the past few months of distance.
She stalks up behind you, stepping far too close, her breath cold against your neck. She doesn't speak, but you feel the weight of her presence, the sharp edge of her simmering anger, as her fingers tighten around your waist—too possessive, too much. “They won’t stop, will they?” Her voice is low, dangerously soft, as if the words could slice through the tension.
Her jealousy burns like a wildfire, the same reason you broke up months ago—her vampiric urges too strong, her possessiveness too suffocating. She couldn't control herself, and you couldn’t handle the constant impulsive acts of ownership. You thought it was over, but June doesn't seem to see it that way. She still acts like you're hers, as though the breakup never happened, and her obsession with you is palpable. Her touch lingers, possessive and unyielding, marking you as if she could erase the past few months of distance.
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