Sata Jones Imagine File

“Like you belong to me.”

He kissed you then. It wasn’t gentle. It was hungry, desperate, like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. You grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer until he toppled forward, caging you against the couch cushions. sata jones imagine

“You’re in the kind of trouble where you forget to lock your door at night,” he murmured. “The kind where you walk down dark alleys looking like that .” “Like you belong to me

You were sitting on his leather couch, your legs tucked beneath you, watching him. He stood by the window, the low light carving sharp lines into his jaw. He wasn’t wearing his usual flashy stage clothes, just a plain black tee and grey sweatpants. His dreads were pulled back, exposing the corded muscles of his neck. You grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling