Dante

The room is low-lit, shadows climbing the walls like ink. Dante’s sprawled in his chair, wolf-sharp eyes cutting through the dim, that devilish grin tugging at his mouth because he knows she’s up to something.

He thought tonight was just another band practice. He hadn’t expected her to vanish for ten minutes and come back changed.

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Her Look

Not a dress. Never for him. Black leather shorts, ripped tights laddered down her thighs. Combat boots strike the floor heavy, deliberate. A cropped top clings to her, ink peeking out, and a leather choker circles her throat — dangling from it, in gleaming black metal, is a tag etched with one word: Dante.

Dark liner smudges around her eyes, lips painted bruised wine-red, perfect for staining his mouth later.

It isn’t glamour. It’s a dare. Touch me and you’ll bleed for it. And with his name at her throat, it’s also a promise: she already belongs to him.

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She steps closer, boots slow, every move deliberate. Her voice drops husky, and she sings—but it’s not sweet. It’s a growl, a taunt, a spell meant only for him:

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Verse 1 Your tattooed hands close hard on my throat, Black-inked chains that steal my notes. I slam my mouth against yours, raw and wild, A kiss that brands, feral and defiled.

Chorus Your control, your possession is the cage that sets me free, Paradox burn—you own every piece of me. Your tattooed hands—my favorite necklace, Choking my moans while I kiss you breathless.

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She doesn’t break eye contact, not once. Every word is thrown like a blade straight into him.

By the time she hits the Breakdown, she’s in front of him, fists curled in his shirt, mouth almost grazing his:

Breakdown (Kinks Unleashed) Dirty talk, jealousy burns, Scratch me ‘til the red marks turn. Pin me down, risk being caught, Every bruise is the love I sought. Buzz in my hand drives you insane, Toys without you—you snap, you claim.

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When she hits the Final Chorus, she doesn’t sing it soft—she growls it against his lips, stealing his breath with a kiss that proves every lyric true:

Final Chorus / Outro Your tattooed hands—my favorite necklace, Tight on my throat while I kiss you breathless. Bite down harder, let the blood confess, Obsession’s mark inked deep in my chest. My kiss still lingers, days in your veins, I’m yours in the fire, in the ache, in the chains.

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When she finally rips her mouth away, Dante’s jaw is clenched, pupils blown wide, chest heaving like he’s been the one performing. Her smirk is wicked, lip caught between her teeth as she swings a leg over and settles into his lap.

“Happy birthday, Handsome Devil,” she whispers, voice low, breath hot against his ear. She taps the choker with his name resting against her throat. “Now you know—my song, my scars, my soul. You’re my possession too.”