#lapsis unum

[yousaiddangerous]

I want the K.

Butterfly Kiss

The adrenaline was still buzzing through his veins as he leaned back on the couch. John could still feel his heart drumming in his chest and as he looked at Sherlock, his heart skipped a beat for an entirely different reason. The man looked debauched with his curls awry and his adam’s apple bobbing as he too rode the high of a chase that still played in their minds. Yet at the same time, his beauty was aweing. John moved his hand to Sherlock’s and placed it over his as he leaned against his cheek, still breathing fast. His eyelashes caressed the skin as he drank in the man’s scent and for the moment, John was completely content.

[rigamortician]

His brows knitted together, and he glanced at Grian a few times before finally asking, "Grian...why is your hand down my trousers?"

Our Muses are cuddled under a blanket watching a movie, when all of a sudden my Muse is feeling frisky and decides to slide their hand down your Muse's pants. Send me your Muse's reaction.

"AH." He blanched, and his hand immediately slid away from the other and settled on his own stomach, "I was just following the warmth and..." his ears turned red, but he did not take his eyes off of the screen, "I didn't mean to, honest."

[yousaiddangerous]

"I've been neglecting you, haven't I," he breathed against his neck, lips brushing over the sensitive flesh as he brought his head back around and he pushed himself up on one elbow so he could study John's face. He brought his other hand up to his face, tenderly cupping it, "I'm sorry, John," he whispered, "You have to know you're the most important person to me," he said, eyes casting down as he touched their noses together, before angling his head and taking John's mouth.

John’s fingers left the handle of his mug, replacing it back on the bedside table. His eyes shut. Had Sherlock been neglecting him? Yes, but John was used to Sherlock’s mind being occupied to puzzles, murders. John stared into Sherlock’s eyes and his smile was soft as he leaned into Sherlock’s touch. He nuzzled his nose to his. “I know,” he replied. He surrendered to Sherlock’s mouth. There were no apologies needed because John knew how important he was. He ran his fingers over his cheeks.

[daemonaraneae]

♚♚♚♚♚♚♚

Send me a ♚ if you like my writing.

OoC:

aaaah you are waaaaay too kind like eeeeep.

But I appreciate your kindness a lot <3

[daemonaraneae]

Stop! ((And John?))

send me “stop!” for my muse’s reaction to yours interrupting mine while killing someone.

Bullet in the chamber, Jim's gun was pointed right between John's eyes. The criminal's expression was cold, though a bit of fire burned in brown irises.

           "You've been getting in my way, Johnny Boy, and I don't like people who get in my way.                                So you'll just have to go."

One pale finger found it's way to the trigger just as a voice called from behind him. Jim's laughter rang out in the warehouse, echoing against the barren walls.

                            "And whyyyyyyyy should I?"

[yousaiddangerous]

"Come back to bed."

John froze and turned to Sherlock. He should have known that even if the detective did sleep it would be light. He swallowed. "...I didn't know how you'd have reacted if you woke up to me in the morning..."

[daemonaraneae]

Stalk

Send me “Stalk” if you are a proud stalker of my blog.

OoC:

Memeeeeeeeep

Thank you goodness gracious eafwegfad 

yOU ARE far too kind

[rigamortician]

✄

Blood. There was blood on his hands. Grian felt the compulsion to wash it. The slick warmth of it reminded him of times not too far into the past--or a time that seemed not too far into the past--and he was split. Somewhere between here and the streets of Chicago, he was split.

Time was a liquid crystal display and the floor was rushing up to meet him. Where was he? Who was he? What happened? Flashes of violence flickered through his mind. "Attacked," he murmured, aware of someone else's presence. The voice that came from his mouth was not his own. It was tenuous as piano wire wrapped around a delicate neck.

All the blood. Blood. So much..

"They know." The hoarse whisper that was not his voice came again and he quickly navigated somewhere to wash his hands, his body, something. Clean. Somewhere. Who was that with him again? Fred? No...someone else. Curly hair. Where was he? When was he?