&. ONE KILL;

‘𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐫,’ 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘺.

[veuvebise]

hello! all threads on this blog have been dropped (unless requested otherwise!)

I HAVE MOVED TO:

                                          SCRIVENEUR

[veuvebise]

countrywestern·:

@veuvebise·· asked:      ↪protective sentence starters

“Don’t ever let me go.”

     She was still drenched — soaked from torrential rain that relentlessly ravaged the outside of his bleak motel room as the two sat in heavy silence upon the floor where the woman first collapsed. The cold titanium plate of prosthetic fingers swept deftly through hair to find the nape of the woman’s neck, a tug to pull her deeper into the gunman’s chest she earlier found refuge in; an attempt to comfort in her wretched state.

     Her words were said as arms wrapped tighter around Jesse’s waist, as if begging for safe keeping — past the physical meaning of her demands, he felt so goddamn useless. That night has been a nightmare he has been forced to relive time and time again. And no matter the outcome of today, tomorrow morning would be another day of repeated tribulation. There is no escaping — he can never forget.

          This was her desperate cling to, what he thought to be, one of few things that kept her tethered to this alternative reality of hers — himself.

     He can’t promise her safety, he can’t promise she’ll never experience that pain again — the only thing he can promise is he won’t let go.

     He leaned into Amélie, chin resting atop her head as he hummed his assurance; doing everything in his power to avoid seeing the plea in her eyes, an insufferable weakness of his. “They’d have t’bed me down before I’d let that happen.” Jesse paused, moving to more cradle the other in his arms to better cement the idea with a gentle kiss to those dark, silk-like strands he’d come to love. “You an’ I both know, I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I’ll be right here.”

          He can’t leave,                he can’t do that to her,                                    — not again.

to  show  up  here,  in  some  backwater  motel  in  the  middle  of  a  torrential  downpour  and  into  a  web  woven  not  of  her  own  accord  was  a  direct  violation  of  all  the  conditioning  talon  had  done  to  her.  mustering  the  will  and  independence  alone  was  a  feat  she  thought  might  break  her  weary  soul,  but  the  ballerina  trapped  in  the  vestiges  of  this  ice  cold  body  railed  against  the  possibility  of  being  forgotten  once  again  -  railed  against  the  idea  of  having  to  undergo  the  same  tortuous  excursions  to  undo  what  had  so  carefully  been  pieced  back  together.  amélie  had  slipped  before,  had  gotten  through  the  cracks  of  talon’s  flawless  conditioning.  each  occasion  would  result  in  a  weeks  worth  of  the  same  brainwashing  she’d  undergone  before,  and  each  occasion  she’d  wake  more  desolate  than  the  last. 

despite  the  horrors  she’d  undergo,  despite  actually  feeling  a  dislike  of  that  treatment  -  widowmaker  usually  underwent  it  without  much  of  a  struggle.  what  was  there  worth  living  for  anyway?  there  was  no  need  to  feel.  talon  might  as  well  make  use  of  her  talents  before  she  inevitably  met  her  demise.  and  then  jesse  mccree  had  waltzed  back  in  her  life  and  now...  now she  had  something  to  cling  to,  someone  to  cling  to.  and  for  the  first  time,  when  she’d  gotten  that  ding  on  her  comm  -  a  summons  to  the  place  she  knew  it  would  all  take  place...  she’d  ran. 

it’s  his  fault  really.  she  hadn’t  been  able  to  kill  him.  multiple  times  she’d  had  ample  opportunity  to  do  so.  but  she  just...  hadn’t.  perhaps  because  in  jesse  mccree’s  presence  she  didn’t  feel  so  dead,  didn’t  feel  quite  so  cold.  he’d  invoked  memories  from  within  her  she  had  thought  long  lost  to  the  void...  and  even  an  inkling  of  feeling.  so  she  chased  the  high.  over  and  over  again,  until  he  became  her  safe  haven  -  and  now  she  was  here,  on  the  floor  of  his  motel  room,  wet  and  shivering  and  she’d  actually  been  afraid,  actually  been  crying.  she  felt  and  she  felt  and  she  felt  and  for  a  moment  she  was  so  scared...  until  a  honey  silk  voice  filled  her  ears  and  his  warmth  was  a  beacon  of  sun  against  her  chilled  and  damp  flesh. 

she  shivers  against  him  -  a  combination  of  being  overwhelmed,  and  actually  a  little  chilly  for  once  (anyone  else  would  certainly  catch  their  death,  but  not  amélie).  for  awhile,  she  simply  remains  there,  tucked  against  his  chest  and  inevitably  dampening  him  with  her  soaked  bodysuit.  she  pulls  back  slowly,  not  quite  detangling  herself  from  him  but  allowing  their  gazes  to  meet  -  that  eerie,  predatory  molten  gold  of  her  eyes  made  softer  by  the  evident  tear  stains  to  her  eyes.  her  head  was  pounding,  no  doubt  a  result  of  the  onslaught  of  actual  emotion  that  had  overcome  her  -  but  she  couldn’t  look  away  from  him,  couldn’t  stop  the  gentle  fluttering  of  her  icy  fingertips  down  his  throat,  along  his  pulse.  safe.  she  was  safe  here. 

and  then  in  typical  amélie  fashion  she  sniffs,  shoulders  straightening  at  least  somewhat but  even  then  she  does  not  peel  herself  away  from  him...  and  quite  frankly,  it’s  hard  to  look  horribly  dignified  as  soaking  wet  as  she  was. “ you’re  a  stupid  man,  you  know. ”  her  accent  lilts  over  the  words,  but  they  hold  no  bite. “ ’ousing  the  enemy  and  taking  me  into  your  arms  as  if  i  couldn’t  have  killed  you  thirty  times  over  now. ”  a  moment  stretches  between  that  statement,  and  then,  surprisingly  -  she  tucks  herself  back  beneath  his  chin,  further  seeking  warmth  and  safety  in  a  tactile  manner.  her  hand  strokes  lightly  over  his  own  flesh  one.  it’s  as  close  to  a  thank  you  as  she  can  actually  get  to  saying. 

[atutcha-deactivated20230127]

Mercymaker sketch

[melamemea]

misc angst sentences.

“It… I … it wasn’t supposed — to be this way —”

“If I could take it all back… I would.”

“You have no idea how far I went — to save you.”

“Even if it means giving up my life, everything I’ve done, I’ll do it for you.”

“There are no limits when it comes to you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

“Close your eyes — I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“It was — it was supposed to end differently! It was — supposed to — no!”

“No — No, no, no, no, no — ! Not like this !”

“Let — go !”

“ Com— come back ! Don’t you dare leave me here !”

“I refuse to die here! I’ve come too far!”

“ Why do I have to be strong all the time? ”

“ Look at me! How can you call this dependable? ”

“ This is the exact reason why everyone I love leaves!”

“ There are so many sides to me that you don’t know. ”

“ All I ever wanted was to live a happy life… I wanted to be fine!”

“ There’s this thing about solitude. It gets to you. It eats you alive. ”

“ And sometimes we just gotta give up. ”

“ There are burdens on my shoulders that I can’t shake off. ”

“ Have you ever felt suffocated? ”

“ It’s the world is crumbling beneath me and I’m in free fall. ”

“ What I wouldn’t give to go back to the time where I had no concerns. ”

“ There’s this darkness in me… I don’t know how to explain it. ”

“ I’m hollow. ”

“ And then there’s this sadness. This raw, awful sadness that you’re too good to see. ”

“ You don’t deserve someone like me. ”

“ My past comes back to haunt me, and I can’t chase the ghosts away. ”

“ So many things went wrong in my life, and they keep on coming. ”

“ I don’t know how much longer I can endure this. ”

“ It hurts… every god awful day it hurts. More and more. ”

“ I can’t seem to outrun this. ”

“ Do you ever just wanna… give in?”

“ Should’ve gotten life right the first time. ”

“ They keep saying that this is all going to go away, but I don’t know about that. ”

“ Life is a god damn ocean and I have no idea how to swim. ”

“ It just doesn’t feel fair. ” 

[phantomemes]

credit .

‘ did it really happen if i can’t remember it ? ’ ‘ but you kept trying , didn’t you ? ’ ‘ how can someone be too young to be in love ? ’ ‘ i will never forgive you ’ ‘ you have been the star of each and every one of my nightmares ’ ‘ i’m sorry if i wasn’t the child you had in mind ’ ‘ i only ever wanted to make you proud ’ ‘ silence has always been my loudest scream ’ ‘ i used to think i was broken ’ ‘ i’ve always felt like a stranger in my skin ’ ‘ i still wonder who i would have been ’ ‘ i didn’t realize i could be my own knight ’ ‘ i’m not scared of the monsters hidden underneath my bed ’ ‘ some names will always be cursed ’ ‘ i have so much love to give , but no one ever wants it ’ ‘ in all my dreams i could find myself picking my teeth out of the carpet ’ ‘ i’m sick to death of everyone telling me how strong i am ’ ‘ death is one of the senses ’ ‘ children are not meant to die before their parents ’ ‘ fate is a fucking lie ’ ‘ everyone i love leaves ’ ‘ i’m terrified down to my very roots that there are parts of myself that can never be filled ’ ‘ fuck the idea that there is such a thing as destiny ’ ‘ the pain did not make me a better person ’ ‘ i burned the bridges to all the things i could not repair ’ ‘ i would thank you , but we both know you don’t deserve it ’ ‘ i bet you regret making an enemy out of me ’ ‘ you can hate me forever if that’s what you really want ’ ‘ hurting others is a choice ’ ‘ you can have my forgiveness but you can’t have me ’ ‘ please believe me when i say revenge was never my intention ’ ‘ i am strong enough for anything ’ ‘ i am so glad we were born during the same lifetime ’ ‘ i may not believe in fate , but i believe in you ’ ‘ i am allowed to live my life ’ ‘ do not waste a minute mourning me ’ ‘ maybe you should start treating people better for a change ’ ‘ it is a fucking tragedy when the world does not stop for you when you give it every last drop of your blood ’ ‘ your failures are just what happened — they don’t have to be who you are ’ ‘ you have to keep moving forward ’ ‘ don’t allow the world to take your kindness ’ ‘ you owe no one your forgiveness ’ ‘ love is never a weakness ’

[veuvebise]

i promise i’m still here! i want to revive my muse for widow so i’ve deleted all of my inbox and am gonna rebagel some new memes. feel free to send some in <3 i wanna get more interactions going.

[faremises]

ELECTRIC

[veuvebise]

i can uninstall overwatch now. i did it. i will never play widowmaker again i say as a queue another game as widowmaker.

[veuvebise]

she was  well aware of the dangerous game she played, dangling bait before the snapping maws of the beast and grinning a little each time she pulled it just out of reach. men were all the same in the darkness of her mind - weak, feeble minded creatures that succumbed to her hand one way or another... whether it be bullet or kiss. she had begun to count that maybe reaper - maybe gabriel - was like all the rest. certainly she still would have respected him as a partner, trusted him (as much as she could) as a technical superior, and now let their entwined histories bait her into the recesses of her mind, but... for him to fall into the category of simplicity would have been as unsurprising as it would have been disappointing.

fortunately for amélie, gabriel reyes was just full of surprises. 

she sees the anger brewing beneath his skin and relishes this newfound power... relishes something outside of the icy abyss of the lack of her heart. oh he’s frustrated with her, and she loves that... just as much as she loves how full she feels, how good it is to be seated like this and how long she’d yearned for such intimacy. even if much of that dangerous facade remained, the intimacy of their coupling eroded away at the line between amélie and widowmaker, until ballerina and assassin were both the ones quivering beneath his clawed fingertips. and quiver she did - the second that smoke started to arise. 

it’s a genuine expression of surprise as those whispered tendrils take on the task of additional hands, caress her in much the same way that he had been. amber hues widen at the firm grip at her hips, and widen still when more of the wraith slithers up her flesh to her throat, taking just the same grip there. perhaps were they not joined at the core, she could have hidden it - but she was prone against him, and the quiver of her body at the mere danger of it all is as blatant as she is nude atop him. it’s punctuated with a breathless sigh, a murmur of delight and anticipation as he drives up into her and she shudders again, tongue darting across the spell of kiss-stained tiers. 

this time, she cannot retaliate... this time he grips here in all the right places and amber orbs flash with both triumph and defeat... defeat because she had enjoyed being in power, triumph because this... this had stripped away the hidden allures of her ice coated emotions and was a high so similar yet so different to when she pulled the trigger. instead of her creating death causing that feeling of being alive, it was instead allowing death to take her in a way far more intimate than the removal of a life. and so she stares down at him, those perfect lips parting just a little further and eyes hooding just a little bit further. she arches her throat into the smoky grasp, lets those hues drift shut... and it’s a sign of submission. 

her hands wander then, this time to his chest, over the sculpt of his pectorals, his abdomen, the touch is reverent, almost pleading. if he was death, then this was the altar at which she worshiped. 

           “ then let us play, mon petit mort. ”

[oliviacolomars-deactivated20231]

Talon is a terrorist organization, serving as the main villain in Overwatch’s narrative. – Known Member: Reaper, Sombra and Widowmaker

[veuvebise]

she is lost in this endless well of pleasure - forgone in the abyss they had created between them. oh how divine their coupling could be, in all the wrong ways. there was no denying her attraction to him, no denying the sinful feeling that had blossomed so quickly between two lonely sinner’s souls who sought no retribution but only acceptance themselves. the irony of who she was doing this with was not lost on her. the irony of who reaper was all along wasn’t either. it was so typical a ghost of her past would be a ghost of her future, and now simply the ghost in her bed, but she would have it no other way. not when he touched her like that, possessed her with sharp claws, and grating teeth and ethereal rumbles. it drove her wild, eclipsed all the mundane encounters she’d had before and took over the remaining grasp of lucidity that she had. 

there was something innate about this encounter that made her want to worship him, something that made her want to listen and obey. but she would not, she could not, because in direct contrast with her neural conditioning, far gone was her penchant for obedience. now? only her urge to tease and to please remained, taking over each movement of her hips, each downward grind that had her breath hitching with every movement. it was the most intimate of acts, perhaps even greater than that of killing together, and god if everything about it didn’t feel amazing. and she could feel. she could feel this. it was something beyond pain, or knowledge. this was the apex of pleasure, that he so willingly gave her and that no one - not even talon, could take from her grasp. this was hers, and she could feel every bit of it. 

the thought is simultaneous with the upward slap of his hips, and her response is a blatant whine of pleasure. it’s coupled with the brush of his teeth to her jaw, the cut of that stubble, and the combined sensations of skin to skin, claws bruising flesh, warm lips on her face is incredible, the sweetest of drugs that has her panting and drawing to him. nails find the flesh of his shoulders, and they dig in tight - not quite hard enough to draw out blood, but rough and distinctly sensuous, because he has filled her to the brim and the sniper can focus on nothing else but the alluring sensation of their coupling, of the messy rhythm with which they move. she has pulled her chest from his now, raising herself upwards instead to offer him a full view of what she is doing. 

it’s a divine sight to behold, perfect body moving in a way that was sinfully graceful. fingertips crawl upwards, clutching wildly at the swell of her breasts and allowing her head to lull backwards, mile long hair flowing free as the pleasure overtakes her - singular bliss in her movements and her murmurs of sin, her encouragements to his movements. and then, of course, he speaks, and it sends a jolt of pleasure through her all on it’s own - his native tongue, the sweltering heat that is the sound of his voice. it would be enough to bring her to her finish there if it weren’t for a singular control and a insatiable need to always be the one to come out on top. 

she is pressed back to him again, having bowed forward once more to fall victim to delicious teeth and lips. the bathed attention and command... oh, it earns him a purr of pleasure, and a wicked laugh. and then, she ceases all movements, hips stilled, hands quiet. instead, her nose runs along his cheek, over his jaw, a surprisingly tender nuzzle and trail of sweet, sinful lips just barely along his own. her breathing is heavy, and amber gaze dark with her lust - but still, even now, with him inside of her and her body obviously quivering with the pleasure he has provided... she has the audacity to offer him a saccharine smile, and tender kiss to the lips. the replying movement of her hips is just as slow as before, if not slower. 

                    “ non, my darling. i don’t think i will. ”

[veuvebise]

@umbane​:  Glares at.

                      “ oh? ”

honey  intonations,  voice  like  silk,  as  she  reaches  outwards.  svelte  fingertips  find  the  curvature  of  his  jaw,  a  light  and  tender  caress  to  a  handsome  face.  down  her  hand  wanders,  over  his  abdomen  and  back  up  again.  he’s  terribly  tall,  fearsome  in  his  own  way,  but  widowmaker  has  little  fear  for  men  bigger  than  her.  on  the  contrary,  it  made  them  much  easier  to  squash.  and  so  she  lets  her  hand  wander  again,  this  time  over  the  curl  of  his  lips,  to  tap  lightly  at  plump  tiers. 

                 “ careful,  little  shadow.                                         look  at  me  like  that  any  longer                                                   and  i  may  start  thinking  you  want  something. ”

[veuvebise]

withspite​:

 “  oh  sugar,  i  don’t  doubt  that.  ”   no  doubt  held  towards  the  notion  that  her  bite  would  be  anything  but painful.  thoughts  he’d  rather  not  admit  to  in  regards  to  a  fine  lady  such  as  herself  had  crossed  his  mind  while  he  had  dressed  her  into  his  clothes  &  out  of  her  blood-soaked  ones.  even  more  so  when  he  was  practically  bathing  her.  now,  jesse  mccree  was  a  gentleman.  he  respected  her  as  much  as  possible,  covered  her  up  where  he  could  and  adverted  his  eyes  where  possible  but…  a  good  man  could  have  some  not  good  thoughts.  only  made  him  more  human,  right? 

 but  thoughts  like  those dissipated  only  moments  after  they  would  appear.  when  the  reality  of  his  choices  would  soak  deep  into  his  skin  and  send  shivers  up  his  spine.  it  was  quite  the  predicament  he’d  gotten  himself  into,  there  was  no  doubting  that  at  all.  the  predicament  came  even  more  gruesomely  apparent  when  he  caught  himself  looking  at  her  lips,  wondering  what  they  felt  like  —  wondering  if  they  too,  were  as  cold  as  she  was.  he  knew  damn  well  that  they  had  drifted  from  those  damn  eyes  and,  not  that  he  had  realised  it,  he’d  taken  a  subconscious  step  or  two  towards  the  bed.  he  was  thankful  that  her  stomach  had  let  out  the  noise  it  had ‘cause  mccree  was  walkin’  headfirst  into  the  web. 

a  throaty  chuckle  was  what  broke  his  unintended  silence,  made  better  then  his  precious  amalgamation  of  mmhmmm’s  as  a  response  to  her.  he  took  another  step  closer,  purposeful  this  time,  and  moved  to  sit  himself  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  just  out  of  reach  of  her  free  hand.  who  knew  what  she  was  damn  well  capable  of.    “  peckish or  starvin’?  ”   another  chuckle,  arms  crossing  over  his  chest  as  he  threw  one  of  his  own  legs  up  on  the  bed,  making  sure  to  perhaps  put  his  boot  a  little  too close  to  her.  “  what  kinda  food  you  like,  hmm?   ain’t  got  much  here  but  i  could  always  make  a  trip  t’town.  order  somethin’.  ”   he  didn’t  necessarily  like  that  idea  after  it  had  come  from  his  mouth.  brows  scrunching  a  little  to  knot  in  the  middle.    “  actually  no,  what  i  got  here  will  be  fine.  don’t  trust  you  an  in, la  croix.  ”    not  yet,  anyway. 

he  took  a  brief  moment  to  do  a  mental  stocktake  of  his  cupboard  &  fridge  contents.  beer,  steak,  corn  chips,  corn,  light  beer.  shit.  maybe  if  he  knocked  her  out  he  could  go  grocery  shopping.      a  hand  ran  over  his  chin,  fingertips  lightly  scratching  against  a  beard  that  desperately  needed  a  trim.     “  y’like  bacon?  ”

SHE DECIDES, RIGHT THEN AND THERE that perhaps she does not mind being called sugar, maybe even ENJOYS it just a bit. Or at least, she ENJOYS the way it falls from Jesse McCree’s mouth, as if she was actually a sweet little thing and NOT a ruthless assassin and wanted killer. But hey, Amélie liked to play pretend sometimes. SHE’D RUN WITH IT, and it shows in that curious way she watches him move, those amber eyes utterly CONSUMING and nonplussed at his gate. She does not HAVE it in her to be frightened of him (or anyone, really), on the contrary this was perhaps a more peaceful locale than her chambers back in Rialto. And then of course.... her CAPTOR was a little easy on the eyes, if not distinctly unusual for her tastes. 

The unfortunate thing for Jesse McCree is that she KNOWS he’s seen her next to naked at this point, and she KNOWS that she is god’s damned gift to men, and that does not STOP her from playing this game. Even if she IS starving, and even if she IS a little pathetic in this giant plaid shirt, this was a situation she could EASILY wrestle control from. So she offers him that saccharine smile as he drifts closer and CLOSER, deeper into her intricately woven web. Just a little more, she thinks, watching him with BAITED breath as he plops down on the mattress... JUST out of her reach. Instantly, her smile melts into a scowl. 

                      Well fine then. She’d up the stakes. 

She only HALF hears him, eyeing the boot that rests near her with some amount of annoyance. A sniff of INDIGNITY, and she moves again, like a CAT stretching after waking up from a long, long nap. Shapely legs extend, and with the grace only a dancer could possess, one is thrown OVER his lap, bending at the knee to lightly CAGE him beneath her thigh. The other extends forward just as slowly, her toes brushing lightly across the front of his shin repeatedly as she FIXES him with that beckoning gaze. Though her free hand can’t REACH him, she uses it in OTHER ways, running it absently along the expanse of her own inner thigh, and making a good show of CHEWING on her lower lip as she thinks of a response. Poor Jesse McCree. Instead of walking into the spider’s web, he’d simply BROUGHT the spider home with him. 

“ Do I like bacon? ” Amélie has to FIGHT to keep from scoffing. “ Of course I like bacon. Although it’s rather... messy. You’ll have to uncuff my other hand... or feed it to me.” She is WICKED again, leaning forward slightly. “ Which means coming just a little bit closer... ”

[veuvebise]

IT WOULD BE SO LIKE THEM TO TURN sex into a god’s DAMNED competition - but monsters were nothing if not PREDICTABLE. Perhaps that was part of what had magnetized their attraction, the well and good knowledge that though they were BAD people who had done HORRIBLE things at the behest of a shadow organization or their own RAGE, they could be GOOD to each other in these physical ways. And good... well, good meant GOING until neither of them could move, enticing levels of lust and AROUSAL that were unprecedented by either of their forms. Sexual EXPERIENCES were nothing new to them. but together what they could create was a SINFUL fire - devoid of all the trappings of death and instead filled with LIFE. Because when she TOUCHED him, KISSED him - and he reciprocated with VIOLENCE and PASSION... that was what she felt... alive. 

She’s SMUG, so terribly SMUG when he is beneath her, looking down at him with those blessed amber hues and unable to resist the smirk that dances on her kiss stained tiers. It’s wonderful watching him CRUMBLE beneath her fingertips like this - to RIP away the control the infamous Reaper wielded here and instead use it for her advantage. Sure, she would GLOAT about this for days - even if it would be JUST between the two of them. That battle of WILLS never ceased after all, even if it was about to culminate into something utterly BLISSFUL. 

“ Naughty words. ” She tsks lightly, a nail dragging LIGHTLY over his own nipple. Amélie thinks to tease him further, to BOTHER him more (how much before he just snapped and took what he wanted from her?) but those large hands on her shapely rear, the FORCE of that grip... He MAKES her listen to him, in both words and body, and she is not above the gasp of surprise that leaves her, body going TAUGHT with pleasure at the sudden wave of friction and promise of how he would feel inside. That smug gaze has MELTED to molten, and she instead regards him through lashes thick with lust. “ I don’t think I’ll be shutting up either way. ”

One hand MOVES behind her, and she GRIPS him lightly, svelte fingertips curled around aching hardness as she draws UPON her knees - a few breathless moments PASSING between them while she waits, with baited breath. And then finally, FINALLY, after a few anticipatory shudders and SWEEPS of her hips, she sinks down onto him - INCH by INCH by INCH. It is PLEASURE and TORTURE in a simultaneous gesture, Amélie’s control in over drive just forcing her eyes to stay open to watch those handsome features - but soon, soon she finds her gaze drawing shut, until AT LEAST she’s seated upon his lip, engulfing him in his entirety, and allowing her head to lull back in PLEASURE. 

She stays like that for what feels like an ETERNITY, adjusting to delicious intrusion and allowing herself to become fully AWARE of the intimacy of the act they were committing. Another forever later, and she begins the SLOW process of circling her hips, the DANCER in her evident with the tightness and control in which she moves AGAINST him, eyes heavy with pleasure and her lips PARTED in delight. Fingertips rest upon his chest, before one hand moves to cup almost POSSESSIVELY at his jaw, forcing their eyes to meet as she raises up-up-up, and drops back down quite suddenly, providing them BOTH with the friction they’d been desiring for so long. That shred of control frays from her for just a moment when he’s hilted again, GONE with the quite desperate moan that parts her lips. 

Their mouths are centimetres apart again, her HIPS moving in that slow, torturous pattern once more. It’s clear it’s getting to her though, clear that she wants MORE in the way she has begun panting, pressing her BARE CHEST flush to his and shuddering with each downward movement, each DRAG of him inside her. But Amélie is stubborn, impossibly so, and so she litters the corner of his mouth with little kisses, letting their BREATH mingle and moans melt into passing tongues. Still, she CLINGS to her facade of control - the murmur coming out from lips pressed so sweetly to his own. 

                    “ You were saying, my darling? ” 

[veuvebise]

spent all my spoons on my ashe replies... tonight or tmrw... i promise.... 

[rafaerucore]

widow for @firulaispng!

[jovial-juno]

I 

ache ache ache

for you