#chvmpisms

" mmmmm, haha ... no. don't t' ink i will, " a scrunch of nose as mic remains at lips. fingertip taps chin in contemplation. " y'are going to 'ave t' make me. oh, wait! i forgot, i forgot! not everyone can be like me, the greatest to ever do it! " palm finds chest, all ego and self-righteousness. a shrug, brief-lived laughter follows suit. " i got better and better with time, but you - you ... " hand gestures towards mercedes. " not even y'er cousin could pay enough to make you the same caliber as me! "

Forgotten  son  does  not  know  how  to  ask  for  the  things  he  wants.  Recalls  the  harsh  reality  of  being  told  no  too  many  times.  Doesn't  even  matter  how  often  she  coaxes  words  from  him  with  the  kindest  of  smiles        ⎯⎯        scars  from  where  he's  been  burned  before  remain.  Still  leans  his  head  on  her  shoulder  whenever  they're  alone,  and  he  does  not  have  to  keep  up  the  facade.  Does  not  ask  ❛  do  you  trust  me  the  way  I  trust  you  ?  ❜,  nor  does  he  move  her  hips  with  much  more  gentleness  than  he  has  ever  offered  anyone  in  his  life.  Keeps  want  like  a  burden  in  his  chest.  Wants  her  thighs  around  his  head,  wants  to  feel  the  tremble  through  her  body        ;       wants  to  feel  the  way  he  makes  her  feel.  It's  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  being  used  sounds  beautiful  to  him.  Wants  to  be  so  desperately  by  her  that  he  shakes  from  it.

❝'st  be  glad  about  it.❞  It's  not  full  agreement,  but  it  does  nothing  to  reject  her  statement  either  with  sleep-deprived  slurred  words.  ❝You  wouldn't  have  liked  it  if  you'd  been  wrong.❞

It's   the   weed.   It's   so   the   weed   !   The   way   he   turns   to   liquid   underneath   her   touch       ⎯⎯       between   bedsheets   that   can   keep   a   secret   and   orange-coloured   stains   that   smell   strongly   of   the   cheapest   orange   chicken   he   could   get   his   hands   on   the   night   before   (   only   the   best   for   his   babydoll   !   )   It's   impossible   to   know   where   one   of   them   ends,   and   the   other   begins,   with   the   way   they   are   wrapped   up   together.   His   mouth   against   the   cut   at   the   corner   of   her   eye,   and   the   unsettling   rage   he   feels   because   of   it   in   his   heart.   Her   lips   against   the   sliver   of   silver   against   the   skin   across   his   collarbone,   and   the   sparks   of   electricity   in   his   spine   because   of   it.   ❝Should   have   seen   that   shit   when   it   was   fresh,   thought   I   was   going   to   die   the   way   I   bled   from   that   one.❞

" let's get out of here, lass. " words spoken under warm breath. all the while, digits move, acting purely on mindless impulse. they begin to discreetly toy with the very fingers which left phantom impression upon flesh of countenance. " unless ye' want to give 'em a real show. " becky teases, brow lifting menacingly.

@chvmpisms liv & ellis

he looks at her for a long time, belt stretched over his jittering knees. je'von rocks on his ankles, criss-cross, palms pressed hard to keep him stable, grounded. a hard thing for the two of them, but manageable in company. so much is changing for him, and so fast, too, that he can't quite manage to put himself all the way back in sol's shoes. "it's comin'," je'von says, with the conviction that a simple truth warrants. "they eat you and your girl up every time y'all show out. 'sides, you're killing it." he nods to both of her prizes, smile widening with each bob of his head. "you about to be sol-four-belts. biggest change is gonna be gettin' through tsa with all them."

❝ yeah,  yeah,  i  know  this  shtick.   ❞    he  said,  arms  raised  in  front  of  him  in  a  way  that  asked  her  to  spare  him  despite  that  being  the  furthest  thing  away  from  what  he  truly  wanted.    ❝   and  to  be  honest,  i  think  i  would  be  a  little  bit  disappointed  if  that  wasn’t  the  case.  this  whole  tough  girl  charade?   ❞    he  laughed  again,  finishing  that  sentence  by  letting  his  hand  softly  pat  her  on  the  cheek.  a  gesture  that  was  both  genuinely  playful  and  sweet,  yet  filled  with  mockery  at  the  same  time.