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i miss u... smooches, hope you're doing well, i love seeing you when i lurk on dash occasionally!!!!!!!!!!! ily<333
aaiyah, please! i miss you so much, and i smooch back! I'm doing extremely well, and I hope you're doing well too! hehe, well, the feelings are mutual! i love seeing you on my dash as wel,l and i will always wait patiently for you, hun <3 *smooches*
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it's off to hell we go. ( delia @ deidre )
❝ 🄾𝙝, p͟o͟o͟ . ❞ this city was such a 𝐛 𝚞 𝖒 🅜 𝒆 𝗿 ! ! it's like what ? a couple of … 𝘺𝐨𝘶𝘁ℎ𝙛𝑢𝙡 offender(s) can't play k͟i͟c͟k͟ ͟t͟h͟e͟ ͟c͟a͟n͟ anymore without the man coming in and breaking everything up . [ nevermind that said can was kicked through a predestination's window . ] accidents happen a l l the time.
❝ think we could outrun' em ? ❞
⋆˙⟡ ؟ accepting !!
There is a rancid echo to his shrill whistle; something vague though intangible, wrought with a poisonous confluence of pride and sin. It rang between the gullet of their shared alley like the cackle of an old coyote through desert dunes, foreboding and yet, lonelier-still than the moon, @openbleeding, 𐚁.
A mockery of emotion: the shadowed brute looks over one shoulder and then the next in a mimicry of disbelief. A dull fire harkens from the arid edge of his lower-lip, smoke chasing his grin like a specter from the grizzled edges of his face. Lackadaisical fingers with steel-pinched joints dip the storied brim of his hat — one nod was all he needed. And then a second whistle grazed the polluted air. "Now.. I know what they say 'bout city girls, I do, but I wasn't expectin' much. They're too prim for my tastes, I like 'em with an edge." Silver canine gleams from within a portrait of white teeth. "But I didn't think they had 'em like you walkin' around. Shit, I'da graced the metro-politan years ago.."
"But I'm an old dog now." With too much hunt left in 'im, he thinks. The instinct to grab for ol' faithful burns through the aluminum joints of his cybernetic arm but he remains unmoving, posed languidly against the grime-bitten brick above a sea of rotten cardboard and discarded litter. "You know what they say 'bout old dogs, honey..?"
[...] A purposeful stagnation.
"Well... I won't spoil it for you."
❝ we’re not done yet. ❞ ( jean <3 )
𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𐊔 ᴜsғᴡ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛs.
this was their third time today & emma loves her more and more their bodies came intact. she was so shy, her firebranded redhead. to see her bookworm blossom like a flower from emma’s touch, made every moment worth dying for. but this time she demanded the blonde to lie back, to rest and allow pleasure to numb her mind. teeth sink into a swollen bottom lip, hands wandering up her own white cashmere button up in utmost anticipation. it was a few sizes too large, occasionally used as a business causal dress allowing long legs to be the focal point. their desires met frequently as both a way to quiet the static noicse thanks to telepathics at play. “ my my, look who wants to play .. ” legs spread for her partner, giving a full display of pink soft lips hidden behind white lace, ready for her touch either with curious digits or tongue. “ i know, you can’t stop thinking about me. it’s okay darling . the feeling is mutual. ” teeth sink into a swollen bottom lip, feeling a gentle touch in the folds of lace as hips beg for digits to slip underneath. the heat sent her head rolling backwards, hands holding back long fire red hair from obstructing jean's mouth at play. emma's moans sounded as heavenly as she tasted - and she couldn't help from letting little noises out in show of gratitude for the pleasure. she wants more, of course. forever greedy when it came to her.
[ TXT ] : are we still fighting? ( wendy @ jack )
( text) i don't know, are you re ( text ) i'm not. i'm sorry. ( text ) i'll be home in an hour.
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@openbleeding LIKED for a LYRIC STARTER !
"Your mama calls me sometimes to see if I'm doing well-" words are mused lowly as she glanced down. "And I lie to her and say that I'm doing fine."
lyrics from a house in nebraska by ethel cain
'cara mia . . .' he exhales her name like a prayer, fingers still dusted with ash from the match he just lit for her cigarette. 'do you feel it? the night — how it wraps around the house like silk spun from shadows themselves. it’s not just darkness, my love. it’s invitation. a waltz waiting to begin,' he steps closer, as though approaching something sacred — which, of course, he is. 'every time i look at you, i am undone. ruined. reduced to a trembling wretch desperate for your gaze, your touch. you say the word, and i would leap into the abyss singing,' his hand lifts to gesture toward the window, to the storm rolling in. 'lightning dances for you, tish. the moon pales beside you. the roses out front tried to bloom today, but i threatened them with pruning shears. they know better than to compete with you,' a grin, sharp and boyish, curls on his lips. 'say you’ll join me for a duel at midnight. or a kiss in the crypt. or better still — both. i cannot go another moment without the divine agony of your affection,' a dramatic sigh. 'torture me, mi amor. i live for it,' @openbleeding / morticia addams.
@openbleeding 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 ; are these the same people that came after you last time? ( mindee )
“ what darling? maybe. i've honestly stopped keeping track as it bores me. i wouldn't worry your pretty head over it. i'm sure your father is already tracking the imbecile as we speak. ”
