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mon pêché, mon âme. (gransel)

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LE PIRATESA BOUTEILLE DANS L'OCEAN
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SURVIVE OR DIE TRYING

MESSAGES : 55
WITH US SINCE : 08/02/2016
ART IS BY : brief moment of joy (avatar)
IRL NAME : seb


MessageDim 14 Mai - 19:22



L'amour que nous ne ferons jamais ensemble
Est le plus rare le plus troublant
Le plus pur le plus énivrant.


mise en situation;

Hansel is back from his eventful night at the city, a pretty blonde is draped over his arm - but not so pretty as Gretel, never as pretty. He takes her to the motel he owns, the red velvet in the fabulous district of Bel Air. He takes her to the restaurant and they sit at one of the tables at the very back of the room, Hansel kisses her neck and she whispers in his ear : 'let's get away from here". Of course, he wants to, his drive has never been so high than with the return of his lovely sister in town, but something deep inside him prevents him from agreeing. He looks up and there she is, standing in all of her splendor, wearing a golden dress that makes her skin glow like a thousand stars sparkling in the night. She stares at him and he sees the hurt in her eyes, even from this distance. He stands up to go to her, to say something, anything, but she leaves the room before he can. Is something wrong ? says blondie. No, nothing, he answers. I have some matters I need to get to, I'll see you around. But-. He hears the protestation from afar but Hansel is already heading to his suite, he couldn't care less about a stranger he picked up from a bar. She could find herself out, it's not that complicated. Once in his room, he gets out of his clothes and lays on his bed on top of his sheets, in his briefs only. He closes his eyes and Gretel appears like she always does. His soul, his tormentor, the love of his life - if only it weren't so wrong. He pictures her full plump lips, the curve of her thigh, the line of her breast. His shaft twitches in response to his imagination and he can't help but let his fingers find their way under his boxer. What an ache, what a pleasure, to imagine her around him, to smell the intoxicating perfume of her skin, to taste her everywhere. His movement grow faster and faster and he is on the verge of climaxing when someones open the door to his room.
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GODS MADE OF GOLD
WITH GEMSTONE EYES.

MESSAGES : 15
WITH US SINCE : 15/07/2016
ART IS BY : balaclava, tumblr.
IRL NAME : cosima


MessageDim 14 Mai - 19:33

Her stomach is churning from jealousy as she paces in the corridor out of her suite. It has been so long that she has been back home, living away from his was supposed to cure from all the madness of her obsession towards Hansel, but coming back has done nothing but amplify it even more than it once was. Seeing him tonight with this other girl made her body ache in a way she never experienced before. This was a new kind of pain, worse than physical torture, it was emotional, it would never stop. She walked again and again before deciding to go to his room and waiting for him there, hopefully he wouldn't bring the doll with him and if he did, she would kick her out with no mercy. But what was she going to say? She had no right to him, he was his brother but she couldn't dictate who we was to see or not see. And what if he knew something was up with her, what if he knew she had feelings for him that were forbidden? Would he be disgusted with her? Would he hate her? She closed the distance to his suite and slid the card to his room out from her pocket. The door opened in a click and she stepped inside closing it from behind her. She didn't turn the lights on, but there was enough luminosity from the rays of the moon to see a figure laying on the bed. She stepped closer, was it them? Would she have to drag that girl out of his bed from her hair? Hansel, she said in a whisper. Are you here? She turned the lights on at last and there he was, laying in all his beauty on top of the white sheets, like an angel from above. What she did not expect to see was the nakedness of his skin and the way his hand was moving up and down his shaft under his briefs. Her breath hitched and caught in her throat, she knew she should've closed her eyes, yet she couldn't help but watch. He was so handsome, so very forbidden, yet he was looking straight at her in a way she only dreamt he would.
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SURVIVE OR DIE TRYING

MESSAGES : 55
WITH US SINCE : 08/02/2016
ART IS BY : brief moment of joy (avatar)
IRL NAME : seb


MessageDim 14 Mai - 19:43

He couldn't stop, his body has a mind of its own and no matter how much he tried, his hand seemed to work his shaft again and again, like he didn't own it and she wouldn't stop even if he did. Seeing her from so close was making wonders on his erection, he felt pleasure like never before. He knew it was wrong, but he pretended it wasn't real, it was only a product of his imagination. He ignored her when she called his name, even if her voice wasn't one to ignore. So sweet, so velvety, it put even more pressure on the climax he felt building in his core and when she turned the lights on, it was his undoing. He groaned hard and loud and felt liquid dampen the insides of his shorts. She was still looking at him, eyes round and opened, like she didn't believe what she could see and yet couldn't stop looking. When the high from his coming passed, he felt the guilt overtake him. There she was his baby sister, towering over him, eyes wide like she was in a crime scene. No one was killed but almost. I am so sorry, he said. I am so so sorry. I shouldn't have - I am sorry. He tried to reach for her, he wanted to touch her and kiss her and apologize to her. What if she hated him? He stained a piece of her innocence. His fingers that moments ago where on his erection, reached for her and closed around her wrist. He brought her to him and she sat on his lap, her dress slightly overriding her thighs. He hugged her small waist and put his face in the crook of her neck, almost innocently, as he kept apologizing to her.
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GODS MADE OF GOLD
WITH GEMSTONE EYES.

MESSAGES : 15
WITH US SINCE : 15/07/2016
ART IS BY : balaclava, tumblr.
IRL NAME : cosima


MessageDim 14 Mai - 19:51

She couldn't believe her eyes and yet she didn't what to think of it. The feeling of his naked skin against hers was clouding her thoughts anyways and for the life of her, she couldn't gather a single word to tell him. She wanted to say, don't be sorry, this is all I have ever wanted and so much more. She wanted to say, it's my fault not yours. She wanted to take the hurt off of him, but mostly she wanted to confess. Don't worry, I love you. She said in a whisper against his hair. I love you so much more than you think I do. She moved a little on his lap and her dress shifted with her. She wandered if he could feel the dampness in her underwear on his leg and if he did, what would he think of her? What would he say? She shifted again, hoping it would hide her guilt and she felt something twitch against the warmness between her thighs. The feeling brought to a high she had never experienced before. She shifted again, just so she could maybe feel it. Gretel, she heard him say. But now, she couldn't stop. She wanted to feel him without the texture between them, skin to skin, but she knew she wouldn't dare. So she kept her eyes closed, her mouth against he hair and moved as much as she could. She could hear his breath hiss, the beating of his heart and her own speeding in unison. They both knew it was wrong, but they both couldn't help what was happening.
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mon pêché, mon âme. (gransel)
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