Zelvya

A/N: Over used title is over used. Felt like writing this after a conversation with a friend. Enjoy~! ~*~*~*~*~*~ My body ached, every limb hurt and screamed with ever slow step I took as I got closer to my goal. My feet throbbed in the high heels I wore, and my skin would give off chilled goose bumps with every burst of cold summer wind. The breeze caused a shutter and a muffled squeal to erupt from my chapped lips as it drifted up the skirt of my dress. I bit my lower lip and went on with my slow limp like trot to my destination. I was not going to walk home. Not at this hour and when I lived so far away. Instead I was going to turn to a

“Consumed with what's to transpire” – Sex on fire, Kings of Leon “Look, look, look!” She called tying to point at something, while tripping on a crack in the sidewalk. A silly smile took over her features as she closed her eyes, ready for a fall. “I can fly! …Ops.” Ludwig passed his arms around her waist, bringing her closer and impeding that her face kissed the ground. [f/n] giggled, pressing herself against his chest. He contained the impulse to let his hands wonder on her body, feeling more of her warmth. “You’re no fun, Luddy.” She puffed her cheeks, in a fake pout. F

Theme #7- Insanity Character: Arthur Kirkland The last time he had felt this way had been centuries ago, a night where the waves were tossing them to and fro, where the wood around him creaked in protest to the chaos beyond the seeping boards. His men had secured the ship, leaving their captain to his duties, a dark intent shining in his eyes. Last time, there was nothing to restrain the beast inside. Last time, he continued until he was fully satisfied, the hurricane outside nothing compared to the terrible storm that barraged the warm and trembling figure beneath his own. Last time, he was able to unleash his desire with no regrets, wit

Every time his lips met yours, there was always something different. The first time tasted of brown sugar and salt, a combination of the roasted chestnuts and popcorn shared earlier. It was bittersweet, gentle. His lips had found yours with only the slightest whisper of consent, not waiting for a response in the brisk London air. It was simply a light touch, barely enough to register the presence, he pulling away quickly and laughing lightly in his guilt, apologising. His tone however, as did the sparkle in those damned green eyes, indicated he wasn't the least bit regretful. Especially not when you pulled him in for a second. The next nota