( @motherwolf​ | meme | accepting !! )

                 there’s a BOUGHT of shock in his features at the thought of the other tugging him closer to her && he’s swallowing thickly at the thought of her possibly ripping his throat out with her teeth, but he’s grown a SMUG facade toward the female whose small hand has his shirt fisted into her palm. && he’s pressing his lips together out a nervous ache at what she’s planning next ; he’s trying to READ her because one wrong move && he knows she’ll end him. after a WEEK of pursuing her ; he’s only gained failed attempts && he’s just TRYING to get the woman who’s so INTOXICATING to him in so many ways ; more than one. but she wouldn’t budge. so at the last second, when she’s mere inches from him, he’s close to his breaking point until her LIPS are pressed in a rough motion to HIS.

                   hues seem to WIDEN at her kiss, a soft, satisfied growl narrowing from his lips && his palms drop to her waist. the slow breathe he’s drawing in through his nostrils stops as she’s the first to PULL away from his grasp && he’s followed, palm swiping to catch her in his arms and tug a petite frame into a mass of muscle && he’s chosen not to FIGHT her anymore on this. yet she may be the elder, stronger than him in every aspect, he’s still using a CHARM to capture her && he’s planning on taking advantage of it.                                             palms fall from her waist, fingertips trail to a lower back until he’s fully resting the calloused palms of his hands against the rounded rear of the other ; a SMUG pull at his lips causes a soft laugh to fall from them && he’s dipping his head to press pecks against the crook of the other’s neck.                                         ‘ just stop fighting it, admit it.                                                  ————— you like me. ‘

                           ( @groundfallen​ | meme | accepting !! )

                && there’s a gentle caress of his fingertips brushing against copper stained flesh of her cheek, a small washcloth NESTLED in his palms ghosts across porcelain flesh. he’s DETERMINED to get the stains from her skin, but it won’t come off && he’s not TRYING to take a layer of epidermis from her, but it’s hard not to SCRUB. a frustrated groan narrows from full lips && he’s grasping her hand to drag her in the direction of the bathroom ; pulling the shower curtain clean open && turning on the shower head, motioning for her to get in.                              ‘ c’mon —- there’s no way a WASHCLOTH will take care of this. ‘