#secousse

[msweebyness]

DuPont School for Monstrous Youths- Snow Guarding Flower

Don’t mess with the Yeti’s flower, that’s all I’m gonna say. Here’s my fifth Myvan short, enjoy! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

“Y-you want me to what?!”, Mylene cried, staring almost slackjawed at the irritant of a gargoyle (and the school events coordinator) known as Louis Secousse. She honestly couldn’t fathom what she had just heard. The blonde boy sneered in return, clearly annoyed she hadn’t instantly agreed.

“Are you deaf or something? I said, we’re gonna have the dance in the greenhouse now, so you need to move your freaky beast plants.”, Louis said impatiently, his foot tapping on the ground.

“Louis, I…I can’t do that! The dance is in two days! I-“, Mylene started to say, flabbergasted at even the thought of attempting such a thing. Did he really think that was even a possibility?

“What do you mean you can’t?! They’re just plants! What’s the big deal?!”, Louis snapped harshly, throwing his hands out and startling Mylene.

“Th-they are NOT ‘just plants’! They have minds and feelings of their own, you know! I can’t just take them from their home with no warning! It’s not fair to them!”, the timid plant monster tried to protest, only for Louis to get way closer to her than he should with a sharp movement.

“Are you trying to sit here and tell me that you can’t move the stupid things because it would hurt their feelings?!”, the blonde gargoyle demanded, “All they are is a bunch of leaves! Just move them!”

“I-I will tell you again, Louis. No. It’s just not possible.”, Mylene insisted, trying to hide how much she was shaking, “Putting aside the unfairness aspect, have you seriously forgotten how BIG they are?! Just trying to move Gigi would take at least a week! If we try to move them in such a short time frame, it could hurt the-!“, she tried to reason, only for her voice to catch when he suddenly grabbed her arm.

“I don’t give a crap about your dumb plants, or whether their feelings get hurt, or any of that dumb crap!”, Louis snapped, tightening the grip of his stone fingers around her arm and getting into her face as she trembled, “I want this dance to make an impression, so what’s going to happen is-“

He stopped and froze when he heard a low growl behind him, and turned his head to peek. He immediately released Mylene and took a few steps back at the furious expression on the yeti’s face. Before Louis had time to react, Ivan grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off his feet.

“Flower said No. That is end. You touch her again, I crush you. Leave now.”, Ivan snarled, before he roughly shoved Louis back to the ground. For once in his life, he made a smart decision and hightailed it from the room.

After the irritating jerk was gone, Ivan turned to Mylene with a concerned expression, lifting her up into his arms for a hug.

“Flower okay? He did not hurt you?”, he asked, his big, dark eyes soft as they looked into hers. Mylene smiled before resting her forehead against his.

“Yes, Ivan, I’m fine. Thank you, for backing me up there.”, she said, reaching up to cup his cheek, “What would I do without you?”

The yeti blushed brightly, and buried his head in her neck. He was still angry that Louis had dared to threaten his flower, but knowing she was safe now calmed him down. No one would hurt his Mylene, not on his watch.

Don’t mess with Mylene if you know what’s good for you! Leave your thoughts in the comments and belongs!

[intervalart]

i come to you from beyond the void to bring you a "my internet is out" doodle

[dandanjean]

Déracinement et nation

« L’enracinement est peut-être le besoin le plus important et le plus méconnu de l’âme humaine. C’est l’un des plus difficiles à définir. Un être humain a une racine par sa participation réelle, active et naturelle à l’existence d’une collectivité qui conserve vivants certains trésors du passé et certains pressentiments d’avenir. * Chaque être humain a besoin d’avoir de multiples racines. Il a…

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

Suck it, Louis, you raggedy bitch

Well written, loved seeing that pompous brat getting what was coming to him, and kudos to Marc for defending his boyfriend’s honor, and more kudos to Nathaniel for his acting 👌🏾

As for Austin and Jean, no pda on school property!… Unless you’re in the auditorium when it’s dark an empty, then go nuts

Halloween Fun: Part 7

Nathaniel Kurtzberg was having a blast on All Hallows Eve. While he hadn’t been a part of the scaring crew, he still enjoyed the chance to help them install a sense of fear into the hearts of their classmates. All he had to do was act if he had no idea what was going on, something that he could easily pull off. After all, if a quiet guy like Nathaniel spoke up to say that everything was real, then it had to be a possibility. But it would be boring if he acted like the confused boyfriend all the time. So just for shits and giggles, Nathaniel decided that he’d come to school in a costume, and stay in-character for the entire school day. This day, Nathaniel would speak his mind, act on impulse, always skirting the edge of being openly hostile. For his own class, they’d see a snarky little shit who was getting revenge for being pushed to the side. To Marc’s class, he was a smooth talking devil-may-care kinda guy who randomly danced to James Brown. It had been so fun to freak them out in his own way, but he’d make sure to apologize and explain his choice to change up his act once the day had ended. Still, he couldn’t stop yet. He had yet to assist in getting revenge on Louis Secousse, his rival. The boy had always lorded his popularity over Nathaniel, taking every opportunity of the day to harass him. He had merely felt like a nuisance to the ginger artist… until things escalated. It turned out that Louis had been tracing the art pieces he had released online, changing a few bits and pieces and passing it off as his own. That couldn’t stand, and Nathaniel couldn’t wait to see the look on his face after his “chat” with Marcula. So when Louis had entered the bathroom while Nathaniel was washing his hands, the boy couldn’t help but grin a little.

“Well, well, well! Nice getup, Kurtzberg. You trying to impress Count Dorkula?” Louis said, his voice dripping with smugness. Nathaniel just smirked and tossed his hair. “You make it sound like I’m a fan.” he replied, as Louis rolled his eyes. “I’m not fooled. It’s obviously your boyfriend and his weird friends trying to scare us.” Louis accused. “All because I told him and Jean the truth. We all did. They aren’t scary, just pathetic.”

Nathaniel merely raised his eyebrows in fake surprise, before grinning as he walked up to Louis, who was starting to get annoyed by how little it seemed that the insults were bothering his rival.

“Oh, really? Well that’s interesting, because I noticed you cowering like a punk when Marcula showed up.” Nathaniel noted, taking great satisfaction in seeing Louis sweat and sputter as he tried to think of an explanation. “I… I was just surprised. That didn’t count, Dirtzberg!” Nathaniel remained silent for a few seconds, and frowned.

“You’re trash, Louis.” he stated, his voice deepening as he stated the truth. “You made the mistake of finally showing one of your "pieces” to DuPont. Turns out you’ve been copying my work for years, using my art to propel yourself into the top of the school’s food chain. Because you knew that your art just didn’t cut it, nobody cared. So what did you do? You captitalized on the fact that you have more social experience, more money, more charisma than me, all so you could be accepted by your rich art friends.“ This wasn’t even acting anymore, it was Nathaniel finally letting this asswipe know that his reputation and days as one of the school’s elite would soon be destroyed. Louis just snarled at him, shaking with anger.

"You’re full of shit, Kurtzberg. I don’t need your shit art to be popular! You don’t even have proof.” he growled. Nathaniel simply pulled up drawings that had been posted on his DeviantArt account, next to Louis’s “masterpieces”.

“I’ve been prepping to take you down for awhile now. I just needed you to mess up and release a piece without bothering to change anything major. There’s dates on all of my drawings that prove I was the original creator. And don’t even try taking my phone, I’ve got them saved on my computer as well. You’re done, Louis. Everyone will know what a fraud you are.” Nathaniel spat. He then got a wicked smile as he heard a bat squeaking behind them.

“See ya around… chump.” Nathaniel said, as he walked away from Louis, shutting the bathroom door. Louis was about to go after him, until he heard a terrifying laugh echo around the room. The lights shut off, and he felt his hair stand on end as he turned around. “W-who’s there?” he yelped. Foreboding red eyes shone from the darkness.

“It seems that zhis school is already filled vith vicked souls.” Marcula sneered. The lights came back in a flash, as the vampire suddenly appeared in front of Louis, hissing in his face. He opened his cloak as bats flew out of it.

“L-listen, Anciel” Louis replied, his voice trembling. “You may have foolen the rest of them, but you can’t fool me!” Marcula merely blinked in response, and smiled once again. “Zhen look in zhe mirror, foolish mortal.” he commanded. As Louis did so, he screamed upon only seeing his own reflection. He was too scared to notice how Marc had pulled off the effect. They had used a mirror which had a camera attached to it, with a screen filtering out anything which had the color red in it. Marc simply threw the cape over his head to pull off the illusion, and had time to move away from the mirror and flip it back around as Louis took at least a minute processing the information.

“I… bu… you-” he stammered. “Now… I want you to call this number” he instructed, handing him a small piece of paper with a phone number on it. Louis quickly dialed into his cellphone, and was stupified when he heard Marc Anciel’s voice on the other end, which was prerecorded.

“Hello? Who is this?” “Marc” mumbled, as Louis felt his brain breaking in half.

“Lo… Louis.” he gaped. “Wha… Louis? How did you get my number?” “Marc” grumbled.

“I… Marcula… he gave it… no reflection.” Louis muttered as he felt like he was going to faint.

“Goddamn it! I should’ve known he’d do something like thi-” “Marc” was cut off when Louis hung up, as he fearfully put the phone back in his pocket. He began to hyperventilate as Marcula moves closer.

“BACK AWAY, YOU BLOODSUCKING MONSTER!” Louis screamed. He fell silent as red mist surrounded the vampire, the lights going off once again. “It would be vise to show some respect to me. You have no idea of vhat I am capable of!” Marcula hissed, getting closer and closer, his eyes glowing due to special contacts. “I suppose you vant to be spared, no?”

Louis nodded his head urgently. “Vell, I suppose I could do so…. on one condition. You tell zhe truth, zhat you stole Nathaniel’s art and told everyvone it vas yours. And leave my cousin and his boyfriend alone.” he commanded. Louis was wise enough to nod his head, unable to speak as the lights came back on. He could only look on in horror as he saw a glass filled with “blood” being held in Marcula’s right hand.

“You don’t mind if I drink, do you? I alvays feel zhat you can never have enough iron in your diet.” Marcula exclaimed, laughing maniacally as “blood” dripped down his chin. Louis ran out of the room, screaming bloody murder.

Meanwhile, inside the school’s auditorium, Jean was eagerly preparing for his own scare. Though Louis had hurt them both, he had more of a bone to pick with the other Austins. Sure, they were no bullies, but they had still been his rivals since he had been a tween. They fancied themselves fashion critics, not even “Queen Bourgeois” was safe from their roasting sessions. That’s what kept them from being truly malicious in his eyes, they were just catty kids who saw themselves as the only real people in a sea of phonies. They had been upset when Austin T, the only cool Austin at the school in his eyes, finally went from being friends with Jean, to becoming boyfriends. That had been when they were 12, and they never let it go. The Austins always kept making sure he was treating their Tomassian with respect, which was fair. What he hated was how they seemed to rag on both him and Austin T for daring to say that they could be scary. When Louis had insulted his performance as Erik in the school’s production of Phantom of the Auditorium, they had been quick to say that “at least we know we’re campy.” So he gladly let Marc take care of Secousse, while he had some fun with the trio of Austins. He had to admit, he absolutely adored being “Jacques”, and it finally gave him an excuse to show off his pipe organ-playing skills. Right now he was playing a hauntingly beautiful melody as “Austine” his angel, came into the room, his frilly dress flowing as he rushed to see him.

“Come to me… my angel of music.” The Phantom cooed. He stopped playing as Austin began passionately kissing him. “Babe, you make my heart scream.” Austin whispered, as Jacques got off the stool, wrapping him in his cloak. “And my heart sings with joy whenever you are near.” he moaned. Austin T giggled and began to fan himself with his hands. “Oh, Jacques, you’re as lovely as ever. But I’d like the mask to come off for a moment.” he asked. Understanding that he could break character, Jean took off his mask, revealing the makeup used to make his face look disfigured. He flashed a romantic smile.

“Not bad, huh?” he replied. “Oh, you’ve been doing amazing so far. I just wanted to come by and wish you good luck before you give the other Austins a show.” Austin T said, stroking his face. Jean nuzzles his neck and they kept snuggling. “You look even better than Erik.” Austin T said playfully, referring to his stint as the Phantom in the school play. “You’re an amazing Phantom. The mask, the suit, and that cape.” Austin whispered huskily, with Jean shuddering in delight. “You’re a knockout.” he coos. “You always kill it in dresses and skirts, and this one’s your best so far.” Austin blushes, and fiddles with his glasses. “How do you always know what to say?”

Jean chuckles and whispers huskily into Austin’s ear. “A Phantom… never reveals his secrets, babe.” Austin whines as Jean lets him go.

“Sorry, sweetie. But the Phantom has to put his mask back on. Figuratively and literally.” he says, with Austin nodding. Jacques returns once more, and blows him a kiss.

“I cannot wait to see you soon, my sweet nightingale.” he says, with Austin giggling and kissing him on the cheek. “Of course, my darling melody. But don’t tell Jean this happened, ‘kay? I’m not one to kiss and tell.”

The Phantom nodded.

“I would not dream of it!”

If you’re wondering why it took so long for the next chapter to release, that’s because I’ve been writing the next 4! Yep, this is the first in 4 new chapters that will be out this week. Shout out to Weeby who helped me write the quoted dialogue. Things are certainly heating up, and more is coming soon! Make sure to reblog, reply, post and ask, and lemme know what you think in detail! @artzychic27 @msweebyness 

[amertumedelamer]

Il existe deux types de pagailles : celle d'une fin de soirée, où s'entassent souvenirs et vaisselle suppliant la propreté ; puis il y a l'autre, celle qui ne devrait pas être, et pourtant cristallise les secousses de galères informatiques. On dira que ce n'est rien de grave, puisque la première couche de désordre est bien en ordre !

Je pourrais dire qu'il fait froid. C'est vrai. Ça se sent, et puis, cela s'accommode de l'hiver en cours. Je pourrais souhaiter une très bonne année, aussi. C'est (encore) de saison, et c'est tendance. C'est sincère.

J'espère que l'année qui commence est aussi agréable de l'autre côté de l'écran, qu'elle peut l'être de ce bord-ci (ôter l'option il ne fait pas chaud des critères d'agréabilité en jeu).

Bonne pérégrination et joyeuses aventures jusqu'aux derniers morceaux de décembre, et puis pour après aussi ; pour toujours, si possible !

Crayons de couleur, feutres, stylo à bille bleu (couleur du rêve) ; dans carnet Moleskine, au Printemps 2024.

[iranondeaira]

" Il avait fait le désert de Gobi, le Sahara, l'Atacanna, le Kalahari ; il lui restait à affronter le plus difficile : le désert du cœur "

Denis Langlois ( Revue 《Secousse》juin 2016 )

[lisaalmeida]

La destinée, avec sa patience mystérieuse et fatale, approchait lentement l’un de l’autre ces deux êtres tout chargés et tout languissants des orageuses électricités de la passion, ces deux âmes qui portaient l’amour comme deux nuages portent la foudre, et qui devaient s’aborder et se mêler dans un regard comme les nuages dans un éclair...

On a tant abusé du regard dans les romans d’amour qu’on a fini par le déconsidérer...

C’est à peine si l’on ose dire maintenant que deux êtres se sont aimés parce qu’ils se sont regardés. C’est pourtant comme cela qu’on s’aime et uniquement comme cela...

Le reste n’est que le reste, et vient après...

Rien n’est plus réel que ces grandes secousses que deux âmes se donnent en échangeant cette étincelle...

Victor Hugo

[on-cerulean-tides-rpg]

“ L’océan ne pardonne rien. Il prend, il garde, il rappelle à lui ceux qui ont un jour cru pouvoir le dompter. ”

Il existe un royaume suspendu entre les souffles du vent et les murmures des abysses, où l’océan ne se contente pas d’embrasser les rives mais façonne les âmes et dicte les destins. Elyrian, tissé d’îles éparses et de récifs oubliés, vit au rythme des marées céruléennes, bercé par les soupirs d’un monde où le temps s’étire comme une vague caressant le sable.

Lorsque les Marées Guerrières s’élèvent, les eaux s’adoucissent, et l’horizon s’ouvre aux navires portant avec eux les ombres du conflit. Mais quand vient la Saison des Tempêtes, les cieux se déchirent, les flots rugissent et le royaume, replié dans son sanctuaire d’écume et de sel, échappe aux griffes des envahisseurs.

Sous la surface, là où la lumière se brise en mille éclats, des dieux sommeillent, les abysses murmurent des secrets, et les courants emportent les âmes de ceux qui osèrent défier l’infini. Car Elyrian n’appartient à personne — il ne fait que prêter ses rivages à ceux qui savent écouter le chant des vagues…

LE PALAIS DES MARÉES 

Dans la pénombre feutrée du palais, l’encens brûle en volutes paresseuses, masquant à peine l’odeur d’herbes médicinales et de cire fondue. La chambre du Monarque des Marées baigne dans une lueur vacillante, projetée par les lanternes suspendues aux piliers sculptés. Le silence pèse, seulement troublé par le frémissement du vent derrière les vitraux et la respiration irrégulière du souverain alité.

— Il ne se réveille pas.

La voix est basse, tendue. Le Maître Guérisseur referme un grimoire d’un geste las, et l’échange avec une fiole où danse un liquide opalescent. Autour de lui, d’autres soigneurs murmurent entre eux, échangeant des hypothèses à voix basse.

— Pas de fièvre, pas de poison détecté, pas de sortilège… Pourtant, il s’affaiblit chaque jour un peu plus.

Un garde, appuyé contre un pilier, croise les bras. Son armure crisse légèrement.

— On murmure que les îles disparaissent. Que les vents s’emballent et que la mer recule là où elle ne l’a jamais fait.

— Des superstitions, réplique sèchement un érudit en ajustant ses rouleaux de parchemin dans ses bras. Le royaume a connu bien des tempêtes et des secousses dans le passé.

— Pas comme celles-ci, intervient un autre soigneur, d’une voix plus hésitante. Les marées ne suivent plus leur cycle. Les runes sacrées du Sanctuaire d’Yvrael s’effacent et même les prêtres de Scyran n’entendent presque plus les murmures des profondeurs.

Un frisson parcourt la salle.

— Si le sceau sacré faiblit, alors… souffle l’un des jeunes guérisseurs.

Le silence retombe, pesant comme une chape de plomb. Tous savent ce que cela signifie : les Seigneuries d’Elyrian vont devoir gouverner en l’absence du Monarque. Mais elles ne sont pas prêtes.

Et le royaume non plus.

[nemosisworld]

On a tant abusé du regard dans les romans d'amour qu'on a fini par le déconsidérer. C'est à peine si l'on ose dire maintenant que deux êtres se sont aimés parce qu'ils se sont regardés.

C'est pourtant comme cela qu'on s'aime et uniquement comme cela. Le reste n'est que le reste, et vient après.

Rien n'est plus réel que ces grandes secousses que deux âmes se donnent en échangeant cette étincelle.

Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

Ph. Photoport

[msweebyness]

More Marvel/DC AU Bonuses

A couple more for you guys! Enjoy! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

Louis Secousse:

DC: Kite Man

Marvel: Batroc the Leaper

Lucien Rebois:

Marvel: Ultron

Emani Pulateur:

Marvel: Purple Man

(These next few become these heroes/villains when they get older)

Sasha Bruel:

DC: Killer Frost

Ella & Etta Cesaire:

DC: Thunder & Lightning

Kiran Anciel:

DC: Halo

Hope you like these! Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

[intervalart]

vent art with ocs some people might know

[dandanjean]

Nature contre nature

Lorsqu’on lutte contre les infrastructures de la dépossession, on rencontre des déterminations très diverses. Certain·es ont le cœur soulevé par les abattages d’arbres, d’autres par le déni démocratique institué. D’autres encore se battent contre la perte de leurs outils de travail ou la destruction d’une maison qu’iels ont mis une vie à bâtir, tandis que certain·s sont prêt·es à parcourir des…

[ascle]

La lettre S

S’adonner

Bien s’entendre

Sacoche

Sac à main.

« Vieille sacoche » = détestable femme âgée

Schnolle

Testicule, couille

Scraper

Détruire, démolie

Sécheuse

Sèche-linge

Secondaire

Deuxième palier d’enseignement. Après les 6 premières années du primaire, les étudiants passent 5 ans au secondaire, de 12 à 17 ans.

Secousse

Un intervalle de temps assez long. Exemple: Ça fait une secousse qu’on n’a pas eu de photo de Carole!

Senteux

Personne curieuse, indiscrète

Séraphin

Avare, pingre

Serrer

Ranger, mettre de côté, à l’abri, remiser ou entreposer.

Siffleux

Marmotte

Slush

-> granité

-> mélange des neige fondante et d’eau qui se forme sur les routes où les trottoirs l’hiver.

Sparage

Gesticulation, manifestation nerveuse, déplacer de l’air dans le seul but de distraire.

Expressions

S’énerver le poil des jambes

S’exciter exagérément, perdre patience rapidement, céder à la panique.

S’habiller en mou

Porter des vêtements très conformes le, comme un survêtement sportif ou un pyjama.

S’enfarger dans les fleurs du tapis

Se compliquer la vie pour des riens. S’arrêter à des détails insignifiants.

Sans bon sens

À un degré très élevé. Beaucoup.

Exemple: c’est long sans bon sens avant d’avoir une photo de Carole.

Sauter la clôture

Commettre l’adultère

Se faire passer un sapin

Se faire avoir, se faire duper, se faire tromper.

Se peinturer dans le coin

Se placer soi-même dans le pétrin, se faire prendre à son propre jeu, être acculé au pied du mur par sa propre faute.

Sentir la chnoutte

Sentir mauvais. Dégage de mauvaises odeurs (chnoutte = 💩)

Sentir le fond de tonne

Empester l’alcool

Se sécher les dents

Sourire niaisement ou faussement.

[givreencres]

Snow falling on the ground

En (Kind of neutral feminine version)

Snow falling on the ground

Umbra in the middle of the city

Gaze lost in the distance

Knees on the ground

She waits, alone

Facing her... her thoughts

Facing her... her memories

Facing her... a choice

Snow falling on the ground

Her clothes are covered in white

She doesn't feel the cold tonight

Only her breathing animates her body

Her eyes...

Her eyes...

Oh, my God, her eyes...

A whirlwind animated by flames dances in them

What does she see?

Snow falling on the ground

Still motionless

Her eyes flutter with despair, anger and hope

Her battle is played out at this moment

Jolts in her breath

jolts in his shoulders

Her body bends

Her outstretched arms hold her

Screaming (inaudible)

Screaming (arhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)

Howling (fuck)

Snow falling on the ground

Sobs?

Tears?

Shivers?

Convulsions?

No snow to cover her inexpressive face

And her eyes...

Her eyes...

The despair is gone

Anger and hope remain

The face tenses

Howling (inaudible)

Screaming (arhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)

Howling (fuck)

Snow falling on the ground

She rises, dashes forward

And disappears

Guided by her new determination

Fr (neutral version)

Snow falling on the ground

Ombre au milieu de la ville

Regard perdu dans le lointain

Genoux au sol

Elle attend, seule

Face à elle... ses pensées

Face à elle... ses souvenirs

Face à elle... un choix

Snow falling on the ground

Ses vêtements se recouvrent de blanc

Elle ne ressent pas le froid ce soir

Seule sa respiration anime son corps

Ses yeux…

Ses yeux…

Oh mon dieu ses yeux…

Un tourbillon animé par les flammes y danse

Que voit-elle ?

Snow falling on the ground

Toujours immobile

Ses yeux s'agitent habités par le désespoir, la colère et l'espoir

Sa bataille se joue à cet instant

Des secousses dans sa respiration

Des soubresauts dans ses épaules

Son corps qui se plie

Ses bras tendus la retiennent

Hurlement (inaudible)

Hurlement (arhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)

Hurlement (fuck)

Snow falling on the ground

Des sanglots ?

Des larmes ?

Des frissons ?

Des convulsions ?

Aucune neige pour couvrir son visage inexpressif

Et ses yeux…

Ses yeux…

Le désespoir a disparu

Y reste colère et espoir

Le visage se tend

Hurlement (inaudible)

Hurlement (arhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)

Hurlement (fuck)

Snow falling on the ground

Elle se relève

S’élance

Et disparaît

Guider par sa nouvelle détermination

© Givre Encres

[waloli22]

Leur après-midi érotique arriva enfin...

Cette fois V. n'avait donné aucune consignes à O. Elle voulait un vrai effet de surprise. En arrivant dans l'appartement bleu elle le tira de suite vers la chambre où se trouve tenues et accessoires afin de passer un nouveau moment magique.

V. imposa les 2 tenues. Le pauvre O. se retrouva fesse nue avec juste un tablier de soubrette pour lui cacher le sexe. Quelques coups de cravache sur son fessier et hop une érection magistrale fit soulever le tablier. Délicieux 😛.

V. proposa de passer à la cuisine pour boire un café. Alternance de gorgées de café de fellation de cunnilingus... encore un moment divin dont ils ont le secret.

V. s'eclipsa dans la chambre et revint avec la cage de chasteté et le god bleu qu'elle avait installé à sa ceinture. "Enfile ça et fait la vaisselle" lança t'elle à O. Il exécute. Dès qu'il commence à laver les tasses il se sent transpercé. Avec les secousses intenses que lui inflige v. en le pénétrant, le bruit que fait la cage en tapant contre l'évier résonne dans toute la cuisine. La magie a encore opérée... cet instant divin se termina en toute intimitée sur le lit de la pièce voisine et je ne vous explique même pas la suite 😈. A moins que @titus6312 ...

[nemosisworld]

Comment sait-on qu'on aime ? Par les palpitations du cœur. Par cette chaleur qui nous brûle la poitrine. Par les secousses du corps. Par nos jambes qui semblent soudain cesser de vouloir nous porter, ou bien au contraire vouloir nous propulser aux confins du monde. Par la pourpre qui embrase nos joues et la lumière qui illumine notre regard.

Frédéric Lenoir, Simonetta Greggio, Nina