#Wrote this in 20 minutes

[junosmindpalace]

satoru first met you as a young adult through a friend you were dating at the time. you were witty, kind, and attractive too; he could immediately tell after a single conversation why his friend would like you. which is why he was dumbfounded over how horribly he treated you.

he’d stare in nearly mute disbelief with his mouth open as this friend of his acted like a total asshole toward you, constantly trying to “put you in your place” in his words, words that made satoru subconsciously clench his jaw.

the only good that came from being with this guy was the fact that you got to see satoru quite often. you two hit off your first meeting right away, and quickly became good friends. and as the two of you got closer, the more satoru learned of the horrible ways his friend treated you, and the harder it got for him to mind his business.

he remembers your first kiss well. there was hesitation in every move you made before satoru eventually took the lead, kissing you over and over and over, pulling away for not even a second before crashing his lips back onto yours feverishly. and you knew as you held each others faces that that boyfriend of yours had to go.

you told him to be mature, that it was already bad enough you cheated on your boyfriend with his own friend. but he simply shrugged his shoulders and gave you a lazy smile (oh, and told you to quit calling that dickhead his friend).

you quipped at him when he snaked a smug (and protective) arm around your waist as your (now ex) boyfriend’s voice and actions grew more aggressive. and yeah, maybe he did have a right to be upset. but you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel guilty any longer. not when his reaction reminded you of so many of his other outbursts, not when you knew you were leaving a difficult relationship and had satoru’s support throughout the whole ordeal.

you had kissed, sure, but it took time before you officially started dating.

“i’m not going to stoop to his level. i want you to feel ready.”

and if anyone were to ask about how the two of you got together today, satoru would proudly tell the story with animated gestures and exaggerated details, all of which earned him a smack on the chest from you, his now and forever partner.

[hanaonesflower]

“Princess, can I ask you something?” He speaks, breaking the silence of the long, uneventful car ride. “Sure, anything!” You chirp, unsuspecting of what is to come.

“Why don’t you ever let me do anything for you?” Ushijima says, his eyes remain fixated on the long stretch of roads ahead. The fog heavily roll down the sides the hills on your either sides, lowering visibility. His hand tightens around the wheel, while the other grips yours.

“What do you mean by that?” You sit back, eyes wandering his features, looking for any sign that he’s just cheerfully asking you. Knowing Ushi though, he’s sometimes not as light hearted as you’d think.

“You are always so insistent on doing everything yourself. You won’t let me help you, like earlier, when you refused to let me tie your shoes. That isn’t the first time you refused my help.” He goes on a spiel, his thumb reaches to the toggle and lowers the volume, making his breathing more prominent than ever. It has occur to you that you have always been doing everything by yourself despite his looming figure always by your side. The hyperindependence is slowly starting to bother him. He wants to help you, wants to give you the fullest extent of a princess treatment yet the only thing really holding him back from that is, you.

“It’s just something that I could easily have done for myself, you didn’t need to bother with that, don’t worry, baby,” you try to comfort him, hoping some words of affirmation can help. It really isn’t a big deal, it’s some shoe laces that came undone, not a heavy errand.

As soon as the car is pulled into a parking spot at a rest stop, quickly shifting the car in “park”, turning to you and he sighs. A real sigh. One so full of frustration and… hopelessness. “I’m not bothered. It has never mattered how big or small anything is, I want to do everything for you. Why are you holding yourself back from me?” He is starting to put things into perspective for you. After going through a useless ex-boyfriend, then a man who gave you hot and cold attention, lastly a guy who gave you princess treatment to fill his inflated ego before meeting Ushijima, learning to only rely on yourself has been the protector of your heart, your soul and your sanity. You find that by depending on your good ol’ self is the only way to prevent yourself from throwing your body off a bridge.

“Ushi, it’s not—,” before you can finish your sentence, truthfully you don’t really know what to say. He’s right, you are holding yourself back from him. Holding yourself back from the hurt that you’ve known all too well, he interrupts, holding both your hands in his, “baby, you’re my priority, my everything, your well-being, happiness and comfort are my main concerns and I want it to be that way,” he stops, taking a breath. Reminiscent of the times where Ushijima offered to go so out of his way to help you but being kindly turned down has left him feeling absolutely useless and uneasy. Ushijima’s love language is act of service and because he hasn’t been able to do the bare minimum for you, he feels it eating him alive.

“I am aware of your past, I know that I can’t change what was, but I’m here to make a difference now, I mean it!” You are moved by his words, he means what he says and you know it. You’ve seen it. He’s a big man of his words, always keeping promises, has never ever disappointed you in any way. Yet the walls have been reinforced many times again that it has cemented itself in your life, creating a barrier between the two of you. “I want to open doors for you, pull out chairs for you, pick you up from a friend’s house, drop you off at the airport, all of that, please, baby, please just let me.” You have to say, it is like he is begging for you to allow him in, allow him to integrate further into your system, a system you’ve built to keep you from going down a slippery slope time and time again.

“I’m so grateful for you, Ushi, you’ve done so much for me, you really have. I just feel like I can’t be asking for anymore than what you’ve already given me,” before you can inhale a full breath, he branches his body over to your side of the car and kisses you deeply, so deeply that you melt. “I’m at your disposal, you are my world, let me in, don’t keep shutting me out,” he says, breaking away from the kiss.

You chuckle, “yes, Wakatoshi, I accept your offer,” and you’ve never seen him smile wider. A big, toothy grin coming from the infamously stoic dude. He kisses you again, “thank you, baby.”

He unbuckles your seatbelt, hastily running from his side to yours and opening the door for you, and just like the universe is rooting for the both of you, your shoe laces come undone, again.

[unpretty]

why am i so bad at drugs. caffeine makes me sleepy. alcohol is bone hurting juice. vicoden does nothing. the giant mouth-numbing syringe doesn't kick in properly until an hour after i left the dentist. i hit a vape pen and then i sit and wait 20-30 minutes. i say "this edible ain't shit" and nothing happens until 17 hours later when I wake up for work and realize i'm high. i am trying to misbehave but my own body keeps timegating me.

[robo-writing]

Sometimes I sit here and think about baby Logan, you know the one from the first X-men movie? With the grey hoodie? Yeah that baby Logan. Anyway, I think about Deadpool pulling worst Logan into more time shinaganen shit and of course worst Logan’s gf (who was his gf in his last universe but of course died during the attack, but this one either never met her universe Logan or something) and somehow, she runs into baby first Xmen Logan wearing the grey hoodie and running around clueless as where the hell he is, until he bumps into a surprisingly pretty woman who for some reason is cooing over him and calling him a precious baby,(and did she just pspspspsps at me?? I’m not a fucking cat? No the hair doesn’t look like cat ears?! The hell wrong with you lady?!) and he only gets her name before a older version of him in a gaudy yellow suit shows up to grab her and take her away, grumbling about having to keep track of two overgrown toddlers while a mouthy guy in a red leather suit says some stupid shit before following after the older version of Logan into some strange portal. Of course soon after baby Logan gets found by Xavier and when he ask who the woman named y/n is, Xavier just looks at him confused. (Of course perhaps that Logan will meet y/n a few years down the road, or he never sees her again, a shame really, she was quiet a looker, despite being so weird, he can stand being called a baby or a kitten by her again)

Waking up in a strange building is one thing, but walking out of an elevator to find a woman starting him down is another—especially when she keeps calling him kitty.

“Oh my god, look at you! You’re so young!” Her voice is high-pitched, oohing and ahhing at him like some kind of attraction. Maybe it’d piss him off more if you didn’t look so cute doing it.

“Cute lil kitten aren’t you? And your ears are so fluffy!”

You reach up to touch his hair, and he would grab your hand if someone else didn’t already beat him to it.

A gaudy yellow suit is the first thing he sees, then—what the fuck?

“Doll, I told you not to go wandering off,” the stranger says, and it’s now that his day goes from bizarre to fucking impossible because he’s staring at himself. Older, sure, but his voice, his body, damn near everything—

“Oh peanut! It’s time to go!” Says another man in a bright red jumpsuit, and he can hear the other man groan in response.

“Alright, you heard him.”

“Aw,” you complain, following after the two of them. “Wanted to pet him before we go.”

You wave to the younger man behind you, giving him a wink along with your name. “Come find me when you’re all grown up kitty! I’ll be waiting for you!”

“Wait—!”

His words fall on deaf ears, the trio disappearing soon after in a yellow doorway. His jaw drops, unsure of what just happened was real or if he’s just high as a fucking kite.

After a couple of introductions and many confused glances, he finds out that the three people he met are not students or professors, and that no one in the room had ever seen them before. Years pass along with many, many, life changing events and his odd welcome party becomes a memory of the past.

That is, until he finds out Charles has hired a new school counselor, and she looks just a bit too similar to be a coincidence. Once he gets over the shock he extends his hand, to which you accept.

“Names Logan.” He says, and you give yours in return, the same name you gave him all those years ago. It’s now that you point to his hair with a small smile.

“Do you style your hair or does it always come out like that?”

His eyebrow raises, unsure of the line of questioning. “Not really? Why do you ask?”

You open your mouth, then close it with a shake of your head. “Forget it, you’re gonna think it’s silly.”

“Oh yeah?” Logan replies. “Try me.”

You bite your lip, debating on whether you should speak, eventually choosing to bite the bullet. “Well, it’s just that your hair kinda looks like ears. Y’know, like a cat.”

His chuckle is instant, evolving into a laugh. You’re getting more and more nervous, afraid you said something wrong until his hand gives you a good pat on the shoulder.

“Y’know, you’re the second girl to tell me that,” he muses, leaning in close. “But come to think of it, ‘kitty’ has a better ring to it, don’tcha think?”

[choccorin]

i firmly believe that rin's the type of boyfriend who loves to kiss your hand ... he loves wrapping his slightly cold and callused hand around soft and warm ones, while you tell the café cashier both of your orders.

he loves interlocking your fingers together and rubbing small circles, sometimes hearts, on the top of your thumb as the two of you walk around the park.

he loves to kiss your knuckles everytime he senses that you feel nervous in public. it's his way of calming you down and telling you that you're not alone and that he's here beside you while he looks at you with the softest and loving eyes.

he loves to interlock your pinkies together as he waits for you to wake up, admiring how the sunlight perfectly hits your features, making you look breathtaking.

he loves taking your hand and giving your ring finger a soft peck, a quiet promise that someday he'll buy the prettiest ring there is and put it on your finger, indicating that he's yours and you're his.

[crsssie]

every day is my birthday - tim drake x reader

"Happy birthdayyyyyyyy" You sing, grinning cheek to cheek as Tim glances up from taking his shoes off, your cake on the counter as he exhales.

"I thought you forgot."

"Why, cuz I slept in this morning instead of waking up like I usually do? You had your birthday breakfast in the fridge."

"What kind of madness were you up to last night? I heard the kitchen vent on from when I left for patrol until I came back." He collapses into your arms, mumbling.

"I was cooking." You hum. "Made choco chip cookies."

"For me?"

"Yes, sweetheart. For you." You hum, running your hands through his hair. "Cake's homemade too."

"God, I need to babytrap you."

"WHAT."

"Marriage isn't enough, I need to make sure you never leave me." He mumbles, squeezing you. "Sorry, tired. The meetings today wore me out."

"I figured." You pat his head. "Ready for cake?"

"Please." He grumbles. "By the way, hate your twitter post."

You purse your lips as you laugh, holding the knife in place before you accidentally cut someone while laughing.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

[madaqueue]

gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (lots of hand-mouth fuckery)

some are born performers, made to be perceived, intrinsically commanding attention. everything about sukuna drew the spotlight, every pair of eyes landing on him another step he took higher in his ever-ascending ego.

so it came as no surprise that he adored when you watched him pleasure himself.

he knew his own body well, an intimate understanding of exactly where to touch, grab, pinch, bite. every place his fingertips grazed was purposeful, a slow, tantalizing path closer and closer and closer.

when the flesh of his palms opens to reveal sticky, drooling tongues, he guides them with ease along his skin, tracing the deep lines of his tattoos, following their paths down between his legs.

a gentle lick to the tip of his twitching cock.

lips wrapped around his heavy balls.

before you can believe it, saliva coats his skin, mixing with the precum rolling down his length, reflecting in the low light of his bedroom.

candlelight glimmers behind your eyes, traveling over the contours of his chest, unable to stray from his movements. he hadn’t even touched you, and yet you found yourself panting, skin burning hot.

his own gaze is locked on your face, the utter awe behind it. through a smirk, he lets out a low grunt - and you, you can’t help but whimper at the sound (just the reaction he was hoping for).

you don’t even need him to touch you anymore - you need to touch him.

against your better judgement, your arm extends towards him; it’s not even hesitant, you know what you need, it feels foolish to deny it when he’s right here, within arm’s reach-

but sukuna can’t let you interrupt the show. he immediately smacks you away with one of his free hands, silently scolding you, as if you should know better.

(and you do - but you just couldn’t help yourself. it’s not even your fault, not really - not when he looks so fucking ethereal, shadows dancing along the flexing muscles of his arms as they circle his cocks, abs tensing with each purposeful motion of the tongues writhing from his palms)

by now, there’s drool pooling along the corner of your own lips. sukuna is quick to point out just how ravished you already seem with a chuckle. “enjoying the show?” his low voice easily fills the space, as though he was the only thing you’ve ever heard, the only thing you’ll ever need to hear again.

your mouth is dry as you nod. within the kimono draped over your hips, you futilely attempt to adjust your position to quell the ache growing inside you, legs rubbing together as you shift along the comforter.

maroon eyes flit below your waist - perhaps the sign of your arousal was more visible under the dim light than you anticipated (or perhaps he can simply read the eagerness on your face).

he sighs through a sly grin. a free hand reaches to your place on the bed, before a sudden wetness licks up your inner thigh. you shudder in expectation as he purrs, “but what’s a show without its audience, after all?”

[fearandhatred]

the rapture

it's a holy thing, in theory, a glorious celebration, where those who believe rise to meet the lord in the air. it's a day of joy, in theory, and maybe even of vindication for those who have always believed.

but no one thinks about how it's like to see the dead rise again—bodies clawing their way out of bolted wood and six feet of packed earth, bodies decomposed and maggot-feasted, nails stained with rot and dirt. no one thinks about the violent lurch of their bodies being jolted into the air by the stomach, gravity flinging their heads back down to earth as they struggle in vain to find footing on molecules and gas. no one thinks about those who don't make it.

no one thinks about the screams.

crowley hadn't thought about any of these things. he certainly hadn't thought about the angels that would be called back to heaven along with the believers.

here they stand dead in the middle of absolute ruin, the promise of heaven the only thing left to look forward to on the wasteland of this earth. the sky has opened up like the eye of god, watching over her people for the very first time, and crowley's black wings against the beams of light only remind him that he doesn't belong up there with the rest of them. crowley wraps his arms tight around aziraphale, squeezes his torso like he can maybe keep aziraphale with him through sheer will or, laughably, demonic intervention. like love could ever be enough. like love could stay.

around them, the cacophony of wails and mockingly exaltant trumpets scorch the earth in their intensity, clashing and agonising even—especially—for them, and words make no sound. but they hold on to each other, even as they shrink into themselves against the noise of the undying. i don't want to leave you either, aziraphale doesn't say, but his hands dig into the cotton of crowley's sleeve, and crowley hears the words through his fingertips.

he feels a stronger upward resistance against his embrace now, and he clings tighter, steadfast, even as aziraphale's grip falters. but he knows he can't hold on forever. he knows that nothing ever lasts.

trembling with something unspeakable, he lifts his arms from aziraphale's torso and covers the angel's ears with his hands. he feels more than hearing aziraphale's resulting sob, and he spreads out his wings to wrap them around their bodies. a shield, a comfort, a goodbye.

it's okay, the gesture says in silence. i'll see you in another lifetime.

[pizzaqueen]

What’s that? Another first kiss ficlet from me?? Just over 500 words of fluff

“When was the last time you kissed someone?” Steve pauses, then adds, “Or were kissed.” Because there’s a difference. At least, Steve thinks there is. He’s usually the one doing the kissing but there have been a few times when he’s been kissed and… It’s definitely different.

“What?” Eddie looks up from where he’s rolling a joint, brow furrowed. “I don’t— Huh?”

“Kissing.” Steve leans on his elbow, propping his head on his hand. “When was the last time you did it.” He thinks a moment. “No, the last time you were really good and properly kissed.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know…” Steve lifts one shoulder. “Just the last really good perfect kiss.”

“I don’t know.”

“If you don’t wanna talk about it…”

“I just don’t know.”

“Really?”

Eddie looks at Steve for a moment then rolls off the bed, going over to fiddle with the stereo. “Yeah, really.”

And that’s not right. Eddie should know when he was last kissed. He should be kissed all the time. By Steve, preferably.

Steve goes over, leaning back against the dresser so he can look at Eddie, but Eddie isn’t looking at him. Shit. He kicks Eddie’s foot and says, “Hey, man, it’s cool.”

Eddie sighs, ejecting a tape and switching it over to the other side. He looks at Steve. “It’s been years since I kissed anyone, okay, and it was… It was the wrong person. It was awkward and…” He shakes his head. “Not really a lot of opportunity for me to kiss the right kind of person in Hawkins.”

Oh. Steve has wondered. Mostly at the back of his mind, but… The way Eddie doesn’t talk about things like kissing, or dates, or sex makes sense. Well, he doesn’t talk about them in specifics. It’s always vague. “That’s not right.”

“What?”

“I mean, you should be kissed.”

“Why?”

“You just should be.” Steve leans a little closer, heart beating hard.

Eddie presses play and crosses his arms over his chest. “You got any volunteers in mind?”

“I might.” Steve looks at Eddie a moment, then he reaches out, curling his fingers around Eddie’s wrist, tugging until Eddie unfolds his arms. “But it depends how you feel about the person I’m thinking of.”

Eddie looks over Steve’s face, searching, and then he says, “I don’t— I don’t wanna be wrong about this,” and Steve slides his hand down until he’s palm to palm with Eddie. Eddie makes a choked little noise and laces his fingers with Steve’s. He raises his brows in question, looking at Steve so open and hopeful that Steve’s chest squeezes tight.

So, he pulls on their joined hands, raises his other to cup Eddie’s face, and softly, gently kisses him. He kisses him and kisses him, the way Eddie should be kissed, the way he hopes—is pretty sure—Eddie wants to be kissed. And then Eddie brings his hand up to Steve’s face and then Eddie is kissing him. And it’s so so good.

When they part, Eddie licks his lips and says, “Today.”

“What?”

“That was the last time I was good and properly kissed.”

Steve smiles and says, “It won’t be the last time,” and he kisses Eddie again.

[tddoodles]

Okay, listen Courtney as a deer faun

[kickedin17]

There's something about blurryface (album) that's kind of like. Sticky. In the way that your skin is sticky when it's summer and it's past midnight and you have the window open to try to sleep but it's still too warm. Or, sticky, in the way that your hands are clammy when it's drop dead winter and you're driving around someone else's suburb, looking down the weird little leftover alleys between houses and wondering if something's going to be standing there looking back at you. And you are profoundly lonely. And you walk to a gas station, it's september maybe, and everything smells like spilled gasoline and stale cigarette smoke and there's brightly colored trash in all the gutters and all the neon signs glare off the asphalt, and when you go into the convenience store the single employee looks at you like maybe there's something weird about you, but you don't know what it is. Too quiet, maybe. Something wrong with your face. You don't smile enough. You don't want to be smiled at. It's dark all the time. But it's also springtime and the sky is pink and everything feels fleshy and delicate and rabbit-esque (tiny little heartbeats bursting everywhere), and you pick the first dandelion you see growing through the sidewalk cracks and it gets sticky milk all over your fingers. And you are profoundly lonely. You're pretending things would be better if you lived in a city where it rained more often and you could feel the hum of passing train tracks under your feet, but the truth is you're going to be lonely everywhere you go because there's this sticky ugly hollowness in you that you can't wash off no matter how hard you scrub. And maybe it would be better if you drove back home and closed the window and never left your house again and let all the lightbulbs die because something about the dark hurts less. You're running from something. What is it? Why can't you ever quite catch your breath? Why are you so sure this all has to end badly? You grew up but haven't yet learned how to grow out of anything. It's dark all the time here. Your face isn't the right one but there are no other faces. Your skin is sticky and you can't sleep. You are profoundly lonely.

[hotchology]

what kinda pajamas do you think the BAU team wears

Okay. I'm Normal About This.

hotch wears a like. plain tshirt he has set aside for sleep and pajama pants. plaid probably.

morgan shirtless and sweatpants. :D

i want to say spencer has an ebeneezer scrooge set up with the hat for the bit but i do believe early seasons spencer would wear like. matching pajama sets. later seasons spencer i havent gotten to (im normal about a fictional character leaving a show) but he would be similar to hotch i think. maybe sweatpants instead. all separated for sleep.

penelope i think canonically wears like silly tshirts and cute printed pajama bottoms and a cardigan. i also see her in a cute matching set with the button up shirt and the collar. you know the ones.

rossi and gideon i cant think about. but i will try. rossi either has a full old man matching set or has standard hotch set up of tshirt and plaid pants. gideon im really pulling a blank on i fall victim to the same thing the rest of the bau (minus morgan) do in that its hard for me to see gideon as a full person. like i can try, but ill never fully get him. and ill never know what his pajamas are.

elle we see go to sleep in her day clothes in the fisher king and id think her and morgan are probably the most common offenders on that front. pre getting shot i see her in a tank top and either shorts or regular pajama bottoms (pattern optional) weather depending. post getting shot she wears a sweatshirt and long pants no matter the weather.

emily prentiss. Emily Prentiss. pre unit chief shes wearing an old tshirt and sweatpants. maybe a tanktop if its hot. unit chief prentiss? respectable matching set, not cutely patterned but like a Nice Material solidly colored with the button up top and the little collar. see penelope but less cute more refined. you know the one.

jj tank top and shorts or sweatpants weather permitting. when shes going thru it during baugate shes wearing hoodies and sweatpants.

tara old tshirt (band. perhaps) plaid pajama bottoms. i dont care if theres evidence against it thats real (and hot) to me

alex blake im torn between similar to unit chief prentiss and old man matching pajamas.

[nuggets-small-corner]

So the artwork I just reposted with Levi with the snake bite piercing(artwork by @/imissthestarswhenicry

Like just imagine he did it without telling anyone. Without WARNING you.

You come back to the House of Lamentation after hanging out with Solomon all day, getting trained as his apprentice. You're covered in some sort of goop from a spell going wrong and all you wanted to do was take a human safe hot bath with as many bath salts you could find. Letting this random substance melt away with all of your body aches.

You were walking up the stairs when you were about to pass Levi. You gave him a slight wave while barely looking at him, but something sparkly caught your eye.

Snapping your neck around, you did a double look to see two little silver balls underneath Levi's lip. He stopped walking once he saw you stopped and turned around to look at you. He stood there staring at you openly gawking at him with your mouth wide open.

"Levi, that's hot as fuck," you bluntly stated staring at him. His lips were so plush with a pretty pink tint to them and the little silver balls only seem to emphasize them.

You ignored the scream he let out along with the stutter that came out about having to warn him before you say these things or how you can't say some disgusting otaku is hot yada yada yada.

All you know was the more he talked, the more the silver little jewelry moved. Your eyes were locked in on the way his lips were moving and the way the jewelry moved.

"Y/N, stop staring!" To your uttermost surprise, you watched as Levi pushed the pole out a little and opened his mouth before the small ball went between his teeth. You see he picked up a new nervous fidget. One that might actually be the death of you.

"Levi, is your piercing fully healed," you grumbled lowly, feeling your will about to snap. Levi slowly released the ball before pulling the pole back in, making it sit back in place.

"Y-yes, demons heal quite fast, pretty much instantly. It's similar to the anime 'The Demon Lord took me into his world to fight other demons for his amusement, but he gave me his powers'." He once again began to happily ramble about the show your guys just binged.

The way his pretty eyes lit up as he spoke and he started to look more open. His hands flailing around in excitement about being able to talk about one of his special interest. That along with those pretty little unoccupied lips were still moving and that piercing still seems to be glowing under the hallway lamps.

"Levi, I'm about to be blunt again." You had to interrupt you. Levi stopped his rambling to stare at you with wife open eyes that reminded you of a deer looking at its predator. "I'm going to take a bath- scratch that a shower- then I'm coming after you to ravish you "

You fucking loved the wide eye look he gave you at your blunt tone. The way his pale bluish skin took on a dark red hue as the blush started in his cheek and began to spread until it disappeared under his hoodie.

You could see the gears in his pretty little head turning trying to process what you said and how to respond. But you didn't need him to. "I warn you and I promise I'm making good on my word "

With that, you turned around to walk towards your bedroom, ready to take the fastest shower ever. Once this goop gets off of you, you're hoping Levi can cover you in something else.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Is it weird to tag the artist in a fanfic that was inspired by their artwork, unsure, so didn't tag. If that's considered rude, I do apologize. If it's weird, I double apologize.

[nipuni]

OH my god we just watched Dr.Who "Human Nature" and "Family of Blood"

[p4nishers]

he got my ass once with foreigner's god and he got my ass once again with butchered tongue. fuck u andrew honestly

[loafofryebread]

there is something so terrifying about wanting to be held, a years deep ache in my bones, like a child sobbing pleading for someone to notice, to care.

come here darling, I swear I will not bite, come here please, smooth away the cracks in my skin, piece me back together with the gold of your love, like the japanese would repair their pottery.

there is something so vulnerable about wanting to be touched, undoing me with a mere brush of the fingers, peeling back my layers like the skin of an orange, and each golden segment of my soul, is an offering (i love you).

oh, do you think you could hold me? just this once? kiss the backs of my knees when they ache? trace the divots of my spine like exploring a foreign land? memorize the shape of my nose, my jaw, my eyes, turning the terrain of my body into something familiar.

Perhaps it is selfish of me to ask for such a thing, I have always been a rather demanding creature, a dog, scratching at the door, begging to be let in.

I will be gentle I swear, curl up in your chest, your ribcage can be a temple, your heart the god I bow before, praying you might hold me, if only for a little while.