#intensity

[derangedrhythms]

[...] I’m so pathetically intense. I just can’t be any other way.

Sylvia Plath, The Letters of Sylvia Plath: Volume I: 1940 - 1956 — Edward Cohen, c. 11th September 1950

[mournfulroses]

Charles Baudelaire, from Modern Poets of France: An Anthology; "Games of Chance,"

[theeroticlover]

Damn !!! Been waiting for you for ages..

[dreamskug]

TechnoViking 2077

Huge thanks to @pinkydude for this clownery😂

[howtomakeyousee]

[eobe]

Never mess with Commander Wolffe 🐺✨ I looped this very wolffey song with a beautiful and growling voice from the Arcane series and got downright haunted – only wanted to do a quickdoodle and here we are 🙈 I absolutely recommend to listen to this song staring him back. Things may happen 👀

Get stared into the ground with the intensity of moon and sun! 🫠 @ghostymarni next level staring contest, vod 👀

Taglist: @eclec-tech @lonewolflupe @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @justanotherdikutsimp @ladylucksrogue @spaceyjessa

[castelovladraculamick]

GOSTO DO TEU CHEIRO QUANDO TE ABRAÇO, ELE TEM CHEIRO DE LAR, O MEU LAR O MEU MELHOR LUGAR PRA FICAR, PRA VIVER..PRA MORAR

[fuelformythoughts]

[19silvermirrors]

🌞 hot summer days in the Yuliang village be like

[mournfulroses]

Albert Camus, from a diary entry featured in Notebooks, 1935-1942

[yanderejustforyou]

Day 22: "No more holiday movies. Please." Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: Kirishima x Reader

The flickering glow of the television screen painted the room in shifting shades of blue and gray, the light dancing across the textured wallpaper like restless spirits. Settling onto the plush cushions of the couch, you felt the familiar weight of exhaustion pull you down. It had been an evening at Kirishima's, a seemingly endless marathon of holiday cheer, the same cheesy Christmas movies cycling through the screen in a loop. The air, thick with the lingering scent of cinnamon and pine, was charged with a cozy, relaxed energy that seemed to radiate off everyone else. Laughter had echoed through the apartment, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the easy murmur of conversation. It was supposed to be a fun, relaxing night, but for you, it wasn't.

A tight coil of resentment curled in your stomach, a familiar knot of bitterness that seemed to bloom every year as December rolled around. The holidays were a cruel reminder, a gaudy spectacle of joy that highlighted everything you lacked – a sense of belonging, genuine warmth, a past that didn’t haunt you like a phantom. You watched the saccharine scenes play out on the screen, the happy endings a mocking contrast to the hollowness you felt inside. Each perfectly wrapped present and forced family moment was another pinprick to your already raw spirit. You hated these damn movies, these fabricated emotions, but Kirishima seemed utterly content, the picture of relaxation. He leaned against the couch, his body radiating heat, a soft smile playing on his lips. His arm, casually draped behind you, extended, pulling you slightly closer into his warmth. A small, traitorous part of you craved this connection, but the rest fought against it.

The longer you watched, the more the manufactured perfection chipped at your defenses, grating on your nerves. This wasn't your world, these aren't your feelings. Why can't I just enjoy something for once? you thought, the question tinged with self-deprecation and a profound sadness. It felt like watching a play, a beautiful, elaborate, and utterly alien performance.

Then, Kirishima’s voice cut through your turbulent thoughts, like a warm hand on a chilled surface. “Hey,” he murmured, his tone laced with a teasing softness, as if he knew you were teetering on the edge. "No more holiday movies. Please? It’s all been a bit much, right?" His gaze caught yours and the intensity in his red eyes bordered on smoldering, a silent challenge delivered with an almost predatory smile. It was a warning, a silent declaration that your internal retreat was over. He wasn’t going to let you withdraw further into your self-constructed prison of misery. Not tonight.

Before you could form a response, he grasped your wrist, the strength in his hand a stark contrast to the gentle touch he usually offered. The sudden tug, firm and calculated, pulled you towards him, the motion startling. His touch, even in its assertiveness, felt familiar, a warm brand against your skin, always protective in a way that stirred something deep within you, a flicker of vital energy. You leaned into him despite yourself, almost like a moth drawn to a flame.

"You're tense," he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp that vibrated against your ear. "I can feel it." His fingers shifted, gently pressing into the rigid muscles of your shoulders, sending a sharp, almost painful, sensation down your spine. He was right, of course. Your body was a taut string, wound tight with frustration and unresolved emotions. You had buried them deep, hoping they would stay there, but Kirishima had a way of digging up the things you attempted to hide, peeling back the layers until you were raw and exposed.

"I don't need this right now, Kirishima," you stated through gritted teeth, the words laced with a hint of annoyance, but even in your denial, there was a tremor of something else, a desperate need, an ache you couldn't ignore. You weren't sure if it was emotional or physical, but the way his hands continued to press down, exploring, seeking out the knots and tensions, made you question everything. What am I even feeling? You wondered.

"No," he contradicted, his tone low and dangerous, his forehead pressing against yours. "You do need this. You need me to help you. To make it go away." The warmth of his breath tickled your ear, and the proximity made your heart pound like a trapped bird. His hands slid lower, the slight pressure both painful and pleasurable, a dizzying combination as he took control of your body. There was always a subtle power dynamic between you two, a delicate dance of dominance and submission, and the thrill that came with it was something you could never deny.

"You’re not going anywhere until you’re not tense anymore,” he whispered, his words laced with authority, his touch moving further, reminding you of the pain he could bring, the comfort he could give, the intricate web of connection that bound you together. A wave of heat crashed over you. This wasn't a request; it was a decree. You knew what was coming, every instinct screaming a warning, and yet, a strange, twisted sense of anticipation started to blossom. You didn't want it... yet you couldn't stop the fire from igniting in your chest. He had a knack for finding the triggers that made you ache with awareness, a blend of pain and pleasure that always left you wanting more.

"Fine," you breathed out, the word barely audible. "But just remember... you started this."

Kirishima chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "I know exactly what I’m doing."

[eternocosmo]

[hisdarksweetheart]

[howtomakeyousee]

[monikamonik]

࿇♡ೃ⁀➷・❥・♡࿇

It's not about time, it's about intensity and depth. It's about making every minute be worth.

.•.✦𓂃☆𝔀𝓮𝓫･࿐