mother ㅤwill ㅤnever ㅤunderstand ㅤwhy ㅤyou ㅤhadㅤ to ㅤleave [ . . . ] ㅤbut ㅤthe ㅤanswersㅤ youㅤ seekㅤ will ㅤnever ㅤbe ㅤfoundㅤ atㅤ 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆.
222 posts
Turpitudae - * Spookshow Baby! - Tumblr Blog
a sanctuary fitting for the two, groups that demanded couldn't bother them here. oddly enough, he felt safe here despise all thoughts saying otherwise. the samoan wasn't a good person and he accepted that, neither was he. they weren't good people, but they tried to be here. with each other, or at least the latino tried. roman was somehow worth trying for, a smile making it's way on his face as tattooed arms around themselves wrapping around in equal possession. “ nah, she ain't raise you right. so much attitude from the baby. " a grin that wasn't going away anytime soon, enjoying the attention too much. “ make me, huh? "
it was a void, a bottomless void that damian kept scratching at. he was lost his own thoughts, the downward spiral. death was too gentle, decided they didn't deserve such. that was something he's certain of. death was too kind, far too peace for what they done. what finn has done. it wasn't the title lost, but the knife. the bittersweet yet expected betrayal that found itself stuck in his thoughts like a record that won't stop playing. times he told rhea that he didn't trust the irishman, times he told her to throw them out all ignored.. and now they're back at stage one. the multitudes of grief, and all the latino could do is sigh once she uttered those words. “ i know. "
msg - sent › you're being a brat, karen. you know damn well what i meant.
msg - sent › don't start twisting my words, and if you want the height advantage — alright. i'll pick you up, make it even.
msg - sent › just don't get shocked when i drop you.
we should do that again sometime.
“ get out. now. " he felt dirty, dirty like the day he was born. why? why would he do this to rhea? he felt disgusted in himself. the one time that she trusted him wholeheartedly, and he ruins it. he ruins it by getting drunk, ruins it by being here in bed .. with her. covers pulled to the side, rushing into the bathroom. panic induced, he felt worse than death. a throbbing headache and the lingering touch of hands scattered across his body that made him feel nauseous all over again. what kind of friend was he?
PROMPTS FOR THE MORNING AFTER * adjust as necessary, nsfw implied
this... isn't my bed.
i'll make us breakfast.
wait, how long have you been here?
did you stay the night?
you're so beautiful like this.
did i give you that hickey?
don't get up. stay right here.
kiss me again.
nice bedhead.
are you... wearing anything?
this was a bad idea.
i've wanted to do that forever.
did you enjoy it?
i did a number on your back. sorry about that.
is this your shirt?
maybe you should go.
i had a great time.
if you stay, i'll make us coffee.
i shouldn't have stayed over.
come back here. please?
i've never been like that with anyone before.
there's a bra on the ceiling fan.
did we... actually...?
we could do it again, if you want.
you made me feel... incredible.
was it... okay?
you look beautiful in my bed.
what do you remember?
was i too loud?
you can borrow my shirt.
i guess this makes us more than friends.
this can't be happening.
i could spend the day just like this, right here with you.
is that a hickey?
this was just for fun. it doesn't mean we're together.
this wasn't supposed to happen.
should we talk about it?
what time is it? i'm late for work.
how long have you been awake?
i remember... everything.
we should do that again sometime.
i think we cuddled.
that was the best night of my life.
what parts do you remember?
why don't you stay for breakfast?
was it good for you?
the sex was great.
how do you like your eggs?
are we still friends?
sorry, i've got morning breath.
i'd really like to keep seeing you.
i'm glad i invited you in.
finally... fucking finally.
please don't leave the bed.
don't make fun of me if i walk funny.
this doesn't mean anything.
my friends are never going to believe this.
i don't even know who i was last night.
no one's ever taken care of me like that.
let me help you clean up.
maybe we should forget this even happened.
i'm just going to... leave.
you said some wild things last night.
you're wearing my shirt.
maybe we could make this a regular thing.
am i blushing? i'm blushing, aren't i.
where did i put my glasses?
your clothes are in the living room.
i need a shower.
your hair's a mess.
you make a great pillow.
i thought we agreed this would ruin our relationship.
did i do something wrong?
we were pretty loud.
do you want me to leave?
i asked you to stay the night.
i bet your neighbors hate us.
stay like this.
well, that's one way to bounce back.
what about round two?
don't let go of me.
why don't you join me in the shower?
we can't keep doing this.
we're fucked, aren't we.
how long have i been asleep?
i tried to keep feelings out of this. i really did.
@sickfcks
BBC iPlayer released updated subtitles for IWTV S2.
roman : msg - sent › me, obviously. no one is gonna' try to calm your crazy ass down anyway.
roman : msg - sent › it would be, huh? but you didn't earn that with your last tantrum.
roman : msg - sent › but i'll be nice, real nice for you big guy. i'll head on over if you get me a nice plate to chow down on.
roman : msg - sent › yeah, yeah. follow your own advice, moses.
roman : msg - sent › diós, you need a muzzle. huffin' and puffin' when you can't get your way.
roman : msg - sent › not too busy to deal with you, fuck. figured you'll realize that sooner rather than later.
is there any specific artists you listen to while writing your muse?
occasionally, some artists aren't as much as of shock in comparison to others. the only issue i ever have is trying to make him a playlist that i won't hate after a week. but nine inch nails and fiona apple always find their way into my writing mix, i've come to accept that he's coded in all the dirty, filthy things that are made by trent reznor and fiona. massive attack, ministry, jane's addiction, sinéad o'connor, björk, and kate bush are also common. also anything off of the erotica album by madonna works.
never discouraging, fingers firmly gripping on wet flesh that the new yorker managed to hold onto. so tall, towering and commanding yet — his desire left him pitiful. a hiss escaping, eyebrows furrowed together. it was torture, how mox left him wanton for more. playing with him effortlessly like a piano. a hand guiding itself to grasp firmly against the man's head, like mother mary. caressing, holding him still as he arched his head in — it was awkward, pressing a wet kiss against his cheek as he tried to regain some control. but all he could do is slowly fall into the abyss, a inferno of his desires manifesting themselves. “ there's a lot things that would feel better than that, don't cheap out on me tonight. " he sighed, allowing himself to get this [..] to let go those iron reigns he held onto so tightly.
James Marsters as Spike
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
5.18 | "Intervention"
really, he needed to be more cautious with his choice of words. roman was a lot of words, many words that could fit such a man in both english and spanish dictionaries. but, at a certain timeframe .. he was rather cold, dismissive; however things have changed, the latino wasn't sure anymore. he didn't know how to manage this, too accustomed to being dismissed— to be thrown away. the realization that someone wanted him to stay, to linger and rest against the door frame was frightening. but to be denied was far worse, grimacing to himself as he pulled his hand away— as if he was too dirty to touch. he wasn't clean, he wasn't perfect enough for this— for him. “ they need me too, " is all he could possibly mumble out.
the thrill, the bloodlust. he couldn't control it, couldn't grasp the way his irises lit like a radiant gem at the sight of beautiful, crimson red being spilled. he was certain that he was the god himself with how much pride filled him with the knowledge that he bled someone out dry, that his hands could cause destruction. suppressed destruction with every caress, licking over his teeth as he nodded. it was difficult with her. wanted to tear off those angel wings of hers and wear them himself, masquerade as something pure for how impure he felt when he glanced in her direction. “ he's somewhere else, six miles out— eight inches deep. "
for once, her pointed leer was justified. he spend two years pretending to be a puppet, oblivious to the world around him and distract himself with idle things like a tag team run. two years of waltzing around the truth, an act he become master at. only september had he decided that he'll become less dependant on the three blind mice, and november proving to him that no matter what — the australian favored dom. their friendship didn't matter, hadn't matter in a while. dom was all that mattered to rhea. her precious boy, her latino heat.
damian hadn't mattered for a while. but now, he wasn't so certain. part of him wished to go back to the old days, to savor what once was — be able to place a comforting hand on her shoulder and rub away any tension. she would pick herself back up as she always done before, come back stronger. rhea was a force to be reckoned with, but love was an arrow. it was poisoning once it found itself deep in flesh, making a home in the heart. understanding her pain, love was blinding— took away your sight; love was a beast that made the strongest man victim.
yet he couldn't look at the woman without a ping of guilt flooding his chest. it was his fault, somehow. should've kept the leash. tighter, should've been more direct and kept his foot down on his word as he done before. but why? it wouldn't have changed the outcome.
it never did. dom would've just despise the older man more, too similar to his own father. whilst damian began to understand why rey was the way he was. although noting to himself that rey, like dom, was a push—over. never had the balls to say no. “ it's fine. " he sighed out, admitting defeat. “ we'll be fine, don't— think like that. "
▮ [ contact: 🐈 ]
msg - sent › you're welcome, it's about time someone made you beg for it anyway. you're so use to getting your way, aren't you?
msg - sent › doesn't work like that with me, but you're an hart — know a lot about working hard. it won't be something shocking for you.
“ right. " there was a tight exhale, he wasn't sure how long he was holding his breath. sometimes he wonders if the australian confused him with someone else, seem to forget their history along the way as they attempt to navigate their newfound path. no more judgment day, no more mysterio lurking— no more balor. it was back to the start, priest and ripley. “ you care so much about someone who never cared about you. " cared so much about him that you forgot that i was here, i was always was here. but he ignored the way his throat tighten and his fist clenched at the thought. he wasn't bold enough today to kick her down, or ever it seems. it's borderline humiliating the way he tried to make her see reason, to see herself as someone who doesn't need him out of all people.