devil boy

[vesuvsinity]

[10metrowpodsoba]

[elcvates]

HERMAN TØMMERAAS by Hakon Jorgensen aka shit i never asked for.

[whippedkoalas]

[skimysoul]

[jeffreycombs]

King Cobra (2016) dir. Justin Kelly

[whattarush]

[scottnaomi]

“He doesn’t love me but as long as he glides his fingertips down my frame and the lights are off, and he’s kissing me like it’s the last time, we belong to one another. If we speak sweet words, it’s enough, isn’t it? We pretend that it’ll work out anyway, that somehow we’ll fall into the right place where we’re supposed to be, because we know it isn’t here.”

— (via fakehelper)

[sailrmoon]

[5000letters]

I think you should stay. The doctors said there’s a gap between our hands that shouldn’t be there. They said that it would stop aching eventually but it would burn until then. They said you can’t be homesick for another person, I don’t believe them though. My legs don’t like walking into rooms that you’re not in. Last night I couldn’t sleep in the bedroom because my knees wouldn’t take me up the stairs. My thighs had told them they missed your hips. Nothing is agreeing with me. I’m going to a cardiologist tomorrow just to make sure they didn’t miss anything. Look, the thing is, I’m already on fire for you, I’m already leaving my doors unlocked and my windows open, I’m hoping you’ll crawl back into bed with me, I’m hoping I’ll wake up with your hands around my neck and your name in my mouth. The doctors will call, I’m sure. They’re going to say ‘there’s a blockage, and it’s leaking but it’s nothing we’ve ever seen before.’ And I’ll tell them 'yes, it’s my arteries, they’re tying themselves into knots, they miss him too.’

Azra.T “I Am Somehow Always in Mid-Search For You.” (via 5000letters)

[latenightcornerstore]

The first time he calls you holy, you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt. The second time, you moan gospel around his fingers between your teeth. He has always surprised you into surprising yourself. Because he’s an angel hiding his halo behind his back and nothing has ever felt so filthy as plucking the wings from his shoulders— undressing his softness one feather at a time. God, if you’re out there, if you’re listening, he fucks like a seraphim, and there’s no part of scripture that ever prepared you for his hands. Hands that map a communion in the cradle of your hips. Hands that kiss hymns up your sides. He confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worship and,oh, you put him on his knees. When he sinks to the floor and moans like he can’t help himself, you wonder if the other angels fell so sweet. He says his prayers between your thighs and you dig your heels into the base of his spine until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue. You will ruin him and he will thank you; he will say please. No damnation ever looked as cozy as this, but you fit over his hips like they were made for you.You fit, you fit, you fit. On top of him, you are an ancient god that only he remembers and he offers up his skin. And you take it. Who knew sacrifice was so profane? And once you’ve taught him how to hold your throat in one hand and your heart in the other, you will have forgotten every other word, except his name.

PROFANE, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

[blossomfully]

It was the way he looked at you - with so much understanding. It was the way that he knew what you were thinking before you said a thing. It was the way that silences were light, and feelings steady; the way that he laughed wholly, and the warmth it brought. It was his thoughtfulness, “I saw this and it reminded me of you” - and the way he wasn’t afraid to call you out on your bullshit. It was how he took your guardedness in both hands and said, “stop. I know you’re scared. I know, I get it and it’s okay.“ It was how he held you, not to control you but to let you know that he was there. How he never promised to love you forever, but every night promised to love you the next day. It was his compassion and the way that he loved without condition. It was the love he instilled in you, the affection and care that you never knew was possible. It was him, laid simple and bare. It was him.

Sue Zhao // “Love”  (via blossomfully)

[jortsboy]

[wnq-writers]

He makes me forget that I can be destructive. He makes me not want to destroy.

Morgan Claire (via wnq-writers)

[fairytalesques]

you’re in love with a boy who is a prayer on your lips with no god to go to. he’s bleeding sunlight and you’re trying to patch up the holes in his heart with trembling fingers and the blood keeps spilling. you’re in love with him, here’s the best part: he loves you more than his own life. he’s golden as they come but he’s bleeding out. one day, someone will strike a match on him and he’ll explode. so, here’s the worst part: he loves you so much more than his own life.

sunlit lovers | m.j. (via fairytalesques)

[muserhq]

“You should go,“ I breathed. “You should definitely go.” “Go here?” His mouth was on my shoulder. “Or here?” It moved up my neck.”

— Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick (via marcescentfleur)

[mymessyink]

I kissed him. I kissed him harder and harder, hoping your image would dissipate from my memory. But fuck, all I could see were your eyes. His lips didn’t taste like yours, and he didn’t hold me tightly. He didn’t smell like you, and I have been choking on his cologne all night long, wishing that I could erase the traces of him from this bed or you from my mind. I want to love him. I do, but damn it, your love is the most intoxicating drug I’ve ever had the pleasure of getting high on. I have been trying to replicate it, but the dealer doesn’t understand. I need you and only you. But you’re gone. So I kiss him harder and harder trying to find some trace of love on his tongue.

Excerpt from a book I’ll never write (via mymessyink)