sleepy & thinking abouuut dean winchester with a partner who is just a little peculiar in the ways in which they express their love towards him.
you sniff at his neck and press your nose into the soft spikes of his hair as he sleeps, breathing him in with deep inhales, faded cologne and basalm and dark vanilla. he might stir, and doesn't speak at all, fingers finding your waist to pull you closer.
sometimes, you'll clamber over him in bed and stare down, blinking owlishly and quiet. he stares back, tips up into your palm as it smooths over his forehead. he likes it. likes you, likes how quiet you can be, likes how you stare and bump the tip of your nose to his.
you'll admit things, in the late evening, when it's only him and a gauzy breeze rolling in soft waves through the cracked window of a worn motel room. he cleans his machete, his pistol, and there's so much you've got to tell him.
"i look at your knuckles a lot," you murmur.
his knuckles. it's only a little weird, when he thinks about it and glances to where you sit on the edge of the mussed bed. the mattress creaks as you shift. you're so pretty. he loves that you think about his knuckles. it feels intimate in a caliber he hasn't allowed himself to experience.
"yeah?" he replies. "that's sweet, angel."
confessions spill out easy from your lips, and he comes to hear, crouching by your feet with big hands splayed atop your thighs. he taps with the pads of his fingers and listens and wants desperately to nuzzle his face in some warm place of you.
"your teeth are pretty," you blurt next. "i daydream about kissing them."
something foreign and fuzzy settles in the pit of his heart.
"i'd let you, baby. you want to?"
you nod. so he lets you. flushes a smooth, blushed velvet. you pull his pink lip up with a gentle thumb and kiss his canines just to kiss.
there are many little details about you, that he admires just the same. the faint hairs that trail in a tiny rivulet down your navel, the delicate swell of skin above the waist of your jeans, the curve of your ears. how you speak, and blink, and your puffed under eyes after waking.
"d'you think i'm weird?" you question, when his cheek is to your chest and his bones are warmed jelly. you pet his hair. he tries to shake his head against you, but doesn't move at all. the ball of his palm rubs circles into a small divot in your back.
I'm Your Man, Mitski /// “you said the lambs were ready,” come the slumberless to the land of nod, Traci Brimhall /// I WILL BE GOOD AS LONG AS YOU WANT ME, @thegirlhoodtheory /// 'the reciprocity of the attack dog and the hand that holds the short leash' (edited), @brutaliakhoa /// Moon Song, Phoebe Bridgers /// Still Life Based on Hunting (detail), c. 1665-1701, David De Koninck /// It Will Come Back, Hozier /// "you’ve always been more of a dog person," @tdaspoetry
Ghoul time! This piece is based off of a TikTok I saw — I just thought the smoke was real neat. Color palette is pure vibes with no reasoning behind it :P
turnnoffyourmind
romaincrisis
dailybridgerton
