Dont Ask Me About His Lips. How They Ruby And Burn. Stretch Full Over White Teeth, Taut Like A Drum.

“Don’t ask me about his lips. How they ruby and burn. Stretch full over white teeth, taut like a drum. I want him to make music of me. Don’t ask me about his hands. The way they are scarred with stories. How they slide thick down his legs as I stare. Mouth cotton; eyes hungry. Don’t ask me about my hunger. The way my stomach drops tight when he looks at me. The way my palms itch for his bones. Don’t ask me about my fear. The way he comes to me. How I open my mouth to say “Yes” and it comes out “I’m sorry.””

— -His Lips, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)

shadow, you’ll travel to what waits ahead (x)

“you love me despite the history of my hands, their mangled / confession”

— Danez Smith, from “acknowledgments,” Homie

not to be dramatic or anything but who would i even be without ao3

I just watched natasha’s alternate death scene, & instead of monologuing about why she’s going to be the one to jump, thanos and his army had found them on vormir. she’s badly injured, and as she watches thanos close in on clint lying defensively, she pushes herself off the edge. I can’t believe they chose a scene where clint and nat wrestle about who gets to die over that. marvel really hates women huh