(via Chintz Of Darkness: Where The Wild Things Are)

watch your step to hell, its a long fall!

Shadow the hedgehog

The floor, walls, and ceiling in this Tucson kitchen suit the Southwest's hot, dry climate. The black-tinted concrete floor is cool in summer and contains radiant heating for winter, and the high, exposed-joist ceiling allows heat to rise. Walls are clear-finished rammed earth, which moderates the summer heat and calls to mind adobe, one of the earliest building materials.

The Kitchen Idea Book, 1999

M.L.Rio, “If We Were Villains.”

"You know, Nanamin," Yuuji started, between mouthfuls, "when we first met, I thought I wouldn't like you at all."

Kento raised one thin eyebrow over the rim of his paper-cup coffee. He sat with you, and Yuuji, at a dirt road Conbini overlooking Tokyo. The sun was setting, casting the city as a silhouette against oranges, purples. You could smell the earthy petrichor of an incoming storm. Yuuji did not mind, thoughtful as he slurped at an instant ramen.

"Like, really," Yuuji continued, his mouth puckered up, "I thought you were boring. Unfunny, grumpy, miserable. Maybe even a little bit mean." Yuuji laughed now, becoming gradually more animated as he set the scene. "And when you tried to lecture me, while I was fighting that curse? Insane. I was like, 'Who the hell is this guy?'"

You covered your mouth, hiding a smile, eyes flicking between your unreadable husband, and the bubbling boy opposite him. Yuuji finished laughing, wiping his eyes and sighing into another slurp of noodles.

You placed a surreptitious hand on Kento's thigh under the table, and he barely reacted, but to tense and cross his arms. Yuuji rested his chin on one hand, eyes softening as he looked over the ant-like lights, moving in scattered formation across the city.

"But then...I realised. You just cared. I mean, really cared. About me. And if I wasn't being treated right. And if I was gonna be okay." Yuuji swallowed, his voice thickening. "And I...didn't have anyone left like that. The only person I ever did have was my grandad, and maybe he just took care of me because he had to, y'know? But you chose to. Even though I'm...I'm a monster."

You saw Kento squirm within. You knew he'd had his misgivings about Sukuna's Vessel, before Kento knew him as Yuuji. You knew the shame and guilt Kento carried for that. His shoulders ached, a pall-bearer of emotions for so many.

"And you're hilarious. Anyone can see it, really. And you're a rebel. And a protester. And you stand up for the little guy when nobody else wants to. And you don't do it to make us like you. You just...believe it's right. And don't get me wrong, I like Gojo-sensei too, but I love you."

You pursed your lips, closing your eyes and trying not to tear up on Kento's behalf. Kento remained silent, arms crossed and frowning down at his steaming coffee. Yuuji looked at you, uncertain. You gently flapped one hand; don't worry, you're alright, you're okay.

Kento eventually broke his silence, his voice gruff. He pushed his bank card across the table to Yuuji.

"Itadori-kun." Yuuji sat to attention, wide-eyed. "Go and get yourself some snacks. As much as you like. And the other students, too, if you know what they'd want."

Yuuji took the card in confusion, with both hands and a little bow, and disappeared inside the shop, the automatic doors booping behind him.

Kento stood, your hand falling off his lap, and grasped the metal railings overlooking the city, with his back to you. His shoulders were taut, stiff, occasionally hitching with emotion. You felt him, as you always had.

"...Kento? Are you alright?"

A thick swallow and a sniffle before a single gravelly, "Yeah. I'm fine, I...I'm fine."

nsfw - mdni. f!reader, piv sex, possessive gojo.

“Let me see you,” Satoru begs as you fight the urge to turn your face from his discerning stare, instead letting your head loll against his wrist while your eyes flick up to meet his. You’ve never felt more seen than when his eyes are on you just like this, drinking in every soft inch of you as if it could be the last time.

It isn’t lost on you that it could very well be one of these days, the dangerous work the pair of you do is heavy enough to carry that at times you feel like your life is already set for a predetermined amount of days.

Could this be the final time you sigh dreamily into his mouth? You whisper a vow to love him forever, barely loud enough for him to hear over your staccato whimpers and babbles. He knows it, though, the feel of each syllable pressed against the smooth expanse of his chest or the skin of his wrist.

You say it every single time without fail, not that he’s kept a running tally over the years. There’s no way Gojo Satoru has let you imprint on his heart so deeply that he knows every single muttered declaration of love like he knows his own mind and the way the sun rises and sets. Yet here he is, adding another tally to the running total.

“I love you,” with your back arched and his hands grasping at your ass for leverage while he buries himself so deep inside of you he’s determined to shape your insides in his likeness. You’d like that too - a home inside of you made just for him.

You could offer him your heart but your cunt seems the more fitting tribute with the way it always promises warmth and want to him. It’s less bruised, at least for now if his pace continues to speed up.

“Fuck Satoru,” your words change in pitch as you spit them out and his thumb brushes across your swollen clit. His tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth and you’re lost the moment you look at him, sweat dampened hair resting against his forehead and brushing the tips of his “those can’t be real they’re so long” eyelashes.

You know they’re real and it drives you crazy much like everything else about him. He’s too perfect and it makes you feel small in comparison but you know above all that he wants you - flaws included. You whisper another lovesick chant against his skin and it fuels him further, thrusts increasing so sharply you can hear every tap of his balls against the bottom of your ass.

One pulsating spasm and he knows, you’ve unraveled between his fingers like twine. He’ll spool you back up later, after you’ve cried or laughed or enjoyed the silent comfort of your head pressed against his chest, but for now he’s content knowing he’s the one responsible for your carefully crafted facade falling in the form of tears leaving shimmering tracks down your face.

You’ll blame it on overstimulation if he feels bold enough to ask but he knows the truth. You’re giving him something it feels too intimate to share in the daylight - you at your most bare and not merely in the way that shows him each delectable bounce of your tits in time with every time his cock fills you.

You’re vulnerable and you want to be. This is when you’re most undeniably his.

“That good, beautiful?” He coos down at you as he shifts from holding himself up with one of his hands to placing his elbows on the bed so your chests are pressed against each other and his fists are balled into the sheets above your head.

You nod with furrowed brows in your bliss and his gentle lips wipe away the trail of tears on your cheeks with kisses - there’s no need to let them linger as long as he’s here to clean you up and make you better.

His pace continues and you know he’s nearly finished himself, the darkness of your bedroom doing nothing to hide the tension in his face that always indicates he’s almost done.

“My pussy feels so good,” he taunts and usually you’d bristle at the peacocking ownership but you let him have it this once despite knowing he can feel the way you twitch around him with the assertion. His pussy. You know it to be true as sure as your heart is his. “Gonna make me cum, is that what you want?”

Nodding again, you whine and he dips to press your foreheads together. He wants to make sure you see him as clearly as he sees you when he cums, painting your insides with him. You offer shallow thrusts of your hips to meet with his long strokes and before you know it, he whimpers and gnaws on his lower lip while you feel warmth filling you.

His eyes flutter shut and you crane your neck to press your lips against his, the smooth flesh making you smile. It’s so familiar. It’s home.

“I love you,” you whisper a final time despite knowing he can hear you even over his deep breaths. His head comes to rest on your clavicle and you press his face between your hands the best that you can in the awkward position the two of you have come to rest in.

“I know,” he finally whispers back and you hold him to your body for as long as you reasonably can.

This late in the night, it’ll probably be until the sun rises and reminds you that another world exists outside of the tangle of your bodies as little as you’d like to face it.

Until then, though, paradise is pressed against your chest in a heavy breathing heap.

Echidna warriors are inclined to let the youngsters in their tribe win small battles to encourage confidence. They are also inclined to humble those who boast too much confidence lol.

Inspired request by @/niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian

yes yes orlok as the grotesque manifestation of ellen’s hideous lust, monsterfucking blah blah blah. Hot.

But thomas… the lover that witnesses.. accepts… soothes… He saw her at her most depraved and still held her… you guys. He was the only other person who had *seen* what she saw in her dreams. He was there in that castle… was inflicted by orlok’s perversions. In the flesh. Still he made it home. Then he watched her, frothing at the mouth and shaking in demonic fury, to then crawling and begging at his waist for mercy, then a moment laters she’s looking up at him with the very devil in her eyes and tongue… and still, he held her! As she truly sobbed. He told her it was okay, that he had seen it too. Continued to love her as his woman, descend to hell and destroy the demon for her. And Ellen loved him too! She says she felt he was sent to her, made her feel normal and okay. Her salvation. A love that feels like depollution… to be so inspired by your love for somebody that for them you go, willing, to the altar as a sacrificial lamb. Her love for him gave her purpose! I love them… not orlok nor any contract could ever dissolve the bond between them.

Chapel dedicated to the Thunderer Saint St. Pantelija that is built inside of a hollow ancient oak near the village of Jovac, Vladičin Han region, SE Serbia.