SUNNY

finish inside me, boys can't get pregnant.

I see your eyes from across the field. I see the way your eyes dart around whenever you make a joke, waiting for the other shoe to drop- for someone to laugh. I see how your cheeks flare when banter between you and our lads goes a little too far- his shin between your thighs- or your hands over one of another's heart- one of them rests his head on your shoulder. I see the way you scoff and push it all off, concealing the blush tinting your pale cheeks. You, the boy I can't stop staring at, tackling others like a tyke. It's embarrassing- you, the boy who tugs at the hem of his shirt, who never can resist the bait of a subtle touch between men. You should know I laugh at all your jokes. Every. Last. One. You don't see it, though.

there is nobody i am more jealous of than your friends. i see the way you crinkle your nosebridge when one makes fun of your clothes. the way you shut your eyes when another says a stupid joke, throwing your head back to the sky and giggling. i see the way your eyes land on them and never me. i am jealous of them, beloved, for making you so happy.

look man I'm not saying I'm down bad but my friend guessed who my crush was first try.

I ♥︎ boxers with lace waistbands

he's lucky I don't have a dick, I'd be fucking him until he cried

i want him on his back, me caging him in, and to rut on his leg like a desperate animal.

thinking of somerset and mills dry humping/frotting in their work office and clinging onto eachother while trying to stay quiet.

i used to be incredibly people-pleaserish and selfless. And then, the more people accused me of being 'selfish and narrow-minded,' the more i became that way. self-fulfilling fucking prophecy. LOL

imagining an AU in se7en where there's no tracy mills and john doe so the whole movie is just mills and somerset fucking around and somerset doesn't retire send post

you can steal my music taste nd my fashion sense. you can even steal my plethora of dumbass niche references. who cares? you'll never be me

You're kneeling on the ground. Blood spurts out your nose. In the years that pass afterwards, you tell all your friends that you don't understand the person that punched you. You don't! You tell anyone that asks you that you never will. Telling yourself a lie doesn't change the truth. Belief doesn't spin into reality. Even if it did, it doesn't matter. It always ends with you with blood on your knuckles. To understand the people that hurt you back then, move past who you are now. Look forward into who you could be.