Everyone in Ponyville knows these two have a thing going on, except for these two.
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T4T love is holy whether its sexual or romantic or platonic or monogamous or polyamorous or gay or lesbian or straight or any combination of any of those things or even something more deeply personal and undefineable
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come for me if you must but colin and penelope’s first kiss was way more hard hitting than any of the other kisses in bridgerton. it wasn’t fast and wild or trying to prove something. it was slow. gentle. a friend helping out another friend with just a simple peck that could have ended there. but no they pulled back and looked at each other and got lost in with another and kissed again. deepened it. both acting as if it would be the only and last time. colin panting into her mouth. his fingers on her cheek. we have been waiting to see this kiss for two seasons. eighteen episodes. penelope has been waiting for this kiss since they were kids. like!! their kiss holds so much more meaning!! hits harder!! i’m sorry but nothing can top it.
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it's about the small acts of intimacy... forehead kisses, putting jewelry on you, rubbing your hand with their thumb, putting a jacket on you, touching your necklace, running your hands through their hair, wiping away their tears, peeling them an orange, un/zipping their dress, tying their shoelaces, holding hands, removing an eyelash from their cheek, washing their hair, putting an anklet on them, tucking their hair behind their ear, sorting out their collar, untangling their necklaces, drinking out of a cup in their hands
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knight/lord ships are like. what if i would die for you. what if i wanted you to live for me. what if i wanted to touch you but could only be satisfied with being near you. what if i could touch you but only through the safety of our gloves. what if i couldn’t stop thinking about you right next to me. what if i bloodied my hands for you and never looked back at the wreckage. what then
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ℑ 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔞 𝔩𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔰,
𝔉𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩—𝔞 𝔣𝔞𝔢𝔯𝔶’𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡,
ℌ𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱,
𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔡
- John Keats, La Belle Dame Sans Merci (1819)
(based on the eponymous painting by Frank Dicksee (1901))
(prints available on my inprnt ! :))
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wanting to fuck them nasty in the bar bathroom like we’re strangers when in reality we’re deep in love
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goddd every time i see his waist and hips and thighs and ass i can't fucking control myself i need to breed him breed him breed him breed him breed him until all of his holes are stuffed and leaking and he's whining and squirming and moaning and and and
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MEN ARE SO???? PRETTY???????????? and im just supposed to be normal about it
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