monty

new message: [♡♡♡]

[blqckqp-blog]

its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”. its always “i should have”.

[blqckqp-blog]

bring back men going feral for a thigh high x skirt combo

imagine his eyes wandering all over as you sit on his bed, thighs pressed together to put pressure on your needy pussy. The way your flesh spills a little over the edge of those thigh highs making his mouth water.

The way you ‘accidentally’ brush the edge of your skirt up, revealing more of that goodness. And when you bring your knees to your chest, he feels his cock throb at the view.

Light pink lace panties. Oh how he thinks its ironic that your get up is so cute but so fucking sexy. He can’t help but stare at the puffiness where your pretty cunt is pressing against those panties.

He hooked a finger under the edge of one thigh high, pulling it away slightly and releasing, letting the band snap back. The sound of it hitting your skin and the slight jiggle of your thigh rebounding made him choke back a moan, bottom lip caught under his teeth.

He’ll take you whatever way he can. Whatever view he gets, he’s sure it’ll be beautiful.

When he fucks you from behind, he wants you down flat, thighs together. This way he can see just a peek of your sweet pussy from underneath your skirt and your thighs flatten out to be thick. With every stroke, he feels the fabric of your socks rub against him.

With you straddling his lap, he groans at the way you desperately grind and bounce on him like a cute bunny in heat. Your small hands gripped on his shoulders whilst you stare at his lips as they part to give you praises. Your eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed in bliss, and a string of saliva falling from your mouth from sucking on his fingers. The fingers that are now rubbing circles against your soft clit, his spare hand caressing your thigh, going high enough to push your skirt up and reveal the sight of his long, thick cock sliding in and out of you.

With you on your back, he fucks into you hard and fast, no longer able to hold himself back. With one arm holding himself up, he uses the other to push your leg up higher for better access, his fingers slipping underneath the band of your sock and rapping around your thigh. He noticed the way your skirt is stained white at the edges from the messy slick of your cores. The view enough to make him release deep inside you.

He doesn’t let you clean up for another hour. He wants to see his cum coating your thighs and dripping down to stain those thigh highs too, looking at you like his own personal masterpiece. Only once youre begging to clean up the mess after your combined juices drip all over the bedding and floor.

[blqckqp-blog]

and life changed

and i no longer cared for you the same

and i no longer dreamed of our days together

but instead, of a new world

a world free from you

and everything you make me hold on to

where my love isnt conditional

where you dont drag me by the few strings i have left

where im no longer afraid of everything

and how you exist among it

[thexpastelxpoet]

“hey what e-book are you reading there?”

[rainedravens]

"holy shit they finally confessed, what comes next--"

[dogrotpdf]

how’s that house that raised you?

[lucidloving]

Franz Kafka, The Diaries of Franz Kafka // Mitski—Abbey // Chuck Palahniuk, Diary // Fernando Pessoa // Andrei Tarkovsky, script of The Sacrifice (1986) // Haruki Murakami, 1Q84 // @/8bitfiction on X // see 1 // Morgan Harper Nichols, "Let July be July" // @/sunlightafterdark on ig

[blqckqp-blog]

Things are hard and once again I don’t know if I can do this anymore. Life would be easier if it wasn’t present at all.

Filling the gaps. I realise now that that’s all my life is about. That’s what I was designed to do. Fill the gaps where someone is missing. In fullness, I go unnoticed and quiet. And when it’s empty, only then does someone look for me.

Where someone better could be taking place, the empty space for me is never meant for me. Like the groundskeeper of an abandoned home. Like the shell of a firstborn crab. I am used out of necessity, not because I’m wanted but because there is nothing else. And when I’m gone, no one will notice until everything else is empty again.

Even then they will not double take or say my name more than once.

When I die, my things will not be passed on, my memory will not be held. The last time someone mentions my name will be the priest as he reads my obituary to an empty field. Maybe then only the bugs and trees will listen. But even then they have much work to do and no time to worry of rotting flesh.

[3-56pm]

sleep to forget how she lives in my head

[miles-away-from-heaven]

in what flesh do you desire to be wound?

Michaelangelo—his carving hands, his sculptures, and the cadaver he studied religiously in every fibre—which one did he love the most?

i firmly believe that first love never dies. the beginning is more memorable than the end. you remember what you wore on your first date. the smell of the perfume he sprayed on those flowers and teddy bears. which bus did you take the last time you went home from school?

the first poem i wrote is my favourite. it was the first time i learned how to write. to the first being that a duckling sees it will leave its imprint. i forgive the girl before me but i will never try to step on her shoes. if she dies, she never dies. all i have in you is a shadow of her and a slight hint of the note of the scent you smelled from her.

to you i will be perfect. and you might love me. but there's nothing like the first time. you say it's a different love. but the first sprain will resurface when you stumble again. i wil be perfect because she wasn't. and to you that meant love. to accept its immaturity and flaws. you will find in me what she lacked but you loved every gap between her fingers and the lines on her skin. i am just here to fill the gap. what's left to me is a residue of that love. what you loved in her, you will not love in me. what you love in me is what you didn't find in her.

miles

[blqckqp-blog]

if you could be described as any scientific phenomenon, i think gravity would be it. you hold me to this earth and something always brings me back to you, like planets around a sun, like suns around a black hole. but planets and suns still have a small chance of falling out of orbit. the difference with me is that was never even a possibility from the moment you first pulled me into you.

[blqckqp-blog]

in a different world, where we dont know each other, i will pass by you. and in those seconds we’ll politely smile in acknowledgment, naive to the way our strings are tied and woven across the universe. but we will still feel a slight tug of intertwining souls in that moment. a curiosity, a glimpse of another timeline, a feeling of familiarity. we will brush it off and continue with our lives, but from then on i will never feel completely fulfilled, and even worse, i will never know its because of you.

[blqckqp-blog]

if there were any way to atone for my sins - living with the fact that there will ever be and ever was a life without you - this ought to count in some measure.

when i say the devil sent you to me, it is not because you are cruel. but whilst god made the world beautiful and made me care so deeply. the devil sent you to make me willing to burn it all down and be scared of losing you.

[blqckqp-blog]

☁️))

your band is playing in your online friend’s town. after several years of chatting, you’ve found yourself falling for him, and him for you too. now you have the chance to surprise him at this bar gig near his apartment.

gracing the stage, you search the crowd for his figure to see him sitting at the bar, unaware of your presence, causing you to inhale sharply out of nervousness. you signal you’re ready to your drummer that starts the count in.

your first song, a song he himself recommended to you, by an old 70s band his dad listened to; too niche to not get his attention. as the melody hits and the song sinks into the crowd, your eyes are focused on his dim silhouette that perks up at the lyrics he undeniably recognises.

you feel your cheeks heat up as you watch him. the way his head turned at the realisation of the song. the way his body has now straightened. the way he quickly stiffens. he knows. he knows its you.

you feel the song trickle into your body as a way to distract yourself from the mass anxiety, saving you from crumbling into a mess in front of your official crush. you let the song sweep you away, digging at the riffs and runs, moving in sync with the grinding of guitar strings. you close your eyes to devour the sweetness of the hearty bass as you let your body ride the sound waves.

the next time you open your eyes, the song is about to finish and he has moved from his original spot. now, situated near the stage, slightly out of the light, you can see his familiar bright hair and sharp outline. you dedicate the last lines to him, staring directly at him as you finish off your movements.

as the bar uproars in enjoyment, your eyes are stapled to him. the intentional slowness of his applause, the slight amused tilt of his head. you bite your lip, holding in the geeky expression your heart wants to give.

your band quickly starts the next songs and you play out your set, overfilled with joy and an undertone of sexual tension, a feeling that has recently been present in your teasing conversations with him.

whilst finishing up your final song, you seem to have lost him in the crowd, unable to find him. slightly disappointed, you push and finish up cleanly, thanking the crowd and running off stage for a well deserved drink whilst also hoping to find your friend again and finally greet him in person.

first, your band packs and moves the equipment out to the van, and you make your way to the green room to grab everyones personal belongings.

whilst packing up your bags, you hear the door to the green room open. you don’t bother to say anything, assuming its just another band member coming to grab some stuff. that is until your attention is ripped from you with just one word, “y/n”.

you snap your head, eyes wide at the daunting image in front of you. the man you’d only ever seen through your phone, was now standing in front of you in his full, tall glory. his features were so much more breathtaking in person and his voice, even more soothing without the crippling distortion of radio waves.

you felt your chest heat up and hollow out at the same time. your stomach felt like it had ten herds of ox’s stampeding around, and your limbs produced quivers that could rival 6.0 magnitude earthquakes.

you wanted him to kiss you right there, but that was just your style of things. explosive, provocative, and bold. he was respectful and careful. always regulating your conversations together making sure you never went too far. maybe because he hates to admit he loves it.

[blqckqp-blog]

☁️ ))

you catch them.

all his little peeks, all the weird little things he does when you’re around. the way he seems to get comfortable when he’s next to you.

you notice everything and you can’t help but smile to yourself. how cute.

even cuter when he’s normally quiet and shy. he doesn’t even say much to you but the way his body relaxes around you, the way his pace slows, the way he responds to you’re questions with 3 more words than he gives to everyone else’s.

they’re small things, and to the naked eye, meaningless. but to you, the one who’s been carefully watching him, you,,, it means all the world.

[blqckqp-blog]

☁️ ))

when you start to pull away from your crush because you think he doesn’t like you back, but as soon as you do he keeps trying to be around you…

[blqckqp-blog]

☁️ ))

you’ve been flirting with him for so long.

one day you confess your feelings to him, and he tells you he doesn’t like you back.

you’re so upset and stop flirting with him and even start ignoring him out of respect for his feelings.

but he hates it. he starts realising the small things you did and how much he liked it.

you usually wait for him to go get lunch at your daily spot together, but this time you walk out without waiting.

when he catches up, he finds you sitting with someone else, the boy from your math class.

you no longer wait for him at the front.

you no longer greet him in the hallways.

no more duo study sessions, or random snacks, or late night ramen runs at the convenience store.

now your moving on to another guy?

he realises just how much of his life was about you.

and it drives him crazy.