will byers stan first human second
#extradirty
DEAR READER
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Andulka
Origami Around
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Today's Document
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
trying on a metaphor
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Janaina Medeiros
hello vonnie
todays bird
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Cosimo Galluzzi
taylor price
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seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Estonia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
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@gentle-sadist2
New blog, same shadow.
41, calm voice, sharp mind
Name: says enough
Location: cold, rainy, fucked up
Blog: not made for the masses
18+ only or I’ll block you.
I see more than I say.
Ask, if you must. I don’t chase.
Backup-Account
I’d take your panties, press them against me, and ruin them with every filthy thought you were too sweet to admit you wanted in my head.
Real obedience does not begin in fear. It begins when her body stops looking for the exit.
She does not obey because I made myself loud. That kind of obedience is weak. Temporary. Almost pathetic. She obeys because her body starts to understand that I am not here to confuse her, abandon her, or punish her for needing guidance. She obeys because something in her finally stops bracing.
by slutfocate
The fantasy is not that I stop being possessive. The fantasy is that I become possessive enough to turn your humiliation into a ritual. You blindfolded on my bed, wrists tied, your body exposed, your pride slowly stripped away while they watch what happens to a sweet little thing when I decide she needs to be ruined properly. They could call you filthy names. They could see you blush, shake, whimper, lose that pretty little composure. But the entire time, you would know the truth. You are not theirs. You are being displayed like something owned. Used in a fantasy, degraded by permission, but still emotionally chained to me. And afterward, when the room is empty, you would crawl back into my arms because I am the one who gets the broken little after.
Akio Jissoji - This Transient Life - 1970
Give me the taste of pleasure and pain. Not the safe version. Not the pretty little fantasy people whisper about when they still want to feel innocent after. I want the kind that makes your body pause because it knows this will leave something behind. Sweet enough to come closer. Sharp enough to regret wanting it. That is the dangerous part. When it stops feeling like a choice and starts feeling like something in you finally being honest.
I want to mark you in a way people notice before you say a word. Not loudly. Not cheaply. Just enough that something about you looks claimed. My princess when you behave. My pretty little bunny when you get soft. And something much worse when your thoughts stop pretending they are innocent. That is the part I like. The contrast. Sweet enough to be held. Filthy enough to be kept hidden.
Your panties wrapped around my cock while I jerk off slowly, thinking about how pretty you’d look knowing exactly what I’m doing with them.
Good girls are just filthy girls with better discipline. And discipline breaks. Slowly at first. Then all at once. One breath turns into a whimper, one touch turns into trembling, and suddenly she is no longer hiding. She is used, wet, ruined, and too far gone to pretend she is anything but mine.
Imagine sleeping in my arms like you’re on a cloud, skin on skin, breathing so soft, then waking up confused and needy while I’m already deep inside you, one hand keeping your mouth shut, whispering, shhhh, don’t make a sound, little toy.
