Product Placement
todays bird
Acquired Stardust
No title available
dirt enthusiast
Love Begins
Game of Thrones Daily
shark vs the universe
h
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YOU ARE THE REASON
trying on a metaphor
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
ojovivo
roma★
Monterey Bay Aquarium
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
No title available
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
d e v o n
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Portugal
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seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Colombia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Philippines
seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
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seen from United States
@l1ttleb4nny
when she comes over tired after a long day and you wanna suckle so she sprawls across the couch and lets you immediately latch on and she lets out this half sigh of relief-half moan. then suddenly your panties are soaked and she’s slipping a finger inside you and you’re whimpering with a mouthful of nipple as you cum all over her hand
Is it so bad for me to want to kneel at a pretty woman's feet and desperately mumble "I love you, mommy" into her thigh over and over and over and
she’s so soft I like when her body presses against mine and I can feel how soft she is and her boobs press into me and I’m enveloped in her scent and warmth it’s one of the top three things of all time actually
hungry but I just want mommy’s tit in my mouth, please
whining and hmph-ing my way into getting fingers shoved in my mouth
condescending praise......condescending praise.....condescending praise......
Little one who stops their feet and insists they are too old for nap time, and then get surprised when mama says that it’s fine. They don’t have to take a nap if they don’t want to.
But mama’s gonna lay down for a little bit. And she just took a shower, so she smells extra nice and her bare skin is extra warm. She looks so comfortable, laid naked across the bed, with her book resting on her chest. Her breasts part when she lays back, leaving a perfect little space for your head. And her tummy looks so soft, like it would just perfectly mould to your body if you curled up on it.
But you’re a big kid, and big kids don’t need naps. So you just stare at her with wide, needy eyes, trying to convince yourself to stay strong. Even though mama looks awfully cozy. Even though it would feel so good to give in and let her pointy nails find their way into your hair, gently scratching your scalp.
Maybe you could just lay down for a little bit. You wouldn’t have to take a nap. You could still be a big kid and lay with mama for just a few minutes. You’ll get up in a few seconds, you tell her. You can’t stay for long. You’ve got lots of big kid responsibilities to attend to.
She understands, she assures you. You can get up whenever you want. But for right now, she’s just gonna pull the thick plush comforter up over your naked bodies. Because she’s getting a little cold. And she’s gonna turn the lights off, so she can relax.
Cause even mamas need a little rest. And, when she looks down to find you fast asleep against her, she thinks big kids must need rests too.
Pulling away from mommy’s tits n seeing the string of spit still connecting ur lips to her soaked nipple…yeah
ageplay is done. we’re doing ageserious now.
Somno with a baby girl is a must. Is my baby too tired to do anything? That is okay, let mommy take care of you. Go to sleep princess, dont worry about mommy hands between your legs I'm just make sure you are okay. Shhh baby I know it hurts let mommy kiss the pain away.
Soft dumbification >>>>
“Shhh… let me do the thinking”
“You’re so pretty with your head empty”
“I like you like this, no single thought behind those eyes”
“Doesn’t it feel good when I take care of you?”
“Only I know what you need”
“Thinking’s getting harder… I know”
Say it Properly (18+)
Mean! Dom Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader
The past few weeks had been… different.
It started one night when Wanda had you pinned beneath her, her fingers moving slow and deliberate, drawing out every gasp and shudder until you were trembling on the edge. You hadn’t planned it. The word had just slipped out, soft and breathless, right as you came undone.
“Mama.”
She hadn’t reacted. Not really. No pause, no widened eyes, no smirk or question. She’d just kept going, kissing your neck, murmuring “good girl” like always, and held you through the aftershocks. You’d been too blissed-out to think much of it then.
But the next time it happened, it felt even more natural.
She’d had you on your knees in the bedroom, her hand tangled in your hair as you took her strap, eyes locked on hers in the mirror. When she’d pulled you off just to tease you, you’d whined without thinking: “Please, Mama, let me—”
Again, nothing. No acknowledgment. She’d simply guided you back down, voice low and steady, telling you how pretty you looked stuffed with her. No praise for the word, no correction. Just… acceptance.
And so it kept slipping out.
In the shower one morning, when she pressed you against the tile and slid two fingers inside you from behind: “F-Fuck, Mama—”
She’d hummed, curled her fingers exactly where you needed, and made you come without a single comment on the name.
On the couch during a lazy weekend, when she’d pulled you into her lap and let you grind against her thigh until you were soaking through your shorts: “Mama, I’m close—”
She’d gripped your hips tighter, whispered “come for me then, baby,” and kissed you through it. No reaction to the title at all.
It became part of the rhythm. Easy. Natural. Like it had always belonged there.
You’d say it in the heat of the moment, desperate and needy, and she’d respond with touches, kisses, commands—everything you craved—without ever drawing attention to the word itself. No “I like when you call me that.” No “Don’t stop.” No sign it bothered her. Just quiet, steady acceptance, like she’d been waiting for you to find it on your own.
And because she never flinched, never questioned, never made it a thing, you stopped overthinking it. It just felt right.
So it kept happening.
A murmured “Thank you, Mama” when she handed you coffee in bed.
A sleepy “Mama, hold me” when you crawled under the covers after a long day.
A soft, automatic “Good night, Mama” pressed into her shoulder as you drifted off in her arms.
And every time, she simply pulled you closer, kissed your forehead, or ran her fingers through your hair. No reaction. No indication it meant anything more—or less—than everything else you gave her.
It was yours now. Hers now. Just another way you belonged to each other.
But last night, something had shifted in you.
She’d been soft—gentle in a way that still made your chest ache. Slow kisses, tender touches, holding you like you were something precious. No roughness, no commands. Just care. And in the quiet aftermath, curled against her chest, doubt had crept in.
Did she actually like it? Or was she just letting it slide because it was you?
You’d lain awake long after her breathing evened out, staring at the ceiling, wondering if you’d overstepped. If “Mama” was too much outside the heat of sex. If you’d been reading everything wrong.
So this morning, when you woke up alone in bed—her side already cool—you decided to test it. Pull back. Just in cas.
You padded downstairs in one of her oversized sweaters, the hem brushing mid-thigh, hair a sleepy mess, bare feet silent on the hardwood. The smell of fresh coffee and toast filled the air, and there she was—plating eggs at the counter, hair tied back loosely, wearing a simple tank top and lounge shorts.
“Morning, Wanda,” you said lightly, voice still a little husky as you reached for a mug.
She froze.
The knife in her hand stilled mid-motion. Slowly, deliberately, she set it down and turned to face you. Her expression was unreadable at first—just that calm, controlled mask she wore so well—but her eyes were sharper than usual.
“Why Wanda all of a sudden?” she asked, voice low, almost curious. But you knew her well enough to hear the edge beneath it.
You hesitated, fingers tightening around the mug. The playful ease you’d felt a second ago evaporated.
“I… I wasn’t sure if ‘Mama’ made you uncomfortable,” you admitted softly, eyes dropping to the floor. “You never said you liked it. I didn’t want to push or assume or—”
“Y/N.”
Your name cracked through the air like a whip. She didn’t raise her voice, but the tone made your stomach flip.
“Come here.”
It wasn’t a request.
You set the mug down immediately and walked toward her, heart already pounding. When you were close enough, her hand shot out—fast, precise—and gripped your jaw hard, fingers digging in just enough to border on bruising. She yanked your face up so you had no choice but to meet her eyes.
Green. Cold. Unforgiving.
“Did I tell you it made me uncomfortable?” she asked, voice dangerously quiet, each word enunciated like a threat.
“N-no, Mama,” you whispered, the title slipping out instinctively under her grip.
Her eyes flashed at the sound of it—satisfaction, possession, something darker.
“That’s right,” she hissed, tightening her hold for a second before loosening just enough that you could still feel the ache. “I didn’t. Because it doesn’t. It makes me feel exactly what I want to feel when it comes from your mouth—like you know who you belong to. Like you’re finally admitting it out loud.”
She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your lips.
“So don’t you dare take it back just because you got scared or unsure. That word is mine now. You gave it to me.
You say ‘Wanda’ again like I’m some casual fucking acquaintance, and I swear to god I will drag you over this counter right now, bare your ass, and beat the lesson into you until you’re sobbing ‘Mama’ with every breath. Then I’ll edge you for hours—until you’re dripping, desperate, broken—and I still won’t let you come until I hear it exactly the way I want it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Mama.” You choked out. Your knees went weak. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes—from the pain and the overwhelming intensity of her.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” you breathed, voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know what you meant,” she cut in, softer now, but no less commanding. Her thumb brushed roughly over your bottom lip, smearing the pressure of her grip. “But you don’t get to decide what I want, baby. You ask. You wait. You trust me to tell you if something’s too much.”
She released your jaw slowly, letting her hand slide down to collar your throat—possessive and bruising.
“Now say it properly.”
You swallowed hard, voice small and reverent.
“Good morning, Mama.”
A slow, approving smile curved her lips.
“Good girl,” she murmured, pulling you into her arms and pressing a kiss to your forehead—like the storm had never happened.
But you could still feel the faint throb in your jaw.
A perfect reminder.
Never again would you doubt what she wanted to be called.
Little miss intox bait CAN handle another drink
i wish i was easing my strap into an older woman while she frantically grabs at me with wide sparkling eyes
“oh good girl baby. you’re doing such a- fuck- good job for me honey. just like that! you like fucking your mommy?? mm i know you do naughty girl”
The secret therapists don’t want you to know is a girlfriend is a parent who never leaves.. no I mean a girlfriend is a lover who, is a mom sometimes .. wait come back
Mommy spraying whipped cream onto her fingers so I can lick it all up >.<
guys can we bring back girls letting you suck their tits to go to sleep please cuz like damn sometimes i just need a tit in my mouth
