𝕽𝖎𝖓

21y / MDNI ' 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲

[wicked-bitch-of-the-south]

Cait wip :3

[wicked-bitch-of-the-south]

bottom Sevika x Ambessa???

....please tell me there is an audience for this

anyone???

tumblr keeps flagging yall rip to uncensored drawing

[rinthebells]

I AM THE AUDIENCE THE AUDIENCE IS ME- THIS IS AMAZING😭😭⁉️⁉️⁉️

[wicked-bitch-of-the-south]

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Uncensored drawings, early access, wips and exclusives can be found on my patreon linked in bio 😔🤘🏼

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[wicked-bitch-of-the-south]

Had this in my drafts, was told to post here...

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[rinthebells]

kiss the chef ig...

[wicked-bitch-of-the-south]

Had this in my drafts, was told to post here...

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[rinthebells]

Im completly dead...kiss to the author

[arealmissunderstood]

[myshlongislonglikeabong]

[iobsessoveradri]

She stands there, brushing her hair an act so ordinary it would pass unnoticed by most. Yet in her, even the mundane becomes divine. The brush glides through strands of soft pink, each motion deliberate, gentle, as if she were taming the wind itself. I watch her in silence, caught in the gravity of her presence.

Her large brown eyes catch the light, turning it to something holy. Her eyeliner wings outward with perfect precision, tracing the natural curve of her eyes. Its shade dark, yet cosmic seems to hold the shimmer of distant galaxies. Beneath her right eye rests a single mole, and scattered across her face are others, tiny celestial bodies forming a constellation not unlike Aries flipped ninety degrees to the left. I wonder if she’s ever noticed, this quiet miracle of starlight drawn upon her skin. Fitting, for someone who seems nothing short of sacred.

She begins to braid her hair, fingers weaving order into beauty, two neat braids falling against her cheeks. Even as she moves out of view, my eyes chase her reflection in the white tiles behind her. Her silhouette alone carries grace an echo of perfection itself. I lie there, still. Watching. Wondering if she knows the extent of what I feel.

She knows I love her, yes but does she know how deeply? Does she know that when I see her, my chest feels weightless, my heart caught between awe and surrender? In her presence, I am suspended between worship and longing. When my time comes, I think, whatever remains of me dust, ash, soil will remember this love. It will carry traces of her warmth, her light, her quiet divinity. And perhaps, somewhere, somehow, it will pass that love onward. Into flowers, into air, into someone else’s heartbeat. All because she once stood there, brushing her hair.

[iobsessoveradri]

I fold you into me like a secret feast. Your breath is the first course, warm and alive, and I drink it as though it could save me. Every exhale you give is a revelation. Every word is another bite of something divine. My hunger has no mouth yet it gnaws at everything that is not you. I wake with it. I sleep with it. It hums in the marrow of my wanting.

I trace the map of your throat with my whisper and let your name melt against my tongue until it becomes the taste of existence itself. You are language and heat and pulse. You are the pulse. The rest of the world has fallen silent. I feed on the rhythm of you and it fills the hollow cathedral of my chest.

Your laughter is smoke. It enters me and settles behind my ribs. I breathe it until I forget where my air ends. I feel myself taken by the softness I once believed I could consume. You move inside me like a fever that will not break. I let it spread. I want it to burn until I am nothing but the scent of you lingering in flame.

There is no violence here. Only devotion that devours. I drink your ache. I swallow your joy. I breathe the sweetness of your sorrow and let it settle beneath my skin. You are stitched into me by every thought that begins and ends with your name. My soul wears your shadow as its only garment.

By dawn, the boundary between us collapses. I am your echo. Your pulse hums through my veins like a prayer that has forgotten who it was meant for. My heart beats twice, once for me and once for you. The world grows thin, trembling at the edges, and I am filled to the brim with your light. I am full. I am whole. I am worship.

[iobsessoveradri]

When you sleep, you are an unbearable beauty, so still it feels forbidden. I could watch forever, starved and trembling, as your breath lifts and falls like something I was never meant to touch. My eyes trace the quiet map of your body and I ache to crawl beneath it, to hide in the marrow of your spine, to live where your nerves spark, to curl inside the humming electricity of you.

I want to slit the seam of your chest and climb through. To rip your heart from its throne and press my own into the cavity, still beating, still raw, so that my blood threads into every root of you, until when you breathe it is me filling your lungs. I want your veins taut in my grip, stretched between my hands like strings, your sinew snapping and singing as I weave myself through you.

It would be madness, yes, to consume you like this but love is only ever madness sharpened to hunger. The more I watch you, the more I dissolve, spiraling deeper, gnawing at the edges of sanity, clawing toward the delirious promise that if I can devour enough, if I can tear deep enough, there will be no barrier between us. Only one body, one ruin, one fever of blood and breath where you and I are fused, inseparable, forever.

[futchswitch]

intelligence is such a turn on for me like yes teach me about something! now let’s make out!

[iobsessoveradri]

Your stomach is a perfect parabola, a holy curve where symmetry bends into sin. I see it as an equation I cannot solve, though my teeth keep trying, each breath you take pulling my hunger along an invisible axis. I would map you in chalk on the floor if you’d let me, plot every rise and dip, each angle where light breaks into shadow. I could spend a lifetime calculating the slope of your beauty and still starve before I reached the answer.

It arches like the bridge of a suspension span holding up the weight of my devotion, taut with the tension of a thousand unspoken bites. I see the curvature as a graph spiraling toward infinity, and I am the function that will never converge forever chasing the limit of your skin.

I ache to measure you in decimals, to hold my breath at the 3.14159 of you, the endless circle closing in on my hunger. I want to feel your body as a theorem written on my tongue, proof spilling between my teeth as I work my way toward your center. You are geometry made flesh, topology soaked in warmth, the divine slope where all my hungers intersect.

And still, the numbers lie because there is no sum that could hold you, and no equation that could solve the ache you’ve carved into me.

[chaiiyue]

people that dont like abby arent real

everyone likes abby

abby has no haters

abby is so beloved

[iobsessoveradri]

It rises in me like a storm that never breaks the sea churning black and salt-heavy beneath its own still skin, the air swollen with lightning yet refusing to split.

It is the slow spin of a hurricane’s eye, serene only because the violence waits at its edges, circling.

The ache gathers low, molten and magnetic, a tremor that rolls through marrow and muscle, the deep pull of something that is not just want, but need sharpened to hunger.

Her neck is the first flash of white in that darkness, a mast glimpsed through rain, a pale beam slicing the horizon.

It draws the tide of me forward until I am breaking against it, wanting to wrap my mouth there and feel the storm pass between skin and teeth.

I imagine the current of her blood as a river in flood, warm enough to burn, and I would swallow it until the ocean inside me finds its mirror.

They curve like the pull of the moon itself, dictating the rise and fall of my pulse, the ebb of restraint into ruin.

Her hips are the shoreline that swallows waves without mercy, the place where water is both claimed and destroyed.

I would grip them like the hull of a ship in wind, bite down until the salt of her becomes indistinguishable from the salt of the sea.

The storm circles endlessly neck the lightning strike, hips the undertow and I am caught in its orbit, willing to be torn apart if only to remain inside it.

[iobsessoveradri]

She is a cathedral built from fractured stained glass, every shard catching the light in impossible colors, sharp and radiant, casting rainbows that fracture the shadows inside me.

Her spirit is an altar, ancient and trembling, where hymns rise like incense curling slow and thick, filling the air with prayers I don’t know how to speak but ache to hear.

Each word she speaks is a chant, a melody carved from fire and stone, echoing in chambers too deep for daylight, where my soul folds itself open like the petals of some rare, holy bloom.

There are altars within her; many, some cracked and bleeding light, others cool and silent like marble touched by moonlight.

I want to kneel before them all, to worship the fierce grace that burns in her quiet moments, the devotion that hums beneath her laughter like a hidden hymn.

Her personality is a kaleidoscope of sacred sound and color, shards of glass catching the light of my obsession, splintering me into beautiful pieces I am desperate to gather whole again.

She prays in tongues of flame and shadow, and I would burn with her, offer my heart as a candle, flickering and raw, just to be consumed by the brilliance of her light.

[iobsessoveradri]

Even when I close my eyes, she’s there, her outline carved into the dark, her thought caught in the back of my throat like something I’ve already half-swallowed.

I want her. God, I want her in ways that split me open from the inside. I want to press my face into the warm hollow of her neck until I can’t breathe without tasting her. I want her skin against my teeth, tearing, yielding, the hot rush flooding my mouth. I want to crawl to her on my hands and knees, bite deep into her shoulder and stay there, locked, until she decides I’ve earned more. I think about her chest rising and falling and how easy it would be to sink my hands into her, to feel her beating against my palms, to be inside her not just with my body, but my entire being, folded into her like a prayer she’ll never say aloud. I would take the bruise of her grip around my throat, the press of her weight over me, the slow, merciless way she could claim me piece by piece. I’d let her pull me apart with her hands, fuck she's perfect. Not like something you admire, but like something you kneel for, something you’d rip yourself open to be worthy of. I want to vanish into her, dissolve in the heat of her mouth, be chewed down and swallowed until I am nothing but a shiver inside her veins.

If she only knew, how I’d beg for it. How I’d bare my throat and say, Please.

Please take me.

Please ruin me.

[iobsessoveradri]

God, she’s right there, right there, and I can’t, I can’t breathe without wanting her, She could hold me down, she could make me stay, she could tell me to open and I would, I’d give her everything, I’d tear myself apart for her if it meant she’d take me in. I’d beg for it, I’d cry for it, I’d offer my neck, my chest, my stomach, my heart in my hands if she’d only eat me whole. She is perfect for me, perfect to ruin me, perfect to make me disappear inside her. I want to feel her teeth sink in, I want to feel my skin give way, I want her to own me, chew me, keep me where no one else can touch me. I would say it over and over until my voice broke please, please, please, take me, take me, take me until she did, until there was nothing left but blood in her mouth and my name on her tongue.