#sherry writes

[sherraphim]

[dykebreaking. incest. 2.2k words.]

your girlfriend really really should have warned you about what her father was like before you met him for the first time. here you are, dressed in the nicest button-down you own, your hair neatly styled, and you even brought a nice wine that you spent way too much damn money on to impress him. and here he is, eyeing you up and down like you aren't dating his fucking daughter.

for a while, you assume it's in your head. men always gave you a terrible impression, and maybe you're simply jumping the gun and assuming the worst. your girlfriend spoke so highly of her father for as long as you've dated. she must have her reasons for it.

until, that is, you're all seated at the dinner table, and the topic of sports comes up, and you mention that you're on the basketball team at your college. "been playing all my life," you say, proudly.

he smiles and coos at you. "aw, that's cute."

"well, in women's basketball," he returns. "really only one good reason people wanna watch that." he takes a long, slow sip of his wine, but his eyes watch you over the rim, never losing that condescending glint.

you blink, almost unsure if you misheard him. cute? "we're nationally ranked," is all you can say.

you turn your gaze to your girlfriend, silently pleading for her to back you up and push against the implications of his words. but to your shock, she's smiling and giggling. she reaches across the table and takes your hand. "it's definitely the first thing that caught my eye about her. you should see her when she's playing!"

"maybe i will," he muses. "i'd definitely love to see more of her." something in the way he says it sends a shiver down your spine.

the moment you enter your girlfriend's bedroom, you slam the door and groan in frustration. "what the fuck is his problem?"

your girlfriend chuckles as she stretches out on her bed, her eyes watching you pace back and forth to work off some of the anger pooling in your stomach. "he's just like that. you'll warm up to him, trust me."

you huff out an incredulous laugh. "yeah, i highly doubt that. how in the hell did that pig raise you of all people?"

she hums in contemplation. "my empath senses tell me you need to vent."

you want to roll your eyes at her, but you're not turning down a chance to complain about those torturous two hours you had to spend withstanding one sexist remark after another.

she pats the spot on the bed beside her, and although you'd prefer to pace until the buzzing under your skin ceases, you absentmindedly sit down as the words tumble from your mouth.

"cute. he really had the audacity to call my entire athletic career cute."

your girlfriend hums in acknowledgment as she listens, though she says nothing more as she squeezes your tense shoulders, willing them to relax. she watches your face closely as her hands sneak down to unbutton your shirt.

"what an asshole. do you guys have a basketball hoop in your yard or something? i'd really love to kick his ass and wipe that stupid condescending look off his face." you don't always get a chance to play against men, and you can't help the distant voice in your head wonder how much his height would be an advantage. when he greeted you at the door, it wasn't lost on you how big he is, and you practically had to crane your neck to look him in the eye.

she doesn't answer the question as she slides the shirt off your shoulders and tosses it aside. regardless, the question was so far from your mind as you pictured his face, those eyes peering at you in a way that left you wanting to cover yourself even in your modest clothing.

you barely notice the way she pushes you onto your back as you keep speaking. "maybe he should come to one of my games next season. spite is a great motivator, and it'd really have me on my A game." or it'd fluster you to the point of being entirely inept. something about him made you feel so jittery and restless. you can't quite tell if it's your body's instinct to fight him or what.

"and what was with the mansplaining? all evening! god, i never should've mentioned my major. i was hoping it'd earn me some basic respect when he realizes i'm in his field, but he just kept treating me like an amateur!"

distantly, you register the sound of your belt being unbuckled, and the way your hips are pushed just enough to slide your pants off. and maybe you should be paying a bit more attention to your girl right now—when did she take off her clothes?—but that burning anger that's been building in the pit of your stomach all evening has yet to be extinguished, and she's nodding at you to continue. you don't even know if you can stop venting if you tried right now.

and you want to growl from the anger, but suddenly a moan slips from your lips as you feel two fingers press deep into your cunt and curl just at the spot that makes you melt.

"how many times does he have to hear, 'yeah, i know,' before he gets the damn message? he was talking to me like i'm a child, for fuck's sake." even as you were trying to tell him about a very competitive internship you'd earned the previous summer, he talked down to you like a teacher praising a child for learning to write. your teeth grit and your face burns as you replay his tone as he called you a "smart little girl."

"fuck, baby, you're so wet," your girlfriend sighs as she pumps her fingers into you.

"i'm what?" you hardly noticed. but now you can feel how easily her fingers slide into you, and suddenly you're painfully aware that the fiery sensation you'd been feeling all evening started between your legs where her hands worked deftly.

"drenched, darling," she repeats, and chuckles as she presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

of all the times you've done this, you've never felt so... exposed. there's some private, hidden part of you laid bare that neither she nor you yourself have seen before. you try to close your legs, embarrassed by the revelation, but all you can manage to do is squirm. has it always felt so good to be touched like this?

"well, don't stop now," she tells you. "keep talking. tell me how degraded he made you feel."

"is... wait, wait, oh fuck—" you grab her wrist to still her hand but you can't seem to find the strength to push her off. "is this weird? i mean, shit, he's your dad."

she brings herself closer now, and you can feel her hot breath on your pussy as she speaks. "and just look what he does to you."

how much of the heat you feel is anger and how much of it is lust? you're losing track, unable to separate them out. but with every little humiliation you recall and every swipe of her tongue over your clit, the two emotions feed into each other. your whole body is alight with it.

you purse your lips tightly as the humiliation of the moment washes over you. you don't want to keep talking about him, to keep exposing how deeply he's somehow wormed his way into your head. but he did, and all your efforts to focus on the gorgeous woman between your legs fall flat. all you can see in your minds eye is him. him and those hungry eyes that raked over your body all night. him and those lips that curled into a smirk every time you took his bait.

"he was getting off on it." you couldn't help voicing the realization aloud, nor could you help the way your hips bucked up to chase the friction of your girl's tongue. "he wanted to get under my skin. to see me squirm, to piss me off, to degrade me."

as the realization hit you, you feel her lips curl into a smile against your skin. did she know all along?

"so fucking demeaning," you say. between your breathy moans and gasps, it sounds unconvincing to your own ears. "i came here trying to impress him and he looked at all my accomplishments and just, aah, jerked off all over them!"

with the awareness came a whole new scene in your minds eye. not just of his eyes and lips, but parts of him you wanted so desperately to ignore. was he hard under the table as he mocked you? would he stroke his cock to the memory of how flustered he got you, how desperately you tried to fight back against his condescension only to be pushed back down with more?

it makes you sick to your stomach, and twisted up in that disgust is a lust that you can't contain. it's spilling out of you, making a wet mess of the sheets, as inconsiderate of your willingness as he was. you feel as violated by your own body's reactions as you did by his leering gaze, by this new awareness that you're nothing but a sex toy to him.

for a moment, your lover's tongue leaves your aching clit just long enough for her to ask, "could you imagine what he'd do if he saw you like this?"

you shake your head viciously. "no, no, god, fuck no—" but you can, so vividly. you can see his smirk and hungry eyes. how he'd make his way to the other side of the bed, over your head, and shuck off his pants. you can see the way his hard cock would fill your whole field of view, feel the weight of it as he slaps it down onto your face, hear the mocking laugh as he watches you in such a helpless state. but what you can't imagine, what you've never found yourself thinking of until now, is the taste.

burning with shame, you swallow the saliva that's flooding your mouth.

you shouldn't be so close already. but somewhere hidden under the anger and hate you've been stewing in all night, this unwanted arousal was building and building, feeding off your own humiliation. you've never been so sensitive.

between long, languid licks, your girl asks, "mmm, you're getting close, aren't you, dear?"

you hate how familiar she is with your body that she just knows. you hate that it's getting to you so much. "no, no," you insist, and your voice comes out in the most embarrassing whine you've ever heard.

she coos at you, like you're a sad, pathetic little animal. "it's okay," she says, and she sounds so earnest, so understanding. "you can say what you really want. it'll be our secret."

she gives another slow, firm swipe of her tongue over your clit. you've never fought so desperately against your own pleasure.

don't cum, don't cum, you think to yourself.

"it's okay to want him."

another lick. your legs shake around her head.

"it's okay to cum for him."

and it's not, it's really really not. but that doesn't matter to your body. despite all your frantic efforts, you can't stop it. the orgasm rips through you and leaves you screaming and moaning in its intensity. you try to shut your legs, try to scramble away from her tongue as she laps at your sensitive clit, as if interrupting the orgasm will somehow absolve you of the shame of it.

but she holds you firmly and forces it out of you. and with it, the truth you've been desperately shoving down comes spilling out of your lips.

"i want him to make me his dyke slut!"

you wish you could grab the words and shove them back into the darkest part of your psyche where they'll never be heard. but you can no more do that than you can undo the mind-numbing, leg-shaking, screaming orgasm.

you don't know how long it goes on, but by the end, you're panting and your heart is racing as if you had just finished an intense work out. your face is on fire, and you stare up at the ceiling in horror even as the warm, happy afterglow washes over you. your mind is too scrambled to even try untangling the mess of emotions in your chest.

your girlfriend is kissing up your body, and you shiver in response. she settles beside you, her head nestled under your chin as she sighs pleasantly. "i meant it when i said that it'll be our secret. i won't tell," she promises. "i just hope the walls are thick enough that he didn't hear that."

[sherraphim]

of course your girlfriend didn’t mind you going to your classmate’s flat to work on a lab report. she didn’t bat an eye, thinking nothing of it. he was a man, and you were a lesbian, so what was there to think of it?

you didn’t think much of it yourself as you got yourself ready, asking to borrow your girlfriend’s skirt cause it’s damn hot out and you need something breezy. didn’t think much of it as you stepped past the threshold of his flat and set out your papers to work. didn’t think much of it as he leaned over to your laptop to read the paragraph you’d added, and the sound of his soft breathing by your ear sent goosebumps up your skin.

you only began to wonder if, maybe, this may have been a bad idea, after all the papers had been put away and the project was finished far ahead of schedule, and he leaned back in his seat to eye you up and down. “damn, i lucked out with you. you’re pretty smart.”

because why should it matter what a random guy thinks? why should his praise send a wave of arousal through your system that made your face run hot? of course you’re smart. you’re here at the same college as him, aren’t you?

but you didn’t snap back at him. nor did you tell him that you ought to get home to your girlfriend when he offered you a glass of wine. you tell yourself it doesn’t matter, just a friendly chat with a classmate after a study session. even as the whole time you sat there with the same fluttering feeling in your tummy as you did on your first date with your lover.

soon enough, with two glasses of wine in your system and his disarming laugh ringing pleasantly in your ears, you stopped thinking about it. stopped thinking of your girlfriend altogether. you were too focused on the way his gaze raked over your body with an intensity that you could feel tickling your skin. the way his lips curled in a smile that suggested much more than polite interest in your words. did he scoot his chair nearer at some point? when did his face get so close to yours?

“pretty thing like you must have a boyfriend, don’t you?”

you should say you have a girlfriend. or that you’re a lesbian, and you aren’t into men like that. but with his voice so low and his face so close, the woman you loved was the farthest thing from your mind. all that left your mouth was a simple, “no.”

“good.”

you’re… fairly sure he was the one who kissed you first. maybe that makes it marginally better. you try not to think about the fact that you're the one who snakes your hand around his neck and deepens the kiss. that you’re the one who slides off your chair and onto his lap.

your skirt—or rather, your girlfriend’s skirt—pools around you as you straddle him on the chair, and his hands wrap around you, sneak beneath the fabric, and grab firmly at your ass. the feel of it makes you gasp and buck your hips, and suddenly you’re grinding yourself onto him and you couldn’t stop if you tried. later, you'll tell yourself you did try, that his hands kept moving your hips and encouraging the movement and you could do nothing to stop him.

it’s not long before you end up on the same dining table you did your report, your laptops shoved to the corners and papers strewn across the floor. your panties end up somewhere in the mess of papers, tossed aside and forgotten. your shirt hangs limply off the side of a chair, and your skirt is bunched up around your middle, your soaking cunt all in display.

you’re almost surprised with how easily he’s able to bottom out inside you. you can’t remember the last time you got this wet without a ton of foreplay in advance. but here he is, sinking every single inch into you without any resistance.

he fucks you deep, and you can feel his heavy balls against your ass with each thrust. it’s an unfamiliar sensation that you can’t help fixating on. just as you fixate on the sound of his low groans, the feel of his large hands gripping your tits, and the heat of him as he stretches you.

you’re thankful he had the foresight to pull out, because you’d completely forgotten about any sort of protection. you weren’t used to thinking about it. aren’t used to thinking about thick loads of cum or the fertile womb inside you. you feel defenseless in a way you never have before. you hoped desperately that pulling out was good enough, and frantically dug through your memory to old sex-ed classes—the parts you purged as they didn’t apply to your life. they were probably exaggerating its ineffectiveness, right?

he didn’t seem quite so worried about it as his fingers work your clit, rubbing circles that mingled his cum with your wetness, and his eyes roam your body like he was admiring a work of art. “anyone ever tell you how gorgeous you look covered in cum?”

your face might as well be on fire from how flushed you feel. suddenly you’re aware of just how much there is. on your pussy, your tummy, your tits. your skin burns under each streak. you shouldn’t be covered in cum. but he doesn’t miss the way your hips buck and you whimper at the words.

“oh,” he said with a smirk. “you like that?”

no, no, no, i don’t, you tell yourself. you shut your eyes tightly and cover your face with your arms.

then those perfect circles he was rubbing into your clit stop abruptly, and you tense.

“oh, no,” he tells you as he grabs each of your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand. “you’re not cumming unless you look right into my eyes and show me how much you’re loving this.”

does he have any clue how much he’s tormenting you right now? you stare back at him with wide, nervous eyes of your own. “you’re gonna fucking ruin me.”

he only chuckles as he brings his free hand back to your aching pussy.

you don’t want to cum on a man’s fingers, looking into his eyes, listening to his sweet words. but you give your wrists a weak wriggle and feel him tighten his grip in response.

maybe… if you don’t have a choice. if he won’t let you go until you do.

despite how desperately you cling to that little lie, you don't struggle again. you only buck your hips up, inviting him to press harder against your swollen clit.

you writhe and moan in the pleasure of his hands on you, and as the praises fall from his lips, the pleasure magnifies. “that's my good girl. so fuckin' pretty. keep making those noises for me and i might just have to fuck this perfect pussy for another round.”

the promise of it sends you over the edge, and you make no effort to muffle yourself. all the pleasure you're too ashamed of acknowledging spills out from lips, unwanted and yet uninhibited. it goes on and on, drawing all your muscles into tight knots and shaking you with the force of it.

he talks you through the seemingly endless orgasm, though you can barely hear the words over your own screams of pleasure. but you can see the look on his face—his pupils blown wide, hungrily taking in every detail before him—and you can surmise it’s more of those delicious praises.

the hand that had been holding you in a tight vice slides down to sweetly cradle your cheek, grounding you in this moment of freefall.

your hands, now free, move of their own accord, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him down to you. you’re not even in control of your body enough to kiss him properly, but you need him close. you need him. he gets the message clearly enough, and peppers kisses along your cheek and forehead and neck and every part of you he can reach.

and there you stay as the wave finally passes, and all your muscles unclench. as they do, you feel every ounce of energy leave your body, leaving you completely limp. your mind feels just as spent as your body, and all you can do is turn your head to catch his lips with yours.

you don’t know how long you stay there, in that happy afterglow, exchanging languid kisses. distantly you register that this position on the hard wooden table is rather uncomfortable to the point of being mildly painful, but you can’t quite bring yourself to care when you feel as if you’re floating on a cloud.

when he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, he runs a hand through your hair and smiles down at you. “damn, you must have really needed that, huh?”

you give a weak nod, still feeling too dazed and woozy to speak properly. the ditzy smile on your lips is more than enough for him.

he sneaks his hands beneath you and pulls you to a sitting position just at the edge of the table, with him standing between your open legs. his hips press forward, and you can feel that his cock is hard all over again. with a playful lilt in his voice, he asks, “you don’t have anywhere to be tonight, right?”

and just like that, the realization of what you did struck, popping the happy little bubble around you. you do have somewhere to be. you have someone to be with.

his eyebrows knit together in worry as he sees the sudden change in your demeanor. “hey, are you al—?”

but you’re pushing him away, scrambling to get back into your clothes and grab your things. “this was— i didn’t— i have to leave.” what time is it? how long were you here and not with your girlfriend? you shove your laptop into your bag forcefully and cover your exposed self with your shirt, not even registering that you wore it inside out, or that his cum was still drying on your skin only to be soaked up by the cotton fabric.

you ignore his calls after you as you dart to the door and walk back through the dark evening to your own place.

it’s not a long walk in the slightest, but with the shame weighing on you like an anchor, and the feeling of his sticky dried cum burning on your skin, it feels like an eternity. a cool breeze blows, and you feel it on your wet and exposed skin, and you realize with a start that in your panicked rush you’d forgotten to put your panties back on. were they still on his floor? you pull your skirt down a little and hold your arms by your side lest the wind expose your shame even more.

it’s late enough that your girlfriend is already in bed when you arrive, and you breathe a sigh of relief as you sneak past her to the bathroom. you peel off the sweaty, grimey clothes into the hamper and take the hottest shower you can, hoping to scald the disgust off your skin. you scrub yourself raw and wash your hair twice more than usual, hoping desperately that the smell of him won’t linger on you.

when you finally crawl into bed, your girlfriend stirs awake. she gives you a sleepy greeting, pulling you into her arms and pressing a kiss to your shoulder before sinking right back into sleep.

the next morning, you woke to a half dozen texts from the very same classmate that has made such a wreck of you. worried check-ins and panicked apologies and questions of whether he’d misread your interest and taken things too far. your heart constricted at his care. you knew, deep down, he wasn’t the one who’d done anything wrong. and despite that, you couldn’t bear to respond, and instead left his messages read and unanswered.

as you made your way to the living room, you found your girlfriend nursing a mug of coffee and absent-mindedly watching reruns of an old comfort show. she perked up at the sight of you and made room for you on the couch to snuggle up beside her. you forced a smile and made your way to her, laying your head against her in a way that would normally be comfortable, if not for the pit in your stomach.

she droned on about her plans for the day and other random thoughts running through her head. too preoccupied with your own worries, and too groggy to think straight anyway, you didn’t pay too much attention as she simply thought aloud.

until, that is, a single word snapped you to attention. skirt.

“what was that?” you repeated sluggishly, trying to hide the nervousness in your voice.

“oh, just that i tossed in a load of laundry and noticed a weird stain on my black skirt. was that always there, or was it from when you borrowed it?”

your heart hammering in your chest, you scrambled for the first lie that came to mind. “oh, my lab partner ordered gyros for us when our study session ran late. must have been some garlic sauce i spilled or something.”

she seemed to buy it, rambling on about dinner plans and laundry and an event later tonight she wanted to wear the skirt to. you nod along, halfheartedly listening to her, but your thoughts were elsewhere. namely, about how you really stained her skirt. and how the memory of it alone made your cunt ache with a need that wasn’t even close to being sated after one reckless night. and how the thrill and the shame of lying about it only made the need stronger.

the moment the washing machine beeped and left the couch to del with it, you opened the chat on your phone. without a second thought, you replied to the messages from last night.

hey. i’m sorry i ran out like that. you didn’t misread things at all. i just freaked out a bit, it was totally a me thing.

you look over to your girlfriend, across the floor of your shared apartment, turning the laundry over to the dryer. she catches you staring and blows you a little kiss. you return it with a kiss of your own. then you turn back to your phone and add,

i'm free tonight. can i see you again?

[sherraphim]

some things i've learned abt myself since i gave Daddy control of my orgasms 💕

#1: the tiniest things make me feel subby n horny

when i started this, i definitely expected that my fantasies would get more raunchy and perverted the longer the denial went on. and while i have developed some new kinks (thanks to Daddy being so hot n perfect n addictive n sooo fun to please 🥺🥺🥺), the bigger surprise was how easily i get turned on. counterintuitively, some of my fantasies have gotten more innocent and yet they get me unfathomably horny lol. i genuinely could make a series about it. just small little things that make me melt and get me stupidly wet.

at its core, it's because denial makes me feel more submissive. trust me there's nothing i love more than the thought of submitting to him in bed and him fucking my brains out, lord knows i can neeever get enough of it 🥴 but that desire just bleeds into everything, all the time. when i don't get to cum, that feeling of needing to be beneath him never shuts off. it's not exactly that i feel horny 24/7, but i feel submissive 24/7. the desire to please him, to worship him, to be good for him, is so constant.

or maybe it's just that Daddy brings out my submissive side even more n submitting to him is just right and natural hehe 🩷 either way, it's so so so fun n addictive !! i want him to feel the power n control he has over me all the time.

#2: edging is always about pleasing him <3

edging is soooo addictive, it's a problem lol. it's definitely made touching myself infinitely more fun, bc i used to just have one or two orgasms and then settle down and that's it. but edging can go on and on and on and aaaaaa i never wanna stop!!!! usually i'm forced to when my vibrator dies on me lol. does it drive me insane n make me wanna cry every time i have to pull away to stop myself from going over the edge? yes but that's part of the fun 🤭

that said, no matter how much i love it, the most fun (and important!) thing is remembering that i'm doing it for Daddy's pleasure. and i've found that the best way of doing that, and the best way to make sure Daddy gets the most enjoyment out of my edging, is to make something for him while doing it! i adooore recording myself edging for him, or writing something smutty for him to read (yes, including this post~).

definitely nothing compares to sexting him while i edge, bc his words will always have a bigger effect on me than any porn or erotica in the world ever could because it's 💖 him 💖 hehe. but !! if ever we can't talk directly while i edge, making something for him to enjoy is such a lovely way to feel closer to him. it makes me feel like he's right there, stroking his cock to my words and my voice, and it just makes me louder and needier and closer.

there's just so much to enjoy about it! it makes the edging so much more effective at turning me into a needy, slutty mess for Daddy to play with whenever his heart desires. it reminds me that my body belongs to him, and that i'm being given permission to cum so he can enjoy it, so i better make sure he enjoys it.

#3: no touch is indescribably fun

there are days that are noticeably much more intense. like... beyond overwhelming, my whole body is tingling, horniness at a 12 out of 10. i don't really know why. maybe it's hormones. maybe it's just that some days i get to spend more time with Daddy and i feel closer to him and it drives me crazy. but what i do know is that i really love not touching myself on those days.

it's partly bc i would definitely lose my edge if i did lol. but for the most part, it's because it feels so good to just sit in that feeling. when my body craves him so badly that just the thought of him sends waves of pleasure throughout my body. even without touching myself at all, just reading his words makes me whine and moan and shake.

i've honestly never even asked to touch myself on days like that. they don't happen too often, and when they have, i was so overwhelmed by it that i just needed to process it. i didn't know i could feel that way from just talking to someone. over text, too!! it's mindblowing. and i've said as much to him, "how do you do this to me?"

on a slightly funny note, on days like that, i genuinely can't bring myself to do the whole ooo sexy dirty talk thing. i just feel so overwhelmed by it, both the emotional connection i feel to him as well as the physical sensations, that i immediately default to therapy-mode and start just... describing it. which i think he definitely enjoyed regardless. but i was doing a body scan mid sexting lol, no joke. it's kinda meditative, literally! just sitting there and feeling it, every bit of it. really letting his every word wash over me and noticing how it makes my heart feel so light, my head feel so wonderfully fuzzy, my cunt so so wet. those are some of the moments when i've felt closest to him and ugh, it's so wonderful <3

it's honestly a very big part of why i want to keep going with the denial. i genuinely didn't know it was possible to feel this way. it's all mental, and yet the physical effect it has on me is so real. i want to see how much further it can go, because i know it can go so much further. the closer Daddy and i get, the more i understand how my mind and body react to his dominance, the more intense it'll get.

i don't know what would be more fun... begging to touch myself on one these days and being told no? or explicitly being ordered to touch myself and record myself trying desperately not to go over the edge? either way, i can't wait for the many more wonderful experiences i'll have with Daddy 🩷

[sherraphim]

"oh green bird, as long as you are my love, god is in the sky" — nizar qabbani

i have no interest in engaging with people whose values do not align with mine, for my own safety and as a moral standard. all my political opinions are rooted in anti-capitalism and anti-imperalism. if you don't stand for the liberation of palestine, sudan, the drc, and all colonized people, this is not the place for you. if i followed you and you don't agree with me on this, it's because i didn't see anything explicitly discussing this on your blog. do us both a favor and block me. note that i am NOT a liberal, i hate democrats as much as republicans, and the evils of the world don't start and end with trump. commies only beyond this point ☭🇵🇸

learn about palestine. do your daily clicks. boycott & push for divestment where you can. keep masking. read about decolonization and liberation of all people all over the earth (free books by keystone authors).

with that out of the way: hi, hello, welcome! i'm sherry (not really), and this is where i dump out all my horny ramblings so i don't explode lol. besides being a raging slut and a lovey-dovey airhead, i'm also a scientist, communist, pagan, writer, and a lover of books.

feel free to DM me cause i always enjoy meeting new folk, especially fellow nerds and commies 💕

🟢 things i love: orientation play/dykebreaking. misogyny. breeding. fauxcest (father/daughter & brother/sister). rapeplay. free use. monsterfucking. praise. petplay. ageplay. corruption. edging & denial. exhibitionism. hand fetish & voice kink. dacryphilia.

🟡 things i mostly like: degradation and dumbification, but don't make me think you don't like me ok, i'm still baby. light impact play, esp slapping and spanking. occasionally detrans comes up bc i like the bioessentialism aspect. political play can be fun, but i'm so particular about it that it's barely on the table. hypno and worship are delightful if i'm obsessed with you. most things get way more fun if i'm obsessed with you tbh, so i'm open for 1x1 discussion with time.

🟠 things i don't like: anything unhygenic will often squick me out, incl piss, scat, vomit, rimming, feet, shoes (specifically being stepped on), occasionally spit, etc. i'm a giant baby about substance use, so no intox play.

🔴 things i will outright block you for (you do you, but don't do me): raceplay of any kind, incl sexualizing hijabis. any form of body shaming or controlling eating. don't call me pig. extreme violence, especially when a lot of blood is involved. don't push me to try this kink irl without discussion first.

tag guide ⁠—

# sherry speaks : unfiltered horny ramblings

# sherry writes : longer, more cohesive horny ramblings

# sherry reads : ramblings on romantic and erotic books

# ooc : non-horny ramblings, often political, sometimes emotional

# happy queueincidence : queued posts

# me core : for silly little posts that resonate with me on a soul-deep level

i don't tag individual kinks, but mutuals and friends are welcome to ask me to!

some necessary disclaimers:

this is all fantasy and not at all representative of my real-world views and behaviors. i will often post things tagged #ooc to denote when i'm being serious!

actual bigotry gets you blocked. this includes being shitty to sex workers.

nothing is sexy without informed and enthusiastic consent from all parties. never hesitate to communicate your needs and boundaries with me 💕

i'm quite selective with sending pictures or audios. you never have permission to share anything i send you, publicly or privately. i will assume the same for you unless stated otherwise.

i still refer to myself as a lesbian as part of my kink play, but i no longer use that label in my vanilla life. i identify as a queer relationship anarchist.

header credit. pfp credit.